#if this is the universe trying to scare me away from substances its not going to work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

remsmoonlight · 3 years ago

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— title : a sweet truth

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : john wich x reader

— summary : you get an overwhelming need to share with John how you feel, unable to keep it to yourself anymore, leaving only the good to follow.

— warnings : none, issa soft one

note: my first one shot back and it’s john of course! anyways i need to binge the movies again because this man’s voice was difficult to master this time around, now i will be getting to requests now i have indulged myself oops

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* requests are open ! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The dull crackle that runs mindlessly beneath the audio of the radio is the only sound that can be heard illuminating the space of the bedroom where you and John lay contently together. He’d offered to repair the object, or even buy another but you refused stubbornly — remarking that it gives it a certain endearing charm. You had joked that it reminds you of him. In the sense that while it has a flaw, it was able to bring joy and amusement to a person’s life. It’s humbling to know that even the John Wick was human, that he had his flaws despite being difficult to witness them in the flesh.

It took a lot for John to bare the darkest and most damaged parts of his conscience. He couldn’t go another day where his mind leapt endlessly to conclusions, his mind conjuring haunting images of your departing body that would eventually come to pass — to him, it was inevitable. He fully convinced himself he was hallucinating when you had not retreated in fear, with the look of disgust cosying up to your reflection, but the opposite. He is still a man greatly feared by a whole world beneath yours, yet you still gaze upon him with nothing but warmth.

You will your mind to focus on the words from the small object, yet it’s the heat that is emitting from his body in waves that prevent you from fully taking in what is being said, its presence doing more to provide white noise than entertainment. The minor glint in your gaze turns upwards to drag your sight across the body that half lays on top of you.

Like vines, to be found in a twist of limbs that would be almost difficult to distinguish what belongs to who is a common occurrence, the sense of shielded from the scorching realities that the world bares boldly is an addicting concoction that you can only find with him. Your heart swells tenfold at the mere thought of him and being here in such a simple way that holds so much affection just for two people.

“ What ? “

The suddenness of his voice lifts you from your thoughts that run their own race, a shy lift of your lips can be seen twirling gracefully in response.

“ Nothing, I’m just thinking. “

“ Thinking? “ he asks you, a light hint of laughter gently coating the question with a feather-like touch. “ Are you trying to scare me? “

Eyes widen in response to what he says, a heavy burst of air plummeting to the soft mattress below the two of you. “ Don’t be so rude! “ A short chuckle trails behind your reply, secretly loving the cheeky side of his personality coming out to peek out.

You’ve realised that he has a warmth whenever you’re together, but even still he maintains an air of such seriousness you’re surprised he has not collapsed under the pressure of holding such a wall up with his bare hands, these moments are the kind that you paint mentally — a still of this moment in a thousand shades of gold. Upon your first meeting of his, you’d never associate that with him, with how intimidating and stone faced he was, it would be a honeyed lie if someone would have described him in such a way but here he is. Not a honeyed lie but a sweet tasting truth that you never want to be without again.

“ I’m sorry. “ he apologises as the amusement in his tones still very much present that would aim to refer to him as a hypocrite, but it’s not spoken with vitriol, his words directed towards you rarely contain any harshness. “ Tell me, I’m curious. “

It’s a minor debate that dances with only itself, zig zagging with a biro pen that creates a mess of lines converging at multiple points to create a tangle plot point that should not be as complicated as it’s being made out. Neither of you have muttered the L word, not even under your breath in passing and the one dominating emotion you can feel overwhelming your body entirely is incredibly close to it.. but is it too soon? Even as a description? It’s a fear you can feel tickling your neck from behind, whispering stained words of discouragement, but if you have learnt anything, it’s that hiding your feelings will be worse off in the long run. Never can a human being strive for the euphoria of authentic happiness clutched in their fist when they lock away their thoughts and their desires in a box to gather age and dust — leaving behind a hollow shell of what could have been had it the opportunity to bud and grow.

“ Well.. “ you begin, your sight lowering to meet the sight of his neck, unable to look him in the eyes fully and you approach the topic. “ I was thinking about you. “

“ Yeah? “

“ I’m just.. happy. More than I thought I could be and it’s you I have to thank. “ Your shoulders shrug as best they can from your position laying down on the bed.

“ I think I should be the one saying that. “ he replies softly, his words ringing truer than they could ever be realised to be as he leans down to leave behind a ghost of a peck behind your ear. It’s an action that is short and sweet.

Never did John imagine himself being rewarded for being the architect in more tragedies and more horrors than he could ever recall. Though, he soon realised your presence was rather the opposite, a ticket to a greener field void of bloodied bargains and death, and should he keep you in his life that would be an opportunity he would not let pass him by in a sea of missed chances left to drown due to his lack of motivation. He gazes upon you fondly in affection, a hand reaching up to draw mindless circles in the back of your hair, memories of his last bargain to leave his previous life playing before him as if an old gritty movie.

“ Stop it, John. I haven’t done a thing! “ your nose wrinkles as you refute what he says with a bashful glint that explodes in your gaze. After all the time you’d spent together and you still refuse to see yourself in the way John has painted you in —

“ You’ve done more for me than you realise. “

It feels like yesterday you shared your first kiss, fondly remembering how you’d mentally remarked that it’s so unfair that what is between you should be so perfect, a cruel joke were it not to work out. Though your heart is full of gratitude when you still tell yourself that not a worry should be had, your need for a physical reminder as you move your hand to his clothed back — bringing him closer as if to burn a permanent reminder into your fingertips.

“ I guess that’s why we compliment each other so well, huh? “

A wispy sigh plummets, your thoughts and emotions mixing more and more into a blend of intensity as you fully realise just how much you have fallen and adore the man who shares your bed. It has been such a long time you have had these emotions to this degree rouse from, what has felt like, an endless slumber. Yes, there had been a few who had caught your eye, but compared to the substance that has been created and nurtured from you both, they had nothing more than a water drop in a boundless and enduring sea. It’s a hope of yours that you don’t look foolish before him, getting so emotional over something like this, you scold yourself mentally — trying to pull yourself together before you completely crumble.

“ What’s wrong? “

“ It’s nothing, really. “ you shake your head, accompanying the almost denial. You want to let everything in your heart free, but the question is how to without scaring him off. There’s not much that can scare him, but you’d rather not throw a spanner in the flawless equation.

“ You don’t have to tell me, but it might help if you do. “ John lends a soothing weight in your hand as he interlocks your fingers together, leaving the choice completely up to you, refusing to force you to share something that is so personal to you. “ it’s your call. “

“ It’s nothing crazy.. “

The side of John’s brain that has been hardwired to jump to every scenario imaginable — good and bad, is running rampant. Itching to be prepared so nothing is able to disrupt the perfect day dream of a life that had only been made available through television shows and movies, now that he has it, every day he promises to never let it be ruined. Nothing good can ever occur from ripping away the first drop of water that touches a person starved of it for days, only a troublesome path of anger can walk that path on its twisted and turned limbs.

“ I think it’s time that I tell you how I feel, “ you state, your lips almost devouring your lips by how hard they bite them, a lost thought of how you have not drawn a drop of blood seeping into irrelevancy. “ how I really feel. “

“ Right? “

For the first time, John is completely unable to get a read of you. The apprehension that is emitting off you in strong waves is not something that comforts him fully, though the fact that you speak not from anger and have opted to stay in your current position as opposed to fleeing is the only source of relief he can continue to draw energy from. Curiosity is the only thing that dominates his mind, wanting desperately to hear the next part of your statement.

In his silence, your brows furrow purely from your own thoughts. Mainly in the wonder of how you can approach this while sounding as if you have capacity and are not obsessed with him as some are with their idols. You know that would be something that would probably scare him off. Your fingertips lay a random beat on the top of his hand, you nestle closer to him as to make yourself comfortable — this does feel like the right time. Should it not? You remind yourself that it is part of a plan that the universe has for you, that it is part of a bigger picture you are not allowed to know until the final moment.

“ I just, “ you pause, blinking as you gather your thoughts and your words further. “ It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything remotely close to this. “

Your words are like a cozy kiss goodnight before two lovers depart until the next time they see each other, a warmth that slowly grows in his heart overspills at the sentiment you individually wrap with each word you speak. He can’t help but tip his head ever so slightly, to take in every detail on your features — in his mind, nothing is more so perfect than this moment.

“ What I’m trying to say is, and you don’t have to say anything — “ the rambling leaves your lips so effortlessly, as if to savour the last few moments of normally before the inevitable confession. “ I can’t help but realise how much I am in love with you. “

His eyes widen instantaneously as his features follow suit, his lips part in surprise. With how your speech had begun, it should not have come as a surprise, yet to hear it from your lips is as pleasant as the final summer’s day, surrounded by warmth and an impenetrable energy that shields you from any harm that would befall you. He’d lived the life of a haunting ghost story that it soon became a belief that he was a monster, to hear you in this moment recite something so real is something that is difficult for him to wrap his head around. Maybe he isn’t a monster that has made its peace with the darkness, that there is more for him as a person.

The emptiness is soon replaced by a soft weight on your lips, he has leans down to join you — unable to fight the desire to savour the taste of him as you often do when you kiss. It’s a fight you have not yet one, and it’s a fight you imagine you would prefer losing. Time is no longer a concept, you’re too wrapped up in the concept turned reality that is John Wick, only are you able to concentrate on the burning that his free hand leaves as they slide up and down your waist. If this is a dream, neither of you want to awaken.

“ Who says I’m not feeling the same as you? “

#John Wick imagine #John Wick x reader #john wick oneshot #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction

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blackbat05 · 3 years ago

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You don’t like me when I’m angry (Part 1)

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: Back again but I’ve decided to switch my theme a little! Reader has pyrokinetic abilities (like the human torch). Katy is still quirky and a talented archer. Shangqi... well he’s the man! Again, do like and comment if you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!

Genre: PG 13

Warnings: Maybe just watch out for a bit of detailed descriptions of injuries and the fighting.

The pub was bustling. Men were noisily gathered at the bar, eyes glued to the latest soccer match. As the match went on, the reactions became more intense. Perfect cover for a hooded figure to slip into the pub unnoticed. She quietly orders a bottle of soju, pouring it into the drinking glass that came along with it.

‘Careful there, you don’t want to loose the target,’ a voice crackles through the coms in her left ear. ‘Relax Shangqi, unlike what you think, I have a high tolerance for alcohol.’ Smirking into thin air, the girl takes another sip. Another muffled voice causes Shangqi to pry away from the surveillance footage. ‘Oh yeah, Katy’s got the picture, just sent it.’

Everything about the target screamed danger. As if his rugged look didn’t scare one away, the man had a cut that was hovering dangerously near his eye. Goran Lee, aka Gor - the biggest mob boss who holds an iron fist over the underworld of Busan. How did (y/n) ended up here? That was a very good question.

‘What’s up Wong?’ I stepped into the sanctum after Shangqi and Katy who were having trouble concealing their yawns. The man in question turns his focus away from the round table, a solemn look on his face. ‘I think it’s best if you three take a look for yourselves.’

Throwing each other puzzled looks, we decided that it was best to just follow Wong. Crowding around the table, it glows bright orange, showing several images and videos at the same time. But all had one thing in common. A man - no he couldn’t even be called a human... more like a human animal hybrid was seen terrorizing the streets.

‘What the hell is that thing?’ Katy was clearly grossed out.

‘A vampire werewolf,’ Wong replied simply, not surprised at our confused expressions. ‘A what?’ Shangqi steps forward to observe the hologram that was a bit too real for his comfort. The animal whips its large head, red eyes tearing into us. I flinch as it lunges in our direction, knocking into Shangqi. The screen turns black.

‘That’s exactly what it is,’ Wong sighs. ‘It’s a real mess out there. A few weeks ago, Oscorp industries reported fifty boxes worth of vials missing from their storage in New York,’ He pauses to see if we’re following. ‘The substance - substance KXV is strong enough to trigger the person’s metagene and apparently, it’s fallen into the wrong hands. They’ve managed to trace it down to Busan but they’re tied down.’

‘Lemme guess... something to do with preventing an international incident on the front page of the Sunday Times?’ Katy drawled. ‘Why us then? Aren’t any of the avengers available?’ We looked at Wong expectantly.

‘They’re either off world, working with the UN or on the run from the government themselves,’ Wong pauses, thinking if he should continue. ‘And that Peter boy is in school.’ Shangqi raises his hands in defeat. He thought that after coming back from Ta Lo, he had escaped from the craziness. Well, at least he had you and Katy.

‘I don’t see him, this place is god damn dark. How do people drink here? And why am I here? Shouldn’t Shangqi be here instead?’

‘Because our faces have been plastered all over the internet? We don’t want to scare him off - and I know you’re not used to it but would you stop talking before he catches up on to us?’ Katy shakes her head at Shangqi inside the van as she talks to you. You never failed to impress them with your short fuse.

You sit quietly, nursing your last cup of soju, grumbling inwardly to yourself. For a guy who runs the underworld, he sure is tardy. A greasy hand rests on the surface of your shoulders, stopping your current train of thoughts. You hear a loud and abrupt movement from your com. ‘Hi, can I help you?’ Turning to the clueless jerk who decided it was ok to touch an unsuspecting woman, you inwardly trusted Katy to prevent Shangqi from running in balls first into a situation that could easily be defused. You were no pushover.

The guy reeked of alcohol. His foreign looks and a varsity jacket told me that he was probably an exchange student. ‘Hey pretty... why not have a drink with me and my guys over there...’ His finger jabs to the other end of the pub where his friends were watching him with excitement. ‘Don’t be shy... we’ll give you a good time!’ He guffaws before stumbling slightly.

My nostrils flared - as if making myself claustrophobic with a room full of rowdy and leering men weren’t enough, I’m having to deal with a boy who can’t seem to control whatever’s going on in his pants. This would have to be quick. Taking a few large strides over, I gripped his wrist tightly, lifting 185 pounds of dead weight. Staring into his unfocused eyes, my hands turned orange. Poor guy was flapping like a fish, wincing for me to stop. Thankfully with the loud music, no one could hear him.

‘I’m not exactly in a good mood today, so I suggest you scram before I fry your arm into barbeque here.’ I got my message across as he fled back to his group who were coincidentally trying not to make eye contact with me.

‘Harsh (y/n), harsh.’ Katy sniggered in my ear. I would have made a smartass response to her but my attention was focused on the man who had just sauntered into the room. Gor. And he didn’t come alone. ‘Look sharp guys, they’re here.’

I was determined not to loose them as they walked towards where the group of university students were, disappearing behind the back entrance shortly after. I darted among the group of servers who were to preoccupied attending tables, reaching the back. Dimly lit with red lights, every inch of the hallway was covered in questionable and even vulgar portraits that made my blood boil.

‘Don’t engage alone, me and Katy are on our way.’ Shangqi signals to Katy, tossing her bag of arrows. ‘No promises there Shangqi, I have no idea what the hell their going to do. Get here fast.’ I inch closer towards the sound.

Gor is the biggest out of them, towering over his tallest henchman by half a head. He takes the red vial, drinking it in one gulp. I knew I saw the pictures at the sanctum but I wanted to bleach my eyes out there and then as I saw him transform into that monstrosity. For a moment I thought I was caught as the furry beast glances at the transparent door.

‘The ambassador?’ Gor’s voice came out in an oily snarl. The henchman nearest to him bows, ‘On his way sir, he has the cash.’

‘Good, we kill them all the moment he arrives.’

‘Including the child- sir?’ The reply came back in a stutter.

‘I have no use for useless midgets,’ Gor bares his fangs. ‘Shoot them if you must.’

So it was true, Gor was really as sadistic as they claim. Just then, A warm hand clamps over my mouth before I can react. Shangqi.

‘Thank god. Take a look for yourselves. Gor’s after the ambassador. The ambassador knows that they’re the ones behind the raid at Oscorp. So Gor gets his men to kidnap the ambassador’s family, threatens him for some hush money in return of some promise that he must have made.’

‘But Gor’s not going to follow with his promise,’ Katy narrows her eyes. ‘Do you know where they might be holding the family?’ I shook my head. She loads her first arrow into the bow. ‘Can’t wait to try these new babies out. Heard their made of dragon skin.’ She turns to Shangqi, nodding in silent agreement.

‘Just what did you guys plan without me?’

PART 2 COMING SOON...

#xu shangqi #shangqi imagine #shangqi x reader #katy shang chi

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devilrainbunnie · 4 years ago

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Midnight Train

Dabi x Fem!Reader

cw: smut 18+ minors DNI, chikan, dubcon/noncon, pet names, pervy dabi

You stood in the train station, feeling a bit out of place. Looking around at your surroundings, and wondering when your train was going to arrive. It was running a little too late for your liking. Not to mention the fact that it was late, and cold, you didn’t even have a coat. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt, a short black skirt, and matching thigh highs with some simple school girl like shoes. Which was kind of ironic for you to wear. At the moment, you were currently in your second year of university. Just coming back from an outing with your friends, and cutting it off early because you had work the next morning. You were always overly cautious anywhere near trains, just due to the nature of pervy men, and the amount of times you’ve had experiences with them. Not even to mention how intense it is around this area. You berated yourself internally for deciding to wear something like this out, but now you had no choice but to just try and deal with it for now.

Absent-mindedly you scrolled on your phone, to give you some sort of distraction from the anxiety you felt beginning to stir in your stomach, tightening your thighs together, and keeping your purse close to your body. Then soon, the sounds of a fast moving vehicle, and wheels breaking to a halt brought you out from beneath your phones gaze. Looking up to greet the train. You patiently waited until it’s gears locked into place, and the doors opened. Waiting until the small crowd of people walked out of the cart, and then following into it. The cart was decently full of people. But to your absolute demise, there was some substance on some of the seats that looked like a spilled milk tea boba. Which was why you had to stand. Opting for the back of the cart that had some people also standing around. One of them meeting your gaze. Hooded, cerulean eyes following behind you, as you reached your spot to stand. He must’ve got on with me, you thought to yourself. The person was a bit of distant from you, staring at you without remorse. It was hard to make out their features with the large hood they wore over their head, and it made you anxious. Holding your body closer to itself.

He was looking at you like a predator stalking prey, hungry, and ready to devour. A look that quite honestly was making your heart absolutely flutter against your rib cage. Then you did something kind of stupid, pulling out your phone again, and trying to focus all of your attention on it. Trying to pay the hooded man no attention, out of your peripherals, you saw him lift his hood back. But again, you were too scared to see what he looked like. No matter how intense your curiosity was. After a short while into the trip following that, you checked again to see if he was there, and surprisingly he wasn’t.

That’s when you froze, instantly recognizing the feeling of someone standing just behind you. Too scared to gaze behind you, and the train suddenly causing the cart to jolt, your body mushed right against his, as your wobbly knees made you unstable on your feet. Perfect timing.

“S-Sorry!” you cried out, lurching yourself forward. His body following yours.

“It’s quite alright, doll face.” a husky voice whispered behind you. “I like your skirt, it’s cute on you.”

You didn’t respond to this, your blood was running cold, and your breath hitched inside of your throat. He made it a point to step closer to you, the heat radiating off of him was almost too much. The stranger was only an inch or so from touching your body, a hand reached to you hair, tucking it to the side as he leaned in. Body flush with yours, as he whispered to you. “It’s not nice to ignore people when they compliment you.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“Is that all you know how to say?”

“I-I’m sorry I’m not trying to offend you--”

“Oh baby, you already did though. You hurt me real bad. Don’t you think I deserve something for my bleeding heart?” he taunted. Hands traveling in different directions, his large hand groping the flesh of your ass. This stranger just reached under your skirt to grab you, and you to let out a little yelp, and his hand colliding with your mouth forcefully. “I don’t think you want to find out what happens to little girls who are loud, and bratty. I’m not gonna hurt you baby, just be a good girl, an’ let me take care of ya.” he raised the hand from your mouth to show you the tiny blue flame in his palm. Instinctively you shuddered, gulping down the lump in your throat. “Am I understood?”

You nodded, he grabbed your jaw, which forced you took look at him as his head appeared by you shoulder. “Use your words, like a good girl. Remember what we talked about?” he was quite attractive, despite all of the deep scars on his face. His black locks framing his face evenly, and looked quite fluffy. His scars looked painful, and so did all his staples. The piercings on his nostrils were cool though-- despite that, he looked like he had been through hell and back. It made you all the more confused, he was good looking enough to score any girl he wanted. Even with all of the scars and staples, girls probably drooled over it. So why did he bothering harassing you on a train? The man was probably just a full blown predator, and it made you start to panic worse.

“Y-yes, I-I’ll be quiet. I’ll be good.” you said with a wavering voice, tears forming in your eyes at the situation.

“Mmm, such a good girl. Nice an’ sweet, just like I like ‘em.” he murmured against your neck, leaving a wake of wet kisses across it. Taking some experimental bites to try to find your sweet spot, and when he did, you writhed against him. Letting out the cutest little whimper. “Look at you, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” he was thankful he spotted you initially, he really found a prize that night.

He was walking back from a bar, and he saw you approaching the train station. You looked so sweet, so soft, and so easy to taint. The way your squishy thighs looked in your socks, and how your ass’ curve was more prominent due to the skirts little ruffling drove him to you. Eyes lingering over ever inch of your body, he needed you the second he saw your cute face too. He just knew you were a sweet little girl, and he wanted to taste you before he lost you for good. Honestly, you were such a good girl for him right now he debated on taking you home. Sure, you’d be a lovely little pet to have around the house. He could sure use the company, and you were just so goddamn cute. The man would love to wake up every morning to face fuck you, or violate you a little bit before he started his day. I mean how could he not— just look at the way your pretty e/c eyes leaked tears out, and your plump lips pouted as his fingers dove for your pussy. So pretty.

This sick man decided to lick your face to wipe away the tears from your stained, heated cheeks. His long, calloused fingers rubbing against your clothed slit, making your hips buck at the pleasure of it. Little strangled moans being held down in your throat. Waiting for your slick to seep through the pretty light blue cotton, and keep it for later. “Has anyone ever touched you like this before? Hmm? Does it feel good?”

“N-No, plea-ah, please j-just stop.” you cried out, sniffling after you choked out the words. His fingers began to push your pretty little panties to the side, moving his fingers up and down your cunt. Finally able to feel that you were actually becoming a bit wet, he chuckled behind you. You let out a soft moan, the first one he was able to actually get out of you.

“Mm, you’re getting more wet by the second. You sure?” he teased. His opposing hand sleeping inside of your sweater, pushing a breast out of its cup, and squishing the flesh in his palm. Tweaking the nipple between his fingers, arching your back and wincing at the pleasurable pain. “You’re so sensitive, and I haven’t even put my dick in you.”

