#no one tell her i said that.. pros of having roommates outweigh cons by far but still. love to not be reminded of all my insecurities

[toastsnaffler]

roommate got a new laptop but can't get her wifi connected from the kitchen so she's taken it back to her room to set up..... huge loss for annoying nosy ppl everywhere :-(

[a-detraque-barista]

Our Haunted House

Title: Our Haunted House

Rating: M

Word Count: 5.4k

Genre: yandere, horror, smut

Warnings: cursing, yandere behaviors, mention of blood, tentacle fucking, buckets of cum, biting, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex

Summary: On your first trip back to the Halloween Fest you ran into a quiet but attractive man. Once you get separated from your friends he can’t keep himself from touching you.

A/N: HAPPY SPOOKS DAY EVERYONE!!!! A perfect rainy day (not for trick or treaters) for Halloween and to stay home and have a  Halloween Movie Marathon while eating candy and other junk food. Anyway, this is my very first smut and I hope you all like it. I also entered this in @bang-tan-bitches​ writing challenge, Monster Mash. So go check out all the other amazing stories posted in the challenge and show them some love and now on with tentacley Jimin  💜 💜 💜

    The music box played alone on the stage. It reminded you of carnival music but there was a dark undertone to it. You were only twelve and your father decided to bring you to the annual Halloween Fest. You never got scared when someone jumped out in front of you. For some reason, you have never felt fear. Nothing ever frightened you like other people. 

Your mother had voiced her concerns on more than one occasion. Calling you a freak, a monster, even going as far as a demon. She doesn’t speak to you anymore. Ignoring your existence and spending her time drinking wine and watching trash television. 

The stage you sat a few rows away from had gone completely dark before a clown was in the spotlight. His makeup was done terribly. His lips were painted black which was peeling and the white paint on his face was cracking. As he smiled widely you could clearly see black smudges on his yellow teeth.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!! I am your host for this evening! And tonight I welcome you to The Clowning. I did not come up with the name by the way,” he spat as he spoke with a fake speech impediment. “And now I present to you, Stabby the Prankster.”

Your father’s eyebrow raised, just as many other parents at the name. Then a clown wearing all red and black popped out from behind the curtain. A laugh similar to Woody the Woodpecker reached your ears. And just as his name entailed, he had knives in both hands. His makeup was just as terrible as the first. Instead, his eyes had red circles and his cheeks had red spots on top of the cracking white paint. 

He jumped down from the stage and in front of the first row viewers. His bulging eyes looked from left to right before lunging straight ahead and swiftly slit the young boy’s throat.

Screaming followed as people began to rush towards the exit. Your father picked you up and began to run with you tightly in his arms. Pushing his way through, he got to just outside the door before stopping dead in his tracks. Everyone around the two of you gasped as they saw the dagger sticking out of his back. 

Your father looked down at you and smiled weakly before dropping to his knees and before he could fall forward onto you, a family friend hoisted you onto her hip. She ran with you as you looked back to your now-dead father lying on the floor. 

The clown that had thrown the knife had made his way to your dad’s body and locked gazes with you. His smile was gone and he was no longer slashing townspeople one by one. He seemed as if he was worried about something.

The clown that had claimed to be the host grabbed Stabby by the neck and threw him back into the auditorium before disappearing behind the doors himself. 

“It’s going to be okay sweetie. They can’t hurt you. There’s nothing you have to worry about,” the woman carrying you said softly as you began to cry. Your father was the only one that cared about you. And you were old enough to know that.

It’s been around a decade since then. You moved out of your mother’s house into your own. You finally had your own space. Your mother didn’t talk to you much after what happened. Only a few words every couple of weeks.

As you grew older, nobody realized your dad was one of the victims. Which led you to make friends. Your best friends were Jennie and Mark, they even wanted to be your roommates. You may not live alone but you still consider this your own space, compared to your mom’s house. 

You laid in your bed as you played on your phone. It was already four in the morning, but you couldn’t sleep. Nothing worked. Listening to classical music, drinking some of Jennie’s chamomile tea, tossing and turning. Now you stared at your white ceiling thinking of other ways to fall asleep. 

Halloween is coming up and you had to think of ways to decorate the house. No wonder why you can’t sleep, your mind always wanders off. Still, you think about all the decorations you have in storage in the attic and think of new ones you could buy. 

As you zone out you see something in the corner of your eye. Quickly looking to the side, you see nothing but your closed closet door and look back up at the ceiling to see swirling patterns begin to slither across. They were navy blue mixed with graphite grey. They were like vines twisting and curling around each other. Your eyebrows furrowed as the vine-like tendrils became bigger like they were getting closer. You feel the smooth tip of the reaching blue vine graze your nose. You attempt to sink further into the bed but as you run out of space the tendril still follows and moves to the side to comfortingly caress the side of your face. It was gentle and you could feel your eyelids becoming heavier. 

Trying to fight it, you struggle to keep your eyes open. Even attempting to hit it away with your hand but another tendril grabbed your wrist, with the utmost care. It laid your hand back down softly as if it didn’t want to cause you any pain, even a little. 

Your eyes were closed by the time the most soothing voice you’ve ever heard say, “You have all the power over me.”

Mark jumping onto your bed while Jennie made an alarm go off on her phone was what woke you up. Mark began to shake you violently as he laughed, “It’s one in the afternoon, lazy ass. Get up.”

You weren’t able to say anything until he finished shaking you. Even then you didn’t say anything and just groaned. Mark and Jennie both started to jump on the bed and stopped abruptly to hear what you had to say.

“Fuck you,” you swiped your leg into theirs to make them fall. Jennie landed on her back on the bed and Mark landed on the floor. 

“So mean,” Mark grumbled from the floor. You sat up and leaned on your elbow to give him a blank look when he popped his head up. 

“So annoying.”

Mark laid back down on the floor to sulk while Jennie turned to you, “Wanna go to the Halloween Fest with us? I know you never go but it’ll be fun.” 

You got up and walked to your bathroom connected to your room, closing the door behind you. You never told them about your father being one of the victims during what they called, Hallow’s Eve Massacre. You had always thought it was a dull name. Created by none other than the group of moms that have nothing better to do than to drink overcomplicated coffee that was too expensive for their small sizes and get into other people’s business like it’s their own.

Standing at the sink you thought about the pros and cons of going. Pros. Delicious seasonal foods, haunted houses, everything scary you love, and getting out of the house with your two best friends.

Cons. Paranoia, especially of clowns and stages, people you don’t like to even be within a ten-mile radius, and going outside.

You supposed the pros outweigh the cons. Who knows, it could be fun.

You regret your decision the moment you walked through the admission stands. Looking around you saw many clowns. Or were they your former classmates? It was hard to tell. None of these-

“Ow!” Landing on your ass you ended up dropping your coffee.

“I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” The man who bumped into you kneeled down to make sure you were okay. You felt like you've seen his face before but couldn't really pinpoint where you've seen him.

"Yeah-yeah. I'm fine," you felt him begin to pull you up by your arms to stand up directly in front of him. “Are you okay? I mean I ran into you-”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good,” you stood there awkwardly and watched as his hand soothingly rubbed your forearms. It felt comforting. His hands were warm and it seeped through your jacket and into your skin. 

“Jennie, I think we’re interrupting something,” Mark joked as he leaned into Jennie’s side like he was whispering to her but spoke in a normal, almost loud voice.

Your face gained a red hue as you stepped away from the man who tried to look into your very soul, “Sorry again. I’ll try to pay more attention.” You stared at the ground and began to quickly walk away from the man.

