#i want to lean more into the division this time around because frankly i think it's | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

casspurrjoybell-32 · 1 year ago

Text

Taken - Blue Moon Series - Chapter 17a

*Warning Adult Content*

Lakota Bateman

"Push harder. Throw your weight into it."

Gritting my teeth I followed Cyrus's instructions and punched the sandbag as hard as I could.

"Yes," he cheered as he took the brunt of the hit.

It wasn't my first time down in the pack gym.

Cyrus had been teaching me the basics of his training since way back in Alaska.

When I would change back into my human form he thought it would be a good idea to teach me some fighting techniques since that was what he specialized in.

I remember back when he was in charge of the I-Division with Connor and Teagan he would work with me sometimes when I felt comfortable enough to shift.

"Now, I want to feel you kick this bag to hell."

I looked up at him as he spoke, his blue eyes focused on me intently and I did what he said.

Balancing myself on my left foot, bringing my fists up towards my face, I brought my other leg up and fired off rapid kicks with the top of my foot.

"There you go," he jerked with every kick.

"Whoa look at you, Lakot. You're kicking that bag's ass," Gale came up behind me as I set my foot down in surprise.

"I didn't know you knew how to fight," he said in genuine awe.

"He's been training with me every chance we got for the last couple years. I'm pretty sure he could take you down if he wanted to," Cyrus snickered.

"Oh, look the sandbag is talking. Let's get out of here," Gale exclaimed, making a show and wrapped his arm around me guiding me out of the gym.

"Hey. We were in the middle of something," Cyrus complained.

"Cyrus," someone called from across the room.

Sighing he looked over at us.

"You guys go ahead I'll catch up."

"No need, take your time. Okay?" Gale smiled as Cyrus rolled his eyes and walked over towards the guy.

Gale walked me out of the gym holding me close to him.

"So answer me this, if you knew how to fight why didn't you try when my dad captured you."

"Because even if I did fight, I probably would have gone four steps and had been captured again. Being held captive is one of my specialties. I know all the rules," I answered bitterly.

"Oh, how long have you been training with him?" Gale asked changing the subject... his face was full of guilt.

"Well over the last couple of years he would teach me something here or there, anytime I was comfortable enough to be out in my human form. But since I can't hide anymore Cyrus thinks it's best if I buckled down on it now."

"I see, well you were great. If you want I know a few things I can teach you too," he grinned leaning down and nuzzling his face in the side of my neck.

I bit my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.

After that night when Gale revealed his past to Cyrus and me, I felt so much closer to him now.

Personally, it was the first time in my life I wanted to hold and protect someone and never let them leave my site.

Even without my wolf I still felt that intense bond between my mates.

I thought that the feeling would lessen without him but that was far from it.

"I don't think that's the same kind of training," I giggled nuzzling him back because frankly... I couldn't help myself.

"It's even better," he whispered into my ear, tracing the curve of my ear with his tongue.

I closed my eyes at the fierce sensation that ran down my whole body.

I wanted to tell him to give me more of this amazing feeling.

I didn't have a very sexual nature like most wolves do... well, I thought I didn't but lately, even without my wolf, I have been feeling some intense urges as of late.

Any time Cyrus or Gale would even brush up against me my body would ignite.

I wasn't use to feeling like I was about to burst into flames but the thought of Gale's lips on my skin just about put me over the edge.

"Hey, isn't that the guy whose mated to two guys?" I heard a voice from behind us suddenly whisper.

"Yeah, it's super gross. My parents are super disgusted, they said it's a sickening debauched show of gluttony or some shit like that."

This made me stop in my tracks and turn my head toward the group of guys in the corner.

Gale stopped with me, staring down at me almost in warning, which meant he heard too.

For some reason hearing them talking about Gale and Cyrus like this didn't sit well with me at all.

Actually, it made my blood boil, something I wasn't use to.

Before I could stop myself I had made a quick spin on my heels and walked up to them, making them all stare at me in surprise.

Apparently, they didn't think I could hear them or didn't think I would approach them even if I did which put me in even a darker mood.

"Do you have something to say to me?"

There were three of them.

All of them were taller than me which wasn't a surprise since I was pretty short for a male at around 5'6.

Growing up in a sunless dungeon with little to eat didn't give you much chance to sprout like a weed as Cyrus's pack doctor had once put it.

Being in that dreary torture chamber had severely stunted my growth.

Since I was twenty now he had said I should have been well over six feet, like my brother Teagan's height actually.

The three stepped back slightly before setting their faces like they weren't scared just a moment ago and stepped forward again.

I should have been worried about these three ganging up on me in the back of my mind but my head was clear... wait no that wasn't right.

It wasn't clear at all, something dark was festering inside me.

"Lakota?" it was Gale this time as he stepped up and laid his hand on my shoulder but I shrugged it off.

Not to reject him but to warn him that something was wrong with me and I didn't want to lash out at him.

"Yeah 'Lakota' why don't you run off with your boyfriend and save us all the horror of looking at such a scene. You should be ashamed," the middle guy said.

His face was full of disdain as he sneered at me.

"Ashamed?" I asked tilting my head as I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Yeah," he growled stepping closer this time it was Gale who inserted his body at an angle between us glaring at the guy.

"Back off," his voice was lower than normal, chilling almost.

I would have felt happy that he was protecting me but not today, the festering fury in the pit of my stomach and chest began to grow larger and my vision was starting to tunnel.

"Ashamed for who? You?" I continued, there was barely any space between us now as he squared off.

"I don't have anything to be embarrassed about and I certainly don't care about your feelings on the matter because you don't mean shit to me."

"Lakota," Gale said again but it was like he was talking to me through a thick wall.

My focus was only on the man in front of me and my struggle to keep my violent thoughts of my hands wrapping around his neck from becoming reality.

"Go ahead and whine, all you guys want because I know that you all have the mentality of a prepubescent schoolboy who can't seem to think for himself and has mommy and daddy do it for him but I won't be sitting idly by, as you bad mouth my mates like you already seem to have done. If you believe I'd just take that then you have another thing coming."

"You little shit."

All at once I was surrounded by three incoming fists.

Gale was quick as he came up behind me and grabbed the two on the outside with both of his hands and yanked them roughly to the floor but that left one.

The guy in the middle.

I saw his face scrunch up in anger, his canines extending along with his claws.

He was coming at me fast and as my vision completely darkened with rage.

Gale wouldn't be fast enough to catch this, not that I wanted him too.

This guy was mine and everything in me was telling me that.

"Lakota," this time it wasn't Gale who called out it was Cyrus but it was too late.

My opponent's clawed hand seemed to be moving in slow motion but I didn't dwell on that... I just acted.

With reflexes I wasn't used to I reached out and threaded our fingers together and pushed his hand backward with so much force I heard a snap followed by his scream.

In his pain, he wildly swiped his other hand towards my face but I had already turned into him and had him flying over my shoulder and slamming into the ground.

I had the intense urge to get him and his friends far away from me before I did something I would regret.

Suddenly that feeling that was building in my stomach and chest finally exploded.

Reaching up and gripping my head I gave a scream of my own, releasing the pent-up bundle of tension.

"What the hell was that?" Gale exclaimed as he and Cyrus came running to me to help me on my feet, somehow I had ended up on the floor.

"We need to get him to Jim, now," I heard them talking but my head was so dizzy it was all muffled and I was on the verge of blacking out.

I couldn't seem to get my feet under me either so I was lifted quickly in someone's arms.

But before my vision blurred completely and I blacked out.

I saw the three guys laying on the ground unconscious.

But the weird thing my brain seemed to pick out of the situation was that they were on the opposite side of the hallway from where we were fighting and I swear I saw cracks in the drywall above them and all along the ground leading to where they lay.

Then every thing went dark.

1 note · View note

nejibaby · 4 years ago

Text

Burn

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader

Summary: For Ace you’d do anything; even set yourself on fire if it meant he’d be safe, happy, and most importantly, alive.

The Sun - Part 2

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I’ve finished this and it has finished me. That’s all I wanted to say. 🤐 Jk... English isn’t my first language and I haven’t proofread this so I’m sorry if there’s grammatical errors and typographical errors. Also, I’d love to hear what your thoughts are on this 🥺✌🏼

There’s something about Ace that makes you so attracted to him. You couldn’t really pinpoint what it is. You aren’t sure if it’s his boyish smile, cocky smirk, lovely freckles, lean figure, easygoing and carefree attitude, the generous compliments he gives, or all of the above.

The dynamic between the two of you is almost like how a moth is attracted to a flame. But then again, Ace isn’t merely a flame. He’s more likely the sun — bright, warm, and all-consuming.

However, you can only ever get so close to the sun before you actually burn.

It was only in hindsight that you realize you should’ve kept your distance with Ace.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten through all the trouble of fighting against the bandits that started a brawl with the Spade Pirates at your hometown. Maybe you shouldn’t have fallen for Ace’s compliments on your skills on using knives as weapons. Maybe you shouldn’t have accommodated his curiosity on how to wield it. Maybe you shouldn’t have held his hand as you tried to show him the proper way of handling the knife. Because quite frankly, that one touch had sparked something in you. And it was that touch that started this whole mess — the mess of falling truly, madly, deeply in love with Portgas D. Ace.

But Ace only sees you as a crewmate of the Spade Pirates and later on as a subordinate when he became the Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.

Unfortunately, you know that’s all you’ll ever be.

You can tell that Ace has no interest in falling in love — at least not yet; not until he achieves his goal. And you hate to admit it, but even after all the years you spend following him, you still have no idea what his true goal is. You aren’t even sure if you’ll ever find it out. Because unlike you, Ace knows how to keep a safe distance from people.

There’s only one time that Ace allowed himself to blur the lines of friendship, and it was when you were both too drunk after celebrating a successful mission together. Somehow in the middle of your conversation, in a drunken haze, he leaned into you and kissed you on the lips. And as expected of you, you kissed him back with equal fervor.

That night, you have learned that fire is quite a fitting power for Ace. If his lips were fire, then your blood was gasoline. His kiss ignited everything in you until you’re fully consumed by him.

The next day came by way too quickly, but… he had no memory of what had transpired, and you wished it was the same with you. It would’ve been easier to live in blissful ignorance, but instead of that, you’re left to treat the burns that Ace unknowingly left in his wake — not physically, of course, he would never hurt you that way, but it doesn’t exactly hurt any less.

No matter how hurt you’ve been that night, you didn’t really stay away from Ace. You’re just so stubborn and unrelenting that you continue to tredge the line that Ace has so clearly drawn.

And it’s because of that attitude that you have taken it upon yourself to find Ace and stop him searching for Teach. Marco couldn’t stop him, maybe even Deuce wouldn’t, but you might be able to, because you aren’t afraid to burn, at least not any more than you already have. And this makes all the difference between you and Ace’s friends, although he has yet to realize that.

You find Ace in Mock Town. He’s walking the street with his back to you.

There’s no doubt that you’re extremely worried about him but with how long you traveled just to get to him, you have started to feel angry because of his reckless actions.

So instead of calling out his name to get his attention, you grab one of the daggers strapped to your legs and throw it at him. With Ace’s logia-type power, it only goes through him. Ace doesn’t even stop walking.

Since his back is facing you, you couldn’t tell what type of look he has on his face, although you’re willing to bet your life that he has an arrogant smirk on his face. You’re tempted to throw another dagger at him and use your haki, but that would be too much; your intent is to get his attention, not to hurt him, no matter how annoying he can be.

The dagger lands a few feet away from Ace and he walks up to grab it. He tenses a bit after he crouches down and picks it up. You know he recognizes the unique handle of the weapon. Before you know it, he turns his body around to find you, sporting that awfully breathtaking smile that makes you go crazy.

For a moment your anger dissipates while your heart stutters across your chest. You wonder, “Why does the sun still bother rising when Ace obviously shines so much brighter?”

But your thoughts are cut off when all of a sudden you’re tackled into a hug by Ace. Your mind automatically goes blank.

You have no problem with skinship and Ace doesn’t mind too, but a hug certainly isn’t how the both of you greet each other.

The hug is short lived as Ace pulls away before you can even wrap your arms around him. He then proceeds to throw his arm over your shoulder. He starts walking with you across the town, the grin on his face never leaving. “Ya know, I just saw my brother a while back in Alabasta!” He happily tells you.

You’re happy for Ace, you really are, but you have to admit that you’re a tad bit disappointed. You’re disappointed that his excitement isn’t because of you; it’s more like leftover enthusiasm he had after seeing his little brother. But you chase those thoughts away immediately, knowing full well it’s unreasonable for you to expect something like that from Ace.

He continues telling you about his brother and his crew with that proud expression reserved for talks about Luffy. With the way he’s animatedly speaking, you couldn’t help the smile form on your lips. It’s at this moment that you realize that you’d do absolutely anything and everything for Ace to be happy and remain happy.

You’re listening intently as he recounts every single thing that happened during their encounter. By the time he’s done, he turns to you and asks, “Oh, by the way, what’cha doing here?”

You shrug. “I came to get you,” you casually say.

He retracts his arm that’s draped on your shoulder. He drops his smile as well. “No.”

“Stop making a fuss, Commander. Pops wants you back on the ship.”

“I said no. I’m going to find Blackbeard and teach him a lesson.”

You grit your teeth at annoyance while Ace stares you down. Noticing the people listening in on your conversation, you stride to Ace, use your haki to grab his wrist, and then lead him to an abandoned alleyway. The touch immediately quickens your pulse rate, but you don’t let it waver you.

You let go of his wrist once you reach the alleyway. When you turn to face him, you can instantly tell that he’s taken aback by your actions. It’s not often you act like this when things don’t go your way after all.

“Commander, come back to the crew,” you say once again.

“No!” He stubbornly says. You can tell he’s getting angry by the flames that started appearing on his shoulders. “Teach broke the iron rule in the ship! Thatch won’t be able to rest peacefully and Pops—”

“I know, Commander!” You raise your voice. “I know this!”

“Great! Now let me be,” he says as he turns his back to leave.

“Goddammit Ace! Why are you doing this again?!” You exclaimed, clenching your fists in the process. Ace stops in his tracks upon hearing you. He’s surprised that you’ve addressed him by his name. “Why are you so dead-set on carrying the burden alone? Can’t you see how reckless you’re being? You’re diving headfirst into something dangerous!”

“Do you think I’m weak?” He asks, still with his back to you.

“No.”

“Then trust me on this.”

You scoff. “Not everything is a matter of strength.”

Ace pivots his body so he’s facing you and then he leans against the wall. He crosses his arms and gives you a look to continue your speech.

“Has it ever crossed your mind that we want to avenge Thatch as well? I know you two were close since you’re both Commanders, but we were close too!”

“I’m Teach’s Commander, that’s why I have to—”

You don’t listen to him speak, opting to continue what you’re saying. “Thatch was like an older brother to me. But I lost him. I don’t want to lose you too,” you whisper almost inaudibly. “Because I love you…”

Ace freezes at your declaration, but he’s quick to recover and says, “You know I love you too.”

You sigh and look at him in the eyes. Tears are forming in your eyes, making Ace look blurry. “But not in the same way, right?”

Ace goes silent. But his eyes could communicate with you in ways you’d never understand. His eyes never lie, and from them you can clearly see the guilt of not being able to reciprocate your feelings.

Oh, how things change so quickly. Back then, you’d be ecstatic whenever his eyes would land on you. Back then, you’d do anything to keep his eyes on you a little longer. But now, you just wish he stopped looking at you with those eyes.

“I’d die for you,” he says after a while, as if it’s the answer you’re searching for.

This would’ve been such a romantic thing to say for others, but it doesn’t hold the same weight if Ace says this. You know he would risk his life for anyone on the crew, not just you.

“But that’s the thing. I don’t want you to die for me, I want you to live, even if it’s not for me or with me,” you exasperatedly tell him.

Ace’s eyes widen, almost as if you’ve reached something deep inside him with what you’ve just said.

“I knew it from the beginning that you don’t love me the same way, so it’s fine. But that doesn’t matter.”

You try changing the topic in order to shift your focus, “Listen, Commander, I’m not telling you to sit still and forget about Teach. You said so yourself, you’re his Commander, but you’re my Commander too, along with the rest of the Second Division. And right now, we need you. Hell, even Pops needs you.

“I know Pops won’t let Teach get away with this either, but he knows this isn’t the right time yet. Let’s gather intel first, before doing anything.”

Ace remains silent, obviously thinking about what you’ve just said.

“Does that sound good, Commander?” You ask quietly.

He nods his head slowly.

You hum. “Alright. Now that that’s settled, let’s head on to your Striker.”

The walk back to the port is unusually silent. Ace has one of his hands in his pocket while the other on his hat. You, on the other hand, are staring straight ahead, recounting the conversation that has just happened.

Truthfully, the conversation didn’t go as you planned. You’re certain that convincing Ace would be so much harder. In fact, you’ve readied yourself to pick a fight with him if he didn’t want to go back to the crew.

You’ve prevented the fight from happening at the expense of your stupid confession. And you aren’t sure if it’s for the better or for the worse.

A part of you knows it’s for the better, because this way Ace would be safe. But the pain coursing all throughout your body and the tears that you’re trying so hard to hold back makes you doubt it a little bit.

By the time you both reach the port, you head on straight to your boat and grab the supplies you have already separated for Ace. You throw the sack at him and he catches it with ease.

“You have Marco’s vivre card, right?” You ask.

He nods.

“Good. Just follow that. With the Striker, I’m sure you’ll reach the crew in a week or two.”

“You aren’t coming with me?”

You shake your head. “No. I actually have another mission to do,” you lie. You raise your right hand to point to the town. “Actually I’m heading there right now,” you say as you slowly walk backwards away from Ace. “So, see you in a month, I guess?”

You turn around to head back to the town, but Ace grabs a hold of your hand. “Wait!”

Ace isn’t using his powers, but why does his touch burn?

You look back at him, but your eyes refuse to meet his, so instead, you stare at the knife safely strapped on his hips. It’s the knife you originally owned but you have given it to him as a sign of your loyalty when he became your captain.

He removes his hold on you.

“What?” You ask.

“I can help you with it and we’ll—”

“No, don’t,” you sharply say.

Ace flinches at your tone.

You internally scold yourself for your hostility. Ace doesn’t deserve this. It isn’t his fault he doesn’t like you the same way. You sigh, “I’m sorry. I’ll just… see you off first before I go do this mission.”

You don’t leave any option for him so he has no choice but to comply. You can only watch in silence as Ace prepares to leave.

The truth is that you don’t have any mission aside from bringing Ace back to the crew. But you know Ace, you know that he’s not going to be able to stop thinking about Blackbeard and his deed. He won’t ever be able to rest properly and peacefully if no one’s going to continue this search. So for once, you’re shouldering this task for him.

It’s a dangerous mission, you’re aware. Espionage isn’t exactly what you’re best at. But for Ace you’d do this. For him, you’d set yourself on fire if it meant keeping him safe. For Ace you’d even die as long as he lived.

Once he has safely boarded on his raft, you both bid each other goodbyes. Even if you’re determined to get back to him, somehow it feels like this goodbye is going to be the last. And yet, you watch him go along with the sun.

324 notes · View notes

yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years ago

Text

COSMIC - S1:E2; Chapter Two, The Weirdo On Maple Street - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘠/𝘯, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Lucas, Dustin and I take our seats once we get to class.

"Oh, that can't be good." I sigh, gesturing to Mike's empty seat.

"Yeah, he's never this late," Dustin added.

"I'm telling you, his stupid plan failed," Lucas stated.

"I thought you liked his plan?"

"Yeah, but obviously it's stupid, or he'd be here."

"If his mom found out a girl spent the night—" Dustin began.

"He's in deep shit right about now."

Dustin shifted in his seat, and leaned forward, whispering loud enough for us to hear. "Hey, what if she slept naked?"

"Ugh!" My face screws into a sour, disgusted look aimed at my brother, unintentionally speaking at the same time as Lucas. "Why would she do that, Dustin?"

"Oh, my God, she didn't."

"Oh, if Mrs. Wheeler tells our parents..."

The thought of Mom finding out was enough to elicit an anxious groan from me, and I let my forehead fall against desk where I buried my face.

"No way. Mike would never rat us out."

I hesitantly looked up, making eye contact with Lucas. He gave me a reassuring smile, knowing I worry easily.

"I don't know." Dustin said warily.

"All that matters is, after school, the freak will be back in the loony bin, and we can focus on what really matters, finding Will." I frown at his specific choice of words for El, thinking back on how scared she seemed last night. I desperately want to say something, but decided against it, not wanting to get in a fight. Fighting won't get us any closer to finding Will.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Mike Wheeler rides his bike down the small slope of grass towards his front yard. When El refused to let Mike's mom know she was there, Mike had no choice but to resort to plan b. He had led his mom to believe that he had ridden to school when in reality he had stopped around the corner until both his parents were gone.

When he got to the driveway, he dismounted his bike and led it into the garage, however something caught his eye. He stared in awe as the once withered and frankly the most miserable looking plant he had ever seen in his life, was now a beautiful lush green and stood as tall his knees. 'How had Y/n done it?'

It took a solid moment for Mike to gather his thoughts and focus on the task at hand. He parked his bike and made his way inside.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"You want anything to drink?" Mike decided to take advantage of the empty house so that he could show El around. "We have OJ, skim milk... What else? Um, we have..."

Mike trailed off when he saw that El was more fascinated with the things in his living room, mostly his TV set.

"Oh, this is my living room. It's mostly just for watching TV."

El lightly traced her fingers around the frame of the TV as she examined it.

"Nice, right? It's a 22-inch.

That's, like, ten times bigger than Dustin's."