“Pl-please. I- just want to g-go home.” you whimpered as he continued to violate you, finding your clit and pinching the bud between his fingers. Watching as your breaths became ragged, and the way your knuckles turned white as you held on to the metal pole. The way his fingers were working against your untouched pussy right now, was making it drool. You hated how much that was turning you on.

“Turn your head.” he commanded, and you did. Meeting once again, his face at your shoulder, this time his hand slipped from your breast. Grabbing the opposing side of your face and slamming your lips against his. Surprisingly, his kiss wasn’t at all overbearing, or forceful as you thought it was going to be. It was slow, and somehow passionate, despite the situation. You kissed him back, just trying to be compliant. His lips were soft, despite his lower lip being badly damaged, and he knew how to use it well. The hand quickly knotted itself in your hair, causing you to gasp, and open your mouth for him. His wet muscle tangling in with yours, and with that, a deep guttural groan left the back of his throat. Combined with your little whimpers, created an odd symphony of pleasure.

With your mouth occupied, two of his fingers began running across your slit. Gathering the arousal between his fingers to act as lubricant. Then plunging the digits straight into your throbbing, and tight hole. Which made your body act on instinct, and you gasped loudly in his mouth. He pulled back, chuckling at how much you were reacting now. Panting like a bitch in heat, biting back a plethora of moans inside of your throat. He really wanted to hear you crying out to him, and moaning, but he didn’t want to cause too much of a scene. Who knows, if he’s really feeling up for risking everyone’s safety, mostly his own for some snatch— he’ll fucking do it.

“Do you feel good?” he asked you, kissing up your jaw again.

“Y-yes.” you whispered, your small hands struggle to stay up against the pole. The pace of his fingers began to speed up, causing a horrid squish-y sound to be heard in the atmosphere around the two of you. He was practically cumming at the sound of your wet sex being violated and how well you were taking him.

“Mm, I wish I could hear all those pretty sounds you’re tryin’ to hold back. God, you are just killin’ me tonight.” he moaned into your ear, taking it upon himself to start feverishly pepping your skin with his kisses as he pumped you closer, and closer to your end.

He began noticing the way you were starting to clench against him, he assumed you were beginning to enjoy yourself fully now. His other hand snaked its way down your body to toy with your clit again as well, without intent, you mewled at the sensation. One of your hands coming you to cover your mouth, you anxiously looked around the cart. For some reason, no one was looking. Either they really didn’t want to look, or they were utterly disturbed by the sight in the far corner of the cart. Since no one was paying attention, you decided to act purely on desire since you were now worked up. Letting go of the pole you were holding on to, which the man behind you was quick to notice, thinking you were about to try to fight him off, the hand toying with your clit put a bruising hold on you midsection. You winced, both at the sudden loss of your breath, but also the fingers now violently crashing into your cunt, his breath ragged in your ear, causing a chill to run down your spine. “C-can I turn around?” you asked him. His movements stopped, you couldn’t see but he was looking at you completely dumbfounded.

“Why?” he said, sounding a little offended.

“Well t-there’s not a-lot of people in here. No one i-is going to care, I... liked uhm, kissing.” you murmured shyly, feeling pathetic and disgusted with yourself for wanting more. But the throbbing inside of your womb was now becoming almost unbearable, you could use something to take the edge off.

“What’s your name, baby?” he asked, his chin now resting against your shoulder.

“F/n, why?”

“F/n... you’re very naughty, you know that? I mean what kind of dirty slut wants to start kissing someone who just grabbed ‘em on the train? Maybe I was right, you are a special girl, huh?” he was quick to turn you around, pulling his hood back over his head, but not all the way. Your bodies were touching, and resting against the pole. So that way you could actually look at him. The fingers that were inside you, stuck straight into his mouth. Cleaning off your natural essence off his fingers like he had eaten the best meal he’d ever had. “At least you taste good. Sweet. Like fuckin’ honey or somethin’. C’mere pretty, I’ll let you try.” he leered down at you, his jagged scars twisting up in a cocky smile. Grabbing you by the back of your head, and crashing his lips against yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth immediately, snaking a hand of his into your hair. The other one traveling down south once again, pushing right into your slippery walls. Mewling against his tongue.

The sight must’ve been so erotic, they way you were pulling his face closer to yours by holding the back of his neck. Moaning, and panting into the heated kiss. His fingers inside of your pussy scissoring, and harshly pressing right against your cervix. God his fingers are so long.

He yanked your head back, looking at your features. Drinking in the sight of your half lidded eyes, kiss swollen lips and flushed expression. Your eyes silently begging him to keep at it, removing your arms from his. The man bit his lip, leaning back a tad to put his hand around your neck, reveling at how pretty and soft you looked like this. His hand never stopping it’s assault inside of you. “Sweet, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“How close are you?” he asked, picking up his pace.

“Mmm, c-close. So close. Nngh.” The hand around your neck squeezed harder at the sides, making your eyes roll back as the thrusts of his hand picked up. The man stood over you once more, watching how your eyes kept rolling back into your skull, and how you biting so hard on your lip he was worried it might split.

“Dabi.” he said, waiting for you to reply, and giving your neck a break from the squeezing.

“H-Huh?”

“My name, I want you to say it. Say it when you’re cummin’, I want you to remember who made you feel this good.” he kissed your cheek. “Will you be a good girl, an’ do that for me?”

“Yes D-Dabi. I’ll- be good.”

“You’re completely falling apart with just my touch.” he chuckled, leaning to your ear again, his hands dropping from your neck, to your thigh. Feeling to flesh of your ass again, this time he tried to hold your thigh to his hip, like he was expecting you to let him carry you. But in all honesty, it’s so he could rut his hips against your thigh and try to pretend for a second he was fucking you. Dabi reveled in the feeling of your soft skin against his fingertips. Bet it would feel even nicer against his dick. “I could fuck you right now, just whip out my cock, and stick it right in. I bet you’d like that huh? Me fucking you in front of all these people? I bet you wouldn’t even try to be quiet. Dirty, dirty girl. Maybe I should, huh-”

“No! No, p-please not here. Not in public. P-please Dabi.”

“I like seeing you beg like that, so I won’t this time ‘round.” he attached his mouth to your neck. Making it a point now to mark his territory, and watch you squirm. Wait-- this time around?! In that moment, you felt you were seconds away from bursting and his words meant nothing. His fingers inside of you continued to curl, and push you in all the right places. Your body quickly beginning to flood with a familiar euphoric sensation, knees growing weak, and the blissful feeling of stomach growing tight was all you could think about.

“D-Dabi.” you mewled out, mouth left to hang open. Your hands quickly clutching the jacket he was wearing, trying to feel like you had some control. “Please d-don’t stop, p-lease- oh!”

He stared into your face as you grew closer. Dabi liked how hard you were tugging at his jacket, it confirmed for him that you were actually growing a lot closer than he thought. Despite the feeling of your gooey walls clenching around his fingers as if it was trying to suck them in. “Cum for me baby, you’re so close.”

“Dabi-- oh God, fuck- Dabi!” you cried out, a little bit louder than you intended. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, releasing the overwhelming feeling of your formerly restrained orgasm. Your tight cunny was clenching vigorously around him as he continued to pump into you, enjoying as you struggled to breathe due to how hard you had just came. Every inch of your body was jolting, trying to adjust to the come down of the feeling, and the man above you was watching with a smile. Dabi brought his free hand up that wasn’t covered in slick, and wiped some sweat, as well with stray hairs from your face.

“Open up.” he said, removing his hand from your aching, and pleased cunt, shoving them into your mouth. Suddenly alarmed by the feeling of tasting your own arousal, and having his fingers try to climb their way down your throat. “Suck.”

So that’s what you did-- suck on his fingers, and he pumped them as well. Watching your pretty mouth try to take all of his abuse, and after he deemed them clean enough, he pulled them out. “You did so well for me tonight. We a couple minutes left of this ride, let’s make out.”

Before you could even respond, his tongue was already in your mouth and silencing you. During the time it took for you guys to get to your train stop, you did exactly that. Passionately making out for all to see, against a pole inside of a train cart. His hands palming your ass under your skirt like before, and your hands running through the tendrils of inky black locks. Honestly, you really should feel more ashamed than you currently are. Making out with the same man who was making you cry not even fifteen minutes ago, and letting him grind his erection against your thigh. But, you needed to fix that ache in your womb. You needed someone, or something, to make that coil snap.

Then soon, the train was beginning to halt to a stop, and the two of you pulled away. Your hands still locked into his hair. Holding his face close to yours. “That was fun, but I oughta head off now. I’ll be lookin’ out for you, so don’t do anything stupid, or run off on me.” you nodded, feeling threatened by his words, but also excited at the opportunity to see him again. Never in a million years would you think this of all things would happen, but it wasn’t anything to complain about. He pulled you in for another kiss, and following it by pressing another one to your cheek. “Get home safe now, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” you said in a hushed voice, as he pulled away from your body. Pulling his hood further over his face. Leaving you a stick, sweaty mess in the now emptying train. Adjusting your skirt, and top, combing through your now horribly messed locks.

Before stepping out, you got a disgusted look from an older woman in the back of the cart. Shaking her head at you. But it made you let out a little laugh, stepping out of the cart on to the platform. Eyes scanning the scene for any sight of your scarred, and disturbed prince charming. But by that time he was long gone. Which kind of made you sad, but also relieved. Your mind was hazy, and clouded with a confused lust. Wondering if his words were true— were you going to see him again? Did you even want to? Why weren’t you freaking out right now? What is going on?

The entire walk home, was filled with your mind being so loud it was drowning out all of your senses.

Including the one that could’ve sensed the man following you home.

Don’t worry though, he just wanted to make sure his pet got home safely.

#dabi smut #dom dabi #tw chikan #tw: dark fics #tw dark fic #dabi x reader #dabi fan fiction #tw dubcon #tw noncon #tw smut

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jeonqqin · 4 years ago

Text

man up. [m] | pt.4

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: future smut, language, reader being followed at night, not much, Chan’s sexy ass arms?

A/N: the big day!! also there’s a little scene for binnie’s birthday (even though it was yesterday)

▸ request

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

—UNEDITED

Your mind was running circles around you, everything a blur.

Talking on the phone with Chan lifted your mood exponentially, but there was still something that ticked in the back of your head. With the way your conversation with Chan ended, you weren’t sure if you should’ve been jumping for joy or hiding away under your covers in hopes that no one would ever find you again.

“So, I was wondering,” His voice drawled over the phone.

You held back the urge to shiver in order to hear exactly what he had to say. Granted the wind had stopped, but the night air was slipping through the thin fabric of your clothes and making up for its absence.

“Yeah?”

You heard Chan chuckle—surprisingly enough it sounded nervous.

“Would you ever date a guy like me?”

And just with one question, you almost fell forward off of the swing.

“What are you saying?” You uttered, eyes staring out at the bright red slide in front of you that had been dulled by the darkness.

Chan cleared his throat, “Do you want to go on a date with me, Y/n?”

You had said yes too quickly, not just in the sense that it was embarrassing, but also because after you hung up, it really occurred to you that you would be going on a date with Bang Chan.

A date.

Had you even been on a date before?

You wrapped your arms around your body as you contemplated the whole situation. It was dark outside despite the street lights, and even then, they were too dim to really be doing their job. But you hardly noticed, too immersed in your own head to worry about the dark or the possibility of meat-heads roaming around looking for their next meal.

Your skin prickled, your subconscious attempting to warn you about the shadow that lurked only a few feet away.

The date. It should be easy; smile, talk to him without vomiting, and be sure not to make a complete fool of yourself in front of the single most attractive man you had ever seen. Piece of cake.

You mentally cursed Minho for possibly scaring you for the rest of your young life. Could you hold it over him if his years of desensitizing you turned you into a lonely cat-lady?

No—he’d already taken that title, and you weren’t sure if the universe was ready to support two financial tragedies within the same family.

The sound of footsteps fell to deaf ears, the lights of the dorms were able to be seen from your place on the street, and there wasn’t a shred of dread in your naive body. Not even when the sound of sneakers padding against tar got closer—too close for comfort had you been paying any attention. Maybe you were too tired, or your head was too preoccupied to focus on the approaching body behind you.

Not until there was a hand wrapping around your mouth and another pinning your arms to your sides. In your shock, you could feel the flex of your aggressor’s biceps—he was strong, and it had your heart stopping in your chest.

You wiggled the best you could in his grip, but the man’s hold was too constricting, and you suddenly wanted to cry. How stupid could you have been to let something like this happen?

Your heart pounded in your chest as you plead against the calloused hand, your legs shaking like jelly. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear—mint, the one thing you could focus on was that his breath didn’t reek of alcohol like you would’ve assumed.

“Wow…” He released a breath with a small chuckle, and your brows furrowed.

The voice was familiar—

“You really are stupid. Do you realize that you would’ve been so dead if I wanted to like—take advantage of you and dump your body in a river, or something?”

You squirmed out of the stupid stupid strong arms of your stupid stupid ex-friend, you eyes set in a harsh glare as you brought your fists down on his firm chest.

“You fucking pig!” You screeched with rage, fists clenched even when he grabbed your wrists in between fits of laughter. You actually wanted to stab a knife into his eye. “I can’t believe you did that! I thought I was going to die, asshole!”

Changbin snickered with a mocking coo, “I know. Poor baby...”

“You’re a sadistic bastard.”

“Just think—” he released your hands, only to block the oncoming smack that you sent. “You won’t make this mistake again, stupid-head.”

You huffed, wrapping your arms around your body again and continuing forward, your pulse more intense than it had been before. “What if I had gone into cardiac arrest or something? You would’ve been fucked in more ways than one. Do you know what they do to rapists in prison?”

“Y/n,” Changbin chuckled under his breath, meeting your stride easily. “I didn’t rape you, in case you didn’t notice.”

“But if I died, that’s what it would’ve looked like! And suddenly you’re in concrete hell.”

Changbin shook his head. “God—just be more careful next time you decide to walk alone in the middle of the night. Call one of us or something.”

Guilt nawed at your skin, and you sent him a sulky pout. He was right. If something really had happened, you would’ve been fucked. Unless the guy was thinner than a twig and had a shit center of gravity, your chances of getting out of that kind of danger was unlikely. Damn Changbin and his infuriatingly true points.

You let out a groan as the boy beside you casually slung his arm around your shoulders.

“Fine. You’re right. Happy?”

Changbin’s head turned to you and he released another coo, his forehead pressing against yours and successfully annoying the shit out of you. How everyone else dealt with him was a true mystery.

He was supposed to be older than you?

The pitch of his voice raised, “Of course I am.”

You wrenched out of his grip, swatting away his reaching hand and stepping out of his range.

Perhaps there would be a murder tonight.

“Stop being a creep and act like a normal person for once, Bin.”

Without even looking back, you could feel the pout on his lips. But he only let out a quick whine before following after you, his hands stuffed into his jeans.

You had hardly noticed before, but he was dressed strangely—he was in a torn to shit grey t-shirt, multiple splotches of something black plastered across his torso just above the ragged seam of where the shirt ended, holes scattered everywhere exposing glimpses of his firm chest. The jeans weren’t any better, almost completely colored black by the same substance on his shirt, baring rips at the knees and not the ones you get solely for fashion.

“By the way…” You drawled, twisting around to rake your eyes over him one last time. “What were you even doing before this?”

Changbin glanced at his attire and shrugged, the smallest glow of red covering his ears. “I’ve been working on cars for some extra money.”

Your eyebrow raised. “At night?”

“It’s the only time I have free between producing new songs and school.��

Nodding you faced back towards the dark street in front of you.

Changbin had never sparked you as a manual labor kind of guy, let alone someone who could fix cars and get paid for doing it. But after taking a moment to think about it, it made sense. He fit the scene, so to say, and it somehow added to the edgy look he already had going on for him.

You didn’t know as much about your friends as you probably should’ve.

“So you guys actually got the recording room done? Are you and Chan using it now?” You asked nonchalantly, a terrible attempt to slide Chan into the conversation. Changbin must’ve known a few things about Chan that could help you quench your nerves for the upcoming date.

Changbin sent you a sideways look, letting you know that you weren’t as slick as you thought you were.

“Ah, Chan…” He hummed, the two of you finally getting close enough to the university to discern the different buildings. “What’s up with you two?” He asked hesitantly, a hint of a frown on his brow.

“Well—I mean, I like him a lot.” You fumbled for the right words, though you knew that Changbin wasn’t one to rush you. As annoying as he could be, he was a good listener. “And he just asked me out—”

“He did?”

Well, you thought he was a good listeners

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Earlier he asked if I wanted to go out on a date or something—”

“Or something?”

You shoved him to the side, though his heavy body barely moved an inch.

“Would you stop interrupting me? I’m serious.” You huffed, frustrated.

“I am too.”

You froze—huh?

Your eyes searched his for a moment, his words not as comforting as you wanted them to be, instead his questioning only made your stomach twist in more knots than they had been in before. You really didn’t know anything about Chan, and talking to someone who did only made you hesitant about continuing with this first date of yours.

Sure, you weren’t one to believe rumors about people you barely knew—but it was the fact that you barely knew Chan that made you so nervous.

“Well I’m a little surprised that Chan asked you out.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Uh…” Changbin paused, searching for his next words carefully with a contemplative hum. “It’s nothing bad. I mean, Chan’s one of the best people I know.”

“But…?”

He stopped to wait for you to run your student ID along the sensor, listening to the automatic click of the door and using it as a stall for time. He was trying to find the right way to word what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to blindside you, nor did he want to sabotage his friend by telling you something that might steer you away.

He waited for you to take a step inside the dorms before continuing with a hushed voice.

“Chan is… very selfless let’s say. He doesn’t really take the time to date per se. He’s work oriented. Not to say he hasn’t had girlfriends before, but they never really—”

“Became anything?”

That was what you had been contemplating. If the date went wrong, could you talk to Chan afterwards? Would he still be that person you could call if you wanted to step away from the world? You couldn’t find yourself feeling upset if that happened to be the outcome.

But with the small look of suspicion that Changbin sent, his brow curling upwards, you quickly backpedaled.

“He mentioned something about it while we were on the phone.” You rushed to save yourself.

Taking your answer without question, he stopped. You were both standing outside of your room, the quiet hallway encasing the both of you and chilling you to the bone more than the night air had. Changbin bit his tongue.

“Chan is an amazing friend. But I’ve never really seen him as a boyfriend before.” He sighed, scratching his cheek. “And as much of a little shit you are… I care about you enough to want you to be happy.”

“Is this you warning me?”

“No.” His mouth formed a thin line, he really had no idea how to word anything. It was beginning to frustrate him. “Just be aware that he isn’t the most observant guy when it comes to himself, so be patient with the guy.”

Okay, that helped you none whatsoever.

You sighed, pushing your dorm door open and nodding finally for Changbin.

“Well, thank you, Bin. For walking me and all that…”

Your gratitude was pitiful, but Changbin smiled wide nonetheless, glad that he could help you out despite his advice being absolutely terrible.

“Anytime, Y/n.” He ruffled your hair before you could stop him. “But next time, call me before you decide to be stupid and walk alone agian, okay?”

You smiled.

“Yeah. I promise, Bin. Thanks—seriously.”

As you closed the door, you missed the way Changbin’s lip quirked, his ears once again shining a red in the dim lighting of the hallway. He chuckled, shaking his head.

He wished both Chan and Jisung luck—you really were a handful.

“So this is a date?”

You had absolutely no idea what to say, your nervous gaze on the road in front of you as Chan glanced over at you from his place behind the wheel of his beloved Subaru Crosstrek—he had gone on a cute spiel about how he managed to scrounge up enough money from producing his tracks to afford the down payment on the car. It was cute only because he giggled every time he mentioned some miniscule detail that wasn’t necessary for the development of the story.

He always apologized when he got off track, but those were your favorite parts.

And you still had no idea what to say.

“Yeah, Y/n. A date. Have you ever been on one of those before?” He joked, taking another turn into yet another neighborhood.

He had to have gone down at least four streets already—

“Does a slow dance at a mediocre prom count?”

“A what?”

You snorted, feeling the telltale heat of your cheeks reddening. You were such a loser, the best you could do was tell him about your failed relationships?

“I mean, Jung Wooyoung was pretty hot, so I guess it could count. Granted, Minho stepped in before he could kiss me at the end of the song.”

“You’re kidding.” He looked close to ripping his cheeks with how wide his smile was stretching.

His eyes flickered to you and a shiver ran down your spine at the way he took one hand off the wheel and leaned against the center console. You were either terrified of him crashing or really turned on by the way his biceps bulged at the movement.

You cleared your throat, “Minho was always really adamant about keeping me away from all the funny business.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately not. My brother sucks.”

Chan burst out laughing. “That’s why he pulled that, ‘what are your intentions with my baby sister’ act?”

“He didn’t.”

“He did. But he backed off so quickly, I was convinced that it was a joke.”

You nearly choked, your eyes widening as you suddenly threw yourself around to look at him, unable to feel surprised at the way he was already looking at you with a charming smile.

“He did what?”

“Yeah,” Chan shrugged, shifting back to look at the road. “I asked him why it mattered and he just kind of backed off.”

That was right—Minho was scared of Chan.

You would never forget that fun fact for as long as you lived, and it was all thanks to Bang Chan. It really had you rethinking the whole reason why you were nervous in the first place. Chan was the only person in your life that had managed to get rid of stress rather than add to it, and you were obviously worried over nothing. Chan was amazing.

And you were crazy.

You laughed, catching Chan’s attention, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips without you noticing. How you had managed to have him whipped within a matter of days was a complete mystery to him. But there he was, staring at your lips and risking his damn life while doing so. Chan was hopeful, he wanted things to go well this time, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure of that.

“Where are you taking me, you maniac?” You giggled in exasperation as he took yet another turn into a neighborhood, house stacked upon house.

Sure, it was nice to drive around with him, but you were beginning to get antsy. Even more so as Chan continued to look over at you and smirk, his smile as infuriating as it was attractive.

“We’re almost there, hold on.”

“That doesn’t tell me where—”

Turning down a dead-end, Chan lifted his hand to your mouth with an emphasized “shhh”.

Maybe he was a maniac and he was planning on killing you as soon as you reached the end of the street. You definitely wouldn’t be able to find your way back to the main road if he tried, so it was definitely a possibility.

“Don’t worry about it.” He hushed.

With a small scoff, you puckered your lips in a pout and they briefly brushed against the palm of his hand. With the action, your eyes widened as his head snapped your direction. Immediately, your lips pulled into a tight line, your stomach tying up in knots as he dropped his hand and let it fall to your thigh, causing your whole body to go ridged. What was wrong with you?