“Please don’t. I’d love to run into you again sometime,” he called out before turning the other way and continued his path to wherever he was going. You kept walking with Jennie and Mark until you arrived at the part of the fairgrounds where they had all the rides. 

First, you rode the Twirling Tangerines, inside the large oranges there was a wheel you could all turn. Then, you rode the Spider, where you sat in a cart-like box that spun as the arms lifted you up and down.

You were on your way to the haunted house when you turned to Mark, “I think I just saw-” Noticing he’s not with you, you look around the crowd to try and spot him. “Jennie, where’d Mark go?”

She turned to you and looked around as well, “How the hell could we lose him?” She took out her phone from her pocket and clicked on his contact to call him. He didn’t answer.

“We’ll have to split up and look for him,” you shrugged as you headed toward back the way you came and Jennie veering left from the way you were going.

It took almost half an hour before you get a call from Jennie, telling you she found him. She failed to mention the man that Mark had crossed paths with on his adventure. 

You met them at one of the tents where they had a rigged game for people to play as stuffed animals hung from the top. You may or may not have stopped at the apple cider stand on your way to the game tent.

“Woooooow. You didn’t get us any?” Mark was obviously hurt but you didn’t really care. “You shouldn’t have wandered off like you did cause then we’d both have apple cider right now,” you took a sip of your hot drink while looking at him.

Your eyes shift to the man who you had bumped into earlier. You began to cough up the warm beverage that was trying to intrude into your lungs from your sharp intake of breath. Coughing into your sleeve, you tried to breathe again before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Mark ran into me while I was heading toward the Baker’s Street and he was looking somewhere else,” his smile was so big it made his eyes turned into crescent moons. It almost made you want to smile. He walked closer to you before reaching out his hand to you, “My name’s Jimin. What’s yours?”

You stood there wide-eyed and shocked before snapping out of it and taking his hand. Maybe a bit too eagerly, “Y/n.” You took your hand back and turned to Mark and Jennie, “Ready for the haunted house?”

Mark groaned and Jennie gave an unconvincing “yeah” as she kind of curled into herself. You lead the way and never turned to look if Jimin had ended up following you or went ventured off somewhere else. 

You didn’t really know what to do with guys. Keeping to yourself you never really talked to people. Especially guys so it was kind of new and weird for you to speak with such an attractive guy that wasn’t a close friend like Mark. 

Walking up to the house you showed the wristband you got at the admissions booth to allow you to go in. 

"I'm sorry sir. If you don't have a wristband then I can't let you in," the woman at the entrance practically spat the person she was talking to.

You turned around to see her speaking to Jimin and felt kind of annoyed by how she spoke to him. She didn’t really have any reason to be so rude, that you knew of. “He did have one, I saw it on his wrist a few minutes ago,” you don't know why you were vouching for this guy. You just felt like it, you guessed.

The lady reluctantly nodded him through with a sneer. He smiled politely towards her before joining your group into the dark foyer.

As a dressed up ghoul jumped out in front of you and Jimin, you did nothing but stare blankly at the man while Mark yelped and Jennie gasped. How Jimin ended up next to you, you didn't know. 

Jimin noticed how the jump scare didn't frighten you. He found it intriguing, in fact. You didn’t even bat an eyelid. 

“Where’s Mark?” Jimin’s head snapped to you as you looked around for your not-so-bright friend once again. Jimin began to look around with you.

“You must be fucking kidding me,” Jennie sighed before saying, “I’ll go look for him so he doesn’t make any weird friends in here.”

Leaving you and Jimin alone, you kept walking through the hallways and up the staircase. Many people attempted to scare you but none of them succeeded. And Jimin tried not to laugh at your reaction to their attempts. It’s not that he was making fun of you. He was just amused how much effort the actors put into being frightening and all they get is your eyebrow raised at most. 

You felt Jimin take your hand gently and slowly tighten his grip into a comfortable hold, “I’m scared.” 

Immediately, you could tell he wasn’t scared at all. He just wanted a reason to hold your hand like he was smooth. But you didn’t really have the heart to take your hand away. And you didn’t really want to. You felt him come closer to you bit by bit until your shoulders were rubbing against each other.

“You wouldn’t mind if I held you would you?” Jimin broke the eerie silence that sat between you two.

“Why do you want to?” you found the question odd but weren’t completely opposed to it. You weren’t a hoe but he just made you feel comfortable. 

“Cause I want to get closer to you.”

“But you’re already close to me,” you smiled. “I suppose.”

He reciprocated your smile and let go of your hand to wrap around your shoulders. He tugged you closer so you were tucked into his side. The warmth from his body kept you from shivering because of the freezing temperatures inside the building. 

Seeing a door crack open not far down the hallway, you expected someone to jump out of the room. Getting close enough to look into the bedroom, no one jumped out. Jimin noticed your interest in the room and peeked inside with you. The only thing in the room was a wardrobe, a desk, a king-sized bed, and a mirror hanging in front of the desk. All were caked with dust. 

“Must be an extra room they decided not to use,” you concluded before you took a glance at Jimin, only to meet his eyes. You quickly looked away and awkwardly scanned the room.

All you heard were his footsteps before feeling his grip your arm to turn you towards him, “Keep your eyes on me.” 

Your cheeks felt like the sun had been shining on them for hours. And as he demanded, you kept your eyes on him. The thumb on the hand that rested on the side of your face came up to slightly pull down your bottom lip.

“You wouldn’t mind, right?” he said quietly then bit his lip while looking at yours.

Shaking your head gently, Jimin kissed you without a second thought. It was rough and hungry. He didn’t hold back for a second. Licking your lips, practically begging for access. You parted your lips slightly and that’s all he needed to slip his tongue into your mouth. No inch was left untouched. He started to walk forward making you walk back until the back of your knees hit the bed. 

After falling back on the bed, Jimin practically ripped off his thick black hoodie, showing the loose white shirt beneath. It was thin and the neckline hung well below his collarbones. The hoodie landed somewhere by the door as he got down on the floor on his knees. He gently took hold of the waistband on your pants before pulling them down slowly. As they pooled around your ankles, he came back up to start peppering kisses along your inner thighs. 

“I’m sorry baby girl, I would take my time with you but I can’t wait anymore,” his voice was thick with arousal as he tore off your shoes, socks, and pants. “I need to have you.”

Jimin ripped your panties from your waist and fell to the floor in shreds, “I’ll get you new ones.” 

Trailing more kisses down your thighs he got closer and closer to your core. His fingers began to skim over your folds and dip between them to land right on your clit. Rubbing small circles around it, his soft lips were at the apex of your thigh. 

He was so gentle with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. Adored, impatient, excited. Personally, you were never the vanilla type.

    Jimin was so close to your core, so close. But he pulled away at the last second. You whined, at which Jimin laughed at, as he pulled his shirt off from over his head. Tossing his shirt away he climbed back up your body.

    “There’s something I need to show you,” Jimin’s eyes were dark with excitement as he hovered over you.

    Your puzzled look was all he needed to continue to show what he meant. He was groaning as his head hung and his expression made it seem like he was in pain. You didn’t understand what was happening until you saw the tendrils coming out from his back. They were cobalt blue. Two were thinner than the other two. They grew and grew towards the ceiling but stopped just short of it. Once they were straight, as if they were stretching, they curled back down towards you and Jimin. They floated in the air and you stared at them. You weren’t appalled. No, you were...curious. You would’ve never thought he was anything other than human. 

    It’s not like you believed in aliens and werewolves it’s just you the type of person that thought, maybe they do exist, maybe they don’t. It looks like they do.