El turned her head and said quietly.

"Y/n."

"Well, yeah of course. Y/n too."

"Y/n. Brother?" She asked, making sure she remembered correctly.

"Yeah!" Mike smiled, then lightly shrugged. "Well, technically adopted. But yeah, they're still brothers."

El's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Ad-adopted?"

"Yeah, um, it means that he came from different parents. Mrs. Henderson adopted him because his parents were unable to take care of him. It's funny actually, Y/n is from Hawkins. Or at least that's where they found him. They didn't used to live in Hawkins; I don't know much about it cause Dustin was so young he doesn't remember any of it, but I think him and his mom were visiting family here and they just... found him, I think? I'm pretty sure that's why they moved here, or something."

El seemed to understand as she thought about it. She then turned to look at the all the pictures on top of the fireplace. She slowly walks to the fireplace and steps up onto the brick platform. She gazes at all the family photos. Particularly, the photo beside the one of Mike; of a smiling girl, a little older than herself, with long brown hair and a pink sweater.

She smiles longingly and speaks in a soft voice. "Pretty."

"I guess." Mike's face is contorted in confusion and a little in disgust.

"That's my sister Nancy. And that's baby Holly." He said as she moved to the slightly larger photo of a young baby. She then moved along to a photo with Mike, Nancy, and Holly, along with two other people she didn't recognize.

"And those are my parents. What are your parents like?" As usual, El says nothing and she steps down from the fireplace and walks up to a large green chair.

"Do they live close?" Mike continued. He notices El run her hand along the top of the plush green chair. "That's our La-Z-Boy. It's where my dad sleeps. You can try it if you want." He offers. El looked up at him, intrigued. "Yeah." He assured her, with a warm smile on his face. She cautiously sits down as Mike kneels down beside the chair. "It's fun!"

She looked to Mike, wondering what he is up to.

"Just trust me, okay?" She gives a quick nod, and braces herself, not knowing what to expect. She is taken aback by the sudden collapse of the chair, she is now laying down and the chair is rocking back and forth. She lets out a gasp, and then a nervous chuckle.

"See? Fun, right?"

With one hand on the back of the chair, and the other on the front, he brings the chair back into its default position. "Now you try."

With a small smile on her face, and feeling more confident she leans over the side and pulls the handle, letting her entire body go flying backward into a slow rock. Mike and El both look at each other and laugh gleefully.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Some random rock song on the radio that Jonathan barely recognized came to an end as Jonathan Byers drove to his dad's house. His eyes darted to the radio unit in his car for a moment as his heart fell when the familiar sound of "Should I Stay or Should I Go" rang throughout the car.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"Darlin', you got to let me know"

Jonathan is sat on the edge of the bed next to his younger brother Will. The two of them are in Will's room, bobbing their heads along to 'Should I Stay or Should I Go' by The Clash.

"Should I stay or should I go?"

"You like it?" Jonathan had to raise his voice so he could be heard over the loud song. Will looks to his older brother and grins.

"Yeah, it's cool!"

"All right, you can keep the mix if you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. All the best stuff's on there. Joy Division, Bowie, Television, The Smith's... It'll totally change your life."

"Yeah, totally," Will says with a smile. However, the smile is quick to leave when the two boys hear their mother yelling on the phone.

"Where the hell are you, Lonnie?"

Will slowly turns his head to the door, listening to his mother yell at his absent father.

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it." Jonathan mimics his brother's actions and looks to the door. Finally, he gets up and walks towards the door.

"This is ridiculous! I'm so sick of your excuses.

"One day is fine and next is black"

Before Jonathan sits down, he lowers the volume on the stereo.

"He's not coming, is he?"

"Do you even like baseball?" Jonathan asks softly.

"No, but... I don't know." He shrugs sadly. "It's fun to go with him sometimes."

"Come on. Has he ever done anything with you that you actually like? You know, like the arcade or something?"

Will shrugs his shoulders weakly. "I don't know."

"No, all right? He hasn't. He's trying to force you to like normal things. And you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to. Okay?"

Will only looks down at his feet sadly.

"Especially not him."

Will silently nods his head in understanding.

Jonathan decided to change the subject.

"But you like The Clash? For real?"

Will nods his head eagerly with a smile. "For real. Definitely."

"So... is Y/n a fan of The Clash?" Jonathan asks, genuinely curious.

A faint blush dusts Will's cheeks as he looks down at his hands. "Um, yeah, I think so."

"Maybe you should show this to him. I bet he'll like it."

"Maybe. You think?"

"Yeah, from what I know, he has great taste. He's pretty cool."

A loving smile spreads across Will's face. "Yeah, he is pretty cool."

There's a small pause filled only with the now dulled melody of drums and guitar drifting through the air. They had talked about it before, but only vaguely, never fully addressing it and it dawned on Jonathan that there was probably still loads of fear for Will because of it. He looks down at his brother who he loved more than anything and sent him an encouraging, honest smile.

"Will, you guys are best friends. You two are just too close to ruin the friendship. Why don't you think about asking him to the arcade or something? Just the two of you, maybe come back here for some mac and cheese or something if that'd make you feel safer, and you could " he shrugs. "let him know how you feel?"

Will looked up at his brother, shocked. But his body was flushed with relief, he could feel the air in the room hitting his sweaty and clammey skin giving him chills. Not quite knowing how to handle his brothers reaction, his eyes simply fall to his hands where they fidgeting in his lap.

"But what if that does ruin the friendship? What if he doesn't feel the same way, and decides to stop hanging out with me. Or if someone finds out- I just- I just can't. I'm not ready."

"That's okay. All I'm saying is, he is way too nice to be the kind of person who would do that. And you are way too important to him. And hey, if you ever do feel ready, or you guys do go out in the future..." Jonathan trails off, sensing the awkwardness creep up. He chuckles and looks back to his brother.

"All I'm trying to say is, I'm here for you. Always."

Will smiles gratefully and Jonathan leans forward to the volume back up.

"Should I stay or should I go? So you gotta let me know, should I stay or should I go?"

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

#you'll float queue #stranger things #will byers x reader #reader insert #will byers #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #cosmic #m!cosmic #el hopper #eleven #y/n henderson #stranger things x male!reader #stranger things x reader #will byers x male!reader #the weirdo on maple street

121 notes · View notes

internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

What’s Wrong with Superman?

Summary: Flyman is a really stupid name.

a/n: I got a little excited so here’s my entry for @redhoodssweetheart ‘s writing challenge. If you’re a fic writer, I highly recommend joining. This is for Quotes #1 This fic is based on the Superman Man of Tomorrow movie so it may not make sense otherwise.

Warnings: Reader is a bendy person so the physical descriptions will be weird and there will be some nsfw language but nothing happens.

masterlist

"What's wrong with superman?" You ask, raising your feet up over your head and resting them against Clark's wall. The blood rushes to your head but you couldn't find the energy to care, not when the work day had you drained and aching. You're just happy to stretch your limbs and contort in angles that would loosen them. You need to convince your supervisor to transfer you to a different division.

"It's kinda..." Clark waves his hand. "Yanno..."

Eloquent. You raise a brow at him telling him exactly what you thought about his solid argument.

"How about Flyman?" He says quickly.

"Ah yes, like the illustrious Batman but somehow worse." You say, turning onto your belly and nearly knocking over the things on Clark's bedside table. You shrug innocently. You shift, putting your feet over your shoulders as you think. "How about uuuuuh Captain Barbel?"

"Why?"

"Cus the guy could chuck them at people real easy." You answer simply. Clark really can't tell whether it was your excessive fidgeting or your monumental leap in logic that entertained him more.

He snorts, "That sounds like a dumb gimmick."

"So is being called Flyman." You huff.

"Careful, you're gonna hurt my feelings." Clark huffs in return, shaking his head as he grabs your favorite mug and one for himself. He has no idea how this specific mug was lucky but he's learned not to question a scientist's superstitions. Though he suspected it had less to do with actual superstition rather that you didn't want to admit that you just found the little cow-shaped mug adorable. He'll have time to tease you about it later. For now, he had to figure out this conundrum.

"If I was concerned about that, I would have pronounced Kansas properly by now." You say, sitting up to face him properly.

"What would you call him? Seriously." Clark says, resting against the kitchen counter. He's watching you with a hint of fond frustration. His leg bounces against the floor, fingers tapping on the linoleum countertop.

"Hmmmm," You purse your lips and lean forward- elbows on your lap, fingers laced together, and chin resting on your hands. "Wonder Man?"

Clark's handsome face breaks into an incredulous smile. "Pfft, you’re joking right?"

"I have never made a joke in my life." You grin, taking the cup of coffee from Clark and scooting over to make room for him. You shrug. "There is a reason I'm not in advertising but seriously I think you should just go with superman."

"And give Lois the satisfaction?" Clark asks over the rim of his mug. He raises his brow.

"Think about it."

"Rather not."

You push on, ignoring him."If you popularize it, guess who gets the credit?"

"Are you telling me to steal?" Clark gapes at you and the mischievous glint and his blue eyes make laughter bubble in your chest.

You blow out a breath into the neck of your sweater. Well, his sweater up until 2 months ago. "Nope. You're the one interpreting it that way."

"Your boss is rubbing off on you."

"Oh, don't remind me."

"How about Captain Marvel?" He suggests, wrapping around his arm around your shoulder. You can smell the caramelized sugar in his coffee. You blanch.

"Oh. So you want a lawsuit."

"No..." A complicated expression takes over his face. His lips purse to one side as he thinks. You wait patiently for his answer, snuggling up to his side. "How's it working at star labs by the way?" He says finally and you just had to love the clumsy way Clark tries to redirect conversations. He needs to get better at that if he wants to be a reporter. Then again, he's never failed to get an answer out of you with the earnest look in his eyes.

"I'm supposed to be in the engineering division, yeah?"

He nods before resting his face in your hair.

"Yeah, yeah. Him. Blegh." You wrinkle your nose and stick out your tongue, waving your hand in the air as if to shoo a thought away.

"But they stuck me with checking on that asshole biker wannabe..." You sigh.

"Lobo?" He asks, his voice rising a bit. Clark's grip in the mug tightens a bit but he has enough presence of mind not to break the mug.

"Well, did he say anything?" Clark asks, adjusting his glasses.

You squint. "My name isn't going on the paper."

"It won't." He says flat and steady. And you know you can trust him because, well, it's Clark.

You give him a crooked smile. "Nothing useful really. How much patience do you have for shitty pick up lines?"

Clark stiffens. "He was hitting on you?" He squares his shoulders. You see his jaw tighten and you think you can hear him grind his teeth. God, he's cute when he gets like this.

"He was hitting on anything with two legs."

And he was. Well, not really. You honestly couldn't really tell what his category for this thing was but you're pretty sure Clark doesn't care. He seems to care more about the fact that Lobo was hitting on you judging from the way he's borderline pulling you into his lap. You, frankly, were more concerned about what weird category you fit in to catch his eye.

"Maybe if I go with you next time..."

"You're cute Clark but I'm not sneaking you in there for a story." You pat his cheek. Clark pouts at you. You try your best not to squeal at how cute he is. You fail.

"Let me come in with you." He presses.

"Honestly, it’s fiiiiiiiiiiine. Nothing I can’t handle."

He still looks unconvinced.

Clark buries his face deeper into your hair. "Hmmmmm, he sounds like an a- a jerk." He grumbles into your hair. You will get Clark to swear at some point.

You're extremely amused by Clark's behavior. You wrap an arm around him. "Clark, he is quite literally contained in a cage I helped design. He is not getting out."

"Should I tell him I have a boyfriend and show him a picture of you?"

Clark's face goes ashen. "Don't tell me you've done that before." That would explain so much.

"Then I won't." You laugh. That sound sends butterflies fluttering in his stomach no matter how many times he's heard it.

"I’d still feel better if I could come with you." He sigh. You would be lying if you said that you wouldn't feel better with Clark accompanying you. Sure, he wasn't Heracles but Clark was no pushover contrary to the shy demeanor. But... admitting that kind of thing was... not something you're comfortable with or used to so you let it settle like the cheap coffee in your mug.

"It’s really not necessary." And Clark knows from the frequency of your heartbeat that you're lying. He knows you well enough to let it go. You kiss his cheek. "But thank you, you’re disgustingly sweet."

You kiss him again. "Sides, I think he's just bored." Your eyes brighten, a memory resurfacing. Clark watches with interest, knowing there's a 50-50 chance that it's something like the material of Lobo's shoe. "Get this he says that superman guy is a kryptonian. Sadly, when I asked him the typical anthropology question he made farting noises." You tilt your head. "Well, he did say they were a good lay and... well the super guy was hung."

Red blooms on Clark's cheeks as he sputters out a response. You squish his face with your hands. You love messing with Clark way too much. You really should feel bad that look on Clark's face was priceless.

"Oh relax Clark, we both know my type is small town dork and not man from the moon." You giggle.

Clark kind of hates you sometimes. He hates how easily you throw him off balance. Clark rights himself but he can't quite get rid of the blush dusting his cheeks. "Did he say anything else?" He asks, face still squished.

Unable to stop your giggling, you put your hands away. "Well, he called our mystery streaker a pretty boy."

"Very relevant."

"Yanno..." You drawl, taking Clark's glasses off. "yanno if you push that hair out of your face you'd look pretty good too."

Clark swats your hand away. You pout at him.

He looks at you wearily. "I like my hair how it is." He mumbles, fiddling with it.

"I'm not gonna cut it you dork. I just want proof that you have a forehead." You say, brushing some of his hair out of his face. Clark really does scream handsome when given the chance.

There's a flicker of recognition in the back of your mind that has your pulse quickening. Clark can already see the pieces falling into place, your mind whirring to get the answer.

His mind sprints to keep up and counteract the flow of your thoughts. Clark leans forward and kisses you softly. Without needing to open his eyes, he knows your mind is short-circuiting. Affection was a sure-fire way to get your mind to slow down. It was dumb but you really should be allowed to be dumb sometimes. Especially now when Clark isn't exactly sure how your feel about the mystery streaker.

You laugh your easy chirpy laugh sure but that didn't guarantee you were on board with an alien of all things. He wasn't even sure if you would think of him as any more than a test subject. No, he knew you too well to think that but there's still some part of him that isn't entirely sure and it scares him.

"Behave," he says, his face in a grin. The expression lights up his face. The smug satisfaction of finally catching you wrong-footed fills up Clark's features and shapes them into something borderline evil. "Tell me more about Lobo and his ramblings."

You shake your head. You mumble some version of “I always behave”. You know Clark's hiding something from you. You can see it in the delicate way he's looking at you. You purse your lips deciding whether this is a good time to push but in the end, you decide to let him keep his secrets for now. If Clark of all people has a reason to keep a secret then it must be important. You brush your lips against his before laying your offer on the table. "A kiss per story."

Clark stares at you. "I can live with that." Clark huffs, adjusting his glasses.

#redhoodssweethearts1.7kwritingchallenge #clark kent x reader #clark kent #superman x reader #superman imagine

98 notes · View notes

ghostburs-blue · 5 years ago

Text

Peace Is Momentary

Summary: soulmate!au where your soulmate will appear to you in a time of need. Spencer’s gone 20 years without meeting his; so has y/n. What will happen when fate finally connects them together?

Warnings: angst if you squint, nothing else really

Word count: 2.2k

a/n: this might become a series if people like it enough!! we’ll see ;)

Spencer knows there’s a chance he’ll never meet his soulmate. He knows the statistics, he’s done the research. Yet, he always feels a little bit better at the thought that someone was made just for him, someone who’ll stay with him through it all.

Of course, he assumed he would have found his soulmate much earlier in life. Most people found theirs when they were as young as 16, though always in the same fashion. Spencer was turning 22, 6 years older than the average age of finding your one true love.

Your soulmate would come to you in a time when you need them the most; when your soul calls out to its other half in a cry for help.

Every time Spencer broke down or cried, whether it be over a case at work, his mother’s condition, or quite literally anything else, he prayed that his soulmate would magically appear in front of him. Alas, the cards simply haven’t been in his favor.

Unknown to Reid, about 20 minutes away, you were in the exact same predicament. All of your life, you had waited to find your soulmate. When your parents passed in your high school years, there was a small part of you that was hoping you would find your soulmate right then and there. That... didn’t exactly work out.

You had moved in with your aunt and uncle in a different city and had turned into the epitome of a rebellious child. You wore clothes your modest family would have a heart attack upon seeing, listened to music the church choir you were a part of would scoff at. However, if there was one thing you were good at, it was school.

You didn’t have a ton of money growing up, so you worked harder than anyone you knew to get scholarships to college. You juggled a full time job at your local coffee shop while still in school to get your engineering degree, and boy was it tiring.

“Excuse me lady? I’ve been waiting for 10 fucking minutes. What have I got to do to get a coffee already?” A man with a thick (Boston?) accent leered at you. You groaned internally, proceeding to plaster a much too bright smile on your face in an attempt to hide your obvious disdain for him.

“So sorry sir! Your cold brew will be coming right up,” you exclaimed cheerily, though you felt anything but. Turning away from him, you let your hands fly over the coffee machine to make a drink you’ve made a thousand times over. Your mind starts to wander as you brew the espresso. Did you even have a soulmate? What if they hate you? What if they’re dead? What if-

Your thoughts were cut short as the espresso machine beeps, jolting you back to reality. You quickly finish off the cup, gratefully sliding it across the bar to the rude man waiting close by. You turned around and caught your coworker’s bemused expression; you were too tired to complain.

Spencer frowned as he gazed at the crime scene photos. What wasn’t clicking?

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of Emily’s heels clacking on the linoleum floor. He turned with his chin resting on his hand to see her wearing a pitying look on her face. In one hand, she held a cup of coffee.

He reached out, pointing to the styrofoam cup. “Is that for me?” Spencer asked, secretly hoping it wasn’t so he could get some rest.

Thankfully, Emily shook her head. “No, Reid.” She sighed, looking back up at him sadly. “Listen, I know you really want to solve this case. Don’t get me wrong, we all do. But you’ve been awake for what? 30 hours straight? You might be a genius but even Einstein needed rest,” she finished. Before Reid could protest, she lifted a hand. “Go back to your hotel room and sleep. That’s a direct order from Hotch.”

Spencer frowned unhappily at the brunette in front of him, but he knew when the conversation was over. Grabbing some files he was fully planning to mull over on the comfort of his stiff hotel mattress, he brushed past Emily and headed towards his car.

After a long shift, you groaned as you pushed open the door to your tiny apartment. Immediately, you stripped off your clothes and headed straight for the shower in an attempt to scrub off the now nauseating scent of coffee.

Emerging 20 minutes later with bright red and freshly exfoliated skin, you felt like you were about to collapse at any second. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

Reid sat on the bed, papers and crime scene photos splayed out in front of him. The heels of his hands dug into his eyes as he tried to prevent tears from running down his unshaven cheeks.

You wake with a start, sweating slightly. Looking around, you frown. This isn’t your hotel room, you think to yourself, confused. You gasped when you noticed a man sitting on the bed, looking like he hadn’t slept in months. His clothes were misshapen, hair messy and clearly not brushed. He was boyishly handsome, you decided with a satisfied nod.

The gasp you let out caused him to look up; you both realized what was happening at the same moment.

“You’re my soulmate,” Spencer breathed out, at the same time you muttered “Oh my fucking god.”

For a few more moments, both stared at each other, unsure how to act and what to do.

Reid made the first move, awkwardly scooting over slightly and clearing his throat, patting the now empty space next to him.

You quietly shuffled over, perching politely on the edge of the bed.

“So um... where are you right now?” You offered, genuinely curious as to why he was in a hotel room in seemingly the middle of nowhere.

Spencer laughed. “I uh- I guess it’s a long story,” his voice trailed off slightly as he noticed the look you gave him, the one that said Really?. “I guess that was a stupid thing to say,” he mumbled.

You laughed, hitting his arm gently. “Don’t worry about it. For now, we have all the time in the world.”

And so the night progressed; Reid told you all about working at the BAU and you told him all about, well, working at a coffee shop. You quickly found out Spencer was a literal genius, and you, completely serious of course, asked if he would do all your homework for you. (Spoiler alert: he said no because it “goes against his morals”. What does that even mean???)

You could feel yourself fading as Spencer got happier and happier. You both seemed to realize you didn’t have much time left. You grabbed his hand, staring deep into his eyes. You could feel yourself leaning in, Reid too-

“Wait!” You exclaimed, and the two of you jumped apart. “What’s your name?” You asked breathlessly.

“Oh!” He replied, seemingly surprised that you two had never exchanged names. What he didn’t know, however, was that you were slipping away from him much faster than either of you could have realized. “It’s Sp-“

And just like that, you were gone. You woke up in your own bed to find it was morning, sunlight streaming through your windows. Racking your brain, you tried to remember what he said his name was. Unfortunately, all you could remember was the short 2 letters you heard before you vanished. He hadn’t even gotten your name! How was he supposed to find you now?

Across the country, Spencer woke up with his head pounding. Bleary eyed, he tried to make sense of what just happened. He met his soulmate, then lost her just as fast. He didn’t even get her name!, Reid kicked himself.

The next few days for the both of you seemed like hell. You found out it was practically impossible to find records of government employees, especially from divisions like the BAU. You grew increasingly frustrated while scouring through database after database.

Spencer had immediately called Garcia, but made her swear to keep it a secret. He attempted to give her an idea of what you looked like, only to hear the disappointed sound of Penelope’s voice letting him know that she had a list of about 10,000 people who fit the description. Of course, knowing Penelope, no secret ever stayed a secret for long. No more than a few hours later he was met with a chorus of congratulations from his fellow colleagues, including Morgan’s “I knew you had it in you!”, which was met with a sad frown as Spencer explained the unlucky situation.