Chan chuckled, patting your thigh in an attempt to dissolve your tenseness, but it only proved to make your clothes feel much tighter than they had been before. You were physically going to melt into the seat with how hot you were getting, and you sure as hell hoped you weren’t sweating as much as you thought you were.

But the feeling of his hand wasn’t unpleasant—it was warm, but not so much that it was uncomfortable, which was surprising considering how your skin was close to melting off the bone. It simply rested there, occasionally he drummed a nonexistent beat against it with his first two fingers, though you suspected that he hadn’t even noticed that he had been doing that.

Without you realizing, he pulled the car into park, his eyes amused as he watched you stare at his hand for a little longer.

Something else—you definitely were.

“We’re here.” Chan said, lifting his hand away from your thigh to pull the key from the ignition.

You weren’t upset that he had moved his hand, but you couldn’t deny that disappointment had started to bubble up.

Looking out your window, you noticed that you were, in fact, at the end of the dead-end road. But instead of a dense thicket of trees or a mountain of concrete blocking it off, there sat a decrepit and grey building. The maroon of the bricks had been worn and chipped, and the large barn looking doors were rusted and close to falling off their hinges. You can tell that it had once been beautiful with the large stone bird watching over on a centered pedestal.

Chan opened his door to get out and you followed, despite how strange it might’ve been that he took you to an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere.

“What is this?” You asked, almost shell shocked at the sheer size of the building as you both stepped closer.

“It’s an old fire station.”

Old didn’t do the place justice—every new fire station you had seen was pristine and white, large open door garages lining the first floor. The one in front of you was nothing like the ones in town.

“I used to live in this neighborhood before I moved to Sydney. I was very young and don’t really remember much about it, but I do remember this place.” He smiled, looking up at the two storied building. “When I came back I never expected it to be still standing after fifteen years. I thought the two would’ve torn it down and built a convenience store there or something, but nope, it’s still here.”

It was nice to see his face light up while talking about something he cared about. It was endearing.

He then grabbed your hand with a small wink and dragged you forward, though you didn’t put up much of a fight at all. Every part of you screamed about how nice his hand felt around yours, how his palms weren’t too calloused to be rough but enough to want them all over the rest of your body. His pale skin pretty with the contrast of his raised veins. Veiny hands were nice… You really were just reverting back to your horny high school self, weren’t you?

You cleared your throat.

“But why did you bring me here?” You questioned, looking warily at the back of his head.

You weren’t scared, but you were almost certain that a building that was decades old wasn’t a normal date site.

“Why not?” Chan shrugged, hoping to god that you couldn’t see just how terrified he was.

“Maybe because I was expecting to go watch a movie or go to a restaurant?”

He glanced back with a raised brow. “Do you want to do those things?”

“I’d rather chew off my foot,” you admitted, catching him off guard for a moment. “But I’m trying to make you feel like the weird one here.”

Weird one indeed. He had spent the entire night before without sleep, not coming up with a new track, but thinking of where exactly to bring you. He contemplated how to explain to you the reason why he was so exhausted and jittery was because he didn’t want you to leave the date thinking that he was some average guy. Chan didn’t want you to think he was boring. So he could be weird if it meant you wanted to see him again.

You shared a smile, both of your nerves fading away with each passing second. Of course, Chan had nothing to worry about.

He proceeded to pull you through the old rickety door of the station, completely ignoring the way the visible slivers of his chest flexed when he tugged the door open with one good yank. Now that you were actually thinking about it, his outfit was one of the best you’d seen him in; a simple black muscle tee topped with a heavy denim jacket, and his jeans whitewashed and ripped.

It was simple but effective considering you couldn’t keep your eyes off the strips of flesh that peaked behind his jacket. If only the autumn breeze had taken a day off.

The further the two of you got into the building, the more excited Chan looked. His eyes lit up and there was suddenly a bounce in his step. Not to mention the way his grip on your hand tightened to the point where he was nearly cutting off the circulation. But it was nice nonetheless. You didn’t have the heart to be upset with him.

Your eyes flew around to all the different old contraptions that must’ve been shiny in their prime. With torn hoses all over the place, and precariously placed pipes, you had no idea whether to be amazed that they hadn’t succumbed to the elements or terrified that if you took one wrong step you would fall and get impaled.

Looking over at Chan, you giggled as he began to unravel a wound up hose, momentarily releasing your hand to act like a complete child.

“So what was your plan when we got here? Get me in a secluded place so you could tie me up and kill me?” You teased, offering him a smile.

Chan wanted to do two of those three things—that was for sure.

“What? You don’t want to explore this magnificent building with me?” He asked despite himself.

“So you didn’t plan some elaborate picnic with candles and fancy homemade French food?”

Chan paused for a moment, lips fighting a smile. You had built up quite the impression on him from the very moment you two met. The hours of preparation was for naught, and Chan could care less.

He hummed, “Well if you mean a blanket on the floor and take-out, then yeah. No candles though. I have a bad feeling that if we were to light any fire within ten miles of this place it would turn to dust. Which would be pretty ironic considering it is a fire station—”

“Are you rambling?”

Chan froze, mouth open to deny your question, but found that it wasn’t completely false and shut it.

“...it’s probably cold too.” He added lastly.

You smiled.

“Sounds good to me.”

You then proceeded to struggle your way up a flight of unstable spiral stairs with Chan close behind—so close that his arms were almost completely around you. He assured you that it was only so he wouldn’t be at fault if you fell. But it felt nice whenever his chest brushed lightly against your back, so you let his lame excuse slide.

The food was, in fact, cold. But it was still good since you really couldn’t go wrong with traditional Korean food.

And so the rest of the evening played out, the two of you sharing pleasantries and learning about one another, with many cracked jokes about your brother and his friends, only strategically avoiding Jisung all together.

Chan went on about his story, how he had two younger siblings back in Australia and a set of loving parents that believed in each and every one of his dreams as he grew up, and supported his pursuit of becoming a producer. You bit your tongue, keeping your questions of “do you miss them?” and “do you still see them?” to yourself. Still, Chan seemed happy enough, you thought. Considering you would be miserable if you had to spend your time with someone who complained and sulked the whole time. You were glad he could talk about his family without falling into a pit of missing them.

That date was pretty perfect, despite its oddities.

Who knew someone could be a by-the-book romantic and an original dork at the same time?

Your own thoughts had you chuckling into your water, almost making you cough, but thankfully Chan hadn’t noticed, his attention too zeroed in on all the food in front of him.

“Oh shit—I forgot all about that thing!” He suddenly exclaimed, his eyes locked on a rusty fireman’s pole that ran up into a hole in the floor. Chan hadn’t even finished his (second) bowl of food when he jumped up and ran up to the death trap. The thing didn’t even have any padding at the bottom to protect someone from breaking their legs, and he was excited about that?

Suddenly, you let out a laugh—it was the kind that comes out unexpectedly and makes a loud, unattractive noise and it surprised you both. Your hand clamped down over your mouth on impulse before your shocked expression broke, a swarm of giggles leaving your covered lips and forcing a pink tinge over your cheeks. Chan could only stare at you in awe, trying to think of everything else that could beat your laugh in the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but he came up blank.

“Come down the pole with me.”

His words had you freezing mid-laugh, eyes wide.

“What? No way am I doing that. What if I get pole burn?”

“Here,” Chan threw his jacket over your shoulders, surprising you with the flood of warmth cascading around you. “Now you can’t get pole burn.”

You pushed your arms through the arms of the jacket, silently relishing in the warm weight.

“Ah, look at you Romeo. I see that you’re trying to make up for all the years I missed going on dates. How romantic.”

“I try.”

With a wink, he was grabbing onto the pole all of a sudden and wrapping his legs around it. You barely had time to stare at the image of his thick biceps curling around the pole before he was descending down it with a laugh of his own. You leaned forward to watch him hit the floor, his knees bending to absorb the impact. He smiled up at you, the sight blinding.

“Your turn!”

“Did I ever mention that I’m kind of allergic to bad ideas?”

Chan snickered, leaning his hands on the pole and shaking it to show you just how “sturdy” the thing was. The wiggle and creak didn’t set you at ease, that was for sure.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You just watched me do it!” Was his genius response.

The night was beginning to just become you counting how many times Chan said or did something that made you think he was a child.

“Okay, I just don’t understand why you want me to go down this damn pole! Is it some right of passage or something? Do you only go out with the girls who have the balls to do something this stupid?”

“Slide down here and find out.”

He got you there. You really did want to find out.

So you bit the inside of your cheek and wrapped your shaky hands around the rust crusted pole. How Chan managed to do so so easily without sleeves was baffling and a little sexy for whatever stupid reason. You had a thick layer of denim protecting you, and you still felt like you were going to be filleted open.

“Don’t think about it,” he encouraged with a soft voice. “Just jump. I’ve got you.”

And at the words of a poet, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, taking a step off the wooden floor and letting gravity pull you down. You could hear the rust tug and catch on the fabric of Chan’s jacket, but only for a second, because it only lasted a second before you felt hands grab your sides and pillow your impact. A surge of adrenaline had you breathing heavy as Chan cheered lightly in your ear.

“There. You did it.” He poked your forehead with a chuckle, getting you to open your blown eyes. “You have successfully completed the initiation.”

Your heart felt heavy and beat hard against your ribs as he straightened you out, hands finding purchase in his jacket. Subtly he was admiring how you looked in his clothes, but he would never admit that sappy fact to anyone.

You smiled; admittedly shakily. “Ah, yes. Validation. My favorite.”

Chan admired how you could keep releasing quips despite your fear. You weren’t one to be deterred, that was for sure.

“You have an unlimited supply of sarcasm in you, huh?”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t run out yet.”

He smiled and you smiled, it was a good moment—the best of the day. A moment where you were glad you listened to him and literally took the leap. Ready to take another one, your eyes dropped to his lips and his dropped to yours.

And he finally leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You weren’t completely caught off guard, but you definitely were. His hand that wasn’t preoccupied with fiddling with your fingers found your face, palm cupping your jaw and urging your head to tilt to meet his kiss better. It was gentle, as you had expected from Chan, and you were thankful for that.

His lips were softer than you expected and you prayed that the hand that held your cheek wouldn't be able to feel the way your face was burning. The way he intertwined your fingers was more intimate than the kiss itself and you couldn’t help but feel yourself getting light-headed. You lost yourself to the way your shared breaths echoed around the large room every time your lips separated only to reconnect again immediately.

Your first kiss—well, your first real kiss. Surely that one you had shared with Kang Chanhee back in your first year of high school didn’t count. You had only gotten away with it since Minho was home sick that day, anyway.

It was much warmer than your last kiss, that was for sure. His jacket kept you shielded from the cold air and his body secreted a natural heat that had you pressing closer, which in turn sent him a signal to push forward as well.

Suddenly, his teeth bit down on the sensitive flesh of your lip, pulling a taut gasp from your throat.

The noise had Chan withholding a groan, pushing him to break the passionate exchange, his hazy eyes meeting your wide ones.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice small and unsure.

He could see the way your lips shined with not only your spit but his own. In some sick and twisted way, he was pleased to see the redness that the kiss brought to your puckered lips. It was satisfying. It was a sort of claim, and he was proud to hold it.

"Nothing. Just admiring my work." He grinned.

You hardly had time to register his words when the hand wrapped around yours was used to yank you forward, Chan’s mouth finding yours once again in a quick peck, leaving you just about a hundred degrees warmer than you originally felt.

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peterparker-pickedapepper · 3 years ago

Text

Always You

(Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Stark!Reader)

Chapter 01

A/N: this is set during Homecoming (and eventually FFH) in a universe where Tony isn’t ☠️ bc we don’t acknowledge that trauma here 🙂 also, there are elements from the comics and the older movies, but it’s still in the MCU

———————————————————————

I never meant to find it.

And I wasn’t being nosy either. It was my dads fault, really. Okay so yes, I wasn’t supposed to be in his workshop. But is it my fault he just leaves important things lying around? Mom’s told him to keep it tidy enough times you think it’d be engrained in his brain.

Anyway, the how isn’t important. Not even the why matters. It’s everything that came after.

It was the day my world began falling apart.

The moment I lost all trust—all respect—for the two men closest to my heart.

Now that I know their secret, I don’t see how I’ll be able to look them in the eye. But I’m going to do it. I’m going to keep my head up, act as normal as possible...

And see how long it takes for them to tell me themselves.

———————————————————————

Three Months Earlier

“I’m here on the corner of fifth and main, just a street away from the reported sighting of a flying man causing panic among the locals.”

Y/N adjusted her fingers around the smooth base of the microphone, her skin slipping against the hard plastic. It wasn’t nerves causing the dampness on her palms, but excitement. Her eyes flickered from the camera lens pointed in her direction to her best friend standing behind it before easily finding their mark again.

“The large, mechanically winged man has been wrecking havoc in New York’s beloved neighborhood of Queens for the last—”

The ground suddenly shifted beneath her feet with a loud boom, jolting her forward and stopping her report mid-sentence. She twirled around, eyes instantly landing on the sandwich shop across the street.

Or, rather, on the man looming ominously from its roof.

She could only assume it was a man. She’d never seen his face—or any part of his body for that matter—not that his skintight suit left anything to the imagination. But the media affectionately called him “Spider-Man”, so they pretty much filled in the blanks on that one.

She watched as he seemingly surveyed the area. It was always so hard to tell what was going on behind that mask, but every time she saw him she liked to imagine a picture perfect heroic expression etched into handsome features.

It made her disdain for the local superstar a little easier to swallow down.

His head swiveled back and forth a few times, fists clenching at his sides, before he shot one of his webs and disappeared on the other side of the building. She immediately turned back toward her camerawoman, lips pulled into an excited grin.

“This is perfect. Come on.” She wasted no time in scooping up some of the equipment laying at her feet, but stopped short when she noticed the apprehensive expression staring back at her.

“I don’t think I’m really in the mood to run toward danger today.” Her best friend’s bored voice didn’t match the concern she knew was brewing just below the surface.

“MJ,” Y/N all but whined. “We need this story.”

“We need to get ready for next week’s debate.” She muttered, mild annoyance seeping through. “We need to be home in twenty minutes so your dad doesn’t kill us. We need—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Y/N huffed, tossing the last of the camera supplies into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder.

She turned on her heel, pulling her phone from her back pocket as she moved toward the last crash that sounded a few blocks away. She was getting this story, whether she had to go alone or not. Screw her father’s arbitrary curfew. He was in India for the next few days, anyway.

“You’re serious?” MJ’s incredulous voice echoed from behind her. “What about Liz’s party?”

Y/N’s attention only wavered from the small screen in her hands once she was finished temporarily disabling the tracking feature her dad had not so subtly installed before giving it to her. He didn’t need to know she almost immediately figured out it was there, just like she didn’t need to know that he got a notification every time she hacked into the system.

Her eyes found MJ’s, wide with shock and following something in the sky above. Y/N’s head snapped upward, gaze locking on the flying man who was twisting and turning aggressively in an attempt to kick Spider-Man off his right wing.

“Yes. Very serious.” She huffed, pulse jumping with excitement. “If FRIDAY calls just, please, try to be convincing.”

With that, she spun around one last time before jogging toward the action. She knew MJ’s hesitation was coming from a good place. They’d been inseparable since middle school because they were on opposing ends of the same strong-willed base.

Where MJ was methodical and calculated, Y/N was rash and unpredictable. They were both the type to end up involved in sketchy situations, just at varying speeds and levels of grandeur. Y/N had her father to thank for that.

The iconic Tony Stark was not a pretender. He was who he was, loud and proud. He’d never apologized for it before—not even when he should’ve—and he probably never would. Y/N, on the other hand, had been pretending to be something she wasn’t for more than a decade.

He’d given her a choice when she was old enough for kindergarten. They talked about it, mapped out the pros and cons, and she made a decision. Soon after, she entered the outside world as Y/N Smith. It was the best thing her five year old brain could think of. Plus, she didn’t want her place on the alphabetical rosters to change.

She went to public schools—something Tony never missed an opportunity to mention he hated—and started paving her own way. Right now, that meant she was chasing a super-powered fight through the streets of Queens.

Since landing a highly sought after internship at The Daily Bugle, Y/N’s main priority had been impressing her overbearing bosses. That came with varying levels of complexity, depending on the superhero shenanigans of the month.

She rounded a corner into an alleyway, instantly ducking down when a blindingly bright object whizzed by her head. Her arms shot up in a protective motion as she leaned against the cool brick wall at her side. She remained there, frozen in place with a racing heart, for several seconds.

Something thumped to the concrete only a foot away from her crumpled frame, nearly making her jump out of her skin. She peeked through her arms, still crossed over her head, eyes widening as they landed on a pile of red and black fabric.

The lump groaned and slowly unraveled to reveal Queens’ favorite masked hero. He shook his head, the mechanical eyes of his suit twitching as if malfunctioning. Y/N was stuck in her spot, wide eyes hungrily drinking in every detail they could. Despite following his activity for months now, she’d never gotten this close to the mystery man.

His suit was tighter than she thought possible. It hugged his body in a way that left nothing to the imagination. The rippling muscles lining his torso were clearly visible beneath the thick material. She watched as he sat back on his heels and rubbed the side of his head, shoulders tensing as he seemed to finally realize that she was there.

“Whoa, hey.” Came his breathy, surprisingly high-pitched greeting. He cleared his throat before continuing, a steady hand extending her way. “Are you okay, miss?”

Y/N’s brow furrowed in curiosity, not missing the way his demeanor changed the moment he noticed her. It was like a flip switched. He’d turned on his superhero persona, a process she was unfortunately all too familiar with.

“I’m fine.” The words came out more forcefully than she’d intended, but she was all business now, too.

There was no way she was letting him out of her sight without getting some information. She wasn’t even worried about all the ways her bosses would kill her, she’d beat herself up enough for the missed opportunity. She ignored his hand, dusting her jeans off and hobbling to her feet before reaching for her phone to launch the recording app.

“Can I ask you a few questions, Spider-Man?” She jutted the phone out in front of her, and he took a step back as if the device would somehow hurt him.

The eyes on his mask widened, something she didn’t know was possible. “Oh. I...uh—”

Just then, the ground shook with a massive impact that couldn’t have been more than a block away. It would’ve knocked Y/N right off her feet if it weren’t for the gloved hand that shot out to stabilize her.

“Gotta go!”

By the time his hasty goodbye met her ears, he was gone. It took about ten seconds for Y/N to process what just happened before she took off running in the same direction he’d swung in. She was too far in to give up now. At this point, she’d settle for some shaky footage of the fight. It’d be enough to satisfy her editors for a few days.

She ran out in the street, stopping abruptly as a stampede of people swarmed her. Elbows and shoulders rammed into her sides as she tried fighting her way through the panic.

“Oh, come on people! Chill the fuck out!” She found herself shouting to deaf ears.

Maybe it was because she grew up immersed in the superhero way of life, or her bordering on unhealthy need to get some kind of story tonight, but either way she was aggravated by the public reaction more than anything.

She was rarely scared anymore, even when faced with imminent danger. Admittedly, she didn’t have a good gauge for when she might be getting herself into trouble. Another thing she blamed her father for.

Her eyes remained trained on the sky, watching the fight unfold in mid-air. She cringed as Spider-Man nearly fell off the homemade-looking flying suit. He quickly regained his balance, shooting a web into one of the back engines. It immediately started sputtering as the metal clanked and caught in the sticky substance.

They were going down, and fast. She knew this was probably her last chance to get any kind of discernable footage of the event, so she reached into her back pocket for her phone. It was at this moment that someone decided to shove into her so hard that she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground.

A rush of air left her lungs as she hit the asphalt, hard. She couldn’t help but wince as pain shot up both of her arms. There would definitely be bruises she’d need to hide later. Thankfully, at least she ended up near the curb so she wasn’t instantly trampled to death by the screaming crowd.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and huffed, wiping away the tiny rocks that were now embedded into her palms. She was about to hobble to her feet and call tonight a wash when her eyes landed on a blueish-purple glow coming from a nearby alley.

Maybe she wouldn’t get any useable footage tonight, but a souvenir would lift her spirits and, hopefully, her credibility in the office. Without wasting anymore time, she stumbled to her feet and ducked into the darkness of the cramped space.

She followed the pulsating light, stopping only when her eyes landed on a small, metallic object. It had a thin silver cage protecting what looked like a gem or rock of some kind. Nothing too crazy, aside from the whole glowing thing. Her brows furrowed with curiosity as she crouched down to get a better view.

She had absolutely no idea what it was, and she’d seen a lot of weird things in her dads workshop. The only thing she could compare it to was some of the alien technology that’d been leftover from the Battle of New York. She’d run a few stories about that herself, plus saw her dad tinkering with some things since Thor took Loki back to Asgard.

Figuring she could show it to him at the very least, she pulled the end of her sleeve over her hand and grabbed it. She let her bag slip off of her shoulder and quickly unzipped it before sliding the object inside.

Just then, the sound of screeching metal filled her ears at a deafening volume. She managed to close her bag before covering her ears and ducking against the brick alley wall. The crowd still surrounding the area screamed in horror.

She watched with wide eyes as the huge bird-man landed on the rooftop just a few feet away from her crouched form. It was the closest she’d been to the masked—villain? She wasn’t sure—and he was far more intimidating than she’d first assumed.

His glowing beady green eyes didn’t so much as glance in her direction as he slung Spider-Man over the edge of the building, the tip of one of his wings wrapped around his throat.

An involuntary gasp tore through her chest.

It wasn’t that she was worried about the hero. For one, she knew he was more than capable of fending for himself. It wasn’t even that she cared if he got hurt. He was mostly an annoyance to her, his illusive nature making her job way harder than usual.

But if she knew one thing in this moment, it was that the bird-man was the bad guy, and she couldn’t let him win.

So, she did something really stupid.

She found the closest thing that she thought might actually do any kind of damage—which was, unfortunately, an old bike helmet next to the dumpster—and chucked it at the pair.

It hit one of the metal wings with a pathetic clink and all three of them froze.

Y/N held her breath as the man’s head turned in her direction slowly. Way too slowly. Like ‘I’m going to really enjoy killing you’ slowly.

After that, everything happened impossibly fast.

“Hey! Watch out!”

She barely had time to recognize the panicked voice before she was flying. Her stomach flipped and she couldn’t even scream, overcome with sudden vertigo. She pinched her eyes shut the second she saw the top of a building and clutched onto whatever was carrying her away.

If it was the weird bird guy, she accepted whatever evil plan he had. But, if it was Spider-Man, she was going to kill him.

It must’ve only been seconds before her feet touched solid ground, but it felt like an eternity to her. The moment she felt the stability beneath her, she began fighting against her captor.