    “Are you gonna fuck me with those or not?” you said half-joking.

    “You’re not disgusted? Horrified?” Jimin could not believe what he was hearing. You wanted him to fuck you with his tentacles. You wanted him.

    “No, why would I be? I’m surprised and I have some questions but those can wait till later. Don’t you think?” you answered honestly and looked Jimin in the eyes while you said it. And after you said it, the tendrils behind Jimin visibly relaxed. 

    Jimin’s eyes lit up for only a second before he attacks your neck with his pillowy lips. One of the smaller tentacles reaches down between your legs causing you to get surprised and you try to close them. Jimin sucks on your neck harder as he held your legs open with his right hand, “It’s okay, jagi. I’ll make you feel good.”

    As Jimin nibbles on a particularly sensitive spot, you moaned. He almost came right then and there. Your voice was already music to his ears. But your moans? Absolutely heavenly. He tried his best to keep his body from shaking from the numerous shivers. Part of him couldn’t even believe that this was happening. He was touching you, breathing in your scent, pleasuring you. It was his dreams coming true and he was intoxicated with everything you.

    The tentacle between your legs began to rub your clit faster than what Jimin did. More moans started to escape you and your head tilted back into the pillows. Jimin was still making his way all-around your neck, making sure he was marking your neck thoroughly. 

You felt the other small tendril circling your entrance. Becoming coated with your arousal. It slowly began to enter, inch by inch. It was about the same thickness as your trusty vibrator at home so you stretched to its girth with ease. Its smooth texture slipped past your walls effortlessly. 

Jimin was starting to groan the deeper the tendril went. His breath became heavy as he nuzzled his face into your neck, “Jagi~ you’re so tight around him. I can’t wait until my cock is inside your hot cunt. Can I, jagiya?”

“Yes, please. I want you to fuck me,” you said brokenly in between moans.

Jimin sat up and quickly unbuttoned his pants and took them off swiftly. The two larger tentacles reached down to you and took off your coat and shirt. You arched from the building pressure in your abdomen just in time for them to take your bra off. 

The tentacle fucking you took up a hastened pace. It was starting to go deeper and deeper with every thrust. The knot in your lower stomach grew tauter. Jimin kissed you feverishly and swallowed your moans as you got closer to the peak. The very last thrust of the tendril made you come the hardest you’ve ever came before. You felt the tendril in your stomach as it spurted. As did every other tentacle and even Jimin’s cock was spewing out cum.

Jimin’s moan was getting you excited again. It was deep and guttural. You were panting as you felt full of his cum and felt more cum on your chest and stomach. 

“I didn’t know all of them had cum,” you chuckled as you regained your breath. 

Jimin laughs with you, “Now you know how I felt the first time I jerked off.”

His statement made you laugh harder as both of you came down from your highs. The appendage slowly began to pull out of your cum-filled cunt. You whimpered from the sensitivity. Jimin’s cum flowed out of your entrance before Jimin plugged you up with the tip of his cock.

Feeling the head, you realized just how big Jimin was. Being too distracted to notice earlier. Jimin could tell your realization by your expression.

“What’s the matter, jagi? Never had anyone this big before?” Jimin knows he was being a tease. Even though he doesn’t want to even think about the others who’ve touched you. Only he can touch you like this. He’s the only one who can pleasure you.

You knew what he was doing. He was getting smug. But you didn’t really have the patience to play games with him.

“Who knows.”

Jimin’s smirk fell as yours grew. Jimin stared into your eyes as he slammed his entire length into you in one thrust.

“You know I’ve stuffed you full. I don’t think there’s even any room for one of my tentacles. I can feel how I’m stretching you,” Jimin wasn’t going to let you win this one. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist to bring you with him as he sat back on his heels. Your chest heaved from his massive girth inside you. One small tendril wrapped around your wrists and held them above your head, the other small one began to circle at your puckered hole while a larger one spread your right cheek to give it room. And lastly, the last, larger tentacle curled around one of your breasts. 

Jimin slowly pulled out his thick cock before slamming back into your hot cunt. His moans mixed with yours as his pace became faster. Soon he was slamming in and out of you at a bruising pace. The appendage at your tight hole caught some of yours and Jimin’s combined cum and lubed you up. 

At first, it only dipped in its tip. After a few thrusts, it started to go further. Still taking on a slow pace, it steadily enlarged your hole. 

Jimin’s right arm let go of your waist to support himself above you as he leaned forward. He was still pistoning in and out of you with no intention of slowing down. Hair stuck to his forehead as did yours. Moans left you uncontrollably as both of your holes were being fucked and your tit was being gripped.

You felt the pressure on your breast vanish before feeling the said tendril slither up your neck. You hear Jimin breathe out a laugh as he saw his appendage shyly touch you.

“I think he wants to know if you could suck him,” Jimin smirked, knowing that’s exactly what it wanted. 

Opening your mouth, the tendril appeared to become a light blue as it took the invitation. You felt the tentacle practically purr from the wetness and warmth from your mouth. It thrusted into you languidly. Not going very deep so it wouldn’t hurt you. 

“Look at you. Being a slut for me. All your holes are filled with parts of me.”

His thrusts were becoming sloppy. And the tendril in your mouth was going down into your throat until you were gagging with every plunge. Your ass was so stretched out you knew that there was going to be a gap now. Maybe not a large one but there will be one. And Jimin was still pounding your swollen cunt with his massive girth. 

The tendril around your wrists let go to reach down to rub your clit in quick, small circles. You’re loud, almost screaming moans were muffled by the deep throating appendage.

You could feel you were getting so close to your release. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach building. By Jimin’s groans growing louder and his sloppy pace, you tell he was close too. 

He opened his eyes to see your body being completely surrounded by him. He let his arm fall around your waist again but he laid his head between your tits and put the rest of his energy into the last few hard pumps and stilled as he felt your walls flutter around him. 

Your eyes rolled into your skull and Jimin squeezed his eyes closed tightly. Your walls milked Jimin’s cock as it pulsed and shot cum inside you. You felt all the tentacles pulse out cum into your throat, ass, and onto your clit and mound. 

Reaching up to Jimin’s hair, you carded your fingers through the strands. Both of you were trying to calm your breathing down. Jimin was still coming but the tendril down your throat pulled out so you could breathe more easily. 

Jimin began to kiss your sternum after he came down from his high. You glanced down and back up, only to glance down again to notice a visible bulge in your stomach, that's still growing. 

"How much cum do you have?!" you exclaimed as you watched it grow bit by bit. 

"Don't pretend you don't like it," Jimin's smug attitude was still there as he knew he was right by your silence.

Jimin reluctantly pulled out of you and he didn’t mind how much cum was pouring out of your cunt. He knew there were going to be many more times like this. And that’s when he’ll worry about keeping you plugged up but for now, he just wanted to fall asleep next to you.

He pulled your exhausted body back up to the pillows with using the help from his now sky blue tentacles before they slowly retracted back into the slits in his back. 

“We should probably go, Mark and Jennie might be worried about us,” trying to sit up Jimin pulled you back down.

“No need to be in a hurry, jagi. You’re too exhausted to go out looking for him-them right?” Jimin brushed the hair from your forehead so he could see your eyes more clearly.

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just hope none of the employees find us,” you huffed out a laugh as you snuggled further into the covers. 

Jimin wrapped his arms around you and entangled his legs with yours. He wasn’t able to even doze off until you were sound asleep. He tried not to think about what just happened so he wouldn’t become hard and wake you up. He needed the whole night to transform this place back to the original with how worn out he is.

