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sarcasticallybee · 3 years ago

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Shots fired

Spencer x reader

Sitting on Spencer's couch you'd been reading one of your favorite books. It was early, at least for a weekend it was. You'd come by Spencer's hoping to catch him before a phone call from the team, however he seemed to have been gone already.

You thought about just going home, but decided to stay and clean the already, mostly pristine apartment. It was organized in his own chaotic way. You'd slowly put away his paperwork and obsessively marked books.

You then walked over to his nearly empty sink washing the dishes. After that it was doing his laundry and maybe make and remake his bed.

Today was your last day off which is why you were hoping to catch him. You worked at an elementary school and taught a rambuctious group of 2nd graders. They were great kids and you loved them all dearly.

That being said tomorrow was Monday so you had things that you needed to prepare. That is why you called Spencer and let him know you'd been there. You knew he was observant and may panic if he saw his apartment.

"Hey Spence, it's me. I just wanted to let you know I stopped by. I love you and I'll see you when you're back. Kisses." Then you hung up.

Nothing could have prepared you for the next day.

You woke up at 5:00am and got ready for the day. The school day didn't start until 8:30, but you wanted to catch a shower.

Swinging your legs over your bed and wobbled to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and your brush on the way. You had your clothes laid out the night before, surprisingly you were set for Monday it was Friday when you just threw your clothes on and prayed they matched.

That being said you sauntered into the small room flipping the light on and flinching at it's brightness.

"Ugh no! Tis to early for this." You groaned plopping the towel on the toilet.

You stripped the overnight clothes off and turned the shower on, the steam rising from the enclosed space and into the rest of the room.

Pulling the curtains aside you stepped in, the hot water cascading down your back and soaking your hair. The water washed away your sleepiness and you began to shampoo and condition your locks. You hummed as the suds made your hair squishy and soft. You giggled before putting your head back under the rushing water. The soap washed out gathering around your feet and down the drain.

Once you were sure the soap was out and that your body felt refreshed, you shut the water off. Stepping out of the shower your feet padded on the shower mat. You smiled reaching over and grabbing the grey towel.

Drying your body you then dried your hair. Once you were sure you wouldn't drip water everywhere you brushed through your damp hair.

Spinning back to your door you wrapped the towel tightly around yourself. You needed to get dressed and you'd sleepily left the clothes in your room. Huffing you opened the door, the cool air rushing at your damp flesh, goosebumps rising.

Shivering you padded to your room and made sure the curtains were closed, windows locked, and then locking the bedroom door. You heard all sorts of stories from Penelope about how women were attacked in their own homes while they were vulnerable. No not you and not today.

Quickly you slipped into your clothes, which happened to be a pair of black leggings and a (favorite color) dress that ended just above the knee, with a light overcoat

You huffed before grabbing your phone. 5:45 am. Good you were on a roll. You lived about 15 minutes away from the school so you had time.

Sliding your sneakers on you tied them before hearing your front door open. You immediately jumped up, opening your night stand, and pulling out the pistol you'd kept stashed there.

You crept over to the door and unlocked the knob. With the way your apartment was set up you couldn't see the front door or the kitchen. Stepping into the hall you slinked down towards the living room. Once you entered you saw the back of the person kneeling in front of your fridge.

You almost laughed out loud, but clicked the safety back on.

"Spence you couldn't text me before coming over?" You giggled as the brunette jumped, hitting his head off the top of the fridge.

"Ouch! Crap. I'm sorry y/n I wanted to surprise you. I figured I could stop by early enough that I won't be called in." You laughed at the male before placing the gun in another drawer in the kitchen.

"Awe that's sweet Spencer. What were you looking for?" You laughed walking over to him and pushing his bangs out of his face.

"Ehm well I was looking for some coffee creamer because the barista forgot it. They were really busy." You nodded before brushing past him and to the refrigerator.

"Ahh let's see I have hazelnut and vanilla and oh! There's some caramel, too."