“Let me go! Oh my god. If you don’t put me down right now—”

“What the hell—ow!”

Once she was free, she staggered away from him with a huff. She cleared the hair out of her eyes and bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding wildly and her stomach was still doing summer-salts.

She raised her eyes to send a withering glare toward the masked man. “Never do that shit again.”

He stared at her—at least she assumed—for a long moment before taking a step forward.

“What the hell was that? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt.” He gestured wildly with his hands, clearly agitated.

“That’s one way to thank me for saving your life.” Y/N ground out, sounding way more bitter than she would’ve liked.

“Saving my—” The eyes on his mask narrowed incredulously. “You did not save my life. All you did was distract me and put like ten other people in danger.”

She couldn’t help but scoff. “Please. Spare me the morality speech, Spider-Man. We both know you don’t bother worrying about people like me.”

Y/N was all too familiar with how superheroes think. When they’re in the middle of a fight, all they care about is winning. They usually have a bigger mission to accomplish. One that doesn’t concern itself with the lives left behind.

“People like you are all I worry about, trust me.”

With that harsh declaration, a heavy silence fell between them. Y/N clenched her jaw tightly, biting her tongue to prevent the floodgates from opening. Spider-Man wasn’t the only one who deserved her hostility toward superheroes, he just happened to be the one in front of her now.

Instead of speaking her mind, she turned on her heel and stalked away from him. At this point, it was late. The sun had set and her dad surely knew she wasn’t home when she promised. She had to accept that today just wasn’t her day and head back for some damage control.

Peter, feeling his chest tighten with regret for the way he’d snapped, followed closely behind her quick steps.

“Wait!” She actually stopped, something he wasn’t expecting, so he rammed right into her back. His hands quickly wrapped around her biceps as she spun around. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I, uh...”

He didn’t know what to say. This was the second time in one night he’d run into her, but he was still dumbstruck. The circumstances weren’t ideal. He thought he’d lost her earlier, but then she had to go and put herself in danger.

He took a step away from her, dropping his hands and rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. He had to remind himself that she had no idea who he was. Even if he did embarrass himself—like he usually did around her—she wouldn’t know it was him when they saw each other in the halls come Monday.

“At least let me get you home.” He insisted, feeling bad that he’d indirectly kept her out so late.

Y/N pursed her lips, immediately wanting to accept his offer but trying not to give too much away. Truthfully, she was exhausted. She just wanted to get home and deal with the fallout disobeying her curfew would bring so she could get some sleep.

“Alright.” She sighed, pulling anxiously at the straps of her bag. She knew this meant she’d have to swing through the streets again, something she wasn’t nearly ready to do.

Nevertheless, she allowed Spider-Man to walk toward her. She averted her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her back and tried not to let her breath catch when his gloved fingers skimmed the exposed skin of her lower back where her shirt had ridden up.

Warmth enveloped her as his proximity settled in. Under his mask, Peter’s face was burning. This was by far the closest he’d been to his classmate. Or any girl, actually. Not wanting to think about it for a second longer, he shot a web toward a nearby building and followed the directions Y/N yelled out.

Within minutes, they landed on the helipad outside her front door.

Peter felt his stomach drop with realization once he let his eyes wander around the outside of the huge building.

“Oh my god. Is this seriously where you live?” He cleared his throat after squeaking out the question, not necessarily wanting to give away his shock.

“What?” Y/N scoffed teasingly. “Don’t I look like a spoiled rich girl?”

“That’s not—I wasn’t—” He didn’t know what he was trying to say, honestly. There were endless questions flitting through us mind at warp speed.

If she lived here, at the Avengers Tower, did that mean she was one of them? And he just hadn’t met her yet? Or did she work for Mr. Stark? But she was so young. He guessed she could be an assistant or something. Maybe she worked for Pepper? Or Happy? Or, she could—

Y/N rolled her eyes, deciding to spare him the embarrassment of sputtering any more. “My dad is famous...like helped form the Avengers famous.”

Peter’s mind went blank. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Cap?” It was the first name to spill out of his mouth. “Wait, can he even have kids?”

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at his assumption. “He totally can, but no.”

“Oh.” The gears of his brain started turning again and realization slowly dawned on him. He felt his throat run dry as his eyes widened behind his mask. “Oh.”

Shit. This was way worse. He couldn’t believe he had no idea who she really was. Sure, she used a different last name at school, but he should’ve seen the resemblance sooner.

“Look, I know you two have worked together.” Y/N sighed, thinking back to all those weeks her dad was gone fighting Steve and the rest of his friends for no real reason. “Can you just...not tell him about this?”

Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion. Why wouldn’t she want Mr. Stark knowing that she’d been with him?

Either way, he agreed, since he had a favor to ask of his own. “Only if you won’t.”

She gave him this dumbfounded look, and he knew he had to elaborate.

“He made me this suit before the whole thing with Captain America, so I thought he would keep giving me missions, but now it’s been months and he won’t return my calls. I’m lucky if I get through to Happy. He doesn’t want me getting involved in this stuff, so...”

It struck Y/N then how weird it was to hear a superhero talk about her family so casually. It didn’t seem possible that the two of them were in the same circles. Sure, she’d practically grown up with a few of the world’s most famous heroes, but somehow Spider-Man was different.

He was local. And elusive. A pure mystery to her.

“What exactly is this stuff?” She thought back to the weird glowing object in her bag, having almost forgotten it was there.

“I don’t know.” Peter shook his head, seemingly defeated. “I thought it was just neighborhood stuff, but those guns...I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Alien tech.” Y/N said without hesitation, although she wasn’t actually positive that’s what it was. “My dad has some in his workshop. It was leftover from the Battle of New York.”

“How does it work?” Peter found himself asking excitedly, easily pushing all the other revelations from this conversation to the back of his mind.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, looking away from him as her chest tightened with emotion. “I’ve never gotten close enough to any of it to see. He likes to keep me out of things too...”

It was at that moment, as a breath of silence settled between them, that they realized she was still in his arms. Y/N’s face erupted with heat and she quickly pushed herself away from him. Once her feet were back on the ground, they both stepped backward to create some much needed distance.

“I, ah...better get back...”

“Yeah, yeah. I have to go too...”

They looked at each other for a few long moments. It was at if neither of them truly wanted to separate, but knew they had to. It was clear, though, that they’d just formed some kind of connection.

Y/N felt something strange—and wildly inappropriate—brewing in her chest. A certain kind of attraction toward the masked hero she’d never considered before. It appalled her, honestly. It wasn’t like she hated the guy, but she certainly didn’t like him. And she had no idea who he was. He could be eight years old, for all she knew.

With that realization, she turned on her heel and stalked down the narrow entrance to the Avengers Tower, her face still burning. She heard the thwip of Spider-Man’s webbing and knew he’d be gone if she looked back. So she didn’t.

She pressed her hand against the touchpad outside the front door and quickly slipped inside once it recognized her prints. She sighed heavily and let herself fall back against the door, the comfort of home enveloping her.

The peace was short lived, however, as she caught sight of her mother waiting expectantly behind the bar to her left. With a glass of red wine in hand, her knowing gaze shifted from the helipad outside to Y/N’s stiff frame.

She took a slow sip, eyes narrowing over the rim of the glass.

“You’re so grounded.”

———————————————————————

let me know what you think!! should I continue this series??

#peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #peter parker #tony stark #mcufam #original character #marvel #the avengers #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #peter parker series #mcu series #tom holland series #stark reader

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orchestralcollage · 2 years ago

Photo

NAME: Matthew Finnegan

NICKNAMES: Matt ; Captain Kraken (by Kirby)

FACE CLAIM: Charlie Rowe

AGE: 26 (March 28)

SPECIES: Familiar (Hazel Dormouse)

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Male ; He/Him

SEXUALITY: Gay

ALLEGIANCE: Neutral

OCCUPATION: Receptionist at Fuschia Arcade ; Podcast Host

SCARS: Several on various parts of his body, including his wrist, made with enchanted weapons, some as forms of self harm, some where he was okay with people using them on him in exchange for substances, and others as a form of punishment for not paying his dealers on time or at all.

TRAITS: Adventurous ; Optimistic ; Sober ; Forgetful ; Disorganized ; Dependent

Last Season on Faerune:

Matthew was born in a small fae town to a fae mother and familiar father. The youngest of his siblings, he doesn’t really remember anything about where he was born as the family had moved to Faerune before he’d even had his first birthday. Matthew wouldn’t know until he was older, but the reason they had moved was because his father’s witch had summoned him.

He lived a fairly normal childhood. His family wasn’t the most well off, and sometimes they struggled, but there was never a threat of things like being evicted and being forced out onto the street. It was just a lot of room sharing and hand me downs.

When he was a teenager he got into a fight with his father, over what he couldn’t even tell you now, but he wound up running away. He’d been gone for a few days, living in his familiar form for much of it, as it was just easier, before he was found by someone that was in one of his classes. Percy Notaras. The other took him home and kept him as a pet and companion, naming him Basil, until he was made to let him go. Matt returned home after the month, and went back to school never saying a word to Percy about it.

During his first year at university one of Matt’s older siblings, the brother who he had been the closest to, died, sending him into a spiral of parties, drugs, a lot of alcohol, and extreme promiscuity for years, much of which he doesn’t actually remember. His behavior also caused him to be kicked out of the university. Eventually he hit rock bottom and wound up in rehab, which he has recently finished his stay at.

Matthew now works at the arcade, and is working on trying to re-enroll at the university, hoping that they will give him a second chance

This Season on Faerune:

Matt has continued working on his sobriety, having passed his first year mark in early March. It's still hard, but each day is its only tiny victory, or at least that's the way he's been told to look at it.

He is still technically living with his parents, whom he has yet to convince to move into a larger place, and the only reason he hasn't moved out is because it has been ill-advised for him to live on his own yet.

Over the year, Matt has grown closer to Percy Notaras as a friend, hanging out with the other more. He's started to notice certain things that happen when they are around each other, and Matt thinks he knows what it might mean, but wants to wait til he knows for sure before addressing it with the older guy.

He has also been hanging out with Alex more, sometimes spending time at her place if he needs to get away from their parents for a little while. Matt has been regularly hooking up with Connor Finley, and while Matt has feelings for Connor, he isn't sure those same types of feelings are returned. He doesn't want to say anything in fear of scaring Connor off or making him feel like he has to return them when he doesn't.

For the past couple of months Matt has been writing a fictional story with week to week podcast chapters that he's been recording at Simon's studio. It's the first thing he's really written since River, his brother died, that was because he wanted to and not for something like an assignment in school.

* Matthew suffers from, as of now, undiagnosed narcolepsy and insomnia

#season 2 intro #matt season 2

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pennamesmith · 4 years ago

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Secret of the Skeletor

Skeletor sneaks out. Some less-prominent former members of the Horde receive community outreach. More Skeletor stories!

Skeletor sat alone in the laboratory.

He had strict orders not to go anywhere or do anything. As one of Horde Prime’s drone bots, he knew the importance of rules. But ever since Entrapta had reprogrammed him with a name and a unique personality, he also knew the importance of breaking them.

Skeletor chuckled. He stood up, paused, then sat back down again and laughed some more as he pondered his options.

Just about everybody else in Bright Moon was busy. Even Wrong Hordak’s usual support group was canceled while he attended the queen’s cabinet meeting about Entrapta’s new interdimensional research findings.

This meant it was the perfect time for Skeletor to venture outside the kingdom. A community outreach day. He grinned. Pausing only to giggle again and leash his beloved robot puppy, Relay, Skeletor snatched up Darla’s ignition crystal and shambled out the door.

“Now for a little vanishing act!” he declared as he left.

It was going to be a good day.

Kyle braced himself as soon as he heard the ship engines come to a stop outside the window.

“Hey, guys?” he called to the other two inhabitants of their modest home. “I think —”

He was interrupted by the sound of splintering wood. “Strong, but not strong enough!” Skeletor yelled as he cheerfully kicked in the door. Rogelio, who had been going to open it, bristled in shock while Lonnie yelped and grabbed a frying pan from the kitchen, brandishing it like a club from behind the counter.

A long, stale moment passed.

“...It’s all part of the game!” Skeletor explained apologetically, as he turned and tried to replace the door on its hinges. “We don’t want to hurt anyone!” At his feet, Relay peered inside the room and barked, tail wagging.

All three of the former Horde soldiers relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief, though Lonnie’s battle-ready expression did not change.

“Do you really have to do that every time you come over?” Kyle asked, poking at the loosely swinging door.

“Yes,” Skeletor replied honestly.

Rogelio shrugged and growled something indistinct.

Lonnie quirked an eyebrow. “What? You asked him to come here?”

“We both did,” Kyle piped up. He reached for Rogelio’s hand in reassurance. “We… kinda wanted to get some more information on Wrong Hordak’s support group.”

Dutifully, Skeletor produced a sheaf of pamphlets and papers detailing schedules and services and handed them over to the two young men. Rogelio accepted them all with a brief roar of thanks.

Lonnie shook her head, still frowning. “Oh no. I already told you, I am not interested. Going over there for wellness day was one thing, but there are too many people there that I still just… can’t be around. And he’s nice and all, but I don’t think Wrong Hordak really gets me.”

“Running away. So impolite!” Skeletor scoffed.

“That’s okay!” Kyle hastily added. “You don’t have to come with us. We’d never force you into something like this.”

“Running away sounds like a terrific idea!” Skeletor said.

Kyle looked at Rogelio. “It’s just, we’ve been talking, and I think we want to give it a try. Even if it doesn’t work out, we might be able to learn some stuff that could help. Taking the first step can be really hard, even when it’s the right thing. And we’ll be here if you decide you’re ready, but we’ll be here if you don’t, too.”

Lonnie’s expression softened, slightly. “Thanks guys,” she said, and meant it. She went to hug the other two. “Now, let’s see about making this robot fix our door.” She pounded a fist into her palm meaningfully.

“I think it’s time for me to leave and take care of another matter!” Skeletor squeaked, and beat a hasty retreat.

Darla hovered serenely above the water on the Salinean coast. While Relay napped in the captain’s chair, Skeletor strolled unhurriedly along the docks. He stopped in front of a small, shabby storefront and looked curiously at the sign above the door.

Sea Hawk’s Ship Disposal and Firewood Emporium, it read. You Crash ‘Em, We Burn ‘Em!

“I think I’ll make him my court jester, if he’s funny enough!” Skeletor proclaimed, and walked inside.

However, it was instantly apparent from the lack of off-key sea shanties being sung that the shop’s namesake proprietor was currently absent. This suited the skinny robot just fine. The real subject of his visit was the new part-time hire, who sat slouched at the register behind a gossip-scroll and an eyepatch.

Octavia brightened when she saw Skeletor enter. “Hey, I was wondering when you’d make it back here!” she called out. Skeletor waved in response and marched over, holding out a laden bag.

“I’ve brought you a present!” Skeletor announced.

Octavia’s good eye shone as she reached inside and pulled out a glittering, silver fishing net. “Oh, wow, Entrapta finished it already!” she gushed, holding the netting up to the light to admire it.

“That net is made of elastium!” Skeletor boasted. “It’s not only one of the hardest substances in the universe, it also stretches!”

“Hey, thanks for helping me commission this,” Octavia said, looking back. She smiled wistfully. “Entrapta really was the best part of the Horde when we were all there, you know? She was so nice to everyone, and Hordak was loads calmer, and all our maintenance complaints got fixed practically overnight!”

“That’s just peachy for you!” Skeletor said.

“Plus, it kinda took some of the sting out of having to take orders from the kid who did this when we were six,” Octavia added, gesturing to her eyepatch. “I had ambitions, you know? I was the first of our class to make Force Captain. I was going places! Of course, none of that matters anymore.”

Her sour expression melted as she looked back at the new net. “But that won’t stop me! With this I can make some extra money on the side selling seafood. Then I’ll buy this place from Sea Hawk — honestly, I think he forgets he owns it sometimes — and turn it into a crafting and antique shop, Octopus Cove or Mystic Isle or something. After that I’ll take over all the shops on the dock one by one, and then the beach tourism market will be mine! Ha ha!”

She cackled with evil glee. Skeletor joined in, politely.

“Too bad about the others, but at least I escaped!” Skeletor concluded, and left to continue his mission.

“Beast-Man!” Skeletor sang as the door opened.

“I still don’t know who that is, but it’s good to see you again too,” Grizzlor grinned. “Come on in, buddy!”

Skeletor followed the wolffish giant inside while Relay trotted happily at his heels. Grizzlor’s husband, fellow former Horde Commander Cobalt, was relaxing in their living room and waved when he saw the bot.

“Skeletor! How’ve you been?”

“Sitting down on the job?” Skeletor barked. “I’ll help you, if only to be rid of you!” He offered Cobalt a thick folder of paperwork. “Here, here it is!”

Cobalt accepted the folder reverentially. “Really? I knew it was a long shot asking Hordak for help, but all the red tape was getting to be such a nightmare that I just didn’t know what to do anymore.” He sniffled and wiped a tear from his eye. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re crying for Hordak?” Skeletor huffed. “I don’t believe it!”

“I can’t believe that worked,” Grizzlor admitted. “I mean, I always thought Hordak hated me,” he added sheepishly. “Especially after that thing with the two neckties.”

Cobalt shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think Hordak ever really hated anybody. He just didn’t know what to do with anyone. Now, Shadow Weaver on the other hand…”

“Most unpleasant!” Skeletor muttered.

“Exactly. But I think Hordak did care, in his own way. He saw how scared we were of combat during the early days, in the Scorpion uprising. I think that’s why he kept me teaching the cadets and you on the easy patrols, Grizz.”

Grizzlor chuckled. “Aw, I can’t imagine you being scared of anything, big guy!”

“Oh, I wasn’t always like this!” Cobalt demurred, flexing his shoulders. “Back in my cadet days I was so skinny everyone called me ‘Mantenna’! Used to joke that I’d fall through a crack in the floor if I wasn’t careful.”

“Another piece of the puzzle!” said Skeletor.

Cobalt slung an arm around Grizzlor. “But listen, Horde or no, I’ll always be there for you.” He held up the adoption papers Skeletor had delivered. “And now, we might have something else to protect together.”

Skeletor’s last stop was a recently-refurbished tavern just inside the Crimson Waste. He nodded approvingly at the osseous architecture and then pushed his way through the curtain while Relay ran ahead, yapping.

Inside there was a wide, smoky space filled with outlaws and ruffians of every species imaginable. They all turned to look as Skeletor entered.

“That’s it! Kneel before your new master!” Skeletor bellowed.

Everyone immediately went back to what they had been doing. The chatter and plinky piano music returned. Relay found a small lizard and began to chase it around the floor.

“Skeletor! It’s good to see you back, friend!”

An enormous purple hand clapped the robot on the shoulder. Skeletor looked up into the smiling face of a towering barbarian.

“Can I get you anything?” Huntara asked, conversationally. “Minions to yell at? A ribcage chair to sit in?”

“Unnecessary! Because we’ve already found you!” Skeletor replied.

“Good, I was hoping you’d say that. Zed! Sunder!” Huntara called out. Two Horde clones who were staffing the bar — one seeming slightly shorter than the typical clone brother, and the other a bit older and wrinklier — glanced up at the sound of their names and hurried over.

“Keep an eye on the door, willya? I need to talk to bonehead here for a bit. We’ve got… business to discuss.”

The two clones nodded seriously, and Huntara escorted Skeletor to a secretive back room behind the bar. Inside there were many potted cacti, two comfortable chairs, and a little table with a miniature sand garden on top. It had a tiny, handheld rake for making soothing patterns in the sand.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Huntara sighed in relief, dropping into one of the chairs. Relay jumped into her lap and she patted his head gratefully. “I have so much to talk about! You know how last time I was telling you about Grox and all the things she was saying to me? Well…”

“Easy, don’t overexert yourself! It’ll only cause you to weaken more quickly,” Skeletor cautioned. He settled into the other chair and leaned forward, listening intently.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just nice to have someone to talk to, Huntara said. “I don’t feel comfortable in big groups and I can’t always open up to the people around here. So thanks for stopping by.”

Skeletor nodded. “I’m right here, old friend! Release the shadow beast!”

A weight seemed to leave Huntara’s shoulders. “All right. Now, like I was saying…”

Long after the stars had come out, the laboratory door finally swung open again. Entrapta and Hordak, looking exhausted but accomplished, strode inside with their arms full of rolled-up diagrams and data sheets from that day’s presentation.

“...And they listened to everything I said!” Entrapta exclaimed as they came in. “I can’t remember the last time anybody besides you paid attention to me for that long. It was kinda scary, but it felt kinda good, too!”

“They were fools if they never attended to you before,” Hordak purred, smiling proudly. “And I cannot imagine they would disregard you now. After all, you are talking about the prospect of rescuing —”

“Sounds like we’ve got company!” Skeletor interrupted, welcoming the couple back to the lab. He was sitting, hands primly folded, in exactly the same spot as he had been when they left. “I’ve been expecting you!”

“Oh. Hello, Skeletor,” Hordak sighed, reluctantly looking away from Entrapta. “Did you follow my instructions to stay put today?”

Skeletor crossed his fingers and nodded.

“Did you follow my instructions?” Entrapta whispered, after Hordak had gone on ahead. Skeletor nodded again, much more enthusiastically this time.

“Good robot!” Entrapta replied, with a wink and a smile. “Thanks for helping out!” Then she scampered away to keep up with her lab partner.

“Ha! My plan has worked perfectly!” Skeletor gloated. “Now I have the power!”

#Skeletor #she ra #spop #fan fiction #horde trio #octavia #grizzlor #commander cobalt #huntara #entrapdak #grizzlor/cobalt #smith stuff #I wonder what that big meeting was all about

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riftimagines · 4 years ago

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Lightbringer Cafe-Ch.1

Ahhh! Its been a while but i return with this random fic im writing! Ill post this on Ao3 and put a link in a bit! You can read it here too if you’d like!

Ao3 link: https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/29356611

Summary: Starting a Cafe is what you wanted to do and you love it! Sometimes though it can be a bit boring and sometimes wish for a little excitement in your day. Well even though the boredom some exciting and fun stuff will happen! These stories are about those days.

Note: This is a Modern AU

Ships: A variety of ships eventually, even some with the reader. For this chapter Its some awkward, dorky Kayn and a flirty reader!

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New dawn breaks light through the freshly cleaned windows. The smell of coffee just ground for the day filling the air and a slight chill from the cold weather outside that just seems to seep in even with the heater on. Overall, it seems like it’ll be a nice day to day and hopefully the chilly winters day will bring new customers into your lovely Cafe. You walk over to the door and flip the sign that hug on it letting all who walk by know you are open for business. You had just opened this Cafe not too long ago and only recently really started to pick up on business. So far its just been office workers near by and Hipsters that seem to show up. Nothing too interesting yet, not that you’re complaining. Business is business after all. Still, sometimes you wish someone interesting would come through your doors and make your day a little more fascinating, a little spice to your day.