“Goodnight jagi. Tomorrow you’ll start your new life here with me. In our own haunted house.”

You woke up to Jimin hugging you tightly beneath the warm blanket that you had dirtied just a few hours ago. Your muscles didn’t want to make any effort to move so you had to lay there until you had the energy to get up and get dressed. Stretching out your legs a bit you felt a crack somewhere in your spine. You’re puzzled about how that would affect your back but you don’t worry about it. Nuzzling back into Jimin’s neck, you finally remembered Jennie and Mark being in the house with you. They must have gone home without you given how long it’s been.

They were adults, no reason to really worry about them. You tucked the blanket over your shoulder to hide from the cold draft. Jimin felt you moving around so he got impossibly closer to you and pulled the blanket up to his neck so it covered most of your head.

You groaned and tilted your head up causing your chin to rest on his chest making your lips pout. He cracked an eye open to see what you were doing. Seeing your sleepy, pouty face made him let out a breathy chuckle.

Jimin leaned down to kiss your forehead, “Did you sleep well?” He continued his kisses all over your face, moving down to reach your nose.

“Mm-hm,” your eyes were still closed when you thought about what it was. “Do you know what time it is?”

“No,” he kept smothering your face in kisses.

“I have to go home soon.”

“No.”

“No? I kinda do. I need clean clothes, I need a shower, and I need to check up on Jennie and Mark,” you began to untangle yourself from Jimin’s arms and legs only to have him roll you over to lay on you. “Jimin~ I have to get up,” laughing you tried to roll back over Jimin had you completely pinned. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said quietly into your ear before he kissed right below your lobe. “My marks are fading already, stay still.”

You huffed as he darkened the already almost purple hickeys on your neck, “After this, you have to get off me so I can go home.” 

“But you can’t go home. You live here now, with me,” he pushed himself up with his forearms on the mattress. His eyes were stone. But they were warm as they bore into yours. “You’re not leaving me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you whispered as you maintained eye contact. “How can either of us live here when it’s just a stage for townspeople to dress up and scare people?”

“It seems, you haven’t noticed the change in the room,” Jimin smirked as his eyes left yours to scan the room, causing you to follow his actions. 

The room was no longer a dirty beige with dust-covered furniture. It’s the same exact room except, it was gray. Everything in the room was gray beside you two. The window that had light from the fair shining through was completely blacked out. And the mirror above the desk was completely shattered. Little to no pieces remained in the frame. 

“Besides, your friends tried to find us but they kind of got trapped,” He laid back down next to you and rested his head on his hand. “So there’s no need to worry about them, sweetheart.”

You pushed his arm off and swung your legs onto the floor but you felt the familiar wetness from one of Jimin’s tentacles wrap around your abdomen. It made you sit back down and pulled you back to Jimin.

“It’s true that you have all the power over me. However, that doesn’t mean I’ll let you go.”

Your heart undoubtedly fluttered.

[7-wonders]

Everything All At Once

Summary: Summers are supposed to be fun, not stressful. Whatever deity is pulling the strings in your life never got that memo, apparently.

Word Count: 3651

A/N: Sorry for how long it’s taken me to post this! Life has been crazy lately. Enjoy, and if you did I would love if you left a like, comment, or reblogged!

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE | Read Naked & Afraid (part seven) HERE | Read Ironically Alive (part eight) HERE | Read Blame It On My Youth (part nine) HERE

The process of moving, while normally quite stressful, is made simple with magic on your side. Boxes are packed according to room in a matter of minutes, dirty floors are cleaned with a glance, and the need for a moving truck is eliminated when items can just be transmuted to your new home. Even dealing with the bigger pieces of furniture that you no longer need, such as your bed and the couch, is an easy task when your new Antichrist roommate can just snap his fingers and send them to a thrift store in need. That last act is done much to Michael’s chagrin, who presents the admittedly tempting option of dropping them on your enemies. In mere hours, your once-full apartment is now completely empty. You’d be lying, however, if you said you were going to miss it. If anything, you’ll miss the certain sentimental value that your first apartment holds within its walls, but the cons of this place (a shower that never heats up, testy thermostat, that one time there was a family of mice living under your kitchen sink, and so much more) far outweigh any pros that could convince you to stay.

Adjusting to living with Michael full-time, however, proves to be the main challenge of your move. Just redecorating your room caused his face to turn a sickly shade of white, horrified that the once-pristine black and silver color scheme has been taken over by tapestries and fairy lights. It was especially painful for him to comply with your request to remove the large pentagram on one of the walls, but you suspect he did it because he doesn’t want to make you mad. He’s already aware of just how monumental a concession of living with him was, and he would rather not push his luck. Your new living arrangement, though, is going to be the only victory you give him if you have anything to say about it.

“No school for three months, then?” Michael had asked when you were hanging clothes up in your closet. 

“Thankfully.”

“So I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you since you won’t be darting in and out between classes.” His tone was all too hopeful, and you hid a smirk at the meaning that he wasn't doing a good job of hiding.

“Well yeah, when I’m not working.” You weren’t looking at him, but you knew that his jaw was clenched tightly.

“Why would you be working? You’re aware of how much money I have at my disposal; there’s no logical reason why you need to have a job.”

“How else am I going to pay you rent?” He breathed in harshly through his nose, and you buried your face is a shirt to keep from laughing.

“Excuse me? You--you don’t have to pay me rent, (Y/N), you’re my wife.”

“You’re letting me live with you, it’s the least I could do.”

“If,” Michael stopped, choosing his words carefully, “if that’s what you would like to do, then I suppose I cannot stop you.”

“Thank you!” you said cheerfully, going back to the task at hand while humming a song that had been stuck in your head.

It’s not like you’re that determined to keep paying rent now that you live with Michael. In fact, if this was any other person and not the Antichrist insisting that you don’t need to pay to live on their property, you would happily oblige. With Michael, though, things have to be made a little difficult for him. Ever since the contract negotiations during your first weekend at what you’ve come to refer to as Langdon Manor, you had remained adamant that nothing would change just because you were now bonded in unholy matrimony. For the most part, that has remained the case. It’s also just fun to see how mad you can make him before he needs to go be alone in his office, but that’s besides the point.

Nannying, although not glamorous work, pays better than any other job you’ve had. Getting to look after cute children is also a plus, and they keep you busy enough where there’s never a dull moment. The two kids that you nanny, sisters Maggie and Sarah, love going to the pool and playing make believe. They play so well together that you often find yourself just reading a book and keeping an eye on them while they decide to run a daycare or start a school. Easy work, even if the hours are sometimes less than ideal. Their parents, a doctor and a police officer, work odd hours and have a penchant for date nights on Fridays, which is often their only time off without the kids. It’s not an inconvenience to you; extra hours equal extra money, and the girls go to sleep early enough that you can just watch videos on your phone until they arrive home.

The only one who has a problem with your hours is Michael, of course. You’ve suspected since the house party three weeks ago that he’s been trying to figure out how to ask you out on another date, but obstacles have managed to shake up any plans he may have. He’s not the most subtle, asking you on every Wednesday what your plans are for Friday while trying too hard to look like he’s not invested in your answer. By this week, your third straight Friday date night shift, he’s over it. 

“But tomorrow you don’t work, right?” Michael asks from the speakerphone. Your phone is resting on the kitchen counter, the girls in the living room while you make a dinner of chicken and rice for everybody.

“Nope,” you say, leaning back to make sure the girls are still watching their movie instead of beating each other over the head. 

“We’re having a movie night tomorrow.”

The tone of finality in Michael’s voice makes you laugh. “A movie night? Michael, have you ever even seen a movie before?”