Unfortunately, nothing much happened after that. You gave up your search on this mystery man, he did the same. Every day, however, you both woke up and hoped today would be that one special day where they found each other again. Every day, they were met with another heart wrenching disappointment, until one fateful afternoon.

Your back ached as you scrubbed down the counter for what felt like the thousandth time that day. It had been a few years since what you liked to call “the incident”, and you liked to keep it out of your head at this point. You were now in grad school, in a different city. You still worked at a coffee shop, though this one was much more busy and frankly much more stressful.

You stretched slightly, pulling your arms up in the air as you readjusted your torso. You turned when you heard your coworker call your name; he was going to take a break. You nodded at him, letting him know you would take over for him.

There was a lull in the customers in the shop, which made sense considering it was 2:00 on a Tuesday afternoon.

You decided to make the most of the break and started to clean the espresso machine in front of you. As you grabbed a dish cloth from the sink, you heard bells in the doorway tinkle slightly as the door was pushed open.

You looked up with your customer service grin automatically painted on, ready to greet the customer. The welcome died on your lips, however, as you realized who it was. It was him.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized something else; he was kissing a girl who was definitely not you.

You forced yourself to walk over to the cash register, clearing your throat to break the intense lip-locking session apart. A faint look of annoyance crossed Spencer’s face as he looked up at who interrupted them.

His first reaction was exactly what you thought it would be. He froze slightly, then slowly walked up to the register with what looked like a death grip on his (girlfriend’s?) hand.

Though it was the girl who spoke, you found your attention kept flitting to the man next to her. You couldn’t tell if she was oblivious, or just didn’t care.

He had... changed to say the least. Stubble covered the bottom portion of his face, and his hair had grown out. His cheekbones looked more defined, and he walked with an aura of confidence that he didn’t have before. Still, you had to admit he looked very handsome.

You were shaken out of your stupor when you felt the gaze of the girl. She looked at you with, was that impatience? You asked for her payment and her name, Stacy, noting it down on both cups before you took her credit card.

You hurried around behind the bar in an attempt to give them the drinks as quickly as possible and get them to leave. How were you supposed to talk to him now? He literally has a girlfriend!

You finished making the two coffees and set them on the counter, calling out her name to let her know the drinks were ready.

“One nitro cold brew for you, and one iced vanilla latte for him,” you handed over the drinks directly to each of them, making a point to shift Spencer’s drink slightly, causing him to look down. He caught your drift as he noticed a little extra writing underneath Stacy’s name.

His girlfriend grabbed his hand, throwing a quick and insincere “thank you!” over her shoulder at you as they left the store. You slumped against the sink, grabbing the countertop with your hands. What in Gods’ green Earth was this?

Outside, Spencer finally got the chance to look at the cup. He smiled as he read what you had scribbled on there.

Underneath your phone number, you had written, “It’s a really long story but I hope you have the time. Let’s talk soon?”

It was nearing 9 pm when you were starting to lose all hope. What if you made a mistake, and that wasn’t actually your soulmate? You shoved a pillow over your face with irritation and groaned, collapsing onto the sofa next to your phone. As you lay in silence, you heard a noise. Your phone was vibrating.

Sitting up quickly, you picked up the phone.

“Hello?” You asked breathlessly.

A familiar amused chuckle rang on the other end of the line.

“Hi, soulmate.”

402 notes · View notes

kotonoba · 3 years ago

Text

ISYT (Jushiro/Fem!Reader) Ch. 27

Initially, you had thoughts of pulling all negative feelings to yourself so that Jushiro would be less stressed, but it didn’t work when he walked in on you getting pummeled with rocks and food. It wasn’t a nice scene. In the end, you had agreed to clean up the streets at night. It would take the edge off you if you had time to think over things.

Your face heated up when you recall Jushiro mentioned he watched your entire bluffing act, the way you tried to act tough to egg people on, to make them more upset. That was a side you never wanted anyone to see because it was embarrassing. But, while Jushiro was cleaning the tomatoes and eggs off of you, you did notice a bruise on his hand where he had blocked a rock thrown at you. And he may have noticed you eyeing the bruise, “no, no, don’t think about healing me. We talked about this, and this is just a light bruise. It’ll heal in no time.”

You offered him a thoughtful hum, moving to sit in his lap, “‘Shiro…”

“No, no, I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s…” you leaned in to kiss him. Although you’re not quite eyeing the bruise on his hand, you still want to heal him. He pulls away from the kiss for a bit, “working,” you grin a little more, shifting to kiss him again. His arms snaked around your waist. He hummed a little before his eyes fluttered close, “your kisses are always so light,” you hummed into his kiss. Offering him a thoughtful click as you pulled away, “you’re always teasing me; I don’t think I can hold out until marriage.”

“I knew you were traditional, but I never thought you had that much self-control, Jushiro,” out of habit, you pulled away from him at the sound of someone else’s voice, but Jushiro was determined to hold you against him. Instead, you hid away from Kyoraku-taichou, or at least the direction of his voice, “oh, don’t be shy. I’m glad you’re marrying him, but don’t you want more?”

“Shunsui, stop. What are you trying to do?”

“Aren’t you curious what your little lady thinks of you? I certainly am–”

You just saw drama go down in school and at the academy. You had to cut him off because Jushiro was hostile, thinking his best friend was trying to drive a hole into your relationship, “I think it’s endearing that he’s so traditional.” You shift a little in Jushiro’s embrace, looping your arms around his neck a little, “plus, at least I know he’s serious about everything,” it’s not like you had anyone to compare to.

“But, don’t you want some action?” It does seem like Shunsui was trying to drive a hole into your relationship with what he was insinuating.

“I have plenty with the amount of attention he showers me with and the number of times he’s placed very obvious hickeys all over my neck to prove a point,” not that you were opposed to it. It was nice to see how possessive he could get with you.

“Don’t you think he’s too… possessive of you? Do you feel like it’s suffocating yo–”

“No, quite frankly, I like his possessiveness,” you glanced up at Jushiro, who seemed somewhat satisfied with your answer, “if you haven’t noticed, Kyoraku-taichou,” you hummed a little, shifting again to pull Jushiro into a light kiss before trailing kisses down to his neck. Side eyeing the eighth division captain, “I’m quite possessive myself,” gently, you grazed your teeth against the nape of Jushiro’s neck, feeling a shudder from him as you closed in to suck a mark onto his neck before pulling back, “it takes someone as possessive and loving as him to pull out another, it’s quite nice to be appreciated like so.”

“It’s hard to maintain self-control around you, Y/N,” your attention turned towards Jushiro, “you just have your way with words,” he grins a little, pulling you into another kiss which you react strongly to since all your boldness slipped away after you had finished talking. Typically, you wouldn’t dare to speak at a captain – it was probably because you felt accomplished after standing up to Aizen. Although you know that dealing with Aizen is going to bite you back one way or the other at a later date, “now, if you’ll excuse me, Shunsui, I’d like some alone time with my fiance. Especially knowing that she likes the possessive side of me,” even though he says that, you could tell there was some doubt hidden beneath it.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone then,” the two of you wait for him to leave before you relax around Jushiro. Sometimes, you forget how pressuring it could be when talking to someone with authority aside from your lover.

“Do you mean–”

“Yes, ‘Shiro, I mean it. I like this possessive side of you, it’s endearing, and I like your traditionalism. It’s endearing,” you giggled a little when you saw Jushiro soften, only to hold you closer, “if I may express how I feel about everything.”

You pause, and he pauses too, worried that he had been doing something wrong with you the entire time, “go ahead.”

You shift to move his slightly bruised hand into yours to intertwin together, “when you had confessed to me, I took it with a grain of salt. I thought that after a bit, you’d surely get sick of me like everyone I’ve interacted with,” you felt his hand squeeze yours lightly, you could see his brows furrow a little when you said that, “I’m not a particularly interesting person, I’ve come to terms with that when I was in the human realm, before my first arrival to the Soul Realm… but, the more I expect you to leave me, the more scared I felt because I knew I was too attached to you at that point,” you could hear Seiya’s voice warning you not to tell him about the history of your family. But you shook your head, if you want this to work, there can’t be any secrets, “and then, Seiya told me about my origins, which is hard to explain, but I digress, it made me wonder, would you still be able to love me, if you knew what happened?” Tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn’t help but brace yourself for any worst-case scenario.

“Our history makes us who we are. It doesn’t determine anything but our hardships. If you want to share with me, I’d be happy to listen; if not, I wouldn’t hold it to you, Y/N,” he peppered kisses all over your face, “it wouldn’t change you how much I love you.”

“I love you too,” you eyed his bruised hand before sparking your healing kido on him. He was ready to pull away, thinking you would use your Zanpakutou ability on him, but relaxed when he realized that wasn’t your aim. “Seiya told me that he and Sen’a were–”

“From the Miyake clan? I recall hearing those names when I was younger. If they were from the Miyake clan, then you must be the princess of the Ouchi clan because of some human experimentation gone wrong; where your mother brought you to the human world to hide only for you to end up back here, yes?” You were stunned that he knew. Still, he is a genius for a reason. Nodding a little, you were about to ask him how much more he knew before he cut you off on your thought, “that doesn’t change anything. I don’t believe that kids should atone for their parent’s sins. I was too young to express anything. I’m sorry for what my clan had don–”

“It’s okay, honestly. If I were in their shoes, I, too, would have wanted both clans gone because I can feel the fear and pain that both Sen’a and Seiya feel every night. In a sense, I’m glad that both of the clans are gone so there wouldn’t be more harm to come our way,” you took a bit to heal the bruise on Jushiro’s hand before turning to look at him with a smile, expecting him to end things with you; instead, he leaned in to kiss you once more on the lips.

“That still doesn’t change how much I love you. I’m glad you told me, even though I did figure it out. So, let me ask you again, Y/N,” you felt giddy about everything, but you also took it with a grain of salt that everything could turn sour in an instance dependent on the question Jushiro asked you. “Will you allow me the honor to love you for the rest of your life, protect you, and stand by your side, so you won’t be alone to shoulder this burden alone?”

You didn’t expect him to still propose to you since Seiya had been telling you it was a bad idea to tell anyone, especially Jushiro. You were prepared for the worst-case scenario, and tears streamed down your colorless world. Before the worry could strike Jushiro, you nodded quickly, pulling him into a tight hug, “yes, if anything, I should be thanking you; for choosing me still.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone other than you, Y/N.”

Cloudy's AO3

#bleach au #bleach #jushiro ukitake #jushiro ukitake x reader #ukitake #ukitake jushiro #ukitake jushiro x reader #ukitake x reader #bleach fandom #bleach fanfiction #bleach x you #bleach x reader #bleach x y/n #bleach ukitake #jushiro ukitake x you #i'll see you tomorrow

4 notes · View notes

victoria-daydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Two: Division X

AN: This story is doing numbers and I am here for it, and I’m also glad a lot of you all are enjoying the story so far. I was going to wait and publish this chapter tomorrow, but WandaVision came out today and I frankly been in good mood all day, so here you go!

Trigger Warnings: racism, assault, mentions of sexism

Word Count: 4.9k

Chapter Three: Budding Relationships

As it turned out, there was a lot more they could do. The sky was almost pitch black, and the awkwardness and tension between the group of young mutants, had surely faded. All it took was a few hours and a bit of alcohol. Even the friction between Angel and I had dissipated, but you could just tell that we would only ever tolerate each other.

It was a bad scene.

With, "The Shake", playing loudly through jukebox, Alex and Sean were hitting Darwin with chair legs, who was partially transformed into stone. Darwin was urging them on. Obviously alcohol had a part in that part of the scene. Then there was Raven and Angel dancing drunkenly on the couch, and Hank hanging from the ceiling. Then there was me, sitting on the couch reading and nursing a glass of scotch as I bounced my foot to the music. I couldn't say I liked the song, but I had to admit, it was catchy.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

It was a woman's voice, I didn't recognize it, so I presumed she must be Moira. Her business attire suggested that she was someone important. Charles and Erik stood aghast with the furious woman, looking at the destruction.

Quickly shutting the book of poetry I managed to find, I stood up from my spot. I studied Moira, she was pretty with dark eyes and short auburn hair, but frankly I didn't understand what Charles saw in her. He definitely had a thing for her, I could tell by the way his voice warmed up at the mention of her name. Moira appeared too plain, and it looked like we weren't off to the best of starts.

The others abruptly stopped their movements.

"Who destroyed the statue?" she demanded.

"It was Alex," Hank answered quickly, throwing him under the bus. Alex turned to glare at him as Raven stepped up.

"No, Havok. We have to call him Havok. That's his name now," Raven was still more than a little bit tipsy. "And we were thinking," she continued, oblivious to the disgruntled looks she was getting from the three adults, "Claudia should be Blythe," she announced, pointing at me and I lowered my head pinching the brim of my nose. "You should be Professor X," Raven named, now pointing at Charles. "And you should be Magneto," she finished, turning her finger towards Erik.

He stared at her stonily for a moment, "Exceptional," he commented dryly, his eyes drifting towards me.

I stepped forward, mentally preparing myself for the following conversation. Charles simply looked at us all in pure disappointment. He turned to Raven specifically, who looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"I expect more from you," Charles' jab at Raven is short, but painful.

Her hurt and sadness flooded me just as quickly as it flooded her.

"Charles-" I was cut off by the look he shot me.

"Meet me in the library," he ordered coolly.

I stiffened at his tone. He brushed past me and walked towards the facility, stepping over the broken glass on the ground. I didn't like being talked to as if I was some student being called to the principal's office. I didn't like the feeling of being treated like a child. I never did, especially when it was coming from Charles, a man that I hardly knew. I didn't get a reaction out of Erik, just a cryptic stare. Soon, he walked past me as well. I went over to Raven, pulling her into a comforting hug. She resisted before letting go and whimpering softly into my shoulder.

"It's okay, dear. He'll be over it by the morning," I smiled, stroking her hair, hoping to soothe her.

"Hey, I'm sad, I need a hug too!" Sean proposed, getting a well-earned smack around the back of the head by Darwin and Alex, who both had the same idea.

Striding past them, I clenched my jaw as I steadily made my way to find Charles. I know I messed up, badly. But it hardly warranted this reaction when there was nothing I could've done to prevent most of this. By the time I got there, Charles was sitting at a desk with no one else in sight. Closing the door behind me, it truly felt like I was being sent down to the principal's office. He was looking at me coolly over his interlaced hands. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Oh don't act like that," I stated, breaking the silence, "It doesn't suit you," I remarked, crossing my arms.

That was the spark that caused his eruption.

"I gave you one thing to do!" He exclaimed, his hands flying down to grip the edges of his desk. "One thing, Claudia!" he repeated.

"They are barely adults, Charles!" I shot back just as fiercely. "You know that! They haven't come to terms with what is going to happen, they are bound to act like the children that they are!"

"They shattered a window and destroyed a statue!"

I opened and shut my mouth. There was really no excuse that I could say to that.

"We were showing each other our abilities," I explained, subdued for now.

"Claudia, you're the oldest person in there. You should've acted like it!" he scolded.

"Maybe you should ask before pointing fingers and scolding me like I'm some child! I didn't cause any destruction in case you're wondering!” I snapped, throwing my hand up. “I know I probably could've stopped them from destroying the property, but I'm not sure if you've noticed there wasn't much to do. That's probably the most fun they had in awhile!" I pointed out.

"I-" Charles started, but I cut him off.

"No! Don't interrupt me! We just met Charles, and you're mad at me for not being able to control a group of teenagers who have powers, that are literal strangers to me! No, I refuse to take the fall for this mess!" I argued.

Charles slumped back in his seat, rubbing his temples tiredly, "They could've been hurt," Charles remarked quietly, looking up at me once more.

My gaze softened, "I know," I agreed gently, moving closer to the desk. "You know I would've been able to stop anything truly bad from happening," Charles sighed in defeat at the truth of my words.

We sat in a now comfortable silence for several moments.

"They still need to act more mature," Charles said in a subdued tone. His crystal blue eyes had regained their usual spark, and all anger had left them.

I chuckled, "Oh, I know. I'll start working on it tomorrow," I chuckled, placing my hand over his. "Goodnight Charles,"

"Goodnight," he answered, a small smile of his own appearing.

I slowly moved my hand from his, Charles flipped his hand palm side and slightly curled his fingers over mine. The contact lingered more than necessary. I smiled softly as I closed the door behind me. Turning my head, I jumped when I saw Erik standing there.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed, jumping a foot in the air. "Erik! Don't do that!" Erik merely arched an eyebrow.

By the look on his face I could tell that he had heard the entire argument. I sighed to myself.

"I didn't know it was possible to sneak up on you," he rumbled, his soft blend of an accent making itself known.

It was somehow soothing to listen to.

"Take it as a compliment," I answered wryly. "I'm sorry about the mess they made," I said guiltily after a moment of silence, shifting uncomfortably.

I somehow felt more apologetic in his presence than Charles. Perhaps because he wasn't the one yelling at me.

Erik gave a wry smile, "From what I heard," he said in his delightful voice. "You weren't the one causing it," I smiled slightly in return, answering his question with nary a word.

"You seemed shocked," I noted smirking.

"Only because you seem like a troublemaker," Erik retorted, and silence fell between us and I studied Erik with a slight tilt of my head. His emotionless blue eyes and seemingly permanent scowl etched onto features intrigued me. The faux relaxed posture could've fooled people, but not me. He was obviously ready to face any type of attack. "You see something you like?" Erik questioned, noticing how my eyes swept over his form.

"Maybe, maybe not," I began, sauntering closer to Erik with my hands interlaced behind my back. "I was just curious to see how long you can keep this calm facade you have going on right now,” I said, motioning to my face. “Because deep down the anger that you lock away is bubbling inside of you, like a volcano waiting to erupt," I finished, explaining my observation and folding my arms across my chest.

Erik smirked, "And you think you're so different?" he challenged, arching his brow and mirroring my expression as he took a step closer towards me. "You hide behind your smiles and sarcasm, your wit and sass to cover up whatever your actually feeling inside,” he remarked, with a barely visible smirk. “You have everyone fooled that you're perfect, but you're not. Analyze me all you want Claudia, but don't think that I haven't been observing you as well," Erik finished, looking down at me with those blue eyes that were cold as steel, yet I felt suddenly a rush of heat spread through my body.

"So, what does each of our analyses tell you, Mr. Lehnsherr? I quizzed, upholding my unfazed visage even though in the inside I was astonished on how quickly Erik was almost able to read me like a book.

"That the two of us are walking contradictions,"

~~~x~~~

Later, when I was in bed, Raven couldn't stop thinking about the way Charles reacted I could tell because her emotions kept fluctuating and were keeping me from going to sleep. Sighing, I hoisted myself up, to lean on both of my elbows and threw my covers off of me. I walked across my small room and to the door, leaving the room. Quietly, I moved down the hall and stopped at her door, softly knocking.

There's a rustling inside the room and Raven's face peeked from the crack of her barely opened door.

"You wanna talk about it?" I asked quietly.

"How'd you know I was awake?"

"You were snoring," I joked, with a shrug. "So loudly in fact, that I heard you all the way from my room which is three doors down," I continued, as Raven opened the door for me to enter her room.

Raven rolled her eyes, "I do not snore," Raven grumbled, shutting the door.

"I know," I smiled, plopping down on her lumpy bed. "But I also know that the older sibling can't stay pissed long. We're weak against the puppy dog eyes,"

Raven sat next to me and pulled her legs into her chin, "Charles and I aren't really related," she confessed.

I wrapped my arm around her and she placed her head on my shoulder, "So what?" I replied, shaking my head in disbelief. "You introduced yourself to me as 'Charles' sister'. He'll get over it. Fast," I assured smiling warmly, rubbing her arm soothingly. It's going to be okay Raven,"

"We're weak against puppy dog eyes?" Raven recited, cocking an eyebrow before lifting her head from my shoulder.

My lips curved into a smile as my thoughts went to my family, "Younger brother and sister," I explained, as Raven lids started to droop. After clearing her mind, she wanted to drift off. I could tell, even in this dim lit room. I unwrapped my arms from her and stood up from her bed and my way to the door. Raven slipped into her bed again "Night," I called, as I opened the door.

"Goodnight Claudia,"

~~~x~~~

I realized that comforting Raven was a mistake almost immediately the next morning. Raven doesn't leave my side. At all. She was like a lost puppy and don't get me wrong, I like Raven, she's nice and welcoming towards me. But, my God, it was like she never had a single friend in her life. On our way to the mess area Raven told me about the story how she and Charles met when she was stealing food from his kitchen and how his mother and step-father adopted her into the family.

Pushing the door open, I spotted Darwin, Angel, and Hank already claimed a table in the mess hall. The two of us walked over joining them at the lonely table after grabbing some food as well.

"Morning," Darwin greeted us, I flashed him a smile while Raven greeted him in return.

Remember when I said Raven was stuck to me like glue? So, naturally I'm stuck sitting in between Raven and Angel at breakfast, staring at my nails boredly. If I looked up I would have to deal with Hank and Raven making "secret" googly eyes at each other, it was sort of adorable to the point it made me sick. I took a bite of my toast and sipped some of my coffee while Hank, Darwin, Raven, and Angel all talked about their night of trying to fall asleep in the uncomfortable beds provided for us by the CIA.

"He wouldn't stop talking. It kept me up all night," Hank stated, into his cereal, grumbling about Sean.

From her place across from him, Raven gave a sympathetic smile.

Sean plopped down next to Hank, letting his tray of scrambled eggs drop the last couple inches to the table. "Talking about me?" Sean smiled toothily.