A calm sigh leaves you as you sit on a stool behind the counter, waiting for any customers to walk in. Sometimes it did take a little while for people to come in but with the cold maybe someone will want something warm to drink. Before you have time to get bored waiting the bell on your door chimes to signal you in fact have customers now. You look over at two men walking in. One was and older, seemingly albino man. The other a slightly taller, young man with long black hair. The blue strip in his bangs standing out prominently from his raven locks. The older man walks to the back part of the Cafe where the lights are really not that bright, you really need to change them at some point, and sits down in the corner. He looks to the younger man that followed him and they seem to talk, probably about what to order if you had to guess.

They take a moment more before the younger of the two walks over and grins at you. Looking at him better you have to stop yourself from blushing. He’s very handsome admittedly but you can’t lose your composure over a handsome face now, your working! You just give him a friendly smile back and greet him accordingly.

“Hello, Sir. What would you like today?” You say as politely as possible. He looks up at the menu behind you and mulls over his thoughts. You wait patiently, there was no rush no one else was here anyway. His amber eyes trail back down to you. For a moment you get lost in the honey hues but quickly come back to reality when he speaks.

“I will have a Coffee and a Hot Green Tea, a two sugars and a little milk in the coffee and a little honey in the Tea. You can manage that right?” His voice was so lovely too until that last quip. You don’t make too much of a scowl at him for that, he could just be having a bad day or something. You just nod for now.

“Of course, One Coffee, two sugars, little milk and a Hot Green Tea with a touch of Honey, coming right up! Oh what name will that be under?” He looks at you confused and scoffs.

“There’s only two customers in here, why do you need to know my name?” You frown fully this time at his rudeness. You walk back up to him and narrow your eyes.

“Because thats just how I do business and I don’t know who the order could be for. For all I know these drinks could be for someone else. That’s why I ask.” He seems a little taken back by the way you talked back to him. He looks like he’s about to say something back when a deeper, gravely voice cuts in.

“Kayn, just give them your name.” The albino man in the corner piped up, effectively shutting up whatever rude remark was coming out of ‘Kayn’s’ handsome face. You are quick to grab a pen and write ‘Cane’ on it just to spite him. You look towards the other man.

“Thank you, Sir. See that wasn’t so hard, sweetie.” He makes a weird face between a pout and confusion and honestly you can’t entirely blame him. You had no idea where that ‘sweetie’ came from but its out there now. You can regret later. With that you turn from him to start warming up some water to seep the Tea, the coffee would be much quicker. Once the water is set to heat up and the coffee cup under the coffee machine you sit on your stool. Good Tea needs properly warmed water and a little patience after all. You sitting there seemed to be an open invitation for Kayn to come up to where you were sitting and pout at you. You look at him and smile.

“Hello there, Sir. Can I help you?” He just huffs, clearly a bit miffed from earlier.

“First, you’re rude to me then you just sit here not getting our order. Are you going to do anything but sit there?” You roll your eyes at him. You have no idea how that guy in the corner can put up with this brat.

“I’m waiting for the water for the Tea to warm up. Im sure your friend over there wants good, hot Tea not cold bitter Tea. There is a process to make fresh tea.” You huff at him and give him an annoyed stare.

“You were so much more attractive before you spoke you know. Maybe you should learn some manners, huh?” He blinks and stares at you for a bit, the slightest dust of pick across his cheeks. So light you could say it was just a change in light. You’re not entirely sure why he’s gone quiet though, maybe you were being rude now. You should probably apologize. Before you can say anything you hear him mutter something very softly.

“You think I’m attractive?” Now its your turn to blink. Could he not see himself in the mirror?

“Yeah, I mean it’s pretty obvious?” He suddenly jumps at you speaking which causes you to jump too. He looks panicked like he just did something terrible.

“I-Uh, Of course I am! Im gorgeous!” You can’t help but laugh at his panic. It seems he unknowingly spoke his thoughts. Rather interesting that he would even think he’s not attractive. To have such doubts when it’s clearly the opposite is a little sad you think. You guess even the most beautiful people must have their doubts. You look at him again and see a much more noticeable redness on him. Perhaps a little mercy will go a long way here.

“Really smooth recovery. Smooth as you hair even.” The redness on his face doesn’t leave but he leans on the counter anyway like he’s the most confident person in the universe. Clearly he’s just a handsome dork it seems. Not that there is anything wrong with that but its kinda nice to know he isn’t a total jerk. You watch the dark haired man cough in to his hand trying to steady himself.

“I thought so. Glad to see you aren’t blind enough to see that.” Ah back to the arrogance it seems. Normally this would put you off but there’s just something deeper to him, like he’s scared of just being himself for some reason. It kinda reminds you of that saying ‘Fake it till you make it’ Its just a ruse to seem cooler then what he is. A part of you is somewhat sad he has to do that, hide what light he has in shadow.

“Even I would have to be pretty blind to miss your pretty face.” He looks away from you for a bit, clearly trying not to look into your eyes. You chuckle a little bit when a whistling sound catches your attention. The water! You get up to go to turn off the heat and begin to seep the tea. Only a couple minutes no more no less. While it seeps you prep the coffee and let it start to brew. A fresh brew took a little longer but you figured maybe you should be a little nicer to Kayn after your teasing. The machine whirs to life and produces a wonderful smelling coffee. The two sugars and a splash of milk is added to it before you place it in front of him. He looks at the cup and can’t help but notice your little ‘Cane’ Spelling on the cup.

“That’s not how you spell my name!” He exclaims. You laugh hardily at his ire and look back at him. You had honestly forgotten about that until just now.

“I’m sorry about that. Though to be fair I did ask you your name and I had to get it from someone else. If you want your name properly spelled next time tell me how to spell it.” He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Maybe you should learn how to spell.” Oh here we go again you think to yourself. You go back to the tea before you respond and pour it into a cup. Placing it to the side you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I did spell it right. That is in fact how you spell “Cane”. If your name is spelled different you should have told me.” He huffs again. You did have a point, he just didn’t like to admit it. While he’s silenced you go back to the tea and grab the honey. Carefully you spoon in just a little bit of the golden substance. The color of it reminding you of the man behind you. His eyes are the same color. You shake the thought from your head and finish up the tea. You place the second cup before him and smile.

“Here you go, honey eyes.” Welp, why you decided to go ahead and say that you’ll never know. The poor man in front of you looks confused and a little flustered.

“Honey eyes?” You want to slap yourself in the head for saying that but it’s too late now isn’t it? You look at him sheepishly and blush a bit yourself.

“Uh, yeah. You’re eyes are the same color as honey. I’m sorry. Thats probably really weird to say, hehe.” Stop being awkward. Oh this just became so much more weird. Why didn’t you just shut up and just take his order? Why do you feel the need to banter? The both of you stand there like sheepish teenagers. It’s Kayn that breaks the silence though.

“I-It’s alright! Uh, you, uh, smell nice! Like this coffee!” As soon as he says that he slaps his forehead and buries his face into his hands. You laugh again at his awkwardness. He was kinda cute when he wasn’t being rude. You decide you like this Kayn much more then the arrogant one from earlier.

“Well I do spend a lot of time around coffee. It was bound to infuse itself into my very being at some point, so thanks.” He peers back at you and openly stays red as he scratches the back of his head. There is an other awkward, flustered pause between you before its broken by the other person in the room.

“Kayn, if you have our drinks then let us leave. You’ll be late to your class, again.” Kayn jolts from his spot as the older albino comes up from behind him so quietly not even you noticed him move.

“Oh! Right, I have them dad. Here’s your tea!” Kayn quickly hands his father the tea and he nods a thanks before heading to the door. Kayn looks to you again awkwardly.

“So then, uh, goodbye. I suppose I’ll stop by again then.” He says. You give him a bright smile and nod.

“I’m looking forward to it, handsome.” You both blush at your boldness and he grips his coffee with both hands before jogging away after his father. The albino looks at him completely confused and Kayn waves him off. The older man looks back at you with suspicion and a part of your soul freezes with that look. Ok then, note to self, handsome’s father is absolutely terrifying. You watch them walk off until you can’t see them anymore. That was quite away to start off the day, you wonder what other encounters you’ll have and if they’ll be as nice as that one.

#League of Legends #league of legends x reader #kayn

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jincherie · 5 years ago

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mystery gang; unsolved |PT.2

☾ — pairing: taehyung x reader ☾ — genre: demon au, supernatural/paranormal au, buzzfeed unsolved au/inspired, smut (oncoming), f2l ☾ — words: 6.2k ☾ — rating: adult! this one is sfw, but final part will be nsfw ☾ — warnings: demons and haunted houses, supernatural & paranormal themes! this is the part where shit goes down, so be aware of that! also some angst ☾ — notes: part 2 of 3! the next part will be the resolution and the smut, so look forward to that!! also wow man first post of 2020!!!

ever since you met taehyung in one of your first year classes at university, you seemed to click and you hadn’t parted from each other’s side since. you’ve been his friend for a few years now, and your mutual interest in the supernatural and taehyung’s propensity for finding the spotlight wherever he goes led to the two of you starting up your very own supernatural investigation vlog series. friends isnt the only thing you want to be, and one night close to hallow’s eve when the two of you get a little in over your heads in a way you never have been before, you find out that maybe it’s not only you that feels that way.

— posted; 05.01.2020 || ⇤prev. | masterlist | next⇥

PART TWO

You wish that you could say that as the night goes on, your nerves begin to ease. They don’t, though; the church, albeit slowly, proves to be feeding into all your fears. You feel paranoid, as you often do while filming this show, but tonight it feels like something… more. As though there’s a little bit more substance to your worries than usual. Needless to say, you’re not a fan.

It begins in the largest part of the church, as you’d expect. The hall where processions were held, lined with pews and intricate statues in its better days, is far too big to be giving you any comfort. There is so much space, so much empty blackness, that it actually feels like it’s closing in on you a bit. Surprisingly, in between segments you record for the vlog, Taehyung ends up distracting you by bringing up all the other times you went to places allegedly home to ‘demonic’ energies. A part of you thinks he’s doing it because he knows you’re uneasy, but the rest of you is more annoyed that he’s making fun of you again. He knows you’re wary of demons!

“You know, I think you’re taking this much better than that last house we did—you know the one a state over?” Taehyung remarks, setting up a little camera so that it can record the two of you whipping out the spirit box.

“Please don’t remind me,” you say, placing a hand over your stomach to quell the nausea rising at the mention of it. “It was popular with our viewers, but at what cost.”

“Yeah, they were surprisingly fond of you looking like you were about to vomit,” Taehyung says, somewhat nonchalant—when you direct a glare his way you can see the cheeky smile on his face, though. “Anyway, that one wasn’t as bad as this one is meant to be, and you’re already doing much better! Kudos.”

“Don’t patronise me,” you say, taking the spirit box from him and moving to one of the seats you’d set up. It feels wrong, in honesty, like sitting down in this seat is inviting a whole lot of misfortune to fall upon you. You don’t bother telling Taehyung that you’re actually doing far worse than last time. “I won’t apologise for having a healthy fear of the unknown.”

Snickering, Taehyung finishes setting up the camera and flicks it on. The lights you have illuminate only the barest patch where you’re sitting. You don’t like it, you don’t like it one bit and you hate that it feels like something is behind you, hands hovering just out of your sensory range. The muscles along your back are tense and rigid and you do your best not to show it to the camera.

“And here I present to the viewers, the crowd—and ghost—favourite, the spirit box!” Taehyung announces for the camera, voice a little louder than you’re comfortable with. You restrain the urge to shush him only because you know he’ll make fun of you for thinking that being loud will attract the ghosts. “We’ll be asking some questions in an open forum for any ghosts, ghouls and-or demons to respond—”

You smack him, delivering him with a warning glare, and he simply chortles as he sits down. You clearly mouth ‘I’ll kill you’ at him, before sitting back in your seat and clearing your throat. “Right, yeah. It’s spirit box time. I literally… can’t put into words how absolutely overjoyed I am.”

Taehyung laughs at how you blatantly forced those words through your teeth, but otherwise remains silent as you fiddle with the spirit box and do your usual introduction for the viewers and spirits around.

“Please, use this as a medium to communicate with us. We’ll ask some questions now.” You finish up the spiel, turning the box over and leaning forward to place it on the pew between the two of you. It’s as you near the pew that the hair along the back of your neck rises suddenly, prickling and making your muscles lock up for the barest second. A breeze brushes across the skin and skims your ear, and you swear you catch a word that rides with it, soft and thin yet clear as day.

“Don’t…”

You shriek as your reflexes kick back in, hand slapping to your neck and a glare already on your face to direct at Taehyung—surprisingly, he seems bewildered at the sudden heat in your gaze.

“That’s not funny!” you scolded him, attempting to pat down the hairs that rose on your neck. “I told you not to whisper in my ear like that when we’re in demon places!”

Taehyung’s hands fly up into a position of surrender. “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do anything! You can check the camera if you want!”

The panic that had already welled within you and was on track to fade reignited at that, fear stopping your thoughts from flowing as they should. There’s an unmistakeably scared edge that enters your voice, “What? But I just—someone—something just whispered ‘don’t’ in my ear, I swear.”

From Taehyung’s face, it’s clear he doesn’t believe you—or at the least, doesn’t believe that some otherworldly entity or otherwise whispered a whole word in your ear.

“No way,” he says, confirming your thoughts. There’s something that flicks across his face though, something out of place but too ephemeral for you to catch. “It was probably just a creak. This place is old, you know.”

“A creak that sounds like a whole word?” You push your case a little more, but you’re already shaking your head in defeat. You know there’s no way to sway his sceptic ass. You think a ghost could appear in front of Taehyung right now, slap him across his face and call his father a whore, and he’d still try and explain it away. “Whatever. The tape will show I’m right.”

Taehyung huffs, clearly entertained—you wish you could be as at ease as he always seems to be. He waves his hand to urge you on. “Hurry up and get the spirit box going so it can be over and done with. I hate listening to it.”

“Fine, but I’m doing it because I was already going to and not because you told me to,” you grumble, reaching for the spirit box and doing your best to force from your mind what happened the last time you were in a similar movement. You look up just in time before turning it on to catch Taehyung looking right at you, a brow raised and something heady in his gaze.

“You’re such a brat.”

You bite your tongue and resign to only sending him a glare, flicking on the spirit box and relishing in the way Taehyung flinches as the harsh sound of static replaces the heavy silence in the air. To be honest, you don’t really like the spirit box either, but it gets results. Well, you think it does. Taehyung would be all too happy to argue the differ.

“Alright,” you start, voice a little shakier than intended. You clear your throat and try to clear your nerves with it. “Let’s get it. First, is there anyone here with us now?”

The static is almost deafening, the volume turned up high enough that some of the audio-crunching is borderline painful in your ears. The device is as jarring as ever, the rate at which it flicks through channels almost distracting enough to lure your attention away from how tense and thick the air feels around you. There aren’t any prominent sounds or words that come through, and you give it a few more moments before probing some more.

“Uh, oh boy… Who… is in this room with us? Meena, are you in here?”

Taehyung snorts. “Or maybe the priest, or the groom that was meant to be married to Meena—anyone? Hello? Man, I don’t think we’re ever going to get something from this stupid box—”

It’s as Taehyung is in the middle of taking the piss that the static morphs ever so slightly, sounds forming the barest edges of words.

“he… here…” Static, louder and louder and then softer, making way for another hint of barely comprehensible sound, “…on’t g… in…”

It’s not loud enough to really count as anything, and not loud enough that Taehyung even notices it over the sound of his own talking, but you can’t help the sudden feeling that gauges a place inside you. You want to leave so badly—you don’t think you’ve wanted to leave a place this much since that first house.

You don’t even realise you’ve become all that distracted until Taehyung’s voice brings you back to the present moment. He’s leaning forward, waving a hand in front of your face; you keep your gaze on the parts of him illuminated before you and away from the pitch black beyond his form. “Yoohoo, you still there? The ghosts aren’t responding to me, it’s your turn to ask them things.”

You roll your eyes, avoiding his gaze for the slight searching edge it has adopted. “Not all that surprising. If I was a ghost I wouldn’t want to respond to you, either.”

Taehyung lets out an offended noise, and just like that the session resumes as it normally would. You can’t shake the odd tension in your muscles, but you can only hope that the hall held the title of creepiest part of the church and that the rest of the night would be smoother, less spooky sailing from hereon out.

X x x x

The rest of the night has not gone by with smoother sailing, you hoped. There are more rooms than anticipated in this building, and painstakingly exploring each and every one is beginning to really take its toll on you. The walls and floors creak, moving with you and even in your wake, like there is another pair of footsteps trailing behind you. The only sound to permeate the air is that of the wood and the odd cricket from outside—when there is complete silence, and even the crickets don’t sound, is when you’ve discovered you hate it most. Because it feels like everything suddenly stops, and everything is then waiting for something to happen. You’re definitely not a fan.

You try and upkeep your usual antics with Taehyung, but this place is really getting to you. On more than one occasion, you swear you can hear the barest of whispers, and feel fleeting, featherlight touches on the parts of your skin bare to the air. There seems to be a common theme in what you swear you can hear: ‘he’s here’, ‘leave.’ It’s not the most ideal thing you could be hearing.

Of course, Taehyung isn’t hearing or feeling a thing. You really hate that none of this ever seems to happen to him, that he’s so damn… immune. If you knew being a sceptic ass would protect you so much, you might have tried your hand at it, but then again you think you’d have a lot of trouble forgetting the things that have happened to you so far.

About midway through the building and a little over halfway through your tour, you enter one of the last few rooms (which you view as simultaneously a good thing and a bad thing, since the last room on your list is the most haunted in the building). Well, enter is a strong word. The second you stopped in front of it, an awful feeling like ice sliding down your spine came over you. The most you were able to make yourself do was stick your head in before Taehyung took the opportunity to waltz on inside, completely unbothered.

“I hate this,” you grumbled, to anyone that would listen at this point. It took you a few breaths before your legs felt strong enough to follow Taehyung into the room.

It’s tiny, admittedly. You have no idea what it would have been used for, before the church fell, and you can’t really tell since any and all furniture in here has since fallen prey to decay and rot. It’s just as you take a few steps in that Taehyung halts, turns around, and huffs.

“Nothing in here,” he remarks, turning on his heel and marching out. “Boring. Come on, let’s go to the main room—the big paranormal breadwinner of this place.”

You sputter incredulously, summoning your thoughts as you turn to follow him. He makes it out the doorway but before you can follow, only a few paces behind, the door that had been wide open for the two of you to enter slams closed with such a loud, shaking BANG you almost topple in fright.

It takes a second for what happened to sink in, another for you to realise you’re now in this room in the dark alone, and another for you to feel the hairs along your neck and back raise all at once. Completely surpassing ‘fight’, you launch at the door and bang on it.

“Taehyung!! This isn’t funny!” You’re scolding him, but you know you didn’t see him anywhere near the door. “Can you let me out? The handle isn’t working in here. Oh, what the fuck, what the fuck—”

With one palm pressed to the door, you try the handle over and over and over again. It’s like it’s locked, or stuck, as though it’s been rusted over in the same place for years and refuses to budge. Except, that makes no sense, because it was literally just open, you were just in here and there isn’t a lock on this door’s handle so it should be opening—

It’s just as panic is beginning to touch the bottom of your lungs, the organs dipping into ice, that you hear the clearest utterance you have all night. A feminine voice, carrying the sadness of all the oceans and the urgency of fishermen when thunder starts to echo across that churning horizon…

“He knows you’re here.”

“Taehyung!” It’s a humiliatingly desperate cry that escapes you without consent, something a distant part of you is already scoffing over. What is calling for him going to do? You’re still stuck in here with this god-awful feeling and now that voice—

Before you can wallow and spiral any longer, there is a splintering sound and you only have a moment to step back before the door is finally swinging open. You aren’t sure how he did it, but you’re presuming it was by force—the handle isn’t even on his side of the door anymore. Taehyung doesn’t even hesitate before grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you out, eyes wide. You have the very sudden, strong urge to just launch yourself at him and cling, but even in the beginnings of your hysteria you somehow manage to refrain. It doesn’t help that you know all it would take to feel secure in this situation is being encased in his arms.

And probably also getting back in the car and getting the hell away from here.

“What the fuck was that.” You hadn’t realised it earlier, but your breath is coming kind of fast. You feel a bit like a frightened animal. “What the fuck—”

“The breeze,” Taehyung says, the answer coming easily. When you look at him, though, he doesn’t seem entirely convinced as he usually is. You’re too shaken to even rub it in like you want to.

“Whatever,” you dismiss, antsier and more eager to get out of here than ever. “Let’s just skip the rest of the rooms and get this big one over and done with.”

Taehyung makes a soft, noncommittal noise that you take as agreement. When you go to move though, he stops you.

“Look, I know the original plan was to spend the night in that room tonight,” he begins, dark cocoa eyes gentle as they hold your gaze. “But you’re getting pretty shaken up—do you want to do some spirit box shit or something instead and just go back to the hotel after?”

Your chest warms at his concern, chasing away a few inches of fear that had embedded themselves over the duration of the night. A part of you is resistant though, the prideful part that wants to see your word through to the end. That resistant part of you isn’t as big as the rest that is thoroughly freaked out, and is therefore quickly outnumbered.

Since the words seem to have gotten stuck in your throat, you simply nod at him, hoping your eyes convey how thankful you are that it’s his suggestion so you didn’t have to ask yourself. You kind of wish he’d also suggested you scrap the part of the plan where the two of you go into the room one at a time and spend five minutes there alone, but you suppose you can’t have everything. You still needed to come out of this with enough good footage for an episode, after all, and there would have been no point coming here and getting borderline traumatised if not for that.

Taehyung offers you a slight smile, low baritone more comforting than he probably realises as he speaks just once more, “Alright, we’ll do that. Now take a few deep breaths, you’re acting like a cornered animal.”

You simply mustered a snort, not bothering to tell him that’s exactly how you feel. You almost spare a thought to wonder who could have been harassing you this whole time—Meena? Her Fiancé? A demon?—but you shut it down before you can work yourself up any more, and do as he instructs. A few deep breaths later and you feel much calmer, less fried. You’re in no way ready to go into that final room, but you’re the tiniest bit more ready to accept that it’s about to happen.