You heard him whisper a soft "Vanilla, please." Before you stood up the container in hand. Turning around you saw his eyes were downcast and your eyebrows raised in concern.

"Spencer. Is everything alright?" He seemed to jump at the question, but nodded reaching for the bottle in your hand.

"No. There's something bothering you, love. What happened yesterday?" His eyes widened as you placed the bottle behind him on the counter.

"You can talk to me. You know that. Now spill, Spence." He shuddered slightly before sighing.

"There's a case. The unsub is targeting elementary schools in the area. He targets the female employees killing them, talking about it's them or the kids. He even used a recording to lure them. Still no one is taking us seriously! We've gone to several of the schools, even the superintendent! They're refusing to shut the schools down saying that 'our employees are trained for this.'" He huffed heavily running his fingers through his hair.

"This guy is smart y/n. He's already gone to three schools and killed 23 people and-" he choked up as he thought about the 13 children who died.

"Spence, what school would he go for next? He's smart and calculated I'm sure. Where would he target next?" You looked at your best friend worry in your eyes. He looked up at you the gears in his head turning.

"That's the thing y/n he's unpredictable. We thought he had a connection to one and he attacked another. We have no idea which school he'll target next. So far all of his attacks would seem random but they're not." He sighed out rubbing his face.

"He's killed 23 people. 10 teachers and 13 children. We thought we were so close Y/n and he killed again. We can't lose. We can't let him kill again." His voice sounded so strained.

You went to answer him when his phone beeped. He jumped slightly before pulling it out.

"I got to go. The team needs me. I'm sorry. I love you! Be safe" he rushed kissing your forehead, before slipping out of the front door.

Fisting your hands you sighed. This man could target your school next. Grabbing your purse and keys you rushed out the door.

"Yes sir I understand there's no evidence or reason for him to come here but please listen to me. If we take the precautions, just until he's caught there's less likely of a chance for anyone to get hurt!

We are an elementary school. We don't have to switch classes. We can have indoor recess, allowing the children to be safe, to learn, to have fun!

We can have lunch in our classrooms and avoid being out in the open. This man is dangerous sir. Please."

Your boss looked at you his eyes sharp.

"Ms. L/n I'm sure this man is dangerous, and I'm sure you're worried but there is no reason for us to go into a panic. You may do as you wish with your class, I'll permiss it but I cannot make the other teachers to through with it. I'm sorry." You sighed but nodded.

"Thank you Victor. I appreciate it but please inform them?" He hesitated but nodded.

"I will."

Walking back to your classroom your shoes thudded along the tile. At least you got permission to protect your class. It was definitely something.

Unlocking your door you pulled together today's activities. You'd have to make sure everything was prepared for if something happened.

Going through your cupboards and closets, you emptied or organized them, to maybe hide the kids in. It wasn't much but you wanted to keep them safe.

School would be in session soon and you needed to be sure that you were prepared.

"Hey Lola! How are you today?" You greeted the young girl as she plopped into her desk.

"I'm mad. Mommy told me that Skylar isn't coming to school today! And she is like my bestest best friend!" You laughed as she threw her arms up in frustration.

"Maybe that's what's best Little Lady. Don't worry though! We might play hide and seek later!" You said handing her a squishy ball to squeeze.

Soon you had all of your kids for today. You may have called the parents and let them know of the risks and Victor might not be impressed but you'd deal with his wrath later.

Looking around you told the class of the plans today and gave them a math game to play in small groups. The door of course was locked along with the door stop.

You gave each child an assignment, but made it a game so that they wouldn't be scared. You made Lola and Jaiden your captains who took care of their crew. If someone had to go to the bathroom you'd take a small group and leave the other group to watch the classroom. Then you'd come back and switch.

That being said you were constantly checking in on Spencer. He didn't answer much but he did reassure you to his best ability. At least he had been.

You didn't understand what was happening until you heard someone bump into the microphone in the office.

It made a terrible screaming noise before you heard Haley, the secretary announce that everyone had to take the school intruder precautions.