Hank gets flustered from being caught, but Raven remains level-headed, "Maybe,"

"I'm touched," Sean quipped, and began the process of shoveling his food in his face.

"Gross," Raven laughed at him.

I smiled as well as I stood up from the table, grabbing my empty plate and half-full mug and made my way to the small window where the dirty dishes are taken away. Placing them down softly I turned around only to see Raven right behind me, nearly giving me a heart attack.

I placed my hand on my chest to calm my heart, "Raven, you scared me," I breathed out.

"Sorry," Raven began smiling apologetically. "I just thought I should warn you about Charles," she stated. "From one girl to another," she added.

I furrowed my eyebrows, "Warn me?" I questioned, my lips curving upwards. "About what?" I asked again.

"It's just that Charles, is a bit of a flirt. And I wanted to give you a heads up if he ever says 'you have a groovy mutation' don't fall for it, he says that to all the girls he meets," Raven warned grinning, and I laughed softly. "You laugh now, but just you wait. I'm surprised he hasn't tried it on you yet, a pretty girl like yourself," she complimented, still smiling.

"You're too kind Raven, and thank you for the warning. I'll be sure to keep that in mind," I smiled, starting to make my way out of the mess hall, but a sudden surge of anxiousness bombarded my mind from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Raven almost squirming, uncomfortable with the thought of me leaving the room for a second. "Don't worry Raven, I'll be back," I assured, and left the room.

I walked through the imposing government building passing through a door and a gust of frigid air caused my arms to break out in goosebumps. I repressed a shiver, passing through a set swinging doors, this set leading to a monotonously gray hallway. Another doorway. Another gray hall.

"How many identical hallways can one building have?" I grumbled, briefly rubbing my hands against my arms to drum up some warmth.

That's when I saw it, the place that was giving me a headache just trying to find it, the restroom. Just as I crossed the door frame I felt someone grab me roughly on me upper arm, whipping me around. It was a CIA agent.

"This restroom is whites only," he hissed.

I could feel the waves of anger and disgust rolling off him and an air of danger seemed to surround him. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I was instantly on alert. My eyes darted between the agent and the restroom where there wasn't a sign in sight.

I raised an eyebrow, openly mocking him, "Funny, I don't see that. Looks to me it says women's restroom," I retorted flippantly, trying to free my arm, not even faltering in the agent's strong grip. "I think it would be in your best interest to pick up a dictionary so you know the difference between a gender and a color, wouldn't want people thinking your a simpleton now would you?" I questioned mockingly.

At this, the agent slapped me forcefully across the face with the back of his hand.

"My mama always told me that my mouth would get me in trouble," I thought.

For a moment I was stunned into silence. The hit stung, but I refused to allow my eyes to well up with tears. Without thinking, I also backhanded him across the face, twice as hard. He fell to the floor, stunned at the fact that a woman, a black woman, was bold enough to hit him back and with such force. In a flash the agent jumped to his feet and lunged across the corridor and pinned me against the wall, his arm pressing on my neck.

I felt my powers welling up inside of me, "I suggest you let go of me or things will get messy," I warned, my voice dangerously low and that only made the agent push down harder on my neck.

"You need to be taught some respect, girl,"

"That's quite enough, agent!" Charles yelled sternly, I whipped my head to the end of the hallway to see Charles' figure he looked towards the man pinning me down. He quickly brought his hand up to his temple, walking closer to us. "You need to leave. Now!" Charles demanded angrily.

The agent dutifully released his hold on my neck and walked away like he didn't just physically assault me.

Charles placed each of his hands on my shoulders looking straight into my eyes. "Are you okay, Claudia?" Charles asked, scanning me over for injuries.

"It's fine," I lied, my face hot with embarrassment that Charles found me in such a vulnerable position.

"No, it's not. Claudia-" Charles began, cutting himself off mid-word. He grabbed my chin with one of his hands. "Your cheek is a bit redden, did he hit you Claudia?"

I pushed his hand away, "Charles, I'm fine. Please, just let me use the restroom," with that I quickly turned away from Charles' sympathetic eyes.

I walked in quickly not wanting to see anyone else. Just as the door swung close, I slid down the door crying silently into my hands. I wiped away my tears as I sniffed, I didn't want Charles' pity.

My body shook with sadness and fury, to say I was upset would be an understatement. I wanted to snap that man's neck and I wanted to use my powers to do it, but I knew that the CIA would only retaliate. It simply wasn't a wise choice. Someone would only end up hurt, and the whole situation would get messy. So, I did what I usually did, I got up onto my feet and stood up a little straighter pushing my shoulders back. A long, deep sigh escaping from mouth as I moved over to the mirror and hastily wiped away the remaining tears from my puffy eyes.