The final room that you had on your list to investigate was, as you now tell the camera and viewers, the most allegedly haunted of them all. It’s a hidden room, through a concealed doorway behind where the church organ used to be and up a cramped, spiral staircase. You don’t know what the original purpose of this room was, either, but you do know that it’s the final location in the number of tales about this place where the bad things happen.

“So, if we are to believe, let’s say, the version that says Meena summoned and made a deal with a demon,” Taehyung says as you climb the staircase, and puts weird emphasis on the word as he says it, likely in an attempt to make you chuckle. Oddly sweet of him. “Then this is the room where she did that? The demon room?”

You do your best to ignore the spike of fear that shoots through your chest. “Yeah,” you answer, voice cracking. You clear your throat. “That would be… this room.”

You’re audibly unenthused, but you’re sure the viewers will love it. They always seem to enjoy you losing your mind.

Taehyung is trailing behind you as you climb the stairs, the wood creaking dangerously under your weight with each step. The only reason you can even see which step to take next is because of the torch in your grasp, although it has grown shakier in the past few minutes than when you first started the night. Now that you think about it, why are you the first one going up these stairs?! That is so unfair!

Then again, if you were going second and something grabbed you from behind…. maybe that would be worse.

You don’t climb very far, and as you near what you presume is the landing that leads to the final room, you can’t help but notice how much heavier the air has gotten. You can feel it all against your skin, dragging along as you walk through it. There’s a feeling beginning to trickle and swirl in the pit of your abdomen, too. It’s nameless, but you know instinctively it is not the kind of concoction that heals and soothes.

“So here it is,” you announce as the two of you arrive on the landing, staring across the few metres between you and the doorway to that stupid room. “The room of the hour, where most alleged bad things in the tales about this place went down. Well, besides the chandelier thing. That was… yeah.”

Taehyung is already looking at you, camera pointed your way, and you can tell from the look in his eye that he knows you’re stalling.

“Right, so, we’re gonna do the usual—go in, spend a few minutes alone, see if we can get a response…” You trail off, gulping and feeling a little nauseous as you describe your nearing fate.

“You want me to go in first?” Taehyung asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. You shoot him a glare.

“And have you stir up any spirits and-or beings that are in there for me? No thanks.”

He laughs, but it’s much quieter than you expect. Almost sullen, you sigh and begin preparing to go in alone. You’re avoiding looking at the door, because you already feel the weird vibes seeping out and you don’t want to look in and risk actually seeing something.

Taehyung helps you with the equipment, handing you what you need. When you’re done and ready to go in, he takes a few steps closer with you—and then he freezes. You figure that’s just where he’s choosing to stay until you come back out, and continue into the room.

The second your foot crosses the threshold, the first thing that registers is how much cooler it suddenly is. The dimming torchlight reveals that the room isn’t that big at all, but in the absence of light it feels like the blanket of cold, lurking darkness stretches on endlessly. It almost feels like it has a certain sense of gravity, pulling you in, making you dig your heels in on instinct.

Oh, you don’t like this. Is it too late to bail?

“y/n…” Taehyung says your name softly, and you hear it, but dismiss it soon after when you realise he’s probably about to try and spook you. You force your feet to take another few steps in, when Taehyung’s voice sounds out once more.

“y/n, wait—”

There is a chord of something different in his voice, something you haven’t heard in him before, that makes you pause and turn around; even if it means turning your back to the rest of the room and the abyss it holds.

Facing him for a moment, you catch sight of an indiscernible expression possessing his features—his brows are furrowed, mouth parted as though he is about to speak once more. He seems to be about to do just that when he catches sight of something over your shoulder and his eyes shoot wide.

In that instant, you get the very sudden, very strong feeling that something awful is about to happen, and you want to run.

You don’t get an answer or even a clue as to what he’s looking at. Taehyung begins to move, but he isn’t fast enough to beat the door that flies closed, a sudden and loud SLAM announcing the new barrier between you. It hasn’t even registered yet but your heart instantly stills and drops as a sheet of icy air plummets over you. For a moment, it is still, and silent.

And then, the worst experience of your life begins.

Legs that had begun carrying you back on instinct, stumbling over nameless items you didn’t get a chance to see, lock and freeze at the stark and unmistakeable sensation of a hand gripping tight around your bicep. It tightens, and then you’re being dragged, pushed back with your feet scrambling across the floor, until your back meets icy wall with enough force to make you cry out in pain. Distantly, you swear there is banging on the door, but you can barely hear it over the sound of your own pulse drumming erratically in your ears.

Your breath comes in clouds, the flickering torchlight allowing you to glimpse it before the bulb bursts and you have only the moonlight filtering through a boarded window to aid you. You almost wish that you didn’t, though—

Because in the very next second, something begins to materialise in front of you, as though being formed from smoke and pools of shadow cast across the room. A long, lean body with inhuman proportions, one of the spindly limbs ending in a taloned hand responsible for the grip on your arm. A smell so foul it makes nausea roil in your abdomen crosses your nose, and the being finishes taking shape before you in the span of a saccade. Its skin is like shadow incarnate, dripping like tar into sticky pools on the floor and burning like ice where it makes contact with your own. Spikes and disfigured lumps litter its form, but you think that the most terrifying part must be its face.

For all you can see of it is a crown of curled, gnarled horns, gleaming white eyes and a mouth full of teeth half the size of one of your fingers.

Half a scream makes its way out of your mouth before the demon hisses, the sound immediately making you clam up. “Shut up.”

The fear that clenches around your heart in a vice grip is one you’ve never felt before, your knees feeling like jelly.

“It’s been so long since any human has dared come here,” the demon says, and it’s like he is grating along the nerves at the back of your neck with every word, plucking them one by one in a curdling tune. “You’ve been so fun to play with. Souls always taste better once they have been soaked in fear.”

Your eyes had been transfixed in terror on the way the demon’s teeth shifted with each word, drool slipping down some fangs and dropping by your feet. You don’t know if you would have snapped out of it were it not for the sudden increase in banging on the door, growing louder and louder with each second. You don’t know if it is the handle making that rattling noise or your teeth and you don’t have the mental capacity to dwell.

When his words sink in a split second after they enter the air, its as though you make a subconscious decision that differs from the rest you’ve made tonight. You’re cornered now, and you can’t run—your brain chooses fight so you may have a chance to flee.

“Get off me!” You lurch suddenly, legs lashing out and kicking even as you can barely control them. “GET OFF ME!”

Your boots meet his legs harshly, and it probably hurts you more than him, but when you suddenly recall the half-empty bottle of blessed water in your pocket and reach for it, throwing it across his face, its like you’ve poured a bucket of pure acid over his skin. Steam billows and smoke follows, and the demon lets out a scream so sharp you swear your eardrums burst, but in no way does the pain weaken his grip on you.

“YOU BITCH.” The demon howls, eyes clenched shut and free hand lashing blindly to claw at you. “I’LL RIP YOUR HEART OUT AND EAT IT BEFORE YOUR EYES, YOU—”

It’s like you’re suspended, floating in time as his claws swipe and almost miss you, but manage to slice lightly across your collarbone—it’s so close to your neck that you can’t help but scream, kicking harder. The demons eyes fly open and narrow on you, its hand raising again. Your eyes clench shut on instinct, not wanting to watch his claws sink as far into your skin as they were meant to the first time. It’s in the moment after that there is a familiar splintering sound, and the grip on your arm is wrought free.

With nothing substantial holding you up anymore, your knees collapse and you sink to the floor, eyes flying open upon impact that you know is painful but can’t quite feel. What you see is something you definitely aren’t ready for—it takes a moment for it to sink in.

Unlike the scene that your eyes had closed to, the demon is no longer the only other being in the room—there is something else, body shrouded in shadow yet cast in an odd glow that shifts and warps like oil beneath sunlight. At first, you think that it’s giant and hulking in mass, but you quickly realise that the shapes protruding from its back aren’t lumps or anything of the like, but large, leathery wings. They flick and twitch, before shooting out and spanning at an incredible length as the new creature shoots forward. The demon that was so close to you before is now on the other side of the room, slammed into the wall by a hand around its throat that glows with heat, a startling juxtaposition to the cold still sinking into your skin.

The demon isn’t about to go without a fight; it surges back, limbs lashing, but the new creature is too strong and pinned to the wall the pitiful being stays, screaming in rage. Curled horns stem from the newcomer’s head, catching moonlight on the ridges and gleaming as it turns its head and glances over its shoulder, at you. Instantly, your heart freezes once more, except this time in a different sort of terror.

Because you know the face looking at you right now— it’s Taehyung.

It’s not the same as the face that usually greets you—there are those inky horns curling from his head, his ashy hair is tinged red on the ends, and its longer than you remember. Beneath the eyes boring into you are black markings like upside down teardrops, and the irises themselves are different shades of violet and gold, split down the middle by a slitted pupil. There is a fang peaking out from the corner of his lips, and the tips of his ears have elongated and angled. The curves and lines of his face resemble the Taehyung you know, and this should give you some modicum of comfort, but as you continue to look at him it becomes more than apparent that this Taehyung…

This Taehyung isn’t the Taehyung you know.

There’s a certain amount of dissonance within you, warring reactions to the information currently overloading your brain, but above all else you find yourself almost hysterically, irrationally scared. You can’t move, can’t seem to breathe as the creature— Taehyung? — releases you from its gaze and turns back to the demon struggling in its grasp. Breath rushes back into your lungs and you have enough presence of mind to attempt to struggle back to your feet. It’s hard, though, with your gaze transfixed on the scene before you.

“I should have known there was something behind the stench of this place,” Taehyung’s voice as he speaks is a mere echo of what you’re used to, a guttural growl strung with rage that reverberates straight through your chest. With each word that leaves him, there is a glow that builds around his form, like St. Elmo’s fire. The demon quickly goes from enraged to terrified, and the observation has your own gut dropping. “But I didn’t think whatever it was would be stupid enough to try anything. You shouldn’t have come out tonight, you shouldn’t have laid your hands on her.”

The demons shrieking becomes diplophonic, tune changing from angry cries to desperate, pitiful pleas.

“I did not know it was you, lord! I did not know! I would not have touched the lord’s human if I had known!”

“Shut up!” Taehyung commands, wings flaring. The demon instantly obeys, but at the sight of Taehyung’s free hand rising with what you quickly realise is a dagger, coated in flames, it returns to begging and pleading with renewed vigour.

“No, lord, please! I did not know! Please do not slay me! I will leave, I will return to the underworld! I will never near your human again! Please, lord, do not—”

“You cut her,” Taehyung hisses, fury coating each syllable. “I cannot leave you alive.”

And then, faster than you can blink, the blade is embedded in the demon’s dripping abdomen, and it takes all of a split second for its to become engulfed in the same cerulean flames that coated it. Taehyung’s grip around its neck disappears and the demon crumples to the ground with a horrid, blood-curdling scream so piercing it makes your vision blur and head throb. Blearily, you watch as the demon twists and curls, warping across the ground before the flames flare and heat washes over your skin.

And then it is gone, the scream it left behind still echoing in the air until the only thing left ringing in your ears is your own hurried, frantic heartbeat.

The silence that follows is startling, the two of you seeming to be processing exactly what just happened. You’re going to need more than a moment to properly do so, but the adrenaline rush from this near-death experience seems to be propelling you back to clear thought sooner than anticipated. Without the demon here, it’s almost as though nothing happened and you were imagining the whole thing. But then, your gaze returns to Taehyung; the very same Taehyung that stands across the room and resembles the demon more in his inhuman features than he does your usual Taehyung.

There are still the slightest tendrils of fear clinging to your heart, and where you stand you can feel the weakness of your knees—when Taehyung turns around, against the protests of a distant part of you, you can feel those tendrils flare up and clench tightly.

There is still rage rolling off his form, and you can almost sense the heat of it from where you stand with the absence of the earlier chill in the room. His expression is furious as he turns to face you, taking a step forward. Unable to help it considering what you just went through, you flinch and press to the wall, the slightest sound escaping your mouth despite your best efforts to squash it.

Immediately, Taehyung freezes. Those mismatched eyes are boring into you again but this time they’re wide, concerned as he takes in your reaction and the condition you’re in, gaze zeroing in on your collarbones. In this moment, you’re scared of him, and you can see the second he realises it. Something indiscernible yet that ripples akin to sadness pools behind his iris’, and he braves another step closer, hand outstretched—a hand with talons just like the ones that had cut you before.

“Don’t!” You feel like it’s not even you talking right now, but you can’t stop the words from coming out. So much happened, too much happened, you can feel yourself beginning to freak out as your breath begins to come quicker and quicker. You haven’t had time to process this. For the third time tonight, you feel like a cornered animal. Except, you never would have thought that it would be at the hands of Taehyung.

“D-don’t come closer! Don’t—Just… don’t…”

Your gaze hasn’t left him and you can see, almost feel the way he recoils at each word; it’s like you’ve punched him in the gut. You can’t stop though, you’re so overwhelmed and you so suddenly and intensely want to leave—you need to leave. You don’t even realise you’re shaking until you take a step, entire form trembling. Taehyung doesn’t move, eyes following you, his brows furrowed and mouth parted as though he wishes to say something. He doesn’t, though. He watches you with a sense of resignation. The sight of him still in that form, standing so painfully and undeniably there, is what pushes you over the threshold.

All of a sudden it’s too much—too much, too much, too much— and you can’t hold it back anymore. Chin wobbling, you don’t even think about the equipment or anything you’ve dropped, you can’t bring yourself to think of Taehyung, you just go. In a blur, you’re out of the room, down the creaking, rotting stairs—you’re stumbling in the fear taking hold of you but there’s something else there, a bittersweet tinge of hurt, the tiniest hint of betrayal. You don’t have time to pick it apart.

Before you know it you’ve made it down the stairs, through the ruined hall and out of the church. The night is silent, not even a cricket daring to chirp in the wake of whatever just happened. It makes you feel alone, but not the kind that you’re trying to be so desperately right now. You can’t chase the feeling away, though, as you dash for the car and start it up.

As you floor it out of there and tear onto the main highway, breath still coming quick and uneven, you can’t chase the memory of Taehyung’s crestfallen gaze as it followed you out the door, either.

a/n: pls let me know what you think and if u liked it interact with a like or rb!! It helps me know how many people have read it and how many enjoy it & how well its received!!! thank u for reading!!!

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lostinfic · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Eve (stuck) in the Lab

Chapter 12/12 *complete*

Summary: Dr. John Smith and Rose Tyler both work at the Natural History Museum in London, he’s a scientist and she works in the gift shop. They are only friends, but the upcoming staff Christmas party promises developments they’ve both been longing for. However, John and Rose end up stuck with Martha, Donna and Jack in the laboratory, and shenanigans ensue: decontamination showers, cocktails in beakers, a game of truth-or-dare and a Secret Santa rigged by meddling friends.

Tags: mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff with light angst, found family

Rating: Teen (for now) | Words:11556

@doctorroseprompts

Ao3

The click of doors unlocking interrupted their celebration and made everyone run to the railing to watch the entrance below. Kate Stewart entered the laboratory. She wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit, which must mean….

“You’re safe,” she declared.

Palpable relief washed over the group.

Rose’s stomach untangled. She covered her mouth with her hand, laughing shakily. She had to call her mum.

She turned to John, he was all loud cheers and big grin. He grabbed Rose around the waist in a hug that lifted her off the floor.

When he put her back down, his hands lingered at her waist, and hers on his shoulders.

Kate joined them up in the gallery.

She gave some scientific information they all seemed to understand except Rose. She gathered the substance was not harmful to humans.

Kate handed them an information sheet. “Just in case, be on the lookout for symptoms on this list. Call the number at the bottom if you have any concerns.”

Jack was out the door before she’d even finished talking. Martha, Donna and John left in different directions, to call relatives or pick up their coats and keys.

Rose should have hurried outside too, but she dawdled, feeling oddly nostalgic. She shut down the monitor and covered the leftover food with plastic wrap.

She was aware of John’s spearhead left on the corner of the table, but couldn’t look at it.

She felt bad for disliking it. She appreciated its monetary value, if not its sentimental one. She wished he hadn’t just picked something off his shelf; her gift dealt with in an efficient manner, then dismissed.

Donna carried Rose’s backpack from her office and up the stairs. She had something else in her hand, too.

“I thought you should know, this is what John was going to give you.”

Donna unrolled a poster with a beautiful map of the world in neon colours. She explained how he’d made it using UV light and special proteins.

It was perfect, bright and creative and just so special. Yet it only added to Rose’s frustration.

“I don’t know why he changed his mind. He really likes you, Rose.”

“But not enough to tell me himself.”

“Or so much it scares him.”

“Well, he knows where to find me if he needs help with that too.” She sighed, regretting her snark. She was tired. “I suppose it’s because of what happened to his parents.”

“What about them?”

He hadn’t confided in Donna, but he had in her. Maybe that meant something. And yet, Rose couldn’t help but remember once again how she’d fooled herself into believing Jimmy’s behaviour meant more than it did.

From the gallery, Rose could see across the lab, down into John’s office. He was still there, talking on the phone.

Her heart softened for him, as it always did.

Perhaps, for once, she should be the one going to him. In her determination to not misread any signals, she’d forgotten to send out her own.

---

As she approached the Doctor’s office, she overheard his conversation with the airline.

“Were you able to book another flight?” she asked after he’d hung up.

“Yes. Later tonight.” He hesitated. “The Mendoza team is counting on me. I can’t let them down.”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I go out of my way to avoid the street where my dad was killed.”

He nodded and offered a sympathetic smile.

“It’s important work I’m doing every year. I’m helping out labs with less means to preserve their own history.”

“I believe you. I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Drop by the shop as soon as you can. I fully expect you to use those vouchers.”

“I don’t know,” he joked, “maybe if you sweeten the deal with your employee discount.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

“Good. Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

Rose shuffled her feet and wrung her hands. John rearranged random items on his messy desk.

“I think I need your help,” she stammered.

“Yes, of course! What do you need? What can I do?”

“I’m not quite sure how to get money out of this.” She held out the spearhead.

John sprang to action. He sent her links to trusted auction sites, wrote a description of the item for her and hunted down the original authenticity certificate.

She had to stop him when he got trapped, elbow-deep in a filing cabinet.

“It’s okay. It can wait.”

“But if you get the money now, you might be able to enroll in time for the winter semester.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him.

“Did you listen to my conversation with Martha?”

“Er, well, I wasn’t listening so much as voices accidentally reached my ears.”

“Right.”

He sat on the edge of his desk, his long legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankle.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to,” he added.

“S’alright. Explains a lot actually.”

“Listen, I know some professors and uni administrators and how to get financial aid.”

“You would help me?”

“Absolutely.”

“And if university isn’t what I want? I mean, I haven’t even got my A-levels.”

He shrugged. “You deserve all your dreams to come true, whatever they are. You’re brilliant, Rose.”

No one had ever said that to her. Not this earnestly.

A lump rose in her throat.

Before she’d found something to say, he offered to walk her home.

“I live in Peckham. That’d be quite a walk.”

“Don’t care.”

---

Fresh air welcomed them outside the Museum. It felt like they’d been trapped inside for years. Early dusk painted the sky a soft lavender, and fluffy snowflakes drifted down over them.

After a few steps, John took Rose’s gloved hand. She smiled and tightened her fingers over his. They laughed shyly for no other reason than the sheer pleasure of having their affection reciprocated.

In front of the Museum’s ice rink, John babbled on about bronze-age skates made from animal shins and references to skiing found in writings of the Han dynasty, in China. Joined hands swinging between them, they laughed more than the fun facts warranted. Their hearts felt as light as the snowflakes floating down from the sky. Simply put, they were utterly giddy.

They strolled down a quiet street. Decorations twinkled in windows and relatives greeted each other at the door.

John’s pace slowed down, his gaze turned inward and unfocused.

“I think I might call my former foster family,” he said at last, glancing at Rose for approval.

“Sounds like a great idea. You were close to them?”

He nodded. “The last ones I lived with, they really encouraged me to study. I even had a sister, of sort, Sarah Jane.” He smiled at the memory. “She was a Smith too. We used to pretend we were real siblings… I should’ve kept in touch.”

“Never too late for that.”

They passed by a tube station without stopping. Street lights switched on one after the other, as if only for them. They would have to part ways soon. It was a long ride to cousin Mo’s house, and he had a flight to catch.

At the gate of a quiet garden square, Rose stopped walking. They still held hands, and she fiddled with the cuff of his jacket.

“You remembered Jack’s dare, didn’t you?” she asked him.

“Uh, vaguely. Well, most of it. Where was he keeping that mistletoe?”

Rose waited a beat, but he didn’t say anything else.

“John, you know what you were saying about helping make my dreams come true?”

“Yeah?”

He stepped closer. Her breath quickened. She licked her lips, and his gaze flicked to her mouth.

“Well, maybe there’s a dream you, uh, you could…”

“What?” His face split into a grin. He clicked his jaw. He knew full well what she was trying to say.

“You could kiss me. Shut up.”

She looked away, but John’s hand on her cheek brought her eyes back to him. He opened his mouth, probably to say something smart-arse again. Instead, Rose grabbed his scarf and pulled him down to her. Cold nose tips met pink cheeks. He laughed against her lips. Their arms wrapped around each other, bringing their bodies together, as close as their winter coats allowed.

Rose forgot the cold and the passersby, she forgot it was Christmas Eve. Her hand in his hair knocked off his beanie. A tiny whimper came from the back of his throat, and she found herself with her back to the garden gate being thoroughly kissed. It was probably a good thing they were wearing so many layers.

When they broke the kiss, he rested his forehead on hers. The clouds on their breath mingled.

“Now I regret booking another flight,” John whispered.

“You’d better not forget me whilst you’re gone, mister.” She poked him in the chest playfully.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met— I doubt I will after that kiss.”

“Let’s give you plenty to think about, then.”

She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him again. An unforgettable kiss.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #doctor x rose #Christmas fluff #finished but stay tuned for a bonus smutty chapter #lostinfic writes stuff

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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(Wo)men in Glass Houses (Branjie) - Pinkgrapefruit

A/N - now my yearly october to january hibernation is over, have a fanfiction. read by ortega and jaz and quite frankly neither of them found anything glaringly wrong with it so… enjoy lads. i swear i’ll post something of more substance soon.

I’ve been sleeping late

And if I’m speaking honestly

My dreams are the only place

The thought of you can’t bother me

Vanessa is on her back - eyes piercing holes in the ceiling. It’s white, as most ceilings are, wood chipped and bumpy. There’s a coffee-coloured stain that jeeps drawing her eyes but she’s too scared to ask how it got there. If she’s honest, she doesn’t want to know.