“Yes, (Y/N), I have seen a movie before.” You can almost hear how he’s rolling his eyes right now. “You can pick the movies, and I’ll worry about the snacks?”

“No. Knowing you, your snacks will be something like pickled eyeballs washed down with a tall glass of ice cold blood. I’ll be the one in charge of snacks.” You can’t resist slipping a joke in there, and Michael sighs heavily. 

“Fine. I’ll see you when you get home?”

“Yep, bye.” You hang up the phone curtly when the oven beeps, more focused on pulling the chicken out than crafting a sincere goodbye.

Turning around to put the pan down so you can slice the chicken, it’s not at all surprising to see the girls sitting at the table and staring at you. The two love to eavesdrop, especially when it comes to people talking on the phone.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Sarah asks, her blonde curls bouncing in her ponytails. 

“No, he’s not, and you shouldn’t be listening in on other people’s conversations.” It’s impossible to be serious, and a smile plays on your lips as you dish up three plates and put them on the table. 

Right as everybody starts to eat, Sarah gasps and bolts up from her chair. “I forgot Aunt Stephanie!” You look at Maggie for an answer as Sarah runs off, but the older girl just rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“Do you have an aunt coming over? Your mom didn’t tell me anyone else was going to be here tonight,” you ask. 

“No, it’s a picture that Sarah keeps in her room, sometimes she likes to have it with her.” Sarah comes back as Maggie explains her sister’s actions, clutching a framed photograph to her chest. Setting it down next to her, you see the senior portrait of a smiling blonde girl staring back at you. Her hair is crimped in some places and straight in others, reminding you of the 90s, and she’s wearing classic goth makeup. 

“She’s pretty,” you compliment, smiling as Sarah digs in.

“She’s up in Heaven, so we never met her,” Sarah replies in that easygoing tone that all young children use to reveal information in.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly, not really sure how to respond.

“Dad hardly knew her, either,” Maggie retorts. “He was little when she was killed.”

“Your aunt was killed?”

Maggie nods, smirking since she knows something you don’t (ten year olds are going to be the death of you), “uh huh, she died in that school shooting, the one at Westfield High School?”

“Well, at least you get to hear some neat things about her from your family.”

The girls both nod and go back to eating their food, but you just stare down at your full plate, pushing the food around with your fork as your hands shake imperceptibly. Like a puzzle, the pieces all click together. You nanny for the Boggs family, the patriarch of which had a sister named Stephanie, who was killed in the Westfield High massacre. The massacre that was perpetrated by the unwilling sperm donor from which Michael sprung, Tate Langdon. Everybody knows about the infamous Westfield shooting in the way that everybody knows about Columbine or Sandy Hook. You just didn’t know that the family of one of the victims was now employing you.

It’s something that sticks with you long after the girls have gone to bed, and even as you drive home after their parents (the Boggs’, you remind yourself) arrive back from their date. Whether Tate was influenced by the Devil or not, he is still ultimately responsible for the choices that he made. This legacy, the dark thoughts and the murders and the horrible things, extends far beyond Michael. Tate may consider Michael to be the penultimate evil, one who he could never be associated with, but it’s true when they say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

Michael’s still awake when you get home, having gotten in the habit of waiting up for you since you still lived at your old apartment and he would wait for your text to let him know you had made it safely. He’s sitting in the main living room (of which there are three), reading a book and petting your cat, who’s curled up peacefully on his lap. You toss your shoes and bag in your room before sitting down next to him, picking up your now-disgruntled cat and cuddling her to your chest.

“What are you reading?” you ask him, not able to see the cover that’s obscured by his hands.

“One of those Harry Potter books you told me to read. I must say, I am enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would.”

“Goblet of Fire, that’s a good one. I’m glad you like it.” 

Michael marks his place in the book, setting it down next to him before giving you his full attention. “How was your day at work?”

“It was...okay?” Michael frowns slightly, not pleased with that answer.

“Did something happen? Did the children finally act out with their parents gone?”

“No, it’s nothing like that, it’s just--something they said,” you trail off, picking the skin around your thumbnail instead.

“What did a ten-year-old and a six-year-old say to you that rattled you this much?”

“There’s no easy way to say this, especially when you’re looking at me with those eyes,” you mutter, looking up at him. “Their aunt, I guess, was killed in a school shooting. The Westfield High one?”

Michael looks at you seriously, your recollection of the girls’ words obviously catching him off-guard. “And that got you thinking--” “Not in a bad way or anything, you know I don’t blame you at all for Tate’s sins. It just...got me thinking, I guess.”

“About how much fate must hate us?” Michael laughs bitterly.

“Tate,” you ignore Michael’s last comment, too lost in your thoughts, “loves acting like he had nothing to do with you and that you two couldn’t be more different when, in reality, you’re more alike than he cares to admit. I mean, he shot up a goddamn high school and set his stepfather on fire years before you were born. It really should not have surprised him that he fathered the Antichrist, whether it was willingly or not.”

“I wouldn’t shoot high schoolers, that’s far too messy.”

“I know that, but what I’m trying to get at is that everything, in some sick and twisted way, all comes back to you. I can’t even go to work now without being reminded of you and the carnage that the Langdon name has wrought upon the world. The same name that I carry now too, I guess.” You laugh bitterly at your misfortune, knowing that you can never escape Michael wherever you go.

“You’re being too introspective for your own good tonight, (Y/N). You need to breathe, okay?” Michael takes your hands and forces you to focus on him, making you realize that you’re barely huffing out shaky breaths. “Like you said, you don’t blame me for Tate’s sins. While I have done bad things, they are all to serve a greater purpose. Tate--he was just a dumb kid who hated the world and wanted to kill people in an attempt to feel something.”

You stare at him, repeating Michael’s movements and taking deep breaths while trying to calm down. You’re not sure why this has freaked you out so much: maybe it’s because you’re married to the sire of this mass shooter, or it could be concerns that any future children that you may have with Michael (God forbid that ever happens) would carry a bit of that darkness in their souls.

“We’re having an impromptu movie night tonight,” Michael says suddenly.

“Why not wait until tomorrow?” Maybe it was a distraction tactic, but it certainly did its job. 

“You’re too worked up to sleep, and I worry about you being alone with these dark thoughts swirling in your mind. You need something to take your mind off of it.”

“But we don’t even have snacks.”

“Go check in the kitchen, the staff tends to overstock it with food I would never eat. I’ll pick the movie. Put on some clothes to watch a movie,” the thought of sweatpants calls your name at that, “and meet back here in ten?”

You nod, running your hands over your feverish cheeks before standing up and walking towards your room. As you throw on your favorite sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, you can’t stop thinking about your outburst. The knowledge that you were babysitting the nieces of one of Tate’s victims shouldn’t have messed you up like it did, and maybe it’s just you being overly paranoid. Whatever the reason, you’re more than eager to find some candy and popcorn and eat enough sugar to make your thoughts go numb. 

There’s plenty of candy hidden on one of the shelves of the staff pantry, and you leave an apologetic note explaining that there was an emergency and promising to restock tomorrow. The popcorn selections are endless, and you end up popping two bags when you can’t decide. Carrying the goodies back to the living room, you see that the lights are dimmed and there’s a nest of pillows and blankets on the couch. The movie’s already cued up on the television, and you smile at the familiar music playing through the speakers.

“Sorcerer’s Stone?” you ask, sitting down next to Michael and pulling a blanket over your lap.

“I’ve never seen the movie before, and since I already finished the book I want to see which one I like better,” Michael explains sheepishly, stealing some popcorn from you and pressing ‘play’ on the remote.