Quickly you told the kids to go to their "bases" or hiding places. Jaiden and his team hid in the cupboards while Lola and hers hid in the closet.

You? You stood next to the door out of sight. Earlier you'd put up a curtain so that if the guy did show up he couldn't look in.

You heard the other kids in other classes asking what was going on and some of them were crying. You grimaced at the thought of their faces.

You waited for a while before Victor came on.

"I understand you are scared. I need you all to stay calm and keep the children safe. No matter what you hear, or see DO NOT leave your classrooms. Thank you that is all."

Glancing around you began pushing some of the desks in front of the door. Then you ran over to the window and unlocked one. You didn't open it for fear of making your escape obvious. If you needed to get the kids out quickly you would.

Pulling out your phone your dialed Spencers number. If you heard any evidence of the unsub he'd be on speed dial. That being said you told the kids to stay hidden and go over their "battle plans".

Steadying your breathing you walked over to the door and stood next to it out of sight.

It didn't take long before you heard screaming, a female. She was yelling about how it was the schools corrupt system that got her son killed. That if they had listened to protocol and protected him he'd still be alive.

You gasped before calling Reid.

"Hello?" Shuddering you replied quietly.

"The unsub is actually a woman. She has a dead son. He died in a school shooting or something similar." The other end was silent for a moment before you heard some scuffling.

"Y/n?" You sighed as you recognised Hotch's voice.

"Yes sir?"

"I need you to tell me what's going on." Before you could answer a loud gun shot was heard.

"Y/n! Are you okay!" You heard Spencer panic.

"I- I am fine. So are the kids. I don't know about the others though. The unsub. She's here Spencer and she's mad." You cried softly before another shot echoed throughout the building.

"Y/n. We're on our way. Just stay safe. We're coming." You nodded before mumbling a soft 'okay' and hanging up.

"YOU TEACHERS KILLED MY BABY! YOU DIDN'T PROTECT HIM! HE DIDN'T DESERVE TO DIE. HE WAS A CHILD!" you gasped as she wailed before shooting her gun again. Directly into your door.

Gasping you waited. You heard her walk over to the door before pulling on the handle.

"Oh. So you think you can protect them huh? With a measly door and a glass window with a fucking curtain? No way in hell."

With that she put the gun against the glass with a 'clank'. Before you could react and loud ringing filled your ears as she pulled the trigger.

Glass flew everywhere as the woman laughed. Thinking fast you grabbed a desk and faced it towards the window holding it in place. With her only way in temporarily blocked you called for Lola.

"Lola honey! C'mere!" You whisper yelled as the small girl crawled out.

"Ms. L/n what was that? It was really loud and we're scared." You smiled softly.

"I know honey but I need you to get all of your classmates and take them to the 3rd window. Do you understand?" She nodded quickly rushing around.

Sighing in relief you jumped when another gun shot sounded.

Gritting your teeth you let go of the desk, glad it stayed.

Helping Lola gather them all was much harder then you wanted it to be, but they were scared and that you understood.

"Okay my little adventures, we're gonna do an escape mission. I want you all to climb out of this window and hide in the bushes until the good guys come okay?" They nodded and you shivered in relief. Once they were safe you could do what you needed to.

Quickly you put them on the counter and they climbed out, the taller boys going first to help the shorter ones.

Finally it was Lola's turn and she looked at you with big watery eyes.

"Ms. L/n I'm scared." Your heart broke before you hugged her.

"Me too. Don't worry though our knight is coming princess." She cried as you put her on the counter helping her out.

"Be safe. Hide. Go!" They all nodded and ran off. As soon as you were sure they were safe you rushed to the door that connected to Mr. Groves room. Unlocking it you rushed in all the kids looked at you wide eyed.

"Hey guys! It's okay you need to be really quiet and come with me okay?" They cried and looked over at their teacher and you nearly screamed at the sight.

He had gotten hit by a stray bullet or something and was bleeding out on the floor.

"Okay. Okay come on. Quietly." They nodded rushing into your classroom. When you had them all you helped them out like you did your own, giving them the same instructions.