I endured.

~~~x~~~

I sat on a bench, my elbows resting upon my knees, trying to keep myself distracted. Every time I let my mind settle, images of that agent slapping me would flash in my mind. I had to repress my thoughts of making that agent meet his unfortunate and untimely demise.

"Penny for your thought?" I looked beside me to see Agent MacTaggert. She stuck her hand out to me. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Agent Moira MacTaggert, but you can just call Moira," Moira stated, introducing herself.

"Claudia Walker," I greeted back, shaking her hand. "And technically we did meet, you were just too busy yelling at us for the mess that the younger mutants made," I explained, a ghost of a smirk on my lips. "Sorry, about that," I apologized, a smile appearing on my face.

"I'm sorry if I came across as a bit harsh, my boss-" Moira began.

I waved her off, "I understand, the shouting was warranted. Trust me. The destruction of property was bad, now it's just worse because it was under your watch. We women aren't afforded the opportunity to make a mess of anything," I explained, with knowing look in my eyes.

She merely smiled at me, "You too huh?" Moira asked, sitting next to me.

"I used to work at a practice as an assistant, and one day I told my boss that I was going to pursue my Masters and Doctorate to become a psychologist, his response, laughter," I recalled, shaking my head. "He told me to stick to what I know best, which was filing papers and answering phones," I scoffed, still in disbelief of the audacity of him.

Truthfully, I shouldn't be revealing my life like this, to another complete stranger. But, there was just something about this woman before me that enabled me to trust her completely. It must be her friendly demeanor, or maybe it was our shared experiences with our shitty bosses. There fell a silence between us, and I went back to distracting myself this time admiring the paintings on the wall, but not really focusing on them.

"If you don't mind me asking," Moira began, cutting into the silence. "What are your powers exactly?" Moira asked curiously.

"I have many," and with that our surroundings around us suddenly changed.

The drab CIA building started to turn into a beautiful spring forest. I could feel the sunlight in my skin, the smell of the pine trees and the singing of the birds and I knew that Moira could too. She stared in awe at what she was looking. I thought about how harmless this was and wondered how I was still capable of this.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I asked, a smile on my face.

Moira could not see me and when she turned to the origin of my voice she found me leaning on a pine tree.

Moira's hazel eyes widened, "How can you do this?" she asked in an amazed whisper. "Are you a witch or something?"

I smiled at her, "Empath, could be a better term to describe me," I offered, walking back towards her and sitting down.

In the blink of an eye our surroundings went back to normal and the beauty of the forest stayed in Moira's mind, where it had been all along.

"It was all an illusion," Moira murmured, still amazed.

"Exclusive first look too," I quipped. "I haven't even shown Charles and Erik that I can do this,"

Moira smiled, "It will be our little secret then," Moira stated, imitating zipping her lips and throwing away the key. Moira looked down at her watch before standing up. "Oh, I have to go. I need to meet with my partner for last minute logistics," Moira explained, and I nodded understandingly. "It was nice meeting you Claudia," Moira called over shoulder, briskly walking away and down the hall.

I glanced down at the corridor ahead of me before standing up myself and making my way down a different hallway. The hallways were empty, and I prayed they stayed that way. My footsteps echoed in the hallway as I rounded the corner and headed straight towards the library. When I reached the library's open door, I paused, glancing inside curiously and checking that no one is around. I pushed the door open further and slowly walked inside.

There were hundreds and hundreds of books.

I wondered how I could not of noticed this yesterday, probably because Charles and I were too busy arguing about the damage that the younger mutants caused last night. I moved over to the bookshelf and trailed my fingers over the spines of numerous books as I lost myself in a trance.

"Business or Pleasure?"

I glanced up from the paper sitting in front of me to look at the dark haired boy, my boyfriend for a couple of months, his bright hazel eyes stared up at me as I quirked an eyebrow at him. Placing the paper down on the table in front of us in the university library I glanced at him and turned so my body was facing him on the loveseat.

"What do you mean?"

He pursed his full lips and placed his hands on my knees, "That's what dad always says to me when I read papers and stuff, so I wanted to try it out,"

I would have laughed if he didn't look so serious about it. So, I opted to humor him rather than laugh in his face. I pretended to think, rubbing my index finger against my chin and looking down at him.

"Business, Ben, business," I answered, beginning to collect my things. "I need to finish this paper and turn it into one of my professors," I looked around the room before I leaned forward and cupped a hand over his ear and began to whisper in his ear. "If you ask me, I'd say she gave me all this work on purpose, she's an old hag," I pulled away and winked at him, making him crack a small smile in return.

I shook my head clear of the memory, this library reminded me of my time in college. I began to fiddle with the charm of my necklace that laid against my hot skin on my chest. I sighed, turning around to make my way back to the younger mutants when I collided into something. I gasped in surprise, and stumbled lightly, as large hand clasped around my waist, steadying me. I glanced up into the eyes of the person I ran into, seeing Erik's peering right back at me.

I gulped, not even realizing how dry my throat was, "S-sorry," I muttered to him. I felt stupid at the moment, not even acknowledging that he was behind me, probably watching me have a flashback.

"No, it was my fault," he corrected, his breath feeling warm against my skin, and it only made it burn more. I gave a weak smile. "Are you alright?" he questioned.

I smiled again, but I knew Erik could see how forced it was on my face, "I'm fine thanks for asking," I went to walk away, but something stopped me. I turned my head down seeing Erik's hand around my bicep.

"You are not fine. If you were fine, your eyes wouldn't be puffy. A telltale sign you've been crying," Erik pointed out calmly, letting go of my arm.

I raised my hand to my eyes and indeed they were still slightly puffy, if it was that obvious why hadn't Moira commented on that. Maybe it was just out of common courtesy. He held my gaze, was that concern I saw in his eyes? What was going on? Why is he doing this?

A frowned formed on my face, "Why are you being so kind?" I asked quickly.

"You think everyone you meet has some ulterior motive?" Erik asked back.

"From my experience, yes," I responded in a clipped tone. I thought twice about saying what crossed my mind, but it slipped out anyway. "You would know," I added, and Erik was taken aback and took two steps away from me.

His fine brow arose with surprise and curiosity, "And what does that mean?"

"Someone had to have messed you up to make you all broody and vengeful all the time,"

A hint of a smirk began to emerge at the corner of his lips, "And what about you? Someone had to have made you so bitter and spiteful," he retorted, with a chuckle.

The side of my lip curled up, "Oh, I don't know, America," I answered, quirking an eyebrow at him.

His blue eyes continued to remain on me as if he was still trying to read me. Something about the way his eyes fixated on me sent chills down my spine, however not in a bad way, it was more of the fact that his gaze held an intense meaning toward me. Erik simply did not want to look away.

"Claudia," he began calmly just before he stepped forward. "We are so alike it is uncanny," I rolled my eyes at him and Erik just smirked again, slowly backing away. "Are you coming?" Erik gestured toward the door. "Charles, Moira, and I are leaving soon," he stated, staring at me one more time as if still trying to figure me out.

I nodded, "Of course," I answered, walking past him trying to decipher what had just happened.

Was Erik playing a game with me? Why was he suddenly concerned about my well-being. Or was this just our thing now? Getting under each other's skin and toying with each other.

But I think the most logical conclusion I could come to is that Erik and I are possibly becoming friends.

Chapter Four: Enter Sebastian Shaw

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic

64 notes · View notes

seanfalco · 4 years ago

Text

Not What This Is | Duncan Taylor x Reader

Word count: 2.5k Warnings: smut, rough sex, choking, derogatory language/dirty talk a/n: Watch me take another lesser known Rob character and give him some character development instead of working on my other fics oops. Despite Geostorm being a rather mediocre film (hey, I still found it entertaining at least!) and Rob’s character having hardly any screen time and a less than stellar British accent, I was gripped with the need to write this. I might continue writing some drabbles for this character since some plot started to slip in there.

Duncan Taylor was, to put it nicely, a cocky little shit. A brilliant systems analyst, to be sure, but a complete and total arsehole, and you had the very unfortunate honour of having to work in the same unit as him, day in and day out.

Your little rivalry had begun from the very beginning. You’d both been assigned to the O/S division for the Dutch Boy climate control system aboard the International Space Station, when you’d happened to disagree with him on something, calling attention to a fault in one of the programs he was in charge of monitoring.

Ever since then he’d tried to one up you, undermine you, and overall just get under your skin on a daily basis. You knew what some of your colleagues whispered behind your back, that your frequent arguments and back and forth banter was only thinly veiled flirting, which was frankly ridiculous.

Was it? A tiny voice in your head asked. Just because you sometimes happened to look forward to these repartees didn’t mean anything. It was almost enough to drive you mad, so it was peaceful moments like these that you relished when he wasn’t around, his computer chair sitting empty.

“[y/n], you wanna look over that data from yesterday again, please?” Duncan’s smug voice taunted as he ambled into the lab, plopping down at his workstation directly behind yours, letting his computer chair spin slowly to face you.

“Why? Was there something wrong with it?” you asked, looking up from your monitor warily, your lips twitching into a frown.

Duncan shrugged noncommittally, steepling his fingers as he slouched in his chair. “Oh, I dunno, just that an entire sector of satellites nearly went offline, due to a missing string of code,” he mused, frowning exaggeratedly, “Luckily I was there to catch your little mistake and fix it before anything untoward happened, but y’know, nothing major.”

Gritting your teeth you forced a smile, more of a grimace really, in his direction. “Thank you for that, I’m so glad you were able to catch it.”

“Yeah well, you owe me,” he pointed out smugly, his frown turning to a bemused smirk. “I could’ve easily let slip to Ute about it, but I decided to use some discretion, you know? Wouldn’t want to call attention to one of my associate’s mistakes.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. The thing about it that pissed you off the most was that you were thankful he’d caught it, and you were grateful that the head of your division hadn’t found out or you’d be facing some serious reprimands, but you were still frustrated you’d messed up in the first place, and now he had something to lord over you.

“You know what I’m most confused about, [y/n], is how you could’ve missed somethin’ so glaring as that in the first place,” Duncan continued thoughtfully, studying you with interest and you wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid smug grin off his face.

Scoffing again under your breath you spun your chair away from him, focusing back on your computer monitor, not rising to his jabs.

“You know what I think it is, [y/n]? I think you’re so pent up you just can’t think straight. Maybe if you had a good fuck—“

“You’re a prick, Duncan, that’s what I think,” you shot back, your head whipping toward him.

“Maybe so, but tell me, luv, when’s the last time you got laid, huh?” he continued, waggling his thick eyebrows, a suggestive look in his piercing green eyes that sent a strange thrill through you and for half a moment a thought danced through your consciousness, one that sent heat pooling between your thighs before you quickly banished it.

“Fuck off, Duncan, I don’t have time for your games,” you exclaimed, though you couldn’t quite bring yourself to turn away again.

“Who said I’m playin’?” he asked, though you weren’t sure if he were serious or just teasing you.

“I need to get back to work,” you muttered, tearing your gaze from him, though as you focused on your screen once more you could still feel his eyes on you.

——

Running your hands down your face you sighed as you finally pushed away from your workstation, stretching as you stood and knuckling the small of your back, wanting nothing more than a shower and your bunk. Luckily at this hour most of the crew was either relaxing in the lounge, asleep, or just starting a fresh shift, leaving the locker room quite empty. Crossing the room to your locker you nearly jumped out of your skin as Duncan ambled out from around the corner, coming to lean against the lockers next to yours.

“Well well well, fancy running into you here, [y/n],” he drawled, smirking down at you as he leaned closer. “What a pleasant surprise, and here I thought you were trying to avoid me.”

“If only it were that easy,” you grumbled sarcastically, attempting to nudge him out of the way so you could get to your locker.

“Oh come now, luv, don’t be like that,” Duncan pouted, tilting his head, his springy curls falling across his forehead and you idly wondered what it’d feel like to run your fingers through them.

“Be like what? Duncan, please get out of my way,” you huffed making a purposeful shooing motion, but he only stepped closer, caging you in with his arms and your breath caught at his proximity. His eyes found yours and this close you realized you’d never noticed how truly stunning they were before, your thoughts turning unconsciously to your earlier conversation.

He was right, it had been a while, and just the thought of being filled, being touched after so long had arousal gripping you. For a mouthy fucker why did he have to be so damn attractive?

Oh fuck it, you thought, making an impulsive decision as he opened his mouth, no doubt to taunt you further, but you moved first, taking him by surprise as you grabbed his t-shirt by the collar and yanked him to you, your lips colliding with an intensity that stunned you as well, but for once you’d managed to shut Duncan Taylor up.

As soon as your mouths met however, he was kissing you back hungrily, pressing you back against the lockers and you slid your hands into his hair, threading your fingers through the curls you so wanted to touch, drawing a low moan from him as you opened your mouth to him, teasing him with your tongue before his found yours eagerly.

“Oh, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted you, luv,” he groaned as your hands moved from his hair to fumble with the knotted sleeves around the waist of his dark jumpsuit, his hips jerking toward you as you worked to untie them. “Tell me you haven’t thought about me too.”

“I haven’t,” you snapped, but Duncan merely clicked his tongue, amusement flashing across his face.

“You’re lying, darling, clearly. You want me. You want it so bad,” he taunted, grinning down at you, his dark curls falling into his eyes.

“Shut up y’wanker, that’s not what this is,” you exclaimed, but even you knew your argument was feeble.

“Oh really? And that’s why you’re undressing me right now innit? Admit it, [y/n], I think the lady doth protest too much.”

You paused, his words striking a nerve, hitting a little too close to home, and you looked up at him defiantly. “Just shut up and fuck me already,” you growled, “this doesn’t mean anything,” you insisted firmly.

“Oooh, you’re such a bitch, it’s kind of a turn on. Does the bitch want my cock?” Duncan drawled as you finally managed to unzip his suit the rest of the way and reach down to grab him through his boxers, feeling how hard he was for you and drawing a sharp gasp from him as you pulled him free.

Before you knew it he was grasping the zipper at your chest and yanking it down, his mouth hot on your neck as he slipped your suit from your shoulders, working it down your hips before fondling you roughly over your tank top and it was your turn to moan, the sound quickly swallowed as his mouth found yours once more, his tongue forcing its way into between your teeth before he finally pulled away to breathe.

“Turn around for me, luv,” he instructed as he spun you, pressing the side of your face up against the locker, “now pull those knickers down,” he continued, and you hated obeying, but your cunt was throbbing harder now and all you wanted was to be filled. “Now that’s a good girl,” he purred in your ear, a shiver tearing through you as his breath fanned over your cheek and you gasped as he reached around you, slipping his hand between your legs.

“Ohhh,” he sighed, pressing his forehead to the nape of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, “I knew you were lyin’ about wantin’ me, else why would you be so fucking wet, huh darling?” he teased, his fingers circling your clit maddeningly and you let out another shuddering moan as he pushed one digit into you. “Oh fuck, you’re practically dripping,” he groaned, lust drenching his words.

“Bend over farther,” he commanded hastily and you did, spreading your legs as far as you could with your jumpsuit round your ankles and you pressed your chest to the lockers, sticking your ass out to give him better access to your pussy, hating how needy he made you feel.

“Oh, good girl,” he purred and your breathing hitched as he gave your ass a quick slap and you felt the tip of his cock tease your folds, coating himself with your slick before pressing into you slowly, his moan turning you on even further. “Oh fuck your fanny’s so tight,” he groaned, thrusting in and out slowly as he held your hips steady. “God, you feel amazing.”

“Are you always so chatty when you fuck?” you couldn’t help but ask, desperately wanting him to shut up. “Less talking, more fucking,” you exclaimed, biting your lip to stifle a moan as his hips snapped against your ass.

“Ahh--!” you gasped, rocking against the lockers, unable to kept quiet. “F-fuck, Duncan.”

“Yeah, like that? You’re such a little slut, protesting, playing so hard t’get, and then turning around and practically begging for it. Tell me what you want, [y/n],” he drawled, a command in his voice.

“I want you to fuck me, Duncan,” you hissed, crying out as he thrust into you again hard.

“You’re gunna have to be quiet if you wanna cum, luv,” he grunted as he began to fuck you in earnest, his hips snapping into you with abandon, his cock hitting you just right, the ridge of his head rubbing against your g-spot to send wave after wave of pleasure through you.

Fighting back a series of moans you arched back against him as he rut into you, his hand slipping up your body to caress your neck, squeezing just tight enough for you to feel it, your breaths coming harder.

“Do you like that, you dirty, kinky girl?” he asked, whispering in your ear, his voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet. “Do you like when I choke you?”

“Yes,” you sighed involuntarily, finding to your great surprise that you did enjoy it, heat and arousal flooding you the first time he did it and you wanted more. “Please, Duncan,” you whined and you wondered if he was grinning, picturing that smug smirk just perfectly.

“Oh God, you beg so nicely too,” he groaned as his hand tightened around your throat once more, squeezing tighter til you saw little sunbursts, your knees buckling and you jerked as his other hand slipped to your cunt again, mashing his fingers against your little bundle of nerves and rubbing frantically as he continued to pound into your relentlessly from behind.

Duncan’s heavy breathing, the lewd slap of skin against skin, and the pounding of your pulse filled your ears and you fleetingly wondered just how far the sounds of your exertions were carrying. You could feel yourself plateauing, that hovering quivering heat that felt like the calm right before the storm and then suddenly your muscles tensed, your climax gripping you violently, pushing you off that cliff and you fought to keep from crying out, the sweet pain of Duncan’s overstimulation pushing you further as he didn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed as you clenched around him and his grip on your throat loosened, though his fingers on your clit didn’t stop and your legs gave a dangerous wobble, nearly giving out beneath you.

“Don’t you dare — cum inside me,” you gasped, twisting in his grip to glare at him over your shoulder and he flashed you a strained smile, the look of pleasure on his face disarming you for a moment.

“Whatever you say, luv,” he groaned, and suddenly he was forcing you forward as he pulled out of you, his cock nestling against your ass before you felt his warm seed spill over your skin, pumping several times before he finally released you.

“Hold on, let me get that for you,” he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse and then you felt a rough cloth wipe the sticky mess from your backside with a surprising gentleness before you quickly pulled your knickers back up along with your jumpsuit and reluctantly turned around to face him. The strangely tender look you caught on his face surprised you before his usual smarmy grin quickly returned.

“Now that you’ve had a good fuck d’you think you can finally focus now?” he taunted, rewrapping his jumpsuit sleeves around his waist. “Or… maybe we’ll need t’make this a reoccurring thing to keep that pretty little head of yours clear,” he said poking his finger to your forehead cheekily.

“Oh, piss off Duncan,” you snapped feebly, brushing his hand away and trying to push past him.

“Oh, no, I can see it in your eyes, you enjoyed that. I made you feel good,” he insisted, following you, quickly cutting you off. “You’re gunna be thinking about my cock for the foreseeable future.”

Despite your internal protests to the contrary your face burned with the knowledge that you wanted to fuck him again, that once was not going to be enough.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Duncan. You coulda been anyone and this was just a one time thing.”

“You just keep telling yourself that, luv,” he quipped, completely sure of himself before leaning down to steal a peck to your lips, turning and walking away with a decided pep to his step, whistling cheerily as he went.

Groaning under your breath you nearly collapsed against the lockers, breathing heavily as the gravity of what you’d just done hit you. It wasn’t exactly like what you were doing could be considered fraternizing, seeing as you couldn’t stand each other. Right?

Groaning again you opened your locker and quickly undressed, taking a very quick, very cold shower before heading back to your bunk, but it didn’t help. Tossing and turning, unable to sleep, the pleasant ache between your thighs served as a constant reminder of what happened in the locker room with the smug fellow Englishman who it was getting harder for you to convince yourself you hated.

#geostorm #duncan taylor #duncan taylor smut #duncan taylor x reader #robert sheehan character fic #my writing

78 notes · View notes

distopea · 3 years ago

Text

@ephxmerall

Marco couldn't hide the grin on his lips from the moment he received Ace's little present. After his shower he hunted the little shit down, not even bothering to properly dry his hair, which now hung in messy blonde strands in front of his eyes. He found him in the mess hall, scarfing down piles of food. Typical. It didn't even look like he'd passed out into his food yet.

Ace didn't seem to notice him at first, but everyone around him did, all eyes expectantly watching him to see what he'd do. Leaning down once Marco stood directly behind him, he hummed, one hand reaching out to grip his tattooed bicep.

" Sorry for interrupting your meal, Ace, but I have some business with you—yoi. " He didn't bother waiting for permission, simply yanking the second division commander out of his seat and dragging him out of the room. Catcalls and wolf whistles followed behind them, which only served to make Marco grin wider.

Once they were outside and far enough away from the entrance of the mess hall, Marco ignoring any protests from Ace, he turned on the man, an eyebrow cocked.

" So, I'm ugly, hm? " He asked, holding up a hand. One finger pointed upward, where a flaming blue and orange feather took shape. Marco shifted his gaze to the feather, as if transfixed by its beauty. " Do you truly believe that? "

He then held the feather out for Ace to take, eyes slowly returning to his face. Perhaps Ace wouldn't know the true meaning of what he was doing here, but that didn't exactly matter at the moment. He was trying to prove a point more than anything else.

Valentine's Day ask - always accepting

It would be quite a lie to pretend that he wasn’t thinking about the gift he had left on Marco’s desk, and the note. Frankly, he could only focus on that matter and he wanted to spend the evening drinking and eating so his thoughts wouldn’t try to picture all the scenarios possible regarding that little prank. Because it was that, right? Nothing but a prank. He had totally bought that present because he wanted to mess with Marco and there was no other meaning or hidden message. He was just nervous regarding potential retaliations, hence his sweaty palms, and the fact he was glancing at the open door of the refectory each time someone was coming in.

At some point, he had the nose in his plate, and he wasn’t really looking at the door anymore, yet he was surprised to notice a sudden change of atmosphere while a few of his brothers were looking at something with both concerned and amused eyes. Ace frowned and chewed on his piece of meat, and before he could ask what the problem was, he sensed a familiar grip rolled around his arm and a smooth voice claiming his attention. He almost choked on his food while he was forced to get back up and follow the Phoenix.

“You really didn’t have to make such a show out of it!” Ace growled, protesting because of the various jokes he had heard from their comrades before leaving the room, but once he was facing Marco – still completely dripping after his shower – he swallowed his spit, nervous. The sensation increased when Marco called him out and directly attacked him about his note. So… He messed up, right?

“What the heck… What do ya want?” Ace grumbled, looking at Marco’s finger without understanding the point. Was he angry or playing? He really couldn’t tell, and for a second, he could only focus on the iridescent colors of the feather appearing in front of his eyes. It seemed that Marco wouldn’t let him off the hook, so Ace sighed and shoved both of his hands inside his pants pockets, avoiding his stare. Shit, he was blushing like a freaking damsel again.

“… No.” He admitted while he understood the assignment and gently picked the feather to inspect it. Nothing could match the vivid colors of this present and Ace felt just like shit for always teasing Marco because he couldn’t face his emotions. “No, you’re not.” He confirmed once more, the tip of his fingers brushing the edge of the plume with a delicate gesture. He hesitated for a second before he looked back at Marco in the eyes, somehow searching for his own courage.

Tsk, so Valentine’s Day was about that, right? Ace rolled his eyes before he eventually stepped forward and invaded Marco’s space. He gently wiped a droplet of water rolling down his torso and used that moment to come closer. With a timid gesture, he put himself on his tip toes and pressed his lips on Marco’s, eyes closed, because he truly couldn’t bear his look right now. Before Marco could get the chance to deepen it, Ace quickly parted as he cleared his throat, visibly embarrassed.

“I’m sure you know what I mean.” He said, as he felt weirdly very proud of himself. At least this presence was truly genuine and honest.

#; ephxmerall #⌇ask ( 𝘼𝙘𝙚 )#⌇hat on and ready to go ( 𝘼𝙘𝙚 | IC )#⌇amethyst inferno ( 𝘼𝙘𝙚 / 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙤 )#⌇until the ink goes dry ( 𝙇𝙤��𝙜 𝙋𝙤𝙨𝙩 )#; when your little joke backfired hard...#; but finally Ace acted like a freaking adult by the end of the day #; even if he wants to die in a hole XD

2 notes · View notes

seostudios · 5 years ago

Text

middle of the night: all about luv - p.js

ALL ABOUT LUV ‣ MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

you just needed to pass your classes and you'd be out of this hellhole but of course you couldn't do it alone! it was a two man job with your lifestyle so the school assigned you to the one and only park jisung, clumsy straight a student who you may or may not have now taken a liking to....

pairing: park jisung x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 4.5k

info: rebel!reader, nerd!jisung, strangers to lovers!au, non-idol!au, high school!au

warnings: explicit/vulgar language, mentions of drugs, alcohol, little bit alcohol consumption

a/n: hey omg i can’t believe i finally posted a part to this series, i hope u guys enjoy it and PLEASE tell me if you want a taglist okay? thanks!

You were fierce, everyone knew. Even those who haven't even seen you and your tricks in-person feared when you attended school. Although you were known to play tricks, rough-house, and start problems with the other kids who didn't even bother attending school or pursue their actual desires- you had one and was determined to make it come true one way or another. But unfortunately, you were pretty dim compared to the students who roamed the hallways, it never stopped you, Today you decided on approaching your math teacher since she was surprisingly the only one who cheered you on with your aspirations,

"So...I'm passing three of my four courses this semester!?" You eagerly questioned the woman in front of you, "Yes, you are" confirmed with the recent grade updates, you sigh in relief knowing you were passing most of your classes with satisfying marks, so you made your way to the exit.

However, she pulled you back down to your seat. "You're failing Science Y/n," she added pointing at the 34, "Well I don't even know what's happening in there, how can I pass in such a short time?"

He stared out the window of the Science lab. He had plans after school, "Jisung? Park Jisung?" an unfamiliar teacher called from the door frame; his attention was mainly towards the girl behind her which sent shivers down his spine.