It’s easy to get lost in the magic of Hogwarts, even though Michael keeps making snide comments about how he doesn’t need a wand to do more impressive magic than that. You let them slide, not too bothered about it when you constantly point out differences between the book and the movie. You both finish the first movie strong, albeit with a lack of snacks, and eagerly pop in the second to continue the marathon. 

Throughout the course of the movie, you had inched closer to each other ever so slowly. Using the excuse of forgetting to move back after stealing a snack, or having to move in order to have an equal amount of blankets, results in the most awkward move you’ve ever seen someone pull. Michael, under the guise of shifting to get more comfortable, tries to sneakily slide his arm around your shoulders. You notice the ploy almost immediately, and smirk at him when he thinks he’s pulled it off.

“Really? What teen movies have you been watching lately?”

“You knew?” Michael asks, withdrawing his arm from where it’s sitting around your shoulders.

“Michael, that’s one of the oldest tricks in the book. Of course I knew.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks bright red as he looks back at the screen.

“Just because I called you out on it doesn’t mean that I’m not fine with it.” You’re not sure where this sudden streak of bravery came from, but you’re going to take it and run with it. Grabbing his hand, you place it in the previous position of being draped over your shoulders. Leaning into Michael’s side, your head rests on his chest as your eyes go back to the movie. “This good?”

“Yeah, this is--it’s fine,” Michael’s voice comes out at a higher pitch than normal, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

It’s a lot more difficult to continue watching the movie as the night wears on, and you find yourself more focused on just trying to keep your eyes open than on how Harry and his friends are going to figure out what’s petrifying the students. Michael can tell that you’re on the verge of sleep, nudging you gently every time you start to nod off. “I’m up,” you’ll always reply, “just resting my eyes for a sec.” It’s amusing, and he would send you to bed were you not so adamant that you’re completely awake.

“(Y/N)?” Michael calls gently, your tired eyes flickering up to him. 

“Hmm?”

“Do you think that...well, do you think that you could ever, uh, like me?”

“I do like you, dumbass. Why else do you think I’m sitting here watching movies with you?”

“I know you like me as a friend, but I mean--could you ever see yourself thinking of me as something more?”

“Is this because of what I said earlier, about your legacy?”

“Yes and no. This is something that has been on my mind for quite some time.” You’re awake now, and you sit up and pull yourself out of his embrace.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” 

“I’d rather we discuss it now,” Michael says carefully, knowing that you’re starting to get stand-offish. “(Y/N), you’re very aware of my feelings for you and that I believe what my father has told me about the two of us. I just want to know--I deserve to know how you feel about me.”

“Do you even know how hard it was for me to trust you after you kidnapped me?” you ask, standing up and clicking the TV off. Michael stands up with you, making sure you don’t run off before he’s gotten some answers.

“I thought we were over that by now!”

“We are, but--”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that you’ve been in love with me from the moment you first saw me, and I don’t even know if I can let myself have romantic feelings for the fucking Antichrist!” The anger in Michael’s eyes is extinguished, replaced with a crushing sadness.

“You told me that you didn’t blame me for how I was born,” he says quietly. You bite your lip, realizing you just hit him in his weak spot.

“I don’t, Michael, but you’ve also done a lot of bad things, you’re doing bad things, and you’ll continue to do bad things.”

“I would never do those bad things to you. Everything I do is to benefit the plan that my father has.”

“But what if one day his plan changes and you have to kill me?” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself to protect against the sudden chill in the air. “You can make all of the excuses you want, but at the end of the day you’re still the Devil’s son, murdering and plotting the end of the world.”

You should have stopped long before this, but the words just won’t stop flowing out of you now that you’ve spilled them. Michael runs his hand down his jaw, nodding slowly. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

He’s thrown you off, and you’re sure it’s obvious that he has. “What?” You’re expecting him to yell, throw things, and maybe slap you again. Instead, he’s eerily calm.

“I asked for you to be honest, and you were, so thank you.” He turns to leave, his movements stilting and robotic.

“Michael,” you reach for him, unsure of what you should do.

“Get some sleep, you’ve had a long day.” Michael smiles weakly at you, his hand resting on the door frame. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nod dumbly, mutely, unable to do anything but watch as he leaves. Suddenly, you’re entirely too aware of how he must have felt all the times he wounded you with only his words. It’s a bitter feeling, one that replaces the lingering sweet taste of candy with sour words you had spilled so recklessly. It’s a taste that won’t go away, long after brushing your teeth and falling asleep with the taste of salty tears on your tongue.

/////////////////////////

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[bellarkefanfiction]

#NoClickbait

written by: Josefine / @selflessbellamy

prompt: This is typical but maybe distracting kiss while playing a video game? Person A is competitive, 100% focused on winning and person B starts to plant kisses, all because of the competition, no one is in love here, it's a cold, calculating strategy. for anonymous 

word count: 2204

Sharing an apartment with a Youtuber has its pros and cons. For instance, her roommate has — on numerous occasions — demanded to film alone in the living room for hours, because “it has much better lighting.” At night, she often hears him groan loud in frustration while editing, which would be funny if she didn’t have to wake up early for class most mornings.

However, the pros outweigh the cons, at least as it is right now. They’ve been living together for almost a year now, and since she told him that she didn’t mind being a part of his videos every once in a while, he has involved her in his creative process. Unlike a lot of YouTube channels, Bellamy Blake’s offers a wide range of different content, such as:

cook with me: grilled chicken breast (with a twist)

vlog: a day at the bookstore + haul

history has left us: queer!Achilles (Pride Month special)

If his subscriber count of 3.2 million is anything to go by, this kind of content is great entertainment for everyone watching. Hell, Clarke even watches his videos despite the fact that she lives with him and could easily just sneak into the living room to watch him film. Still, she attempts to stay away, because Bellamy doesn’t tend to stare over her shoulder as she draws one of her pictures.

Sometimes, though, her thriving curiosity gets the better of her. When he first noticed her piqued interest, his dark eyes crinkled at the corners and he told her, “Princess, if you wanna know what I’m doing then you have to be a part of it.”

At first, Clarke had wondered whether having her show up in his videos was just gonna be a cheap clickbait trick, so that he could include her in the thumbnail and write a title called ‘vlog: Santa Monica with my girlfriend’, but he didn’t.

Instead, he turned the camera on her face as they were walking down the peer and said, “Oh, by the way guys. This is my roommate Clarke. She’s tagging along.”

He had probably expected her to not say anything, maybe give a shy little wave in response, because that’s what usually happens when people are camera shy. Clarke’s actual reaction was so far from that. In teasing, she stuck her tongue out at him and retorted, “Oh please, you’re the one who’s tagging along. I need someone to help me decide which Bath Bomb to get.”

That is the start of Clarke’s appearance in Bellamy’s videos, and since then she has only showed up more, for longer periods of time. A couple weeks ago she assisted him while he did the ‘Blindfolded Book Challenge’ by picking various classics and non-fiction works from his bookshelf.

After that video was posted, he told her not to look at the comments, which only made her suspicious, because he’d never advised her to stay away from the comment section of his videos before, and for a moment she thought that his viewers were perhaps making fun of her or something. Despite that the possibilities made her somewhat nervous, she couldn’t hold herself back.

The most popular comment jumped out at her:

[Top Comments - click to show]

Dani Larsson: y’all can’t tell us you’re not dating after this.

781+

Gulping, Clarke clicked on the replies and found the first couple ones to be:

Lydia Marcello: yea, just look at 13:52. That shoulder-lean is the least platonic thing I have seen in the modern era.