Her bedmate is still fast asleep or is at least doing a good job of pretending, and it’s giving Vanessa too much time to think. Her immediate thought - the one that breaks through the carefully constructed walls at the edge of her mind - is how she wishes she wasn’t awake at all. She wants to be asleep again, running through the fields of spring flowers near her childhood home in Yorkshire, blissfully unaware of the mistake sleeping next to her.

She loathes to call Brooke a mistake - but there aren’t any other words.

The covers are soft between her fingertips and her pillow smells of eucalyptus and mint and it brings her back to her train of thought. They were never meant to happen. It’s simple really, the relationship was never meant to happen. They’re a square peg in a round hole who’s too ashamed to admit it and is therefore trying to pretend it doesn’t have any corners at all and the point is - they don’t fit.

Coffee and cheese. Milk and sriracha. Piers Morgan and drag queens. No entiendo por favor.

(She truly does not understand).

They’ve been trying to change each other and like an elastic band, Vanessa just wants to snap back to how she was. She enjoyed her lazy Sundays with Riley, drowning last nights hangover in coffee just long enough to make it to brunch with Kiki and Silky. She misses her half-hearted gym sessions where she’d piss about with resistance bands and yoga balls in the studio off the side before actually doing some hip hop dancing and calling it a night. She hasn’t seen a shitty action film in months and, dare she say it, she misses bad nacho cheese.

She’s not the only one whos made ill-fated sacrifices - she can admit that - Brooke hasn’t been working late, misses her morning runs most days and only drinks chamomile when Vanessa isn’t at her house because the brunette says it smells like old people.

Drink your old people tea, Vanessa thinks in a more scathing tone than she would dare say out loud because it’s before six am and she’s in a worse mood than she thought. She looks at Brooke - her blonde hair splayed on the pillow like a halo. Fucking drink it.

And when I’m wide awake

It takes all of my energy

To tell our friends we’ve never been this happy

The thing about breakups - is if you know they’re coming, you can watch them in slow motion like a train crash.

A’keria has been watching this one for months.

It’s the sort of ‘watch and wait’ scenario that leaves her grabbing the popcorn and tucking herself into the sofa with a blanket her nan crocheted and she’s not mad about it.

So she watches the relationship go up in flames and wonders how either of them thought it would be a good idea to act on the sexual tension that’s been threading around them for years and she privately thinks that maybe she should have just set Vanessa up with her sister to save the trouble.

Because climate change has moved faster than these idiots.

Waiting for the glass house to come down

Waiting to hear that crashing sound

Waiting for the right words to tell you how

I don’t wanna be false art

They move around each other in their perfectly choreographed morning routine - not a word is spoken but they are both fed, watered and ready to go when they need to begin their walk to the office.

Their fingers are intertwined but it’s more of a perfunctory gesture than it used to be. Vanessa grabs Brooke’s hand somewhere between the offices for Walkers and Harveys. She always does.

With Brooke in a maxi dress, she looks more like a model than a lawyer and it allows Vanessa to exercise her possessive streak when a builder catcalls. They kiss bruisingly in the disabled stall before they head to their respective offices - frustrated before 9 am.

When A’keria asks how Vanessa is doing - she lifts the edge of her shirt to show the hickey embedded into her hip.

I’ve been making shit up

But I’ll come clean

I finish in the bathroom

While you fall asleep without me

Brooke stays in the bathroom after sex.

She washes herself slowly and thoroughly, as though any hint of mint shampoo left on her body would be a sin. (Brooke’s shampoo is lemon because she refuses to make her hair smell like toothpaste).

She cannot deal with post-coital cuddling today - the image of another person in her bed just too much to accept in the waning light of day. So she performs her nighttime routine twice to make sure that the summer sun has set entirely by the time she is back in the bedroom. It allows her to slide under the covers in the dark and pretend she is alone - if not for the steady exhales of Vanessa.

She is not right for Vanessa.

The brunette deserves romance and wooing and all Brooke can give is detached sex in bathrooms and bitter black coffee.

There are things she needs to unpack. A box of memories in her wardrobe that will sting more, the longer she leaves them hidden away.

She cannot love herself with enough fervour to love Vanessa.

They both know it.

So she suckles bruises onto her collarbone and calls it adoration.

And our friends they say they want this

But they don’t see

That it’s inevitable

And inevitably

“God, I want what you two have. It’s practically a romcom - friends to lovers.”

It’s harmless, just Courtney simpering as she heads towards the bar set up on the corner of the room but it makes Vanessa dig her nails into her palms so hard she worries she might break the skin.

Brooke sidles up to her - cold lithe fingers wrapping around her waist as she leans down to whisper in Vanessa’s ear.

“Bathroom, five minutes,” she whispers and then she’s gone.

Vanessa marvels at the way people interpret things they don’t understand. To most people - the blush that’s threatening to flutter across the apples of her cheeks is in response to a declaration of love, or a flirtation between sweethearts.

They can never know the detached but furious way Brooke will make Vanessa come undone while the brunette is leaning against the sink - faucet poking into the small of her back. The way she will nip red marks into the flesh of her inner thigh and then later into her bottom lip - Vanessa’s tongue carrying out its own assault on Brooke’s mouth.

For all the ways the forced romance has ruined them - the sexual tension is as thick as the day they first met.

The glasshouse to come down

Just waiting to hear that crashing sound

Waiting for the right words to tell you how

I don’t wanna be false art

Like a fairytale - their eyes met across a crowded room and that was it.

That is, of course, a lie - but it’s how they tell it.

In reality, Brooke had just moved to London from Devon and she’s booked an interview at the firm Vanessa worked HR for. Vanessa took her paperwork, A’keria noticed the spark, Brooke got the job.

They mistook sexual chemistry for romance and by the time they’d figured it out they were four months into a relationship of convenience.

Vanessa has always thought that friends with benefits was a ridiculous arrangement but men in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones and isn’t this just the kind of relationship she always scorned.

Acquaintances that share bodily fluids, a bed and invites to dinner. Someone to share secrets with and hold hands on the way to work. Someone to watch sleep in the early hours of the morning and cuddle you when you’re drunk and lonely.

Vanessa is, too often, drunk and lonely.

It’s a habit she intends to break.

Pretend we’re picture perfect

When we’re breaking beneath the surface

I don’t wanna be false art

They break up on a Sunday and finally, Vanessa can agree it’s a day of peace.

It can hardly be considered a breakup from her perspective - the only emotions left to untangle are Vanessa’s towards Brooke’s cats. It’s cold, clean and incredibly reminiscent of Brooke herself - cold, clean, perfect.

Icy.

In a twenty minute sweep of her apartment - every hint of the tall blonde is gone.

Make love like we deserve it

To cover up what’s hurting

I don’t wanna be false art

She makes a cup of coffee, inhaling the scent that reminds her so vividly of university and youth, and drinks it by her window. She plays her music loud.

She refuses to have any regrets.

I don’t wanna be false art

#rpdr fanfiction #pinkgrapefruit #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #akeria davenport #angst #song fic #lesbian au #(wo)men in glass houses #barest hints of smut if you call talking about hickeys smut #look im not here to cheer you up #my triumphant return is a songfic about branjie being unhappy #its like i never left #thanks V (you’re a legend)#concrit welcome #(how I've missed you and your tags...xoxo -v)#submission

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kellbellsparkles · 3 years ago

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A Ratchet x Talwyn one shot story called "Special Child" told through the eyes of their special needs hybrid daughter, Reena

Hello. My name is Reena Pan Apogee Dipper. I'm almost five-years-old. I live with my Mommy, Daddy, and bestest friend, my Uncle Clank. We're always together. They tell me I'm a very special child. It makes me happy when they're happy. That's why I try not to cry when I feel pain. They give me a special medicine everyday to make it go away. It helps when they hug me and kiss me, too.

Daddy made me a super comfy chair on wheels that's my favorite color: red. He added seats and seatbelts for my teddies so we can play and be together forever. I love my blankie my Mommy gave me. Mommy and Daddy said, "it's a ray of sunshine for our ray of sunshine".

I would like it if I could play with the other kids. We could ride down a hill like the roller coasters I've seen on TV. I wonder if Daddy could help me walk like he made my chair for me all by himself. I decided that's what I want for my birthday.

I asked Daddy, "Daddy, can you make me a way to walk for my birthday?"

He didn't say yes or no. He petted my head and put Uncle Clank on my lap.

"How about Uncle Clank tells you a story before bedtime?"

"But Daddyyyy…."

I didn't understand why he didn't answer me. He just wheeled me to my bed, unbuckled my seatbelts, picked me up, and tucked me in.

"I love you, sunshine," Daddy said. He kissed my head

"I love you, too, Daddy…."

He left and closed the door. I had Uncle Clank with me, but I was still sad and confused.

"What's happening, Uncle Clank? Why did Daddy do that?"

Uncle Clank held my hand.

"Reena," he said. His eyes looked so sad to me. "Your Mommy and Daddy love you very much. They want you to have a happy, healthy life."

"I know," I said. "But Daddy didn't answer my question."

"You are going to be five tomorrow, yes?"

"Uh huh."

"I think it is important for you to know the truth now so you can better understand when you are older. Your Mommy and Daddy are different from one another. Your birth is unlike anything the universe has ever seen. It has come with its set of challenges that children will never know or should have to know."

"But challenges are meant to be won."

"Sometimes. You are not wrong, Reena. However, some challenges are too great and too difficult to defeat. Your Mommy and Daddy don't always let you have what you want to teach you discipline and to appreciate what you have. At other times, they are absolutely unable to give you what you want."

"Unable to? Even if they really wanted to?"

"That is correct."

I could feel myself about to cry even though I made a self promise not to.

"So I may never be able to walk? Or play with the other kids?"

"There will be a way for you to play with the other kids. I know there will. I promise. It is just your Mommy and Daddy are very protective of you and have not seen a way to make play time safe for you and they fear the other kids will not understand."

"Sure they'll understand. They all seem so nice and look like they're having fun all the time."

Then, I heard Mommy crying in the hall.

"Oh dear," Uncle Clank said. He tried to take out my hearing aids, but I didn't let him. I held my hands over my ears.

"Don't take them!" I begged.

"But children should not be concerned by their parents's worries. They are not your responsibility."

"But--"

"Talwyn," I heard Daddy say. "It's going to be okay."

"Please stop saying that!" I heard Mommy cry. "We both know it's my fault she's like this!"

"That's in the past. We need to focus on what we can do for her now."

"What we're doing now isn't getting rid of the curse! She doesn't deserve to live the rest of her life in agony! Isn't it terrible that her own mother is thinking she'd be better off in heaven?? Just say it!!"

Clank hugged me suddenly.

"Do not mind them," he told me. "They are having an adult conversation."

Curse. Heaven. Those words played over and over in my head.

"Uncle Clank?" I said. "Am I cursed?"

He laid down with me, still hugging me.

"Reena, what I am about to tell you must be our secret, alright? Your Mommy and Daddy never wanted you to know this."

I hugged Uncle Clank back tightly. I had never felt so scared in my life.

"Okay, Uncle Clank."

"Before you were born, your Mommy and Daddy did not always get along. Your mother turned to a drug that made her bad feelings disappear, but it didn't make them stay away. That's what drugs do: they make us think you feel better but they do the exact opposite and make us hurt the ones we love."

"That's exactly what Captain Qwark said."

"And he is absolutely right. What do we do when someone offers us alcohol or an unknown substance?"

"We say no!"

"That is a good girl."

Uncle Clank stroked my hair. I always love it when he, Daddy, and Mommy do that.

"When the drug lost its effect," Uncle Clank added. "Your Mommy entered a dangerous and illegal racing competition to the death. Think of any possible bad thing a criminal can do, they gathered there."

"But Mommy wasn't a criminal…. Was she?"

"She was not. The race also attracted lost people with no help and nowhere to go. She was alone and could have been killed at any moment. At the same time, you were in her tummy. A competitor cast a spell on you while you were still inside. The spell was that you could never die, even if you were to be born too soon. That is exactly what happened. If not for the spell, then you most certainly would not have had a chance to live."

"But Mommy called it a curse. Why?"

My chest started to hurt.

"Should I be alive?"

"Reena," Uncle Clank said in a very gentle voice. "Sweetie, none of this is your fault. Maybe it will help if I ask you this: do you like being alive?"

"Of course! I have you, Mommy, Daddy, and my toys! I don't care if I can never walk or have to keep taking medicine! I want to stay with everyone!"

I broke my promise and cried. Uncle Clank kept stroking my hair.

"Do you know what else?" he said. "You get to have birthday cake. What is your favorite type of cake again?"

"Ch-chocolate cheesecake."

"It is really yummy, yes?"

"Mmhm…."

"And you know what compliments birthday cake? A scoop of ice cream. What is your favorite kind of ice cream?"

"Cotton candy."

"And what do you like to drink?"

"Strawberry kiwi lemonade!"

I started to feel tons better and be excited for my birthday again.

"Oh dear," Uncle Clank said. "I feel like I am forgetting what else happens on a birthday. Could you help me remember, Reena?"

"Presents!! And singing Happy Birthday and blowing out the candles!! Smashing a pinata and getting all the candy that falls out!! Playing Pin the tail on the Flabberfish!!"

"Oh yes, that is right. But I feel there is one thing missing. Before all that, what are we going to have for lunch?"

"Pizzaaaaaaaa!!"

"And I just so happen to have acquired the ten coupons needed for a single large cosmic crust pizza. With stuffed crust."

"Eeeeee!!"

Me and Uncle Clank hummed and giggled all happy and excited for my birthday. I want it to be the best birthday ever for my Mommy and Daddy, too.

#ratchet and clank #ratchet and talwyn

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thomas-reynolds · 3 years ago

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CAUGHT UP // 001

WHO: Griffin x Jamie x Thomas WHERE: The apartment. TW/NOTES: Nsfw. Griff and Tommy-boy come home early from the bar thanks to Griffin’s heavy drinking, and catch Jamie in the act with some dude. Things get heated and not in the fun way, and they end up a little worse for wear.

JAMIE ::

"My place doesn't work." Those four fateful words would normally leave Jamie shrugging and moving on to the next guy. It was a night out, after all, and he didn't have to take home the first hot guy he found. But this one was so hot. Taller than him, but just slightly. Bright blue eyes and a come and get me grin. Maybe it was more the attitude than the looks, and maybe James had downed one too many gold rushes. Maybe it was the fact that it was the beginning of summer, and hot was taking on multiple meanings here. James couldn't put his finger on what the hell it was that made him say these bolds words, but he heard himself saying them all the same. "Let's go back to my place." A husky whisper in the other guy's ear, and the two of them tumbled out of the club and into a cab.

Jamie lost his shirt at the front door, a solid thud echoing through the place as he was backed against it, and then a moan as his hookup- David? Daniel? kissed along his neck, his hands moving lower. "Don't leave a mark." He was already living dangerously. Odds were that Thomas and Griffin wouldn't randomly end up coming back home, but you could never be too careful. Now that he'd gotten that one stipulation out of the way, it was all too easy to let go and focus on the feelings. This would only ever happen once, and since he was already damned anyway, he might as well make the most of it.

More clothes were shed as they made their way to a bedroom. He didn't stop to shut the door, his hands too busy roaming Daryl's body to think of such a mundane detail. He didn't need to prepare himself much before he situated himself on top, sinking down onto the beautiful man's cock and thoroughly enjoying the view. He was close when everything went south. It was nice, having the place to himself, not needing to bother with being quiet. He was breathing hard by this point, choosing expletives that he wouldn't be caught dead saying in church instead of accidentally moaning the wrong name.

GRIFFIN ::

Getting kicked out of a bar was not new for Griffin Rollins, but getting kicked out just after nine o’clock was impressive. Or embarrassing, if he had any shame left, but he didn’t seem to, not with the way Thomas’ lecture was just rolling off his back. He could probably recite the speech back to him at this point - y’know, when he could string a sentence together without slurring. It probably meant something that the barkeep knew to call Thomas - his roommate, yes; his buddy, sure; but decidedly not a loved one, not his significant other - but that was the nice thing about being this hammered: Griffin could blissfully ignore all the flashing neon signs from the universe that he was, in fact, still a fuck-up.

That same universe was spinning by the time the men reached their front door, the dark-haired one making a valiant effort to retrieve his keys only for his hand to be impatiently batted away. As they stepped into their place, Griffin moaned out a curse - or, he thought he did, but it didn’t sound like himself. And it was coming from the wrong direction.

His eyes flashed over to Thomas’ face, trying to decipher what the fuck was going on, and he looked as far from happy as he had when he’d showed up at the bar, but now the daggers weren’t being directing at Griffin. The blonde was looking past him, and it took a carefully-executed turn to discover what he was looking at: a naked hottie riding a cock in Pearson’s bed. Griffin’s liquor-fogged mind took what felt like an eon to realize that was bad, for two reasons. 1) The naked hottie was not Thomas’ sister, and 2) The naked hottie was Pearson.

Griffin’s fingers immediately fisted in the front of Thomas’ shirt, partially in an attempt to keep him exactly where he was, and partially to keep himself upright. “Hey, hey, Tommy, hey -”

THOMAS ::

Getting the call shouldn’t have come as any sort of surprise. After all, Thomas took more phone calls regarding Griffin’s health and well-being than he’s sure Griffin’s own mother ever took. Picked him up from enough bars, enough gutters, even football practice when they were teens and his mom conveniently ‘forgot’ him at the school. Typically, Thomas wore the eternal baby-sitter badge like a medal of honor - used it to badger and annoy Griffin into some semblance of shame when he was even a modicum of sober. Now though, when Thomas himself had been getting his feet wet at the bar, a young brunette with too dark lipstick and overly straightened hair, but big enough breasts to be worth his effort practically hanging off of his arm - now it was annoying.

Even when it was more tolerable, Thomas didn’t let Griffin think otherwise anyway, but still. The point still stands, he thought, staring at the doors of a crusty old bar that screamed ‘burn your clothes when you leave here’ and definitely had enough bikers and hookers outside to make your grandmother faint on impact. Convincing the bouncer to not knock his friend’s head in was simple enough, it was actually the waitress whom Griffin palmed on the way out that seemed to cause the most trouble - and by the time they were on the way back to the apartment, drunken hands pulling at the collar of Thomas’ shirt (and stretching out the goddamned hole), Thomas had almost begun his ranting on auto pilot.

A little, “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? Like a fucking gutter rat. What the fuck were you drinking anyway? You smell like fucking paint-thinner --” The words died on Thomas’ lips, cheeks, ears and chest heating in a way that would make him worry that he’s finally going six feet under (and maybe he is, if his blood pressure could go any higher), and it reminded him of the time he got incredibly crossfaded at Brittany Deering’s party back in 10th grade and blacked out in her bathtub for a few hours, barely avoiding being puked and pissed on by fellow students in the same position as him. It took him entirely too quickly, Thomas’ body moving on its own accord, Griffin’s hands pawing at him like a cheap stripper, and Pearson’s wide open door looked like a gateway to Heaven, or at the very least a convenience store with the automatic slider-doors jammed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Thomas’ voice didn’t sound like his own, but he supposed that it was difficult to even hear properly with all of the blood rushing through his ears, “I will kill you.” The thump in his chest had nothing to do with the fact that his best friend was clearly cheating on his sister with some...some fruity weirdo with floppy hair and stupidly blue eyes, but he was bound and determined to ignore that little fact - ignore the voice that said just tell him already and instead, encouraged the one that said, he’s got a nice neck for strangling.

“This is what you do when we’re not here? Fool around with discount Matthew McConaughey?” It definitely wasn’t a snarl, if you asked Thomas, but the clenching fist at his side, the one not hanging onto Griffin’s half-dead body, promised something lethal.

JAMIE ::

“Fuuuuck-“ turned into “Oh, fuck” entirely too quickly for Jamie’s liking. He was off that dick quicker than he’d moved in a long time. Hastily looking over his shoulder and seeing Thomas’ face twisted in rage should have killed his hard on in an instant, but it didn’t. He’d blame that on how hot Damon was and how far along into their hookup they’d been. “Fuck off Thomas, you two were supposed to be out, anyway!” He stepped into his underwear quickly, pulling on a pair of pants hastily as well. “What the fuck?” Danny was dazed, understandably confused that all of the sudden their hookup for two was now a foursome. Then, “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No!” James replied immediately, forcing a look of disgust at the mere thought of it. Or at least, his best attempt. “You need to go.” There was no salvaging this hookup, unfortunately, and he was just glad that he’d managed to make it to his own room so sweatpants were readily available. Damian had apparently gotten the point and was quickly getting redressed as well. Thomas was still mad, and honestly it was probably best to just let him be mad instead of trying to placate him. Trying that would only make it worse. Nah, he was gonna let the anger run its course and then let it go. But then it hit him, and all the color drained from his face. “You can’t tell her.” The thought of that happening made him want to throw up, and he moved a little closer, eyes wide and a little scared even as he tried to hide it. “It was nothing. Just blowing off some steam, and it doesn’t even count, you wouldn’t have known because you two were supposed to be out!” His gaze turned accusingly to Griffin for a second, and it didn’t take long to piece together what had happened. “And besides, Griffin is drunk, clearly we have bigger problems to worry about.” Yeah, pull focus. Dawson could sneak out while the two of them had a serious talk with Griffin about substance use. Jamie’s gaze flashed to Griffin again. He couldn’t decide which one of them to look at at this point. Griffin was most likely to take his side here, so he probably shouldn’t have just thrown him under the bus.

GRIFFIN ::

Griffin managed a small, two-finger salute to Jamie’s date as he passed by, clothing in his arms - or maybe it looked like he was putting a gun to his own temple, which also seemed applicable. His eyes followed the stranger’s naked ass until it disappeared into the bathroom, just in time to detect his name tumbling into this shitshow. “‘m always drunk,” he shot back in what he genuinely believed to be a solid defense. “Dsn’t count.”

God, he just wanted to be on a horizontal surface, even if it was Jamie’s bed of iniquity, and he considered making a move toward it until his last brain cell insisted that his deadweight was likely the only thing keeping Thomas anchored in place. If he could just defuse this disaster of a situation, he knew the blonde would get him into his own bed. Or the couch. Or at least onto the kitchen floor with a towel for a blanket.

“Tommy, Tommy, TommyTommyTommy, listen ... listen t’ me ... your sisterdsn’t have a dick!” he offered, finally releasing the other man’s shirt in order to wave his hands in a messy what’re-ya-gonna-do gesture. By his incredibly flawed, alcoholic logic, if Pearson wanted to fuck a dude - and understandably so, dudes being as hot as they were - he couldn’t go to Thomas’ sister. No harm, no ... whatever.