"Can you meet me in Room 284 after school?" Of course not, he's finally scored a fucking date with Lee Jieun one of the prettiest and popular girls of the junior division, he looked over to Jieun in the back of the class who was listening in on your conversation along with everybody else in the classroom, she looked disappointed but nodded permitting him to ditch their date, he smiled apologetically at the girl before focusing his attention to the door,

"Sure."

Knocks were heard from the door which made your busy teacher who was marking work signal you to go open the entrance to this quite cold classroom. Roughly around 5'11 probably 6'0 boy is wearing a worn-out white shirt, with a navy blue blazer, pants and a poorly tied tie. His attire was mandatory but his hair was unique, rocking pink-brown hair was not something you see every day unless they were idols. The sun shined passed the windows onto the boy making his rosewood hair turn into a more dark salmon colour. "Jisung!" Your Math teacher chirped to the boy pulling out a chair next to yours indicating you two to sit back down. She took a good two minutes out of your time to finish up on marking and organizing the sheets sprawled across the desk, you and Jisung just sat in silence. In all honestly, Jisung was shitting himself. You and the reputation you had here were most definitely the reason why. Shifting his position every ten seconds, the occasional glances to you, and bouncing his leg. Finally, she turned her attention to the pair in front of her, "So you two are probably really confused."she stated looking at Jisung, then you."Poor Y/n here, my favourite student-"She pauses looking at you with a smile and towards Jisung who looked confused on how,"which is surprising to the staff apparently which I have no idea how...she hasn't been...rebellious in a few weeks since she's trying to pass before the summer break."Clasping her hands together she looks up at you two, "Jisung I need you to tutor Y/n until she gets her final grade in." When I tell you his eyes widened enough for you to see the wrinkles on his forehead form, you did. You smiled accepting the help but it quickly seeing his distressed self, "Are you okay? Do you not want to tutor me?"You asked, and it was your first time ever speaking to the boy he never expected you to sound so soft and gentle; predicting beforehand that you had a rough deeper voice. His facial expression softens slightly at your hopeful gaze piercing through him- hoping he'd tutor you, cause frankly, you needed it more than anyone in your division at this point (Maybe you're being a little selfish but who cares.). Jisung was sitting in his seat, zoned out, probably processing all this. It took him a minute, but he finally looked up from fiddling with his fingers. "Oh Of course I will! I can do Wednesdays after school and Saturday around noon?"It was pretty shocking how confident he sounded ordering you around that second- which made the teacher grin at the shy boy's sudden dominance. Chuckling a little with a small smile plastered on your face you say "Works perfectly, I'll be leaving now. Bye Ms.," You said jolting up grabbing your backpack walking towards the door, but before you leave you gotta leave a nice impression on the boy plus its rude to not say goodbye isn't it.

"Goodbye Jisung Park."

It was Tuesday and Jisung was sitting in the Music room during lunch eating and catching up on his Health papers when you walked in. This was your usual spot in the late spring when you needed AC and a place to lay down. On a regular day for Jisung, he'd be in the front of the school on the bench working however it was too hot for him today so he opted to break into the already unlocked classroom to eat and study in. Sitting on top of the sink counter you lean to open a window pulling out a cigarette, you came here to smoke and it was a great place since it was deserted. "W-What are you doing?" Jisung asked looking up from his notebook sitting on the carpet. "Do I look like I'm about to jump out the window? no. I'm gonna smoke."You informed sarcastically on the boy. He was slightly taken aback you were so sweet yesterday and today your back with your bad girl reputation still strong. He threw you a quick look before getting up, putting his things in his bag, and throwing out the rest of his lunch. Now, walking towards you he takes the cigarette out your hand before you could even light it and threw it out the open window. "Hey! I wasn't done with that, and I didn't even start with it!" You raised your voice at him which did make him flinch but provoked him to argue back, "Yah! Your smoking is unhealthy and against school rules." He paused but started again, "You want to pass, don't you? I'm helping you pass, aren't I? Get your things together if you want my help Y/n."He spat. Honestly, you didn't think his words would affect you so much but it fueled the fire you started a minute ago. "Shut up Park, stop acting all tough when you know nothing about me, I never needed your help I was just going along with Ms." you argued back before grabbing your backpack and the lighter on the counter before hopping off pushing the tallboy to the side rudely, muttering something about bullshit.

"I was helping her! And she says you know nothing about me Park! like of course I don't butt why does she need to be an asshole when I'm trying to help her out." Jisung complains to Chenle in front of him. "Maybe she's like addicted," Chenle says trying to make the best out of the situation "Look, she'll warm up to you eventually cause you two will be spending lots of time together now." Jisung huffs in disbelief that Chenle is basically on your side here, getting up from the grassy field to join the rest of his gym class in soccer.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees a figure under the bleachers; you. He knows you are upset with him as much as he is with you but he still wants to encourage you to pass Science with his help. "Park! Get your ass over here!" Yedam, his classmate calls him to grab his things on the field before heading into the change rooms.

The school bell rang, you watched students walk out of their classrooms to their lockers, friends, lovers. You were leaning against the wall beside the empty Music room contemplating if you should leave and hang out with some friends by Unjeong Lake Park or stay in with Park Jisung to study for Science. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a voice, "Hey." Jisung stood in front of you, backpack resting on one shoulder and a Science textbook in his hand. "Hi," It was awkward being around him after you little tilt.

"Let's go," You trailed behind Jisung watching him take you to an unfamiliar part of the school, the West End. "Why are we here?" You question the pink-haired boy, but all you get in return is silence. At last, he brought you two to the old gym, it hasn't been used in almost 6 years but somehow it looks squeaky clean. "This is my hangout spot after school, I kind of made my friends go down to Unjeong for the day so we could study here until I find a proper place." He explains to you placing his books and bag on the stacked mats, offering to take your bag too, you let him. "So what Unit is your class working on now?" He asked you once the two of you sat on one of the many beanbags in the gym (Probably brought in from his pals), "Well my mom made me take Biology I and I know you are in my class I just don't show up..." You lean back on the beanbag playing with the lighter in your hands "What are we learning Park?" He visibly gulps at you doesn't even know why he's nervous himself, maybe because your scary? Probably.

"Well we're on our last unit of the year and the Unit test and Final Exam are what can get you to pass the class with at least a 60," He said moving to grab his textbook flipping to a page with sticky notes plastered all over. "We are in Unit 5, Plants: Anatomy, Growth, and Function. It's an easy Unit so we could go through it in two months then spend the two weeks before the final exam prep." Jisung finished speaking and handed you the textbook that was on the Unit page, it didn't look hard but you knew better to judge a book by its cover. "Alright, where do we start." You smile at the grinning boy who's suddenly amused by your aspiration to pass the course.

It's 2:45 and you are in the middle of the last period, Science. It was your last day of the Science of the year, technically. You still had to prep for your final exam, but this was the final unit test which meant for the next month you'd be stuck in a silent classroom with your peers all silently studying over and writing recap notes for the final exam. You finish writing the date on your page and adding a little smiley face at the end of your name, flipping your paper over you take out your earbuds, and play music to pass time.

Good, 15 minutes have passed, and you see students getting up to hand in their papers, this where you tag along and hand it in too. Patting the eraser ends on your skirt off you make it back to your desk sitting then turning to look behind you, a few desks down to a now chocolate haired boy. He was finishing up his test when he looked up to see you basically ogling at him. Throwing you an awkward half-assed smile he looks back to the girl behind him, Jieun.

Jieun and Jisung took a very bad turn once Jisung agreed on tutoring you. She's ghosted the boy and took a liking to her lab partner, Taehyun. It was disappointing to see a girl get jealous over her date tutoring a very incompetent girl like you. If you were in her position, you might've gotten scared but wouldn't drop the kid; it was rude, and honestly, you were glad Jisung accepted that fate and moved on from her. He played with the end of his test sheet before sighing thumping his head against the desk, okay maybe he wasn't that over her yet but he's doing better than you ever would. Over these four months you and Jisung surprisingly got along well, you've opted to occupy a booth int he back of your town's ice cream parlor for studying instead of that abandoned gym in the West End.

In all honesty, you felt bad about how you treated the tall boy in the first few weeks of tutoring. You showed up late which strung the classes longer making one hour, two. You complained, never listened, argued, actually punched him once. But after warming up to him you've started to take a liking, noticing his features a little more than you did last week, finding his beauty mark under his lip stunning. Nowadays he seems ten times more charming, appealing, engaging, and irresistible to you, memorizing his favourite things how he looks up to Kai, the teacher assistant for the seniors. And that he actually hates Science and prefers Gym and Sociology class. He likes all kinds of ice cream and tries new flavors every visit, he never writes with a red-inked pen since he prefers the black one and always lets you know that too ("Y/n did you know red ink stains are a nasty stain to get out, always use black ink."). You aren't the only one who's learned to love the newly blossomed friendship as he's learned as much as you about him, on how you've always wanted to become a Veterinarian, that your love for animals is just unexplainable and the only things holding you down is this horrible reputation you've built yourself over the two years of attending. But better late than ever to change your ways and Jisung was absolutely mesmerized by your determination to achieve the new milestones you've set for yourself.

"PARK JISUNG!" You shrieked barging into the empty ice cream parlor to see the boy sitting idling on his device, he looks up at you running towards your booth. "Hey, shhh", he quiets your overly excited self-telling you to sit."I got my Unit Test mark," you stop talking to take your backpack off and pull out your Unit Test which was graded and with a big fat A on it. "Holy shit! Y/n this is amazing!!"He exclaimed eyes going wide seeing the mark, his hard work really did pay off.

"Now we can start prepping for Finals," Jisung told you after handing your papers back, your shoulders sagged and your smile disappeared, you were hoping to possibly celebrate with your tutor and newfound friend. Shaking your head, you look at him again, "No sorry, I wanna celebrate this tonight," you inform Jisung who looks at you with a somewhat annoyed expression. "Sorry Y/n but one A isn't going to help you get to a passing mark, you need more than that and the only thing that'll help you pass Biology is your Final Exam which is what we need to prep for." What the fuck? Jisung Park, the golden student, and who you thought was your friend basically telling you that your grade wasn't worth all that cheering two minutes ago. That was unbelievable what type of asshole does that, oh wait apparently Jisung Park. You knew you weren't gonna pass with one test, of course not. You might've been dumb but not to that extent, you clench your fists wondering how all that admiration you had for someone just got poured down a drain so quickly. You chuckle heartlessly ' that thought lingered before you look at him and speak.

"Yea of course I know that but do you not understand how big of a milestone this was for me? I am one step behind passing my hardest subject of the semester and you telling me that it's not enough and we need to prepare for a final at the end of a month that has just started is fucking rude Park."You hiss at him now baffled on how he couldn't comprehend after four- almost five months of knowing you. Getting up you grab your backpack and phone and turn to exit the ice-cream parlor.

You were now outside of the small store, and Jisung didn't even come after you. Sighing knowing you should've known associating yourself with someone with a better reputation wouldn't have been smart. Pulling your phone out, you dial in a friend who you knew would be there for you and who had more free time than most students his age. "Jeno," You stammered through the phone "Y/n? Are you okay?" You smile weakly at his concern, not even a minute into a call."Can you pick me up?" you asked quietly to the older boy. Looking through the big glass window to the back of the shop, you see Jisung sitting there watching you intently, and he knows he hurt you. It wasn't his intent to; he just wanted you to reach your goals and he thought celebrating could've been done another time instead not today, I guess he hit a soft spot seeing your facial expression so fragile.

He saw a motorcycle pull up beside you and a muscular guy go and place a helmet on your head after holding you in his embrace for a moment before the two of you hopping back on the ride driving off to god knows where.

You kick around an empty pop can on the sidewalk waiting for your ride. Jeno knew something upsetting you over the phone so he decided not to question it and get you riled up but to drink a couple of beers and play darts at his crib. A Black 2018 Kawasaki Ninja pulls up in front of you, the driver removes his helmet revealed to be your dear friend, Jeno. He felt your gloomy aura already deciding to just embrace you tightly, "Whatever it is, you did amazing." He assured you before breaking the hug to plop the helmet on you and hopping back on with you behind him seated.

"Great job Y/n, I can see you making it through the year, I just finished putting in your final mark 89 is an amazing score and all on your own is shocking." Your Science teacher complimented you after holding you back to show your improvement to you, Jeno encouraged you to still study hard solo after acknowledging that you didn't want to work with Jisung anymore, hard work did pay off now your officially finished with your junior year and with flawless grades. "Have a great summer break," You tell her before walking out for lunch. Last day of school before the summer break, it's been a crazy weird year but you don't seem to be upset. Jisung seemed happy without you anyways, you've been skipping Music to sit out on the bleachers while he had gym class, and made sure to visit the West End more often. You didn't realize it yet but Jisung looking happy stung more than it should've.

Fuck that bullshit Y/n is on, Jisung is miserable without her. He didn't take note of it but he was more than happy to spend his Wednesdays and Saturdays with you. He liked the way your eyes widened or how your jaw almost touched the floor when he teaches you something new, or when your eyed shimmered when your grades went up every quiz. How your nose scrunched up at a difficult question, the way you organized his pencil case when he wasn't looking because 'it had to be cute like him'. He was too much of a coward to keep you by his side, it's safe to say Jisung Park likes you back. Head over heels in love with you probably, but we shouldn't stretch it that far knowing he's working his ass off to get over you, and of his mind but when does he even succeed. It's the last day of school and possibly the last time Jisung gets to see you roam the halls, watch him in Gym class fooling around with his friends, or just see you until the next school year. No, Jisung made it his goal to win you back. He's never seen you that way, never thought he'd need you, all he wants is to see you, hold you.

"No Park. She's not even here kid," Your friend, Yuna told Jisung who was at your doorstep asking for you. "Just, just tell her to text me." He said frustrated now leaving.

"I thought you said he didn't want anything to do with you?" Jeno asked sitting on the couch of Yuna's living room beside you. "He doesn't, I don't know why-" Yuna was quick to argue with you, "He likes you and you left." Jeno nods agreeing, "I see that happening..." He half-joked. "Listen I know he was a jerk in May, but it's June- July tomorrow! He's not being a jerk right now because what freaking jerk comes to your doorstep BEGGING to talk to you?" Yuna ranted.

You know he's not a jerk and he meant no harm that day but it hurt. Everyone always sugarcoated things with you so when Jisung was pretty blunt with you, it stung. You whine at all this thinking about Jisung and feelings, plus even if he did like you, there was so much to unravel than just some lame highschooler who wanted to get her shit together. So so much more than just that. Drinking the rest of the alcohol in your plastic cup you sit up straight staring at the two in front of you who were dying to hear your say in this, "Okay so what if we have our happy ending, what'll happen then? He'll figure out how toxic I am and go running back to Jiwoo or whatever name is."Stopping and using a couch pillow to cover your face- did you seriously imagine yourself with a happy ending, you've fucked up so much that it seems impossible to turn back. Yuna notices your heartache and decided to tone down on his jokes and talk to you 'for realsies',"Sweetheart if he leaves you because your teeny issues were too overwhelming for him it's not worth it but from his recent actions it looks like he'd want to be there with you through those issues. Honestly, he could live a little too so dealing with you- and giving me and Jeno here a break should be thrilling."Adding a light-hearted joke was what you needed to place a soft smile on your lips.

“Now go get your man” Jeno says slapping your back playfully encouraging you to leave the house and venture off to him- wherever he is.

"Can I help you?" A boy wearing Yonsei University sweatshirt asked you. 'This must be Jisung's older brother he told me about' You thought to yourself, "Oh Yes, is Jisung home?" You ask him looking up trying to look as innocent as you can. "Oh you just missed him, he went to get ice cream with his friends," he said. Shouting a quick thanks you run down to the only ice cream parlor Jisung probably knows in town.

CLOSED is all you see in front of the ice cream parlor. Did Jisung's older brother lie to me? Now that you think of it, he and his brother aren't close enough to share those type of things from what you heard, and what type of boy would avoid the girl he supposedly likes. You sit down on the curb looking off into the little soccer field, watching kids play with their friends thinking, then it hit you. Did Jisung lie to his older brother? C'mon Y/n think of the one place Jisung and his friends could be...The park? Nah, too crowded. The mall? No, too far. Think Think Think, one place. Where in the world could Jisung- WEST END! God, why didn't you think of that in the beginning, of course, he's there. Getting up off the curb you make your way quickly to the back of the school, remembering Jisung telling you a back entrance to the West End.

Reaching the back entrance you see it open indicating someone (Jisung and friends) was inside. Maybe you shouldn't barge in and ruin their fun...opting to send Jisung a text you search your pockets to find, nothing. How could you leave your house without your phone? You're like addicted to it. "Excuse me?" A deep voice booms behind you, turning around you look up at the man. It's Jaehyun, the volleyball team captain. "Y/n." You know him, through Jisung, of course, why else would he be at the West End or know your name. "Hi," your breath rather softly which throws the older boy way off since he knows you for your snarky remarks or overly confident aura...Today you seem the opposite really. "Can you tell Jisung to come out for a second?" you ask avoiding eye contact and resorting to looking at the chalked up pavement. He gives you a thumbs up and heads in.

"Park Jisung-ah!" Jaehyun shouts for Jisung loud enough for it to echo in the empty gym. Looking up and seeing Jaehyun, Jisung excuses himself from his current conversation with Doyoung, Yuta, and Renjun to jog over to his Hyung. "Your chick is here," He says pointing out the door to you, Jisung's eyes lit up already knowing who Jaehyun was talking about peeking his head out the door to see you looking off into the parking lot, watching the sunset. He was pulled right back in by Jaehyun, "You better fix whatever's been going on between you, Y/n looks like an actual school girl being all shy and soft. I'm actually disgusted I need that spunky girl back before I force you two to kiss or some shit," Really Jaehyun? Some advice you got there.

"Alright kid go get your chick" Jaehyun cheered before pushing him and closing the door loud enough to alert and make you turn back.

It felt like a dream, none of this felt real. It hasn't even bee 24 hours since you last saw Jisung, but it's been a month of not interacting to get your heart racing this much. You looked unreal to Jisung, out of a fairytale actually and he looked amazing, like always. This is when he started to panic, you smiled weakly and started walking up to him. He looked down at his shoes not having the balls to look you in the eye, "Jisung look at me you pussy." You said so calmly but so rudely(?). It was funny and made Jisung giggle which made you short circuit.

Jisung looks up from his feet to see you staring into his brown eyes, taking in all his features again looking at him from head to toe; how fluffy his dark coffee bean hair was or his cheeks- god you always took the chance to pinch them when you could. His broad shoulders you always wondered how his hugs would be, probably so comfy and perfect. The beauty mark under his lip, fuck always wanted to kiss it. Your thoughts were disrupted when you felt two large hands enclose you in a tight hug; reacting almost immediately you wrap your small hands around his waist and rest your head on his chest while he brings his large hand to caress the back of your head. "I'm sorry, I know what I said was wrong and I shouldn't have made you seem so slow-witted when you totally aren't. I think over that conversation almost every night. I'm so so sorry Y/n," He finishes tightening the hug for a moment sympathetically.

You loosen the hug and tippy-toe up to the boy placing a small peck on his pink lips which caused his cheeks to go crimson. "You're forgiven, Park," you say giving him a tight smile. You see the tall boy pout a little and turn his reddened face to the side before mumbling "I was supposed to do that," which caused a fit of giggles from you.

"You'll have plenty of opportunities in the future Jisung."

88 notes · View notes

volahre · 4 years ago

Text

babe for the weekend - chapter 4

When an old friend from high school invites her to her wedding and she brings Mulder along as her plus one, Scully reflects on her life, her place in the world, how much she has changed and what she really wants.

I originally started this to explore the topic of growing up, aging and feeling like you are missing out within the character of Dana Scully, but it has become so much more than that - but read for yourself!

chapter four

Between the vineyards lay a small cottage with a large meadow which Dorothy and Robert had chosen to be the location for their celebration. The ceremony had gone smoothly, a teenage girl who turned out to be not only Robert’s niece but also a piano virtuoso contributed to the celebratory atmosphere with pieces by Handel and Bach.

“Champagne, juice, or mixed?”, one of the waitresses asked Scully once she had gotten up from her chair and straightened her dress. Smiling, she thanked the waitress and took one of the champagne glasses while waiting for Mulder to follow her. “To the newlyweds?” she asked once they stood facing each other. “And to love”, Mulder answered, looking straight into her eyes with an expression she could not quite read. It was new, something she had only seen appearing on his face recently.

“And how do you know Dorothy and Robert?”, an old familiar voice appeared behind Scully as she was waiting for the buffet. She turned around and saw Marcus speaking to Mulder. Great. She took a deep breath. “He’s with me”, she said and put on a smile, looking at the face of the man she once, though much younger, more inexperienced, and certainly more naïve had called the love of her life.

“Oh, Dana!” Marcus laughed. “It’s good to see you”.

She kept on the smile. “It’s good to see you too.” This really was strange, to say the least. What was she even supposed to say? Gesturing behind Marcus, she cleared her throat. “Have you…come here with anybody?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied, a particular glow appeared on his face. “Wife and two kids, they’re waiting at our table. I can introduce you later if you want”.

She nodded. “I’m sure we’ll find each other again.”

“But tell me about your company, Dana”, Marcus said before looking at Mulder. “Marcus Watson”

Mulder took Marcus’ extended hand. “Fox Mulder. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Fox”, Marcus said. “I see you guys are not married yet?”

“No!”, Scully said, way too abruptly. Trying to conceal it with a laugh, she continued, ignoring the look Mulder gave her. “No, we’re not married.”

“I see”, Marcus smiled. “Where did you guys meet, if I may ask?”

“Oh, we met- “, Mulder started, but Scully interrupted him. “We work together at the FBI”.

“The FBI?”, Marcus appeared a little startled. “Last time I checked, I heard you went off to med school.”

Scully let out a small sigh. “I did, but I ended up in forensic science. But he,” she gestured at Mulder, “has a degree in psychology. Didn’t you do that too, Marcus? How’s it going with that?”

“Well, it’s going amazing, if you ask me! Got myself a practice set up and together with a few colleagues we’re focusing on dysfunctional families. But you, FBI, huh?”, Marcus looked at Mulder, who shrugged with one hand in his pocket.

“Well, I just hope I can help people find closure. And some minds are hard to get into, frankly. And sometimes it’s not even the minds as much as something greater than what could be limited to just one person.”

Scully looked at Mulder, surprised he had not brought up the specifics of what they did. “Mulder and I, we work together on a division called the X-Files.”, she said. “Cases that have been deemed unsolvable.”

“And you solve them?”, Marcus asked.

“Well, I’d like to think so”, Scully said, looking at the floor.

“Often times it’s about perspective,” Mulder said. “Some might appear unsolvable if you look at them from a traditional standpoint, but I like to think that if you go a little outside the box and look at them with an open mind you might actually find out the truth.”

“Ah, I get you, buddy”, Marcus said. “I have to deal with some real monsters as well, if you know what I mean!”, he laughed.

Scully frowned as Mulder laughed, though appearing highly uncomfortable. “Well, I suppose that’s different…”

“Come on, Mulder.”, she said, pulling him by his arm. “Buffet’s ready.”

They were seated across from each other at the end of a table full of people she didn’t know, which didn’t bother her much as she hoped it would spare her of more awkward conversations.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he would be like this”, Scully said later as they were eating their dessert.

“Hey it’s fine, Scully”, he said, grinning. “Sometimes your adolescent crushes grow up to become real monsters”.

She chuckled at his attempt to imitate Marcus. “Shut up, Mulder.”

“No”, he said, causing her to throw a confusing grin at him.

“You’ve got pudding on your face, wait”, he grabbed his napkin, and before she could say anything, he leaned over the table and carefully cleaned up the edge of her mouth. Remembering that she had to breathe, she took in a sharp inhale and felt a blush appearing on her face again. In the spot where his fingers had almost touched her, so close to her mouth, she felt a slight tingle.

“Thank you”, she said, hoping he would not question her blushing after him touching her. He had been invading her personal space for years and she had gotten away with barely blushing at most. So why was this happening now?

“I need to get some air”, she said quietly after finishing her dessert and got up, grabbing her purse.

“You okay?”, Mulder had gotten up almost as fast, his eyes filled with concern as they found hers.

“Yeah, I just need to get away from all the people for a bit”, she said, quickly looking away.

Her heels clicked on the asphalt as she walked down the little street that had led them to the location. After about two minutes, she found a bench with a view overlooking the hills. If she stayed for a few hours, she might be able to watch the sun go down from here, judging by the way it stood now.

Taking a deep breath, she took off her shoes and relaxed her back against the wood. The whole idea seemed like a mistake. Coming here after years of barely keeping in contact and therefore not knowing how to talk to anybody, bringing Mulder and putting him in an even more awkward situation than hers, it was like she had wanted to please people but had ended up just being selfish. Selfish, Dana. Her entire life, her entire career she had tried not to be selfish, always acted in the favour of others. But now her feelings, her fear had gotten in the way. Selfish.

She worried about Mulder. What was she even going to tell him? Sorry I’m behaving so weirdly; I just saw a guy I had a crush on almost 20 years ago and it made me realize that – but what had it made her realize? She had not come to any conclusion as to why the situation had felt so incredibly awkward, not just because of Marcus, but because of the combination of Marcus and Mulder. Apart from….no, definitely not. And this was certainly the worst place to consider the matters of her own heart. This was a celebration of love, but not hers.

Love. She recalled that moment in the hospital a few months earlier, when they were working in interior terrorism and Mulder had gone on a reckless spree diving right into the Atlantic Ocean, ending up drugged and exhausted. He had told her he loved her then, and she had brushed it off as a side effect of the drugs. But later, on her way home, she had recalled the moment with a particular sting in her stomach.

“Here you are”.

She looked up and saw the man in question standing there, his eyes – what colour were they now? – glistening in the light of the warm Californian sun.

“Oh hey”, she said quietly.

“The seat next to you taken?”, he said in his usual sarcastic tone but she couldn’t help noticing that there was also an obvious softness to his voice.

She chuckled. “Sit down if you want to,” she said, taking her purse so he had the space to sit.

“You wanna talk?”, he asked once he had sat down, putting his arm across the backrest behind her.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “It’s just all so much…so much more than I expected. All the old feelings that never really went anywhere, so much left unresolved, washed out by years of growing apart.”

He nodded, that unreadable expression on his face again. “I’m sorry if this is too personal, but do you still like him?”

“No!”, she said just as quickly as she had earlier, almost as if she was speaking out of reflex. She despised herself. “No”, she said again, with a slight smile. “I think we really have grown into two completely different people with completely different lives. Plus, he seems happily married and has kids”, she sighed, realizing that this was another aspect in which she could never be quite like those people.

“Hey, shhh, it’s alright,” Mulder said, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder in small motions. As if her brain didn’t already feel like it had melted all sense of rational thought away, the electric signals he was sending through her body with his touch was doing the rest. Slowly, she leaned into his embrace and looked up at him. “I’m so sorry, Mulder.”

“For what?”, he said quietly. His arm had followed her and was now gently stroking her upper arm.

“For making you go through this crap”, she laughed. “You don’t know anybody, which arguably puts you in an even more awkward situation than me, and now I’m running away, and it just feels like I am making this whole thing about myself.”

“Now I’m gonna have to stop you right there, Scully,” he said, “you are not making this about yourself. In fact, I don’t think that many people even noticed you leaving. And even if they did, they probably think you just got a phone call or something. And hey,” he continued after a little pause, “I really don’t mind being here with you. Trust me. I’d rather do this with you than have you go through this on your own.”

“Mulder” she said and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I hope I can take this as a compliment?”, he said, and she could feel him smile against her hair.

“Anyways, what I wanted to say…” he continued, “Weddings don’t have to be perfect, Scully, and it’s okay if you need some air sometimes. But as I was leaving, they were setting up the dancefloor, so I thought I’d let you know.”

She sat up and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

#babe for the weekend #my fics #my prose #my writing #mulder and scully #msr #msr fanfic #the x files #the x files fanfic #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillian anderson #david duchovny

12 notes · View notes

tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Long Way From Home: Chapter 4

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Time to start really playing in one of my favourite things about writing this fic: the differences! I’m far too interested in things like this, and for the sake of the story (aka torturing Scott) I am emphasising and exaggerating as many differences as I can between the two canons, whether they be in relationships, technology or society, because quite frankly I love this sandbox. As my sister told me when I gushed about this fic to her, my inner scientist and academic has taken to this with glee a la “compare and contrast the differences in [xyz] between TOS and TAG”. There will be a lot of this to come.

<<<Chapter 3

“What is that projecting onto?” Scott jumped, looking up at the cliff above him. Other-Scott was perched there, regarding his comm unit curiously. “Brains was right; your technology really is nothing like ours.”

“Not that it’s doing me any good here,” Scott groused, swiping through the symbol to extinguish it. “Stupid thing can’t even connect to your Thunderbird Five.”

“You want to talk to John?” Other-Scott sounded surprised, but dropped off the ledge to join him in the hollow.

“My John,” Scott corrected, letting his arm drop to his side. “But I thought my gear would at least link into your network.”

“Network?” Other-Scott asked. “We have a network of agents that work for us, but what do you mean about your gear linking into that?”

Scott gaped at him.

“Not that sort of network,” he said. “The communications one.” Other-Scott still looked blank, and Scott facepalmed. “You don’t have one. Of course, different technology. Really different technology.”

Other-Scott frowned at him thoughtfully, before unbuckling his watch and offering it. It was Scott’s turn to look blank.

“It won’t reach another universe,” Other-Scott said, apologetically. “But if you need to talk to our Thunderbird Five, this will work.” Scott took it carefully, turning it over in his hands. It looked like a normal, antique watch, but having seen Other-Brains’ watch transform into a video link, Scott knew there had to be more to it than that.

“How does it work?” he asked after a moment, eyeing the various buttons on the side. Other-Scott held out his hand for it back and Scott obliged.

“It’s set to Thunderbird Five’s frequency,” he started, “but it can be changed to any other communicator, Thunderbird, Pod vehicle, Mobile Control or Base by adjusting the frequency with this dial.” He twisted the one on the furthest left, and the clock face vanished, to be replaced with a string of numbers. A burst of static erupted from it. “Or you can tune into a radio station, but Dad doesn’t like us doing that.” He turned the knob back to where it was, and the numbers flashed in time with a dial tone. A quick press of the furthest right knob and it stopped, restoring the watch face. “That starts and stops transmission,” he explained. “The middle dial controls the time; after all, it is also a functioning watch.” He handed it back and Scott looked it over again, lightly tapping the three knobs thoughtfully. “You can borrow it if you want, but it does have a location transmitter installed, which Dad can access whenever he wants.”

Scott was grateful for the warning. He had no intention of dealing with Not-Dad again any time soon, well aware that it would be explosive. Still, a communicator, even if it couldn’t connect to where he really wanted it to, was an offering he couldn’t bring himself to decline.

A light on the face started to flash lilac, and Other-Scott winced.

“Whoops,” he muttered, taking the watch back out of Scott’s hand. “John must have noticed that I contacted Thunderbird Five,” he explained. “Lilac means John,” he continued. “Yellow is Virgil, white is Alan, orange is Gordon, brown is Brains and gold is Dad.”

Scott sighed. “You couldn’t at least use the same colours?” he muttered. Other-Scott shot him a questioning look even as he answered his brother’s call.

“Hi, Scott,” the blond man greeted. “You called?”

“Just showing Scott our communicators,” Other-Scott explained. “His doesn’t work here; the technology must be too different.”

“It looked it, from what Brains showed me,” Other-John agreed. “Is he still with you?”

“I’m here,” Scott said, cutting off whatever Other-Scott was about to say. He leaned in. “Any sign of them?”

“Oh, hi there,” Other-John said. “No, none of my new parameters have caught anything. I’ll keep an ear out, but it’s seeming more and more likely that you’re the only one to have fallen through.” Some of the tension seemed out of Scott’s shoulders.

“I hope so,” he agreed, settling back in the hollow again. “What can you tell me about this multiverse theory?” Other-Scott passed the watch back to him.

“I’ll go keep the other fellas away,” he interjected before Other-John could start talking. “Talk to you later, John.”

“Bye, Scott,” Other-John acknowledged, before turning his attention back to Scott as Other-Scott slipped away. “Well, Scott, the easiest way to describe it is to imagine a big glass box full of water. Inside the box of water, there are some objects floating around. Most of the time they don’t touch, but occasionally you get a collision between two of them. What actually happens during those collisions is unknown; until you appeared, there’s been no proof to support the theory at all. Not,” he added hurriedly, “that Brains or I have any intention of revealing your existence. We’d rather see you get home than be reduced to a lab rat.”

“I appreciate that,” Scott said dryly. “Except I’m going to have to play the part of one for you and your Brains anyway.”

“Well, that’s true,” Other-John admitted. “The chances of an identical collision reversing the effects naturally is astronomically slim, so getting you home will require us to somehow force a similar situation. However, we’ll be sure to remain humane and focused on returning you home before any other research.”

Scott chuckled. “If your Brains is anything like mine, he’ll be doing it simultaneously. As long as it gets me home, I don’t care.”

Other-John let slip a small smile of his own before frowning. “You realise that this is an entirely new division of research. It very well might be years.” Scott was trying not to think about that too hard.

“In that case, what are we waiting for?” he asked, clambering to his feet to find Other-Brains.

“Brains has already started,” Other-John informed him. “He’s gathering what data he can find from where you were found in Thunderbird One’s hangar, and the anomaly in your DNA from the sample he already took. I suspect you don’t want to hear this, but interrupting him will only slow him down. He’ll find you when he needs you.”

Their voices were different, but Scott could easily imagine John – his John – saying much the same thing.

“You really are like him,” he said, sitting back down. Privately he was relieved he didn’t need to go back to the villa; after his outburst in Thunderbird One’s hangar, he was determined to avoid the family for as long as possible.

“Like who?” Other-John asked, even though the fact that he knew exactly who Scott was talking about was written all over his face. Scott told him as much.

“You know,” he accused.

“I’m as much like him as you are like Scott,” Other-John pointed out. “As the two of you are twins in personality just as much as appearance, barring the effects from different life events, it follows that the same would be true for myself and your John.”

Different life events. It was the closest either Other-Scott or Other-John had come to acknowledging his outburst.

“You haven’t asked about it,” he observed. Other-John shrugged.

“Would you tell me if I did?”

“No,” was Scott’s immediate reaction, although there was a part of him that wondered if he would, if the right questions were asked. No, better not to go there. He’d ripped the wound far enough open already; there was no need to worsen it further.

“I do try not to waste my breath,” Other-John responded. “I meant it when I said you’re just like my Scott.”

Scott thought back to the hangar, and Other-Scott’s reaction to Not-Dad’s anger.

“Am I?” he asked. He couldn’t imagine ever being contrite like that.

“You attacked each other because you thought the other was a threat to your brothers,” Other-John pointed out. “Whatever you’ve both been through, your priorities are the same. Or are you going to tell me I’m wrong?” Scott met his eyes steadily.

“You know the answer to that.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to hear someone admit I’m right,” Other-John shrugged with a grin, before he turned away suddenly. “International Rescue here. What’s the problem?”

He didn’t cut the connection, and Scott didn’t either, listening to a garbled panic in the background, which Other-John responded to with calm, measured words for a few moments before turning back to Scott. Before Scott could ask, instincts screaming for him to get to Thunderbird One and launch, the blond man pressed a finger to his lips.

“There’s a distress call from a power plant, Father,” he said after a moment, finger back down out of sight. He must have connected to the villa to relay the information, without breaking Scott’s own line. “Temperature is rising fast and the blast doors have slammed shut, trapping two workers inside. Local services won’t be able to get them out in time.”

Scott couldn’t hear whatever Not-Dad had to say in return. Whether that was intentional on Other-John’s part or a happy accident he wasn’t quite sure – if it was his John he’d know it was intentional, but he didn’t know what this universe’s technology was capable of, although he supposed if anyone could bring the most out of it, it would be John’s counterpart – but he was glad. He couldn’t quite reconcile the man against his memories of his own father, and it was bringing up too many unwelcome thoughts that he didn’t care for.

“Thunderbird One’s about to launch,” Other-John said after a period of silence. Scott peered around the rock to take a better look at the villa below, and was unsurprised to see the swimming pool retracting. It was weird to actually witness it for once – no-one else ever piloted One if he had any say in the matter, and he didn’t recall the last time he’d seen the launch process. A roar of engines – similar but not the same as his own ‘bird’s cry – and the sleek shape of International Rescue’s first response craft soared into the sky. It was a breath-taking sight, even though he was mentally cataloguing all the subtle differences in the moment he had before she was gone, smashing through the sound barrier effortlessly.

It was a whole different way to appreciate her speed.

“What’s her top speed?” he asked. Other-John made a curious noise.

“What do you think?” he asked, and Scott sighed, pulling his eyes away from where she’d last been visible to look back at the blond man, whose attempt at fishing for information on his own Thunderbird was far from subtle.

“Mach 19,” he said. “Officially.”

“And unofficially?” Other-John probed. Scott shrugged.

“Never pushed her to see,” he admitted. The airspeed record was his Dad’s, and he had no intention of breaking it. If there was any craft that could, surpassing the TV-21, it would be Thunderbird One, but he didn’t want to. It was a piece of his father he couldn’t bring himself to overwrite. “Mach 20.”

“Mach 19.6,” Other-John said. “Thunderbird Two’s preparing to launch. Virgil and Alan are taking Pod Three with the DOMO and Mole.”

“Alan?” Scott couldn’t hold back his surprise. “Not Gordon? And Pod Three? Domo? Mole?” One sentence on a subject he should know better than the back of his hand – did know better, back at home – told him that while Thunderbird One appeared largely the same, there were clearly fundamental differences in their main gear.

“You’d have chosen Gordon instead?” Other-John asked. He was probing for more information because of course he was. Any John would be a sponge for information, leeching it from whatever sources he could.

“Of course,” Scott replied, giving him the information because if there was one person in this universe that needed to know, it was the monitor on board Thunderbird Five, listening out for signs of his brothers. “Alan’s just a kid. Gordon’s more experienced and doesn’t have homework to do.”

“So your Gordon… is up for it?” Other-John asked, fishing around further. “And Alan – homework?”

“Why wouldn’t he-” Scott cut himself off as a deeper rumble presumably signalled the other Thunderbird’s take-off, out of sight. “You don’t have hydrofoils here, do you?” he asked suspiciously. Other-John’s face fell.

“I was hoping there were more differences in life experiences,” he admitted. “Gordon’s back will never heal properly. Dad only sends him if Thunderbird Four is needed, or all hands are.”

“And he hasn’t driven him mad?” Scott asked, disbelieving. “Gordon would murder me slowly and creatively if I kept him grounded like that.” Not-Dad’s temper and fury at being addressed as an equal rather than a superior came back to him and he frowned.

“If you kept him grounded like that?” Other-John’s fishing couldn’t get any more blatant, and Scott glared at him.

“Stop asking questions you know the answer to,” he snapped. Other-John held his hands up in mock-surrender. An object on a cord was in one of his hands, Scott noticed. It looked like an ancient microphone.

“I don’t know the answer,” he defended himself. “I have suppositions and ideas, but not answers. I can’t actually read minds, you know.” Scott slumped back into his hollow and rubbed a hand over his face again.

“Yes, my Dad is gone. Yes, that means I’m in charge of International Rescue. Yes, that means I’m CEO of Tracy Industries,” he bit out. “And yes, that means I’m the legal guardian of my fifteen year old kid brother who should be worrying about school and not launching a damn rocket into space several times a week!”

The watch was silent. Scott adamantly refused to look at it, to see what face Other-John was wearing – or if he’d hung up.

“No wonder you clashed with Dad.” Evidently Other-John hadn’t done the latter. “Scott’s just arriving at the danger zone, so Dad should be in the office at the moment. Normally I’d say Gordon would be with him, but I know you’ve got him curious. Scott grabbed his spare watch, and I don’t think Dad’s realised yet, but Gordon’s crafty enough to notice that sort of thing.”

“You think he’s looking for me?” he asked, reluctantly looking back at the watch. Other-John shrugged.

“Unlikely,” he said. “He knows better than to chase Scott when he’s in a mood. More likely, he’s lying in wait for when you decide to return.” Scott groaned. Other-Gordon had been the quietest so far, and a quiet Gordon meant warning signs. Amber eyes had been watching him, though, scrutinising him perhaps the most closely of all the Other-Tracys, and part of Scott had been waiting for it to come to a head. Apparently that time was now.

“My John knows how to keep his mouth shut,” he said. Other-John chuckled.

“I do, too,” he promised. “They won’t hear anything from me unless they have to.”

“They won’t have to,” Scott growled, looking down at the watch as he tapped at his own communicator uselessly. The red no signal symbol greeted him and he swiped it away angrily. “Does this thing have map capabilities?” he asked. “The entrances to One and Two are the same, but the house itself is nothing like home.”

“Not Three?” Other-John sounded surprised. “Odd that not all of them are the same.”

“Odd that your Four doesn’t even have her own entrance,” Scott retorted, although now he knew more about Other-Gordon – or specifically, that they were treating him like he was made of glass – he could see why. What sort of family dynamic they had that Other-Gordon hadn’t driven them all totally insane in revenge was one he wasn’t too fond of contemplating.

“Thunderbird Four lives in Pod Four,” Other-John said, sounding slightly confused. “Why does she need her own entrance?”

Pod Four? And earlier, Other-John had said Pod Three was carrying a Domo and a Mole.

“You call Thunderbird Two’s modules pods,” he realised. Other-John blinked at him.

“Say,” he said, curiously. Scott sensed another not so subtle probing on the way. “You heard the briefing I gave Father. What would you have done? If you were with your own technology, I mean?”

“Thunderbird One and Two,” he said, not even having to think about it. “Gordon with Virgil, taking Module Two. Keep up to date information through Thunderbird Five and assess the situation upon arrival. Configure the PODs as required once Two arrives and get those people out. Get John on finding out how it happened and who was responsible.” Kayo, Lady Penelope and Parker, too.

“You think it’s sabotage?” Other-John asked, surprised. Scott shook his head.

“Accidents are usually caused by cutting corners,” he said, jaw locking. “Imbeciles who can’t observe safety regulations are a danger to everyone.”

“You’d shut them down?” Other-John sounded astonished. “Your International Rescue has that sort of authority?” Scott scoffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “We don’t have that authority and we don’t want it. There’s enough paperwork already.” Urgh, the paperwork. Who would be doing that while he was gone, or would it just be piling up in neglect? “We just give tip offs to the GDF and they handle it.”

“The GDF?” Other-John queried. Scott decided to secure the watch to his wrist before he dropped it.

“Is nothing the same here?” he groused. “Global Defence Force. The World Government’s military organisation.”

“International Rescue exists,” Other-John reminded him, and he sighed.

“No good to me when your tech is basically alien,” he pointed out, adopting Alan’s – and apparently Other-Alan’s - default. “This watch is analogue.”

“Analogue?” Other-John asked, frowning. Scott stared at him.

“Round dial of numbers?” he explained hesitantly.

“Well, yes. What else would it be?” Other-John queried, as though the idea of any other type of watch was bizarre.

“Digital?” Scott offered. Other-John’s face went blank, again, and he buried his face in his hands. “You’re kidding.”

“You have a name for ours, so it’s not entirely… alien,” Other-John pointed out, clearly as enamoured with the idea of aliens as his John.

“It’s ancient, is what it is,” he grumbled. “We stopped using analogue clocks half a century ago. I don’t even know how to read the things!” Virgil did, and John of course devoured anything related to communications, but Scott himself had never paid attention when Grandma had tried to show him on her own grandfather’s ancient watch; he’d been busy with other things, like raising four younger brothers.

“Half a century?” Other-John asked. “Is your tech different because it’s futuristic?” Scott shook his head.

“I don’t think so.” He tapped at the watch absent-mindedly. “I’m trained in a lot of old tech, because not everywhere is at the forefront of technology, but I’ve never seen anything like this stuff.”

“We’ll just have to train you up, then,” Other-John said. “The fellas won’t mind.”

Scott could think of one man who seemed like he would.

“You never said if you could show me a map of the place,” he said instead. “I need some shoes.” The island was tropical, but that didn’t stop the dirt congealing on the soles of his feet from feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

“You’re planning on raiding Scott’s?” Other-John sounded amused. Scott thought he might be. John would have been.

“Some other clothes, too,” he admitted, and Other-John laughed.

“I don’t have a map that labels the rooms,” he said. “But here-” His face disappeared and was replaced with a very basic, black and white map of the villa. In the small watch face, it looked very cramped. In one of the rooms, a blue light started flashing. “That’s Scott’s room.” Scott squinted at it.

“Can’t you make it bigger?” he complained.

“Not if you want to see how to get there,” Other-John told him and he groaned.

“You don’t have zoom and scroll?”

“Not on the watches.” Scott was starting to feel lucky that was even an option on any device. Maybe this stuff wasn’t out of his history lessons, but it felt far behind the technology he was used to. He poked at his own communicator again, and snarled at it when it merrily presented him with the red no signal declaration again.

“You okay?” Other-John asked. His face was still hidden by the map, but he sounded concerned.

“Fine,” he growled. “Stupid thing.”

“If you say so.” Scott got the feeling he didn’t believe him.

Well, for the moment he had a plan. Get back to the infirmary, navigate his way through the villa to Other-Scott’s room, and find something that wasn’t pyjamas to wear.

“Keep me updated,” he ordered, and got an acknowledging F.A.B before the line cut. At least, he assumed it had. He didn’t know the technology well enough to confirm it, but it didn’t matter either way. Letting his wrist fall, he pushed himself to his feet and began the climb back down to the villa.

Chapter 5>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #long way from home

27 notes · View notes

yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years ago

Text

COSMIC - S1:E2; Chapter Two, The Weirdo On Maple Street - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Gender Neutral!Reader Series

||𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Lucas, Dustin and I take our seats once we get to class.

"Oh, that can't be good." I sigh, gesturing to Mike's empty seat.

"Yeah, he's never this late," Dustin added.

"I'm telling you, his stupid plan failed," Lucas stated.

"I thought you liked his plan?"

"Yeah, but obviously it's stupid, or he'd be here."

"If his mom found out a girl spent the night—" Dustin began.

"He's in deep shit right about now."

Dustin shifted in his seat, and leaned forward, whispering loud enough for us to hear. "Hey, what if she slept naked?"

"Ugh!" My face screws into a sour, disgusted look aimed at my brother, unintentionally speaking at the same time as Lucas. "Why would she do that, Dustin?"

"Oh, my God, she didn't."

"Oh, if Mrs. Wheeler tells our parents..."

The thought of Mom finding out was enough to elicit an anxious groan from me, and I let my forehead fall against desk where I buried my face.

"No way. Mike would never rat us out."

I hesitantly looked up, making eye contact with Lucas. He gave me a reassuring smile, knowing I worry easily.

"I don't know." Dustin said warily.

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

It took a solid moment for Mike to gather his thoughts and focus on the task at hand. He parked his bike and made his way inside.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"You want anything to drink?" Mike decided to take advantage of the empty house so that he could show El around. "We have OJ, skim milk... What else? Um, we have..."

Mike trailed off when he saw that El was more fascinated with the things in his living room, mostly his TV set.

"Oh, this is my living room. It's mostly just for watching TV."

El lightly traced her fingers around the frame of the TV as she examined it.

"Nice, right? It's a 22-inch.

That's, like, ten times bigger than Dustin's."

El turned her head and said quietly.

"Y/n."

"Well, yeah of course. Y/n too."

"Dustin. Brother?" She asked, making sure she remembered correctly.

"Yeah!" Mike smiled, then lightly shrugged. "Well, technically Y/n's adopted. But yeah, they're still siblings."

El's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Ad-adopted?"

"Yeah, um, it means that they came from different parents. Mrs. Henderson adopted them because their parents were unable to take care of them. It's funny actually, Y/n is from Hawkins. Or at least that's where they were found. The Hendersons didn't used to live in Hawkins; I don't know much about it cause Dustin was so young he doesn't remember any of it, but I think him and his mom were visiting family here and they just... found Y/n, I think? I'm pretty sure that's why they moved here, or something."

She smiles longingly and speaks in a soft voice. "Pretty."

"I guess." Mike's face is contorted in confusion and a little in disgust.

"And those are my parents. What are your parents like?" As usual, El says nothing and she steps down from the fireplace and walks up to a large green chair.

She looked to Mike, wondering what he is up to.

"See? Fun, right?"

With one hand on the back of the chair, and the other on the front, he brings the recliner back into its default position. "Now you try."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The random rock song on the radio that Jonathan barely recognized came to an end as Jonathan Byers drove to his dad's house. His eyes darted to the radio unit in his car for a moment as his heart fell when the familiar sound of "Should I Stay or Should I Go" rang throughout the car.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"Darlin', you got to let me know"

Jonathan is sat on the edge of the bed next to his younger brother Will. The two of them are in Will's room, bobbing their heads along to 'Should I Stay or Should I Go' by The Clash.

"Should I stay or should I go?"

"You like it?" Jonathan had to raise his voice so he could be heard over the loud song. Will looks to his older brother and grins.

"Yeah, it's cool!"

"All right, you can keep the mix if you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. All the best stuff's on there. Joy Division, Bowie, Television, The Smith's... It'll totally change your life."

"Yeah, totally," Will says with a smile. However, the smile is quick to leave when the two boys hear their mother yelling on the phone.

"Where the hell are you, Lonnie?"

Will slowly turns his head to the door, listening to his mother yell at his absent father.

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it." Jonathan mimics his brother's actions and looks to the door. Finally, he gets up and walks towards the door.

"This is ridiculous! I'm so sick of your excuses."

"One day is fine and next is black"

Before Jonathan sits down, he lowers the volume on the stereo.

"He's not coming, is he?"

"Do you even like baseball?" Jonathan asks softly.

"No, but... I don't know." He shrugs sadly. "It's fun to go with him sometimes."

"Come on. Has he ever done anything with you that you actually like? You know, like the arcade or something?"

Will shrugs his shoulders weakly. "I don't know."

"No, all right? He hasn't. He's trying to force you to like normal things. And you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to. Okay?"

Will only looks down at his feet sadly.

"Especially not him."

Will silently nods his head in understanding.

Jonathan decided to change the subject.

"But you like The Clash? For real?"

Will nods his head eagerly with a smile. "For real. Definitely."

"So... is Y/n a fan of The Clash?" Jonathan asks, genuinely curious.

A faint blush dusts Will's cheeks as he looks down at his hands. "Um, yeah, I think so."

"Maybe you should show this to them. I bet they'll like it."

"Maybe. You think?"

"Yeah, from what I know, they have great taste. They're pretty cool."

A loving smile spreads across Will's face. "Yeah, they are pretty cool."

"Will, you guys are best friends. You two are just too close to ruin the friendship. Why don't you think about asking them to the arcade or something? Just the two of you. Maybe come back here for some Mac and Cheese or something if that'd make you feel safer, and you could," he shrugs. "let them know how you feel?"

"But what if that does ruin the friendship? What if they don't feel the same way, and they decide to stop hanging out with me? Or if someone finds out- I just- I just can't. I'm not ready."

"That's okay. All I'm saying is, they're way too nice to be the kind of person who would do that. And you are way too important to them. And hey, if you ever do feel ready, or you guys do go out in the future..." Jonathan trails off, sensing the awkwardness creep up. He chuckles and looks back to his brother.

"All I'm trying to say is, I'm here for you. Always."

Will smiles gratefully and Jonathan leans forward to the volume back up.

"Should I stay or should I go? So you gotta let me know, should I stay or should I go?"

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