123+

Furrowing her brow, Clarke went to the timestamp to see what the girl was referring to — and there right before the end of the video as Bellamy said, “I guess that’s it for the Blindfolded Book Challenge. Thanks for watching!” — he pulled Clarke against his side, making her lean her head against his shoulder for a second, smiling.

After forcing her eyes off the frozen frame, Clarke looked at the comment below Lydia Marcello’s only to find:

 TJ Byrne: Well, if he’s not dating her, I would love to tap that.

2+

While the comment didn’t bother her much, it sure as hell seemed to have bothered Bellamy (and a lot of his loyal viewers), because he had actually responded:

Bellamy Blake: @TJ Byrne: Too bad. Sexist white Internet creeps aren’t her type.

201+

Clarke had to bite back the urge to laugh. Also, it was difficult to ignore the clear voice at the back of her head who kept telling her that men with bronze, freckled skin and lots of sharp edges is her type. Still, she has only ever seen one person who looks like that.

A person, whose laughter could light up the entire world, who places pencils behind his ear and hums while he cooks.

***

One late afternoon she returns, violet and vermillion paint caked beneath her fingernails, to the sight of Bellamy sitting cross-legged on the couch, his trusted laptop in front of him and square glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. As always, he looks up when she enters the living room.

“I’m gonna cook dinner. Chicken Alfredo pasta, does that sound good?”

He beams, most likely with as much surprise as amusement, because she’s rarely the one who prepares meals. Still, she wants to prove to him that she’s learned quite a lot from watching his culinary-themed videos.

“Very,” is his simple comment, though the lone word manages to convey his enthusiasm. When she turns to walk into the kitchen, he suddenly adds, “Hey, Clarke, would you mind being in a video later?”

The curiosity in her mind sparks like colorful fireworks. “What kind of video?” Given the complexity of Bellamy’s content, it’s impossible for her to have the faintest idea… Maybe it’s another challenge video? A casual vlog? One of his informative history sessions?

Then he explains that his viewers would love his nostalgia series to feature a gaming video. “I have Mario Kart for my old PlayStation, so… I thought it’d be more fun if we played it together. You know I love how competitive you are.”

That last bit seems to be coated in fondness, the words soft — a stark contrast to his usual teasing tone, and it has color rising to her cheeks, undoubtedly. In order to hide the blush, Clarke turns away, but not without saying, “Of course. That sounds fun,” over her shoulder.

To her joy, Bellamy eats two large portions of the Chicken Alfredo pasta and praises her for using vegetables and spices that complement the creamy sauce. Hearing him say this makes her heart feel warm.

Together, they do the dishes while listening to ‘Cigarette Daydreams’ from one of Bellamy’s vinyl records. Most of his collection he inherited from his dad, but he adds a newer record once in a while. Afterwards the struggle with setting up the lights in preparation for filming — since the sky has now darkened, they need to improve the lighting in the living room.

Before they can turn on the camera, they have to plan a quick intro. Of course, Bellamy will do the most of the talking, since it’s his channel, but he tells her that he doesn’t want her to hold anything back, especially not during the gameplay itself.

It feels like an eternity has passed. At last, Bellamy clicks record, takes a seat next to Clarke and says, “Welcome back guys! I looked at your requests and quickly had to realize that you all want to see me play a video game,” he runs his fingers through the back of his hair, “As you will probably find out, I suck at gaming. I’ve killed a Sim once, and it was not on purpose.”

Clarke mouths, “He has,” hoping that the teasing it will amuse some of his viewers.   

“Anyway, I dragged the Princess along for this one. She’s gonna crush me as Peach.”

Chuckling, she replies, “Oh, I sure am. No more of that ‘damsel in distress’ Peach. Those days are over, and you’re gonna go down.”

Even though they didn’t plan it for the intro, they look at each other, faces inches from one another to signify the “stand-off” that’s about to happen. However, within a couple seconds, they both crack up.

As it turns out, Bellamy is not actually bad at Mario Kart, which seems to surprise him way more than it does her. Within ten of playing minutes, he’s in 3rd place, but he makes the mistake of gloating, “Now, who’s gonna go down, Princess?”

Maybe they should stop using that expression…

Oh, well. “You still are,” Clarke laughs just as she uses the Starman that she’s had up her sleeve for a couple minutes, and while it does help her overtake a lot of players, she’s only gets to the fourth position, right behind him.

Bellamy does what he can to maintain his lead. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke sees him lick his lips in concentration, and the sight damn near distracts her. Quickly, she collects herself, and while it’s difficult to keep up with him when she has to stay on the course, she’s tailing him.

When he bumps his shoulder against hers in teasing, moving his controller just to annoy her, an unfamiliar sensation sparks in her ribcage, causing her to lean closer and press her lips to his neck, right below his sharp jawline. At first she feels him freeze. Scared that she has overstepped an invisible boundary, she draws back, but he…

He is smiling. “You think you can distract me?”

“I can’t?” Turning her attention back to the television, Clarke smirks as her heart flips itself over and over.

Now she thinks she notices the faint pink tint in his freckled cheeks, but it might be her eyes playing a trick on her. With much confidence, Bellamy says, “You gotta keep trying…”

Right now, they’re doing the final lap around the course, still tailing each other, brushing each other like they are in real life. It seems as though he just gave her another challenge — one, which she is even more determined to win. Therefore, she giggles slightly, kisses his throat again, a little lower this time, then his shoulder and the back of his ear.

He releases a strange sound that must be somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. Unsuccessful, he tries to brush her off, but she can feel the heat that’s rising to his skin by the second.

Just when she leans in for the sixth kiss, he groans, tossing his controller to the side. She doesn’t recognize the emotion flashing in his earthy eyes, but she is not afraid of it. Bellamy murmurs intelligibly before giving her a gentle push to the floor — out of the camera frame — on her back, she watches his face move closer to hers than it ever has until she can almost sense the amazing warmth that pours from his features. Taking a slow breath, he nuzzles her, which has her entire chest feeling like jelly.

When their lips meet, it’s as if the living room is filled with light, though it must be nearing midnight. The happiness bubbles in her stomach, runs through her veins to mix with her bloodstream. Burying her fingers in the dark, soft curls of his hair, Clarke deepens the kiss a little, causing him to smile against her lips.

“I’m gonna have to edit this out.”

She laughs at that statement. “The video is useless now, Bellamy. We’ve both fallen off the course before the finish line.”

“Well, it was worth it.”

As opposed to sleeping that night, they sit on the bed in his room eating dry Coco Puffs while talking about where to go from there.

What they end up doing is reshooting the Mario Kart video the next day (Bellamy wins, much to her dismay), then spend the next eight months trying to hide their relationship from his online following, which is easy when she can simply not be present in his videos.

His viewers, however, are far from stupid. The first video that she appears in after the Mario Kart one is a casual writing vlog, where she brings him a cup of black coffee after his all-nighter. And it’s one tiny detail that Bellamy missed in editing that effectively exposes them:

[Top Comments - click to show]

Christine Hollinger: oh my god, he murmurs ‘thanks, babe’ at 8:46 asdjffikoxxkak… Y’ALL

863+

theo lewis: *platonically calls my roommate ‘babe’*

219+

After that, they have to come to terms with the fact that their secret is out, and because Bellamy doesn’t want to trick his followers, he decides to make the announcement (albeit casually) in his next video, which is a brief daily vlog. Bellamy turns the camera towards the balcony, on which she is standing, looking at the sinking sun.

“Isn’t she beautiful? I’m so lucky.”