THOMAS ::

Thomas steadily ignored his own feline-reminiscent hiss as Hunky Brewster walk-of-shame’d his way out of their apartment, passing it off as some sort of controlling his temper, or silently letting out a prayer to the God he didn’t believe in but heard enough about from Jamie. The heat turned to ice in the pit of his glorious, god-like abdomen after every single ‘Tommy’ that left his friend’s mouth, “Griff, shut your fucking mouth -- and you,” He practically spit, pulling both himself and Griffin closer to the blonde in the bedroom like a boat and a buoy toward the middle of a storm, “It’s not cheeeeeeating as long as you don’t get caaaaught.” Thomas mocked his friend as the storm seemed to settle inside of his own chest, thunder and lightning begging to be let out through some sort of violence.

“I’m going to kick your ass - and then, I’m going to call my sister, and she’s going to come over here and kick your ass, you stupid, useless moron.” The dark feelings seemed to bubble and burst all in one quick second, and if Thomas could have taken a breath and really looked at the situation for what it was, and the jealousy that seemed to eat at him, the conflict likely could have been avoided. But the thick stench of sweat and alcohol from Griffin, and the same aroma from Jamie’s room seemed to override any sort of consideration that Thomas could have provided. And with that, he dropped Griffin like a sack of fucking potatoes and darted for Jamie’s face, hissing when his hit landed. Thomas was too busy cradling his knuckles to know if he’d even hit his damned target, but the swelling would be worth it if he’d gotten to cause Jamie some sort of agony he’d have to live for the next few days too. Once the blind rage passed and Thomas was left shaking, clutching his wrist like grandmother’s prized fucking pearls, he finally bit words for Griffin instead, “I don’t care that my sister doesn’t have a goddamned dick - she’s - he spouts all of this holier-than-thou bullshit that he doesn’t even follow! He just committed sodomized, pre-marital sex! And he wasn’t even on top!”

The words felt hysterical, and the laughter that left Thomas wasn’t one filled with any sort of joy; it was hollow and empty, or maybe not empty, but only filled with envy and anger. He darted for Jamie again, hissing between his teeth.

JAMIE ::

James wasn’t sure when he realized that there wouldn’t be any coming back from this. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Thomas this pissed, and that was saying something. Hell, in the past, he’d helped talk Thomas down from being this pissed at someone else. Now the fury was totally directed at him, and he fought the instinct to move back as Thomas dragged himself and Griffin closer. He wasn’t a coward. “It’s not cheating if I don’t even know his name!” It was. It absolutely was, but he’d learned from the best how to navigate with a broken moral compass. This was quite literally a situation of how what someone didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He’d done this for years, from hurried hookups behind the bleachers to an empty dugout, sneaking out at midnight and meeting someone he’d used to go to Sunday school with. It was a sin, sure, but he wasn’t gay. He went to confession after every incidence, and he was forgiven. It was just that simple.

“Don’t,” he warned, his expression going from worried to murderous. “Tell her, Thomas, and I swear to God.” Might as well add taking the Lord’s name in vain. Today couldn’t possibly be any worse. In that moment, the bubble burst. It occurred to him briefly that Thomas could have set Griffin down nicely, but then it was too late as he felt pain exploding across his cheek. Thomas packed a pretty decent punch, even if he didn’t much look like it. For the moment, he resigned himself to it, didn’t hit back even though his fist balled up by his side and he wanted to. He’d stumbled back after the initial punch, but he regained his footing. And then Thomas was talking again, listing off all the big sins, sins that were meant to be kept in private, in the confessional booth, just him and the priest. That alone made him itch with rage, but he held back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he didn’t really want to hurt Thomas. But then he laughed and it all went to hell. He surged forward at the same time Thomas did, and they collided. “Fuck. You!” He threw the next punch, hoping to land a matching shiner, putting his full force behind it. He didn’t care anymore. “It doesn’t count as pre-marital,” he growled, “if it’s not a possibility to marry.” He still couldn’t make himself use the right pronoun.

GRIFFIN ::

Now, granted, he had been wanting to lie down, but hurtling to the hardwood without any warning hadn’t exactly been ideal. Griffin laid there, still more or less grateful to be off his feet, listening to an argument that probably would have seemed a fuckton more intense if it hadn’t sounded so underwater. He even missed the first punch, arm thrown over his eyes as he willed the room to knock it off with the spinning - but he did here the telltale sound of two bodies colliding, and forced himself up onto his elbows. And then onto his knees. And then onto his feet.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey -“ The man had exactly one word in his vocabulary at the moment, which he repeated as he stumbled over to a mound of limbs made up of his two best friends. He was already pushing it, with the walking, but the attempt to pull one of the guys off the other almost knocked him right back of his feet. He survived, though - until a rogue fist that may or may not have been meant for him caught him right in the gut. He reeled back, taking one, two, three steps towards the door before doubling-over and vomiting in the corner of Jamie’s room.

Well, it had been inevitable. At least now that part of the night was over. “HEY.” There he was. Still just as unsteady on his feet, but with renewed frustration, Griffin threw himself back into the mix.

THOMAS ::

"You probably wish you could! I'm pretty fantastic!" Thomas screamed over the man, attempting to shove Jamie, and petulantly ignoring Griffin until the guy practically took an arrow for him, projectile vomiting in the same space as them. "Nice fucking job - punching the fucking drunk. Want to talk to God about that too? You like things in your ass and you hit your best friend!"

Griffin managed to get between them and Thomas couldn't help the muttered, "You fucking reek, dude-" that left him, his arm reaching out to swing wildly at Jamie over the other man's shoulder. How ridiculous, they must have looked, three grown men throwing punches and shouting expletives at one another in the middle of the night. If the neighbors banging on the wall were anything to go by, they probably agreed with him.

"Don't touch me - don't you fucking," Thomas hissed as a spare slap managed to get him right in the nose, rust immediately dripping over the bottom portion of his face, "I'm going to tell her so fucking hard, you son of a bitch," He whined around the hand cupping his nose and mouth, practically shielding himself with Griffin's larger body. "I can't stand you two - I - it smells like shit in here," The babbling continued, even though he really couldn't smell anything with his nose full of blood clots.

JAMIE ::

“I was on top!” Jamie insisted, shoving back at Thomas. He really hadn’t intended to punch Griffin, but he was the one who’d ended up throwing himself in between the two of them. What did he think was going to happen. “I was aiming for you, asshole!” His blood was really boiling right now, and Jesus, how had this night managed to go so horribly wrong? It had started out hot and fun and devolved into, well, whatever this shit show was.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned as he heard Griffin lose his dinner in the corner of his room. Add that to the list of shit that he didn’t want to deal with. He’d be cleaning it up, of course, because Griffin clearly wasn’t in any state to, and he didn’t want his room to smell like puke while he waited for Griffin to sober up and handle it. The one last slap was admittedly satisfying, but he had to calm down. He had bigger problems on his hands. He had to convince Thomas not to tell her.

It occurred to him way too quickly what he had to do, the only way he was going to appeal to Thomas’ sense of reason. “Fine!” He shouted numbly. “Tell her. But who else do you think is going to be with her? We break up, she ends up an old fucking spinster for the rest of her life. Is that what you want for her? Huh?” He gave one more shove to prove his point. “You tell her, and you break her fucking heart. And for what? Because I’m getting a little on the side that she can’t give me? I’m the perfect boyfriend, Thomas. She won’t get better than me, and you know it.”

GRIFFIN ::

Somehow managing to dodge what could have been a really unfortunate elbow, Griffin was perfectly content with standing between his roommates now that things had boiled over and resolved into a simmer; still hot, still able to burn, but not quite as active. The shouting, he was pretty desensitized to. Between the three of them, someone was perpetually shouting at the other two, or two were shouting at each other, or two were shouting at one (he was usually the one, and he was usually inebriated). It was a special occasion when the trio were all shouting, though, which is normally what got the neighbors involved. Griffin reached over to land his fist on the wall three or four times, acknowledging their neighbor’s participation.

His back was turned to Thomas, who, though taller, was probably less of a real physical threat. As a result, he missed the bloody nose, but he did catch sight of Jamie’s split lip and the scarlet mark that was going to bloom into one hell of a bruise. “Better tell ‘er ya got mugged,” he suggested, finally throwing over a glance over his shoulder to survey the damage that was Thomas’ face. “Botha you. Ah, fuck, are you bleedinon my shirt?!”

Griffin was quiet for the rest of Jamie’s tirade, mostly because this was not his fight, but also because he was on both of their sides, so far as thinking the other was a royal fucking asshole. Kate was the closest thing he had to a sister, and he didn’t love the idea of her getting fucked over, but he would have been smart enough to not let an asshole like James anywhere near her to start with. And furthermore, he’d mean what he’d said, inarticulate as it may have been; monogamy was a societal construct, sexuality was a spectrum, and this was probably the best case scenario for both of them, really. Kate got to seriously level up in the boyfriend department, and Jamie got a doting woman on his arm for the sake of appearances.

“I think,” he opined on a big sigh, running a hand through his hair as though he was going to lay down some actual wisdom - but that wasn’t his brand. “I think that we should get nachos.”

THOMAS ::

Clicking his tongue, Thomas swished the copper around in his mouth, glaring daggers at his roommate. He probably looked like he'd been bobbing for apples in fake blood at this point, but it felt oddly satisfying to look a little deranged compared to his normal well-kempt state. "Should I let her be with a cheater and a liar anyway? Yeah, real fucking smart, asshole --" Even with Griffin's knocking effectively breaking the tension, the neighbors yelling back through the wall, there was something still boiling under the surface.

Something volatile, something that went by the name Jade.

"You don't need any nachos," He murmured, somewhat numb, yet manic. Auto-pilot had taken over, his palm running over his face, and Thomas wiped the mess on the back of Griffin's shirt. Eyes never leaving Jamie's, Thomas slowly slipped forward face impassive, blank. "One more thing," Oddly calm, Thomas reached out with a gentle, blood-smeared hand and laid the palm of it on Jamie's shoulder. He let the moment settle, let the silence take over for a moment, until it was bordering on confusing, before throwing himself forward and headbutting the man in turn, immediate pain blossoming behind his forehead, and spraying them both with his now-unclotted nose. "Bitch," he snarled under the waterfall of blood, before groaning and taking a hasty step back toward his drunken friend, ready to use him as a shield again if need be.

JAMIE ::

"Why, so you can throw 'em up in a different part of my room?" He usually had the decency to at least make it to a communal space, and yeah, James was still a little pissed that he needed to be taken home at all when the two of them had planned to be out and about for the night. It was a valiant effort, trying to get the two of them back on the same side so they could stop with the arguing, but deep down, Jamie knew this wasn't the kind of fight that Thomas would just get over. He'd fucked up, big time, and now instead of facing the music, he was doubling down. It had all seemed so innocent, harmless even, when it was just him and the flavor of the night. If what's his name that started with a D hadn't been so fucking hot, maybe this whole thing could have been avoided.

He ventured a glance at Thomas, partially hating himself for the fact that he'd messed up such a pretty face, but a small little part of himself was satisfied at the damage done. Served him right. How fucking hard would it have been to just turn around and go somewhere else for ten minutes? By that point, the hookup would have been kicked out, and they could all pretend that it had never happened. Jamie could have been blissfully ignorant, and honestly, that was one of the most underrated states a person could be in.

When Thomas put a hand on his shoulder, he tried to keep his expression neutral. As much as he hated to admit it, that hand on his shoulder had grounded him many times in the past, and its presence was all tied up with feelings of comfort and safety, feelings he definitely wasn't getting just now. Sure as shit, next came the sucker punch in the form of a headbutt, and the "Ow!" was almost equal parts pain and surprise. "Asshole!" he groaned, and he couldn't even get to him without Griff getting involved again. "Griffin, just get out of here. This is between me and him, and some of us can't take a hit." Unfortunately for him, all of the hits were starting to take a toll.

GRIFFIN ::

“Ahhrgh, God damn it,” he growled as he felt Thomas’ hand smear his bodily fluids down his back, rolling his shoulders in discomfort before yanking his shirt off, rolling it into a ball and tossing it out into the hall. At least the blonde’s shirt was just as fucked, he noticed, attention on the slightly taller man as he approached James. Good, fine, Thomas would say his final piece and then everyone could just - “Fuck!”

Before he could fully process the sudden movement and the accompanying spray of gore, Thomas has slipped behind him and he was staring down Jamie, the youngest of their dysfunctional little crew. “C’mon, Jay, jus-go lay down,” he muttered, intending to give a good-natured push to the kid’s chest, but still intoxicated enough to not know his own strength. The adrenaline he didn’t realize had been streaming through his system turned it into a fully aggressive shove, and Griffin felt the muscles in his shoulders tense as some part of him anticipated retaliation. Blue eyes flashed. “Go ta’ bed, Jamie.”

THOMAS ::

"Suck my dick, Pearson--" Dark pupils dilated at the shove, watching with intense interest. It wasn't often that Jamie and Griffin disagreed wholeheartedly, or at the very least enough to get into a physical altercation. Usually it was Thomas gravitating toward the violence, toward harsh words that stung and bit at insecurities - usually he was the flint and steel basking at either of his friends' heels.

Still, it ignited something in him, to see Griffin shove the younger man, even if unintentionally. While they all agreed to disagree at who really was whose best friend, Thomas liked to believe he was just as much of a fire as he was the glue keeping them together. "You shoved him, man," The words were weirdly tense, odd even to himself, in the quiet of the room. "You gonna take that?" Blue eyes flick to Jamie's.

JAMIE ::

For a second, he considered it. He wasn't going to just lay down, but getting himself to a different room, where they kept the cleaning supplies probably, and doing something else was probably the best way to handle this. But then he shoved him, hard, as if to make sure to drive his point home. "Seriously?" he demanded, his own gaze accusing.

"You're seriously gonna take his side? I woulda come to get you too, and then none of this would have happened." He shoved back, not knowing or caring if Thomas was close enough to catch him. "You go to bed. I have someone else's mess to clean up, as usual." The puke in the corner of the room wasn't going anywhere, after all.

GRIFFIN ::

As he stumbled back into Thomas, Griffin’s ego maintained that he never would have budged if he’d been sober. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t; really, how often was he truly sober, so there wouldn’t be exactly an opportunity to find out. If he’d been sober, he also probably wouldn’t have lunged for Jamie, taking him out at the waist and forcing him to collapse onto his own mattress. “Said, LAY DOWN,” he repeated, scrambling to straddle the man’s hips, and trying to grab at his wrists. “Enough!”

The word was paired with a death glare to Thomas, who may not have been pinned under him, but only because it was physically impossible for Griffin to sedate both of them at once. “You’re both douchebags!”

“I called you,” he muttered after a moment, still slap-fighting James for submission. “You were busy.” It was completely lost on the brunette, of course, that his current position wasn’t terribly different from the way they’d stumbled upon Jamie a few minutes before.

THOMAS ::

Despite the urge to cover his throbbing nose from any more of the crossfire, Thomas stood back from the other two men, eyes dark and irritable. Thomas was the reliable one - was the man you called when you needed someone to get you out of a mess, or pick you up at the bar on a Friday night at 9pm because you were so drunk you couldn't see straight. He was the ultimate provider, the best friend any guy could ask for. Clearly, Griffin appreciated that more than Jamie.

"Am I interrupting?" He blinked his eyelashes prettily, words mocking as they left his lips. His shirt was the only one left on, and it was...incredibly sticky at that point, if he was being honest. With a grimace, he plucked at the collar, hissing when his hand came away sore. He would be bruised and battered, and rough the following day - no amount of cover-up was going to suffice to hide the giant bowling ball of a bruise on his head, or the massive swelling of his nose. He'd talk like a fucking Lollipop Guild member for a week at this rate.

"I went to pick up this clown while you were out here blowing some guy." Thomas stuck his chin up, defiant despite the angry look sent to him by Griffin, who was oddly being the sensible one (not that Thomas would ever admit that. To anyone. Ever.)

JAMIE ::

James was honestly taken aback by Griffin's sudden lunge in his general direction. He was stupidly effective for being drunk, and Jamie wanted to be mad about it, but he was suddenly distracted by how Griffin was just on top of him like this. He blamed that on the surprise of it all as well. Griffin never would have gotten him into this position if James had seem him coming.

Ignoring the insult, he frowned when Griffin mentioned that he had called him. "Well, what the hell." He could have sworn he would have noticed a phone call from his best friend, but apparently hookup's dick game was too strong. Usually he was much more reliable than this. "Shut the fuck up, Thomas," he said, and the only reason that Griffin was still on top of him was because he didn't want to hurt him on accident. Again.

His face hurt and he wanted to either drink or take some ibuprofen or both and clean up the fucking mess that was still in the corner of his room. "Christ, get off me, Griffin." Why was he the one being restrained instead of Thomas? Thomas started this shit. He gave a considering expression before going for Griffin's ticklish spot instead, hoping the sudden distraction would give him some leeway to get out from under him and back toward his original target who couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his own damn life. "I didn't blow him, I was on fucking top!"

GRIFFIN ::

If he’d been able to read the other man’s thoughts, he probably would have chuckled, the low one that was particularly disarming when it was paired with his trademark sideways smirk. Sure, they’d blame it on the “surprise” and not the decade of running tackle drills before and after school, five days a week. Drunk as he was, muscle memory was a hell of a thing.

That, and puking up a stomach full of bourbon.

“Wash up, look like a fuckin’ horror movie,” Griffin ordered in Thomas’ general direction, not moving a muscle, not just yet. If the two of them were going to lunge at each other again, he could sit right there all night - or at least until the hazy, spinny kind of sleep that went along with being this sloshed came to claim him. “You, jus’ stop talking,” he muttered, quieter considering that James was only so far away from him. “Nobody cares ‘fya sucked a dick, Pearson.”

When he eventually slid from the younger man’s waist, Griffin moaned in relief at the feel of a mattress beneath him, bribing his body to move with the promise that if he stretched out just the slightest bit, he’d finally be able to close his eyes. “Why’s yer bed so nice?”

THOMAS ::

A flash of something dark flickered over Thomas' face, his struggle with authority desperately trying to rear its head. With a calming breath, he tried to pull that little voice inside of his head that sounded like his dumb, quack sister that reminded him about breathing exercises and adrenaline. After counting to 10, Thomas gingerly pulled his collared shirt over his head, the polo wet with moisture and a stink of dried blood. Scrunching his nose, he dropped the offending garment into Jamie's hamper, on top of clothes probably covered in some dude's jizz. "Looks like you have a roommate tonight," He pointed out helpfully, making his way toward the bathroom.

He was back a quick moment later, having procured the small cleaning caddy from under the bathroom sink, including the hand-held spot cleaner. It was uncanny, how many times they'd had to clean up 90% alcohol-vomit, and Thomas hated that he'd grown so used to it after 15-odd years of knowing these morons. "Take your shoes off, you heathen," Thomas spit at Griffin without much effort behind it, focused instead on cleaning the puddle out of the corner of Jamie's room.

After scrubbing for a few odd minutes, and one glare in Griffin's direction later, Thomas picked himself back up, knees aching with the effort of the movement. He was getting old. He stored the cleaning products back in the cabinet and found himself leaning against the doorframe when he re-entered the room. "What food do you want, Griff?" Thomas asked, placated and quiet after the fall-out of so much drama. Getting his face bashed in was a reset button, apparently. Annoying, but effective. "I'm not dealing with the whininess when you're hung over tomorrow."

JAMIE ::

"He started it," James muttered in response when Griffin told him to stop talking. It was juvenile, but he couldn't help it. This whole thing could have been avoided about six ways to Sunday. If Griffin hadn't gotten drunk, if Thomas hadn't immediately started raging about it, if he hadn't brought someone home in the first place. It was pretty clear that they were all partially to blame for this shit show, but the petty side of him wanted to be the one that ended it.

He still had no idea if Thomas was going to tell Kate, but that seemed like a problem for future Jamie. For now, he just wanted to wallow in his failed hookup. He figured that since he hadn't even gotten the chance to get off from this one, there wasn't really a need to do any sort of confessional. Jamie scoffed at Griffin's next words. God cared if he sucked a dick, which also, he hadn't. "Don't tell anyone." These words were directed at both of them, quiet, yet deeply meaningful. He didn't know what he'd do if people found out. Hell, his two best friends had just found out, and he wasn't exactly sure what to do about it.

Jamie had no idea where Thomas was going when he headed out of his room, and a part of him wondered if he was going to make that phone call. Anxiety prickled all over his body, and he had to remind himself to breathe. A moment before he was going to get up and follow him, Thomas came back with the cleaning supplies. A begrudging "Thanks," rolled off his lips as he sat up in bed to address Thomas' next words. Rolling onto his knees, he took off one shoe and tossed it out into the hallway, landing with a thunk. The other came next, tossed in the same general direction. "PB&J?" he asked Griffin, knowing that it'd be best to go for something easier on the stomach.

GRIFFIN ::

This was how the world worked for Griffin Rollins, the way it had always worked. He did what he wanted to do, it made a fucking mess, he smiled and fumbled his way into some unintentional wit, and it all ended up being taken care of ... usually by one of the two bloodied men who were currently milling around the room, no doubt accomplishing just that. He didn’t open his eyes to check. That was the way he preferred it, really; if he never fully noticed just how much other people did to save his ass time after time, he never fully needed to thank them.

“Nachooooos,” he moaned at the mention of food, knowing full well he’d likely pass out before anything that required delivery would arrive at the apartment. As it was, he was already slipping in and out of consciousness. The bed smelled like sweat and Jamie’s shampoo, the sortakinda expensive stuff he got frustrated at Griffin borrowing when his own had run out. It still came from the drug store, but from the higher shelf; not the 3-in-1 body wash bullshit that Griffin smeared through his own hair.

“Go shower,” he mumbled to both and neither of them.

THOMAS ::

With narrowed eyes, Thomas turned to retreat into the kitchen, slapping together a few hastily made sandwiches (which were still entirely too neat, cut diagonally into two separate pieces) and brought them back to the bedroom, just in time for Griffin to begin bossing him around again. "What, this isn't doing anything for you?" Thomas pointed to the bloody mess on his face, chest, and arms.

Rolling his eyes, Thomas passed Jamie the plate, their hands brushing as he released the paper to him. Always something unbreakable, when Griffin was involved. Thomas would have loved to frequently use real plates and cups, but when a bumbling, drunk idiot was constantly falling around your apartment, it was better to have something that couldn't accidentally kill you. "If anyone needs a shower here, it's you. The landlady lives 5 miles away and I'm sure she can smell you from here."

Despite his deflections, Thomas really did need a shower. His blood had become caked and sticky on his skin, drying into flakes that made him want to scratch at his skin like a mangy dog. "Just...eat." With a tired sigh, Thomas ran a bruised hand through his hair, closing his eyes for just a moment. How did he always end up back here?

:: END ::

#001 #gjt

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