Rushing back the other class you took off your jacket pressing it into Steve's chest.

"Hey Steve. How are you?" You laughed awkwardly and he gurgled at you. Crying you kept pressure.

"They're all safe. I helped them. It's okay." You smiled at him and he smiled lightly and you sobbed quietly as his life slowly seeped out onto your hands and jacket.

Slowly pulled your hands away you jumped when you heard sniffling.

Whipping around you looked under his desk finding a little boy.

"Hey hey! What's your name handsome?" You asked quickly wiping the blood off.

"C-christopher, b-but my mo-mommy calls m-me Chris." He sobbed.

"Okay Chris why don't I help you out with your other friends?" The boy shook his head aggressively in a 'no' motion.

"I can't." Your eyebrows raised before your eyes widened.

"Christopher, are you paralyzed?" The boy nodded and you let out a breath.

"Okay come here. I'll carry you." His eyes widened.

"We, we can't go out there. The bad lady will shoot us!" You winced at his loud voice and he seemed to realize what he'd done because he began to softly cry.

"Ahh honey it's okay. We won't move. We won't move." You hushed pulling him into you.

You sat there for what felt like forever before you heard Derek talking down the Unsub.

"Ma'am you don't want to do this! Put the gun down. Ma'am!" You and Christopher jumped when someone slammed into your classroom next door.

Pulling Christopher into your lap you held him close as he cried into your chest.

"THEY KILLED HIM! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT. THEY KILLED HIM." You jumped at how close she seemed.

Breathing out shakily you put Chris down gesturing for him to be quiet.

Slowly you pulled yourself up. Glancing at the door connecting the rooms you saw it was partially opened.

Taking a deep breath you slowly made your way over jumping when the woman began to yell again.

This was your chance. Running at the door you slammed it shut turning the lock.

"YOU CAN'T PROTECT THEM!" She screamed slamming into the now locked door.

Quickly you dragged a few desks to block her from entering. From there you unlocked the main door.

"Chris, baby, I'm going to pick you up and I want you to close your eyes. Do you understand?" He nodded quickly tears bubbling up.

"Okay come here honey." He dragged himself over to you and you quickly gathered him into your arms.

"Okay you have to trust me. Just close your eyes." You hushed quickly and quietly opening the classroom door, as the women continued to bang and scream in yours.

Rushing into the hall you saw Derek's eyes widen as you held Chris to your chest, the blood from Steve staining your outfit.

"It's not mine!" You assured as you jogged to him, Chris hiding in your hair.

"The kids are outside hiding in the bushes." You whispered once you were close enough so the woman wouldn't hear you.

"Mr. Groves, she killed him. And Chris he's paralyzed." You informed as Derek ushered you behind him.

"You need to get out of here. If she sees you she'll-" *BANG*

You yelped in shock as the shot rang out.

"Move in!" A man yelled followed by his team.

Christopher held onto you sobbing into your dress. You held him close and hushed him, whispering reassurances into his ear.

Derek led you outside and when you got there you were surrounded by police and EMT's.

You handed Christopher off to one of the women, promising him he'd be okay. Then you ran over to the bushes and found both your students and Steve's.

"Hey guys! Come one the good guys are here." You promised as Lola ran to you.

"Hey princess." You murmured as she cried into your shoulder. The other kids surrounded you in a group hug.

Standing up you held Lola to your chest.

"Come on guys." You ushered them to the authorities.

You were shocked when a woman mobbed you and began to cry as she held you and Lola.

"Thank you! Thank you so much." She cried and you were to shocked to do anything.

When she pulled away she held Lola's face in one hand and yours in the other.

"You don't know me, but I know you. You saved my little boy Chris." She sniveled and you nodded.

"Chris. Is he okay?" You asked as you set Lola down next to you keeping ahold of her hand.

"Yes thanks to you. He's a little shaken up of course but thank you!" She continued.

You nodded before you led her to an ambulance where Chris was sitting.

"Hey Chris. This is Lola. You mind if she stays with you and your mom?" You asked as you brushed Lola's hair back.

He nodded patting the spot next to him.

"Thank you. Lola honey I'll be right back." You assured her before turning to scan the crowd, looking for Spencer.

When you found him you rushed to him. Calling out his name, he turned, and you ran into his arms.

"Spencer." You wept lightly and he held you, wrapping his arms around you as he held you tightly.

"You did it." He whispered and you nodded.

"We did it." You told him pulling away.

He nodded and kissed your forehead.

"You're amazing." He murmured.

You shuddered lightly.

"Amazingly gross. I- I need to change. Steve..." You muttered and he nodded.

"I think JJ might have a change of clothes.... Or I could ask Penelope?" He suggested and you nodded hating the blood on your clothes.

Leading you towards his team mates, he kissed your forehead.

When you got there Derek clapped you on the shoulder, congratulating you for your quick thinking.

Hotch nodded to you in respect and Emily and JJ fretted over you.

Emily gave you one of her shirts, and you borrowed a pair of sweats from Morgan.

"Thanks guys." You smiled tightly as Spencer held you to his side, one arm wrapped around your waist.

Leaning into his shoulder you closed your eyes. Today definitely didn't go to plan.

You found out later after you asked what happened, that the woman was named Marissa Timmins. Her son was killed in a school shooting after one of the teachers snapped.

The boy was eight. The snap occured after she found out that the man who'd killed her child was going with an insanity plea.

That being said the gunshot you'd heard was her... well taking her life into her own hands.

Everyone was deemed okay but were understandably shaken up. Luckily no children were harmed. Haley was being treated for a gunshot wound to her hip and Victor had been shot in the abdomen but was rushed to the hospital.

It seemed the only casualties this time were Steve and Marissa.

That night Spencer had taken you home and stayed with you the entire time, which the team understood. Several parents sent you thank you cards, and so did the kids. School had been cancelled for the rest of the week so you slept in, or tried to.

The nightmares weren't helping but waking up in Spencer's arms calmed your racing heart.

You were glad you had him. So glad. That being said Steve's funeral was on Thursday, and then despite how everyone else felt you attended Marissa's as well.

Maybe it was to see how her family saw her before she lost her child, maybe it was to try and get to know her for who she had been, or maybe it was so you could put a face to the woman who'd killed so many people.

It was closed casket for her, but the pictures showed enough. As for Steve's, well you felt terrible. Seeing his wife and two daughters, it broke your heart.

You offered your condolences and Mrs. Groves held you for a long time. She thanked you for being there for him in his final moments.

Spencer waited for you both times, ready to hold you as you sobbed.

You never understood how Spencer could do this, see people die, day in and day out but you loved him for it.

Standing on your tip toes you pecked him on the lips.

"Let's go home?" You asked and nodded walked around the car and opening your door.

"Let's go home." He confirmed kissing your cheek.

#criminal minds #spencer x reader #Spencer Reid x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds imagine

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sweetberrysmooch · 4 years ago

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HC: And There Was Only One Bed (Affectionate) [pt. 2]

(Zzzzzzz…..)

(Alright, second part done :V Not much to say here for now, but I hope you’re excited for the upcoming part to come out next ^^ And my ask box is always open, so feel free to drop in and chat any time! I’ll be seeing you :D)

Basic sleeping hcs with ya boys, and for a part two, outside home life? You’ll see what I mean lol

Characters: Quackity, George, Badboyhalo.

Warnings: Nightmares in Quackity’s part, but besides that we’re clean <3

Song Recommendation: Metamodernity- Vansire

Up Next- Sapnap, Philza, Fundy, Schlatt.

Enjoy your day guys! I do hope it be rockin :]

Quackity:

Quackity is one floppy motherfucker. You fall asleep with him spooning you, head nestled between your shoulder blades, hands holding yours in front of your middle, legs entangled, the whole shi-bang, but wake up with him starfishing half on the mattress at a weird angle that makes his neck sore for the rest of the day.

Each day is a new position for you to add to your ammunition of teasing against him, but he takes it in stride. He totally doesn’t wake you up halfway through the night by flinging himself over your middle, ‘asleep’ and snoring like a freight train. When you give up halfway through trying to stop him breathing and just fall asleep lying on his chest, he turns to mush and gets distracted playing with your hair. You don’t know why he seems so exhausted the next morning, and he only giggles dreamily at you when you ask.

While he’ll be the big spoon for as long as you want him to, there’s a special soft place in his heart for being the little spoon. Hold him, please. Pull him to your chest and gently run your fingers through his hair, rub his back and kiss every inch of his face until he’s down for the count. The easiest way to make him feel better after a bad day or an argument is to let him know you want him and love him. Just holding him at night guarantees that he’ll bring you a present the next day (like the inner stardew valley house husband he sometimes longs to be lmao).

It’s a 50/50 chance of waking up with Quackity or after him, seeing as he prefers to get up early to enjoy the quiet mornings before the rest of the smp wakes up. He gets ready, makes the both of you coffee (or tea, something to help wake you up), and watches the sky change color while he waits for you to come sit with him in the kitchen. The two of you try your best to assure a moment together before you go about your separate ways, sitting together and talking about what you have planned or what you might have for dinner later. It’s his favorite part of the day, aside from coming back home to your awaiting arms.

Another citrus-y smelling fellow. More orange than lemon, he bathes in the morning after he wakes up. You typically wake up right after he gets finished washing up, walking into the bathroom to hear him quietly humming while drying off his hair and wings. He’ll give you a small guilty grin and a good smooch on your forehead as an apology.

Another poor fellow with nightmares;; They’re a lot less frequent than they used to be now that you’ve gotten together (having someone to talk to and work through each others issues does WONDERS apparently) but when they hit, they hit him hard. You wake up from him twisting and turning right before he wakes up in tears. He doesn’t like to be touched afterwards, drawn in on himself and facing away from you, hiding his crying. When you leave to get him a glass of water and come back, he’s more grounded, crawling into your arms and accepting the drink gratefully. With his forehead pressed to your throat, taking small sips from his cup, he’ll tell you what his dream was about. Sometimes it’s Technoblade, sometimes Dream, mostly Schlatt though. His ex lingers on his mind more than he likes to admit, a deep sense of abandonment showing through his nightmares. Quackity struggles with sleeping for a few days after, afraid of what he might see when he closes his eyes again.

(You’ve fallen back asleep by now, hand paused in its ministrations and resting snugly in his hair. Things are warm and quiet and soft, and he feels safe again.

The nightmare still hovers fuzzily in the back of his mind, but for now he can ignore it, focusing on your slow breathing as it lulls him back to sleep.

His last thought before finally letting himself rest is how much he loves you, giving you one last squeeze in his tight embrace before relaxing into a much more stable slumber. ‘Gracias por todo mi amor.’)

George:

Impeccable skill of just falling asleep wherever and whenever. Before the two of you got close and started sharing a bed together, he really left his sleep schedule up to fate. He’d find a comfy spot and crash there for a few hours till he was awoken and would just repeat that a few hours later. Now that he has you, he makes more of an effort to stay awake during the day so he can sleep through the night next to your side. It more or less works, but occasionally he’ll have slept during the day and he wakes up in the middle of the night. As “punishment”, he sentences himself to waiting it out instead of getting up to do something because he truly wants to keep going to bed with you.

Not big on contact, likes having his space when he’s sleeping. Cuddling is nice every once in a while, but he prefers being able to breathe a little bit when falling asleep. He does, however, actively make the choice to hold your hand while he slips into slumberville. His grip isn’t too strong, nor is it very light, but a gentle mix between the two to try and remind you how much he loves you. You’ll wake up before him and his hand will still be holding yours, pulled to his chin as he sleeps. His breath fans your knuckles slowly, face eased of any stress, absolutely content.

George bathes…… probably. I’m just kidding, he fluctuates between bathing at night