#you'll float queue #stranger things #will byers x reader #reader insert #will byers #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #cosmic #gn!cosmic #el hopper #eleven #stranger things x reader #stranger things x gn!reader #x gn!reader #x gender neutral reader #the weirdo on maple street

3 notes · View notes

photiniainsummer · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Audience Participation Can Tip the Scales (1/?): The Lede

Genre: GenFic - Action, Mystery, Humor

Rating: Teen and Up

Story Summary: There’s a strange group living at the old Markiplier Manor.

They’re the villains of their tales, they’re looking for information, and they need your help putting Mark’s scattered egos back together to get their lives back.

And stop Mark and the Entity breaking reality.

Small goals.

(Second Person POV, vaguely fem-coded Reader)

Chapter Summary: The one where your cheeky coworker convinces you to check out the old Markiplier Manor with him.

Word Count: 5372

Author's Note: Decided to cross-post from my Ao3! The next three chapters are already up, and I try to post every Tuesday. :3

Interested?

Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30510852/chapters/75244647

The Lede

You watch amusedly from your desk as Jonah, your coworker-slash-mentor and partner in crime, comes bustling through the door to the reporters’ bullpen. He’s late, as usual, his half-open messenger bag slung across his rumpled self. Scribbled-on papers and even his laptop haphazardly jut out from the bag as he struggles to balance a breakfast sandwich on his thermos. Sometimes, all he had to do was exist to make you nervous. He starts to make his way across to you and your neighboring desks but is intercepted by the resident office mom for what she calls a “good old fashioned talking-to.” She’s always trying to tenderly bully him into being a better example for the junior reporters like yourself, although you have to wonder why she keeps it up despite its clearly limited efficacy. It’s not even that Jonah’s particularly stubborn - he’s just one of those people who, no matter how early he leaves home or how hard he tries, something just so happens to make him late. You can see how it would seem intentional, but you know Jonah’s too honest and, frankly, not creative enough to come up with the plethora of scenarios that conspire against him. You’ve just learned to tell Jonah to show up at least half an hour before you actually want him to.

Eleanor, however, is committed to whipping Jonah into shape. In the midst of her chiding, Jonah catches your gaze and pulls an awful face, startling a laugh out of you. Eleanor, of course, seizes on this and switches to berating him about listening when spoken to as you try to pull your attention back to scanning the morning news. He really knows how to dig himself in deeper, you think, chewing your lip to keep from laughing at the memory of his terrible expression.

“Don’t even start,” Jonah grumbles when he finally extracts himself from Eleanor’s chastising, sliding into his desk across from you. “You heard it, she already ran the full gamut this morning.” You give him your best shocked look.

“Who, me? No idea what you’re talking about,” you reply coolly, punctuating your tease by exaggeratedly returning to your work and clattering at your keyboard. “I was just going to ask how your morning went.” Jonah groans, but his lips tug upward in his typical crooked smile. At least he’d managed to shave without cutting himself this morning, you note.

“Ugh. Just because you were born able to wake up five minutes before your alarm doesn’t mean the rest of us were. Besides, I was up listening to the scanner.” Now it’s your turn to groan.

“That thing again? It’s barely legal for you to have one here, even Walker said as much.” Your boss and head editor had given Jonah his patented disapproving brow-furrow and pressed-lip combo when it had come up in conversation, but he hadn’t explicitly told the crime reporter to get rid of it, either. Jonah argued it kept him ahead of the curve on his beat, but with as many connections as he had, you suspected he used it more for the thrill of it than bettering his job performance. “What was so interesting last night, anyway? Any high-speed chases?”

“Not in our limits, unfortunately.” Jonah chuckles at your unamused expression, popping the lid on his thermos. “Kidding, come on. No, it was quiet last night, except… well.” He pauses, something changing in his expression. It’s enough to pull your attention away from your inbox. Jonah’s a goofball, but he’s a damn good reporter with a mind like a whip. He has to be, to be head of the crime division. So you take it seriously when he casts his eyes around the office before leaning in conspiratorially. His voice is hushed as he murmurs to you. “Someone called in that they saw a suspicious person skulking around the old Markiplier Manor.”

You immediately lose interest. That was news to him? The Manor had been abandoned as long as you had been alive, long since off the market after being passed from renovator to developer for most of its nearing-hundred year existence. Even with calls for it to be turned into some kind of museum, it had never been able to shake its grisly past or tendency for the strange. You’d heard the stories of the few historic maintenance crews dealing with randomly exploding lightbulbs and eerie spectres, disembodied voices and footsteps - but that’s all they were, stories. Stories from a creepy, old, run-down house on the edge of town. It was a hotspot for teenagers wanting to prove their guts - hell, you had even gone with a couple of friends back in high school, although you had been busted by a roving patrol car. You sigh at the memory of just how badly your mom had berated you about breaking curfew and fix Jonah with a disappointed look. He was immature at the worst of times, but you thought he’d at least be able to tell a lead from normal shenanigans. “That was exciting enough to make you late for the third time this week? You’re supposed to be a senior reporter around here, you know.” Jonah huffs, leaning forward on his desk and closer to you. He seems intent, despite your skepticism.

“Well, if you’d let me finish explaining, then you might know why such an on-time and dedicated individual such as yours truly would have let the time slip away from him,” he replies, sarcasm curling his tone. A quip rises on your tongue that he was the one drawing it out so much, but Jonah has a certain glint in his eyes. Something had his attention. You finally turn from your computer monitor and to face him, only slightly exasperated.

“Okay, okay. Listening.”

The man grins slightly and shifts his weight further forward on his elbows, keeping his voice down as he continues. “All right, so, PD gets this call from a neighbor that they saw someone wandering around on the property, yeah? They send an officer to check it out - of course, nobody’s around by the time he shows up. But the weird thing is… they found all the lights on inside.”

You blink, sure you missed something. “Like. Shop lights, right? There’s some construction crew working on it, or… they called in an appraiser and they forgot to turn them off.” Jonah shakes his head.

“Nope. Light fixtures. Every single one with a bulb in was blazing. And no crews or anything, I called the agency that owns the place. The last pro they had in there was over four years ago. There’s a security guard that checks it out regularly, but the power’s been off for years.”

You furrow your brow and sit in thoughtful silence for a moment, hunched and staring at your desk as you puzzle over the details. Jonah watches you intently while you think, taking the chance to work on his massive thermos of coffee, so strong you could smell it across your desks. He’d done this since you’d joined the paper, assuming the role of your mentor, at least informally. He would offer you the details of a story or curious anecdote that he’d started with and watch your mind run. You had always appreciated the exercise - it kept you sharp in dealing with local politics and its various mealy-mouthed players - and he appreciated getting a second pair of eyes on the issue at hand. Sometimes you picked up on things he hadn’t, ran rabbits he might not have. Working the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you roll the details over in your mind, hunting for another explanation as Jonah hunted for the bottom of his thermos. Something didn’t sit right with you about the details, but what?

Suddenly, you land on it, sitting up suddenly and turning to Jonah, who lifts his eyebrows at you. “The neighbor that made the call, did they mention the lights, or just someone wandering around outside?” His face breaks into a pleased smile, eyes dancing with the curiosity of the problem before the two of you.

“Nice catch. They didn’t mention the lights at all, just the trespasser.”

“So the lights got turned on between the neighbor making the call and the officer showing up.” Jonah’s smile turns into a real grin, cheeks split with it.

“Exactly. But why?” The other reporter leans back in his chair with a sigh. “That’s what kept me up, and made me late. Again.” He sips his coffee idly. “And it’s why I’m going to check it out for myself tonight.”

“What?” Jonah jumps in his chair with the volume of your exclaimation, quickly shushing you as he looks around in a panic. He can’t be serious, you think, but lower your voice. What is he being so low-key about? “No, Jonah, you absolutely can not go poking around some abandoned house.” He settles somewhat, content that nobody cast a glance your way after your outburst. Most of your colleagues are already out on assignments, anyway, given the later hour. But he’s determined, unfazed by your forbiddance.

“And why not? I’m just following a lead.” You open your mouth to protest further, but he interrupts. “Oh, come on, you aren’t a little curious to see what’s going on? What’s the harm, the cops just checked it out, it’s totally safe.” That gleeful glint is back in his eyes. How it thrills and infuriates you in equal measure.

“Seriously? Someone could be squatting there, and the cops just didn’t find them. Someone tapping a neighbor’s powerline and clearly not in their right mind, if they’re turning every light on in the place. Besides, even if it is empty, they could have a patrol posted on it now.” Jonah’s excitement begins to fade in the face of your barrage of facts. “If that agency still owns it, then it’s private, posted property, and you’d be actively breaking the law.” He sucks his teeth and slumps back in his chair, somewhat defeated.

“You’re no fun. Where’s your reporter’s spirit, your drive!” You turn back to your computer, shaking your head as you try to refocus on catching up with your inbox.

“Getting arrested for trespassing and/or breaking and entering isn’t ‘reporter’s spirit,’ Jo. You’re not Nancy Drew, you can’t just start poking your nose around abandoned buildings. It’s not safe.”

Jonah pauses for a moment, then gets an annoyingly knowing grin on his face. He leans forward again, good humor returning. “Ohhhh, so you’re scared is what I’m hearing.”

You huff in exasperation. “Literally how is that the conclusion you’re drawing from what I just said? I told you--”

“You’re the one who said ‘safe’! That means you think it might be dangerous and you’re scared.”

“Yeah, for your job and general well-being. Seriously, Jonah, I’m not scared of some abandoned house. Just because a couple of people happened to get murdered there--”

“Ah ah ah, they only found one body. The Mayor and the District Attorney were missing, assumed dead. Same for the killer.”

“Okay, Mr. Nitpicky. You you that’s even less scary, right? But, regardless, none of that makes the place inherently dangerous or scary. Hospitals aren’t scary, at least not like that, and people die there all the time.”

Jonah doesn’t immediately reply, giving you the opportunity to hammer out a reply to a scheduling issue and push your lunch meeting with the Senator back an hour. How did her assistant manage to double book her? you wonder as your reply zooms off. When you get the chance to look back to your coworker, he has a wry, sneaky little smile on his face. “What?”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” You shake your head. He really isn’t giving this up. “Fine, if you’re soooo not scared, then I dare you to come check it out with me tonight.”

“Absolutely not, did you forget about the illegal part? We aren’t kids, this isn’t just messing around after school. It could look bad for the paper, and you know Walker as well as I do - there’s no second chances.”

Jonah pauses. Mulling over your words, the threat of being fired. Then, “I’ll buy you dinner from that new Japanese place uptown.”

Visions of high-end sushi dance enticingly in your mind. Your stomach threatens to growl, with it being the end of the month and your bank account looking dismally light. Jonah always knows how to hook you, damn him. It doesn’t help that you knew from that look on his face that he knew you were already burning up inside with curiosity. The two of you were peas in a pod, and he had seen that since your first day at the paper. It was exactly why he’d gotten you set up as his desk neighbor, why he’d taken it upon himself to play mentor for you, probably why he was telling you any of this in the first place, despite how low-profile he clearly wanted to stay. You were going to be at that Manor tonight as soon as Jonah had heard the cop call in over the scanner. You sigh quietly through your nose, letting the decision sink in before you make it official.

“Fine. What time?” you ask, not looking away from your screen. Despite trying to ignore him, you could still see Jonah’s joyous fist-pump out of the corner of your eye.

What’s the harm in a little urban exploring, anyway? At least I’ll be there to keep Jonah from going too far with it, you muse to yourself, already planning your celebratory dinner.

What’s the worst that could happen?

---

Even after three years of working closely with Jonah Scott, you still managed to underestimate just how late he could be. You had agreed to meet at the foot of the Manor’s drive at Jonah-time 5:30, 6 sharp for normal people. However, it’s already pushing half-past with no apology text or update to speak of from the crime reporter. Wasn’t this his stupid plan? you mentally grumble, fruitlessly checking your phone again. At this point, your text conversation was fully one-sided, your messages over the last thirty-ish minutes taking up the entirety of your screen. With a defeated sigh, you flick the app shut and slide over to your ridesharing app. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to stick around, and with the sun setting quickly, like hell you’re going to willingly hang around the abandoned Manor longer than you have to.

As you scan available drivers, you consider just how to make Jonah pay for standing you up. You mentally upgrade your promised sushi meal straight into a sushi boat, and although you know you don’t have the heart to commit to such an egregious attack on his wallet, the thought brings a smile to your face. At the very least, you decide to charge him the cost of your rides to and from the massive property - the place is barely in the city limits, not to mention situated up a long road that only led into an almost equally long driveway. Your already light bank account was begging for mercy as you select a nearby driver. Of course it was surge pricing, to boot. The estimated ride cost is enough to make you pause and hope beyond hope that Jonah and his old jalopy were right around the corner. Maybe his phone had just died. Or maybe he was being a particularly safe driver and ignoring his texts. You decide to give it another couple of minutes, if just to make sure you had no other option but to pay through the nose for a ride home. With a sigh, you turn back towards the Manor itself, its exposed-rock exterior catching the burning sunset.

It doesn’t even look that creepy. Really, with the warmth of the setting sun, it almost looks inhabited, just in limbo between relying on daylight and its residents needing to turn the lights on for the evening. The grounds are well-maintained, too, likely thanks to a strict HOA. You figure that if neighbors are paying enough attention to report people wandering around the property despite how spaced out the houses are here, there’s likely a resident weed-measurer who complains as soon as the yard breaches an acceptable length.

That being said, the building itself barely looks like a home. Although you had brushed up on its appearance and floorplan online, images couldn’t prepare you for just how much it really looks like a castle. You knew its creator, Mark Iplier, had been a fabulously wealthy actor back in the day, building his first house to match, but good lord. There’s still such a thing as too much. It has turrets, for crying out loud. Not to mention Google Earth showed that the massive patio that wrapped around practically the entirety of the backside of the building was home to some kind of natural waterfall-looking pool and a life-sized chessboard. It had been impressive online, but in real life, the place is enormous to the point of ridiculousness.

I guess it matches its creator, then, you muse, considering what you had gleaned from a scan of a few biographical entries earlier in the day. He was a local legend, to be sure, but you had never learned more about him than surface stuff and the details of the murder case that had basically ended his career. Before all that, though, Mark had been the embodiment of every stereotype you could muster about early 20th century new-money creatives -- massive personalities with a penchant for equally massive parties. As beloved as he had been on stage and film, he’d been even more so in social circles, known for all-night ragers with massive multisection big bands, ample liquor even in the height of Prohibition, and occasionally the exotic animal or two. Famously, Mark had once arrived at a costume party on the back of an elephant, led by four retainers and dressed like a prince, swathed in silks.

In that context, the house seemed to make a bit more sense, although it had clearly seen better days. The paint on wrought-iron fence surrounding the grounds needs a fresh coat, peeled off in places; you can see a few shutters hanging lopsidedly from their hinges. It’s almost sad, the longer you look at it, especially knowing the revelry it had once hosted. Mark’s own life mirrored the place, as cliche as it was. After the incident, Mark never seemed able to recover. Even the few pictures you had found of him afterwards looked different - he seemed thinner, his eyes haunted, his smile forced. He’d appeared in a handful of films after the fact, but something had changed in him, and he ended up becoming somewhat of a recluse until his death. It was horribly tragic, really. Just trying to put yourself in his shoes had your throat tightening up a bit. Your childhood friend goes off the deep end and goes on a rampage out of nowhere with the rest of your closest friends as casualties - a freak incident right as you’re hitting your stride--

Suddenly, your phone breaks out into its ringtone, startling you out of your empathetic wallowing. You fumble the device in your hand just to keep a grip on it, cursing as you manage to maintain your hold. You check the screen - a local number, but you don’t recognize it. You answer anyway, crossing your fingers it’s not just a spoof call. “Hello?”

Jonah’s voice crackles through on the other end. “Kid! Hey, I’m so sorry-”

“You better have a damn good explanation lined up, Scott,” you snap, interrupting. “Where the hell are you?”

“God, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to get home for the last hour to call you. My car practically blew up in my face on my way home from work, and it must have been something electrical because my phone was connected and charging and got totally fried. It was kind of working for a second, but I just had to give up and come home in a taxi. I’m having to use an emergency landline, I can’t believe the damn thing even works.” The annoyance drains from your body, his tone so disappointed and clearly stressed that you can’t keep a hold on your frustration.

“Oh, Jo. I’m sorry. Are you okay, though? It didn’t shock you or anything, right?”

“No, thank god, no hospital bills on top of everything else. Look, I’m really sorry. Are you still out there?”

“Yeah, I was just about to get a ride home when you called.”

“Oh, awesome, so have you gone in?!” You scoff out of reflex, stunned at his emotional 180. If he was here, you’d give him a good pop on the head.

“What? No, Jonah, of course I didn’t go in! This was your plan, I was waiting on you to roll your goofy ass up this stupid hill. You’re lucky this place is out of the way, I bet the neighborhood association would have called the cops on me by now if the houses were any closer,” you grump down the line. Jonah’s laugh crackles on the other end.

“Lucky’s my middle name, especially today, right? Look, I know I already owe you big, but can’t you just slip in and take a look around? Like hell I’m gonna be able to afford getting a ride out there any time soon, and you’re already there… Just see if the door’s unlocked or something, look in some windows?” He’s really begging, now, and his tone melts your resolve. How does he do that every time? You sigh heavily, crossing your arms and peering up at the manor. Its large, dark windows stand out against the lighter stone as the sunlight truly begins to fade. They feel like eyes, looking down at you from the top of the hill. It sends a shiver up your spine.

“Jonah, you know I value you as a dear friend and colleague, but... Fine, look, this place is creepy, I admit it, I’m a chicken, I’m scared of the creepy murder house, can’t we just come back some other time when we’re a we and not just a me?” Although your rushed confession is half joking, it’s obvious Jonah isn’t fully engaged. He only gives a short laugh in response before you hear him shift the phone a bit, pausing. Thinking. It feels like an age before he speaks again, the crickets beginning their evening song in the interim.

Then, “Look, Vivian, I. I haven’t been straight-up with you. Yeah, the scanner was going off last night, but the truth is I’ve... been thinking about that place for months. Remember that puff piece about Mark, the retrospective Devontae put up a couple months ago?”

You shift your weight, turning away from the manor and its looming walls to focus on your friend’s voice. His tone had seriously shifted. This is Real Talk time. “Yeah, sure. The board killed it. It was weird, especially since it was his death-iversary, right? But… I dunno, Jo, that’s not enough to--”

“I talked with my friends at the Star, their board nixed a retrospective, too. So did the Inquirer, the Daily, and the Herald. Not to mention anything having to do with Mark for at least the last couple of years. I checked Walker’s record cabinet, too. Anything mentioning Mark, that night, his life after… hell, even the Manor, everything is heavily edited. Anything even adjacently referencing his existence is lucky if his name doesn’t get cut.”

You draw up short. A bit of concrete is loose underneath your feet, rocking slightly with you as you shift your weight from foot to foot. What is he getting at? “I mean. Yeah, okay, that’s pretty weird, but maybe… I dunno, maybe the board doesn’t want to bring up a dark moment like that, or more likely, they don’t wanna openly admit the town hasn’t been able to get their shit together about the Manor and make it into something other than an eyesore all this time later. You know at least half of them take board work as their victory lap after a glorious public service career,” you offer, laying it on thick. Jonah hums, considering it.

“Could be. But still, kind of a personal bent for an editorial board to take, no? Even for them. And it’s not just our board, it’s consistent across the papers.”

“But nothing that awful happened to warrant this. I mean, sure, his buddy killed a detective and presumably a couple of friends in his house, that’s sad, but… Mark wasn’t involved. He didn’t do anything, at least, nothing bad enough to make everyone decide it’d be better if he just didn’t exist.”

“Nothing that we know about,” he offers, quieter. Your blood chills.

“...you think something else happened? Something worse?” Jonah is silent for a moment. His next words are careful.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But I think what happened at the Manor has more to do with Mark than he wanted people to think, more than reports let on. And that, whatever really happened, it’s something bad enough that even now, this long after everything and even him passing over two decades ago, someone’s keen to keep it covered up.”

You’re quiet, mind reeling. You were a local, you knew as well as anyone that all of this stuff is treated more like an urban legend than true local history. It’s almost larger than life, at this point; you had heard the story told and retold a thousand times over until the telling itself was smooth and simple. Mark, fresh off a successful play’s run, had invited over his old university buddies for a night of good old fashioned revelry and reconciliation after years of petty disagreements had crescendoed with his wife cheating on him with his oldest friend, the Colonel WIlliam J. Barnum. However, little was resolved, and adding alcohol to the mix turned out to be deadly. Tensions between the group came to a head the next day, and the Colonel snapped. His rampage ended in the death of the city’s leading detective and, presumably, two of the original group’s members, although their bodies were never found, seemingly dumped in the woods behind the Manor. The Colonel’s attempt to cover up his crime left the others a chance to escape and alert the police, but the killer, too, disappeared, and was never heard from again.

It feels like a well-worn path in your mind. Nobody ever questioned Mark’s innocence in everything - it was assumed. He had just been there, equally terrorized by the killer as the other victims. But exact details had never emerged to the public, and Mark had been reticent to ever speak of things. The missing guests, too, were just so easily presumed dead at the hands of their friend, their mysterious disappearances more like eerie window-dressing on a ghost story than a suspicious hole in an otherwise tightly-woven story.

Maybe not so tightly, since now that you can see the holes, it’s hard to ignore them.

The tender inside of your cheek aches from your teeth worrying it, bitten raw. You swallow your thoughts for a moment, trying to return to the conversation. Jonah’s been equally quiet, letting you puzzle. “...and you think the Manor has some clue to that? To what might have… really happened?”

“...that’s my working theory. Mark left the place so quickly after everything, it’s still full of his stuff. He didn’t want anything to do with it, wanted to start fresh. Technically, the local historical society owns it all, now, but you know what their funding is like, so it’s all just sitting around. I figure, in his rush, he left something behind that can give us an idea of what we’re missing. Besides, reports of weird stuff happening there has been on an uptick.” You suck your teeth, feeling some of the edge of the conspiracy theory-laiden tension fade.

“Massive media blackout, I can run with. But, what, you think there are ghosts that have something to do with it?”

Jonah groans. “I never said ghosts, specifically, but… come on, kid, you have to admit it’s weird.”

“It’s practically a hundred-year old house, of course it’s weird - the wires are probably all way out of code and nobody’s been in the place in ages.”

“Okay, okay, maybe it’s a stretch,” he admits, retreating from the point. “I’m just looking for patterns. We don’t have a lot to go on, in terms of hard information. Which is why getting in there is so important.” He’s turning toward pleading again. “Please, kid, it’d mean the damn world to me if you’d just take a look around. I’ve got no idea when I’ll be able to get out there myself. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.” You know he wouldn’t, he’s always been considerate of your time and comfort. Really, Jonah is one of the best friends you’ve had, coworker element aside. It makes it horribly hard to say no to him. Which is why whatever reservations you’re still holding on to cave in the face of his honesty.

“...okay. I’ll go poke around. But you seriously, seriously owe me for this one.” You can practically hear Jonah smile on the other end.

“Seriously, I do. Thank you, kid, honestly.” He sounds relieved, taking a steadying breath. Was he really so worried you’d say no? “And take pictures if you see anything!” he quickly adds.

“Only if you call the cops if I don’t call you back in an hour. If there’s someone in there, Jonah, I--”

“Hey, hey, I promise. I’ll stay right by the phone. Cross my heart.”

You sigh quietly to yourself. “All right, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, kid, and seriously. Thank you.” He sounds painfully sincere. You can’t summon up the spite to gripe at him anymore, so you let yourself be equally honest.

“I’ve got you, Jo. You know that.”

“Yeah. I know. Okay, I’m gonna let you go. Just be careful.”

“I will be.”

Then the line goes dead and your phone beeps dully before returning to your ridesharing app. You stare at it for a second, before you swipe up and close the app completely. No way you were going to chicken out now. Apart from Jonah’s confession, your mind was on fire. Sure, you could go home and just apologize to Jonah, but you know you’d be awake all night, tossing and trying to turn over the truth thanks to your limited information but unlimited curiosity. It wasn’t just his skepticism polluting your mind, either, there was definitely something missing from the narrative. Almost like the incident was too well-put-together, the reports from back then too careful with their words, what they didn’t say. Real crimes were messy because people were messy - their memories faulty, their behavior unpredictable and sloppy, even more so when under duress. But everything about the case and its retelling was clean. Neat.

It might as well have been wrapped up with a bow.

With nothing else between you and the Manor besides the peeling gate, you turn back to face its imposing exterior. Although the house had glowed softly in the setting sun, the rock reflecting the light so warmly, it had faded to a soft gray in the twilight. The windows are obviously dark and empty, now, their size exaggerated by the deepening of shadows as the sun slipped behind the horizon. You stare up at them, watching them back through the locked front gate from your tottering bit of pavement. You take another breath in, out. Then you square your shoulders and step up to the gate.

“It’s just a creepy old house,” you mutter, worming yourself between the wide bars. “Nobody inside, just a weird… big house. ” Nonetheless, a shiver goes down your spine when you’re through and the lawn stretches out before you and up to the front door. You crane your neck towards the nearest neighbor, but their windows were dark, too.

So why does it feel like someone’s watching you?

#markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #markiplier lore #actor!mark #actor mark #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #who killed markiplier #mad market pliers ramblings

3 notes · View notes