No forced, half-assed video of them explaining how they got together, no cheesy girlfriend tag — just a simple yet revealing comment. Their relationship is not clickbait; it’s not something that he’s going to use to gain more followers. It’s too important for that.

[meditatemoremedicateless]

*deep inhale* amberchase marriage headcanons ✨

Amberchase Marriage HC

WOW. You went for it with a tough but interesting one. I’m guessing that, if you’ve read ANY of my headcanons that I always overthink it, so bear with me.

- So, to get as far as Rachel and Victoria getting married, we need to make some drastic changes. The first one is: this is a Love is Strange AU we’re talking about. No Jefferson, no powers, no nightmare realms, Rachel is poor, and Max returns junior year.

- Second AU note: if you’ve read basically any of my fan fiction, you’ve probably seen a reference to a head canon I have that Victoria and Rachel hooked up at a party early in their junior year, but Rachel ended up using that as fodder to make Victoria look sad and desperate, sparking further-escalating slander and humiliating hijinks between them. My concept for an Amberchase AU has always started at this point - Victoria waking up the following morning, Rachel is still there, and treats her affectionately. What follows is a series of misunderstandings and (apparently) one-sided pining (Nathan is a big part of this) for approximately one year.

- Because I’ve already said this is a Love is Strange AU, let’s just go for it and say that their next big development comes during the photo contest in their senior year. They pair up, naturally: Max might be a better photographer all-around than Victoria, but with Victoria’s eye for portraiture, Rachel swooped in to ask her before anyone else could get a chance. The following week gave them the one thing they never had: an excuse to be alone together. There’s drama, nostalgia, and although they acknowledge their mutual admiration and attraction, they don’t get together - they don’t want to do the long-distance thing.

 - Although Victoria does end up going to school in California, she does so in the Bay Area, and the two only talk occasionally on Facebook. Rachel is the busiest she’s ever been, especially when she starts trying to do school alongside her unstable modeling work. Living with Max and Chloe helps, but money is always hard, and now that Max and Chloe are dating, Rachel’s loneliness grows deeper.

- For a photography project in her sophomore year, Victoria asks if she can drive down and have Rachel model for her again (paid, of course - Victoria has standards to keep). “You know, you’re the best model I’ve ever had…” Rachel opens up about how hard it has been to stay in modeling. She’s never making enough to get by, and although scholarships and student loans are making up the difference for now. She’s thinking about quitting to devote herself full-time to a Law degree. And it’s not like Victoria thinks that’s a bad move, but at the same time… how much Rachel wanted to be a model was literally the first thing Victoria ever knew about her. She knows this is giving up the dream. And she doesn’t want that. So the two of them start talking more often, networking where possible (Victoria’s very good at that).

- Two years pass, and unlike Rachel, Victoria graduates on time (with a Business degree). And here’s the part of the AU I find tough to stomach, but it feels necessary: when Victoria decides to move to LA for work reasons, she knows about Rachel’s situation, including how much she’d want to stay close to Max and Chloe, but says that she wants a roommate, and she’d prefer Rachel as a roommate to someone she met online. To everyone’s surprise, a few weeks later Rachel says yes, and they sign a lease together. “It’s practical,” Rachel tells herself (and Max, and Chloe, and Victoria), but really, Max and Chloe’s 5-year relationship is just tighter than she is with them.

- When they move in together in Fall 2017, Rachel for the first time feels an incentive NOT to sleep with Victoria. Max and Chloe just moved into a new apartment, and if she blows things with Victoria, it’s a year of sleeping on their (or other friends’) couches. That’s all well and good, and Victoria doesn’t question it, but they like to complain to each other about work (they’re good at motivating each other), and eventually, almost off-hand, Victoria remarks, “God, this would be so much easier if we were married.” And Rachel says, “I guess we could be. Technically.”

- They get into a BIG talk about how they feel about marriage. They’re both lukewarm: Rachel because she doesn’t like the symbolism or how her parents’ marriage ended, and Victoria because her entire concept of marriage is based around a nuclear family whose sole purpose is to raise children. Rachel wants kids someday. Victoria doesn’t think she does. Still, the tax breaks, the medical rights – the literal hundreds of benefits of marriage in America weigh on them heavily. So they come to an agreement: let’s get married, then see if the benefits still outweigh the cons once a year.

- And once again, to the surprise of literally everyone, they do it. They refuse to have a ‘proper wedding’ precisely because they don’t want to give their families the impression that this is a ‘real marriage,’ but Max and Chloe are still witnesses and Courtney EXPLODES on Victoria’s timeline with shock and delight (they haven’t stayed close since high school – just close enough to be Facebook friends).

OKAY! WE’RE HERE! I DID IT! I GOT THEM MARRIED AND NOW I CAN TALK TO YOU ABOUT THE HEADCANONS.

-        This relationship is founded, above all, on mutual drive. These are two girls with dreams and the talent to make those dreams real. More importantly, they work like crazy – early on, work keeps them from really developing their feelings for each other.

-        Slowly, they get drawn more and more into each other’s interests. This starts before they get married, but after they’re married, they feel more incentive to get involved. Rachel loves improv and Vic kind of hates it because she thinks she sucks, but if the two of them get on stage? They’re powerhouses. They’re witty and charming and creative, and NOBODY throws out weird-but-cool twists faster than Rachel.

-        Of course, Rachel gets pulled into Victoria’s secret interests (not really that secret if you’re living with her, but still): catchy but meaningless pop songs, sci-fi/mecha anime, and computer games (Rachel refuses to try FPS until they buy a PS4).

-        Despite living together and being literally married (or, more accurately, because of these things), they’re relatively slow to develop and express their feelings. Doing so comes with the fear that life will, inevitably, pull them in different directions. It’s their little rituals that make these things manifest: sitting close and cuddling when watching TV (Rachel misses being sandwiched by Chloe and Max), picking each other up after work. One of the last ones to develop is kissing before Victoria leaves for work, which they’re super awkward about until eventually they do it automatically.

-        During the whole time they’ve been living together, Rachel has typically not had time to develop a steady relationship (Max and Chloe eat up most of the energy that work, and school don’t), but she has had plenty of hook-ups and friends with benefits. She did her best to keep that out of Victoria’s sight even before they were married, but after they started becoming romantic, she figured it was time to have an explicit conversation. To her surprise, Victoria was unbothered – she knew Rachel had no real designs towards monogamy, she just wanted to have more explicit conversations about what boundaries would be appropriate. Rachel figured Victoria would also seek other relationships, but Victoria always replied that she “wasn’t looking to date right now.”

-        Their first anniversary was also their first time discussing whether to continue their marriage for another year. Their financial situation was a little better than the year before, so their ‘Pros’ column was looking weaker than when they’d decided to get together. At least, until Rachel said, “Well, I also, like … love. you.” ‘Oh. I mean, I love you too.’ And after a very weird but tender moment, they wrote it down: Love

-        It’s pretty soon after this that they go shopping for sex toys for the first time. The sex they’d had since their junior year of high school had been very vanilla and typically very drunk, but if they were going to go and be in love or whatever, they might as well really go for it. It turns out their tastes still run pretty vanilla, but at least they pick up a LOT of vibrators over time (and a copy of Battlefield Lovers, which they only play ONCE but it sure does spark a new kink for Victoria).

-        We’re now caught up to 2019, so that’s all I’m going to do for this post, but the one thing I know going into the future is that the meeting they have every year to decide if they’re gonna stay married for another year slowly evolves into a session of trashing marriage as an institution and then talking about all the things they love about being married and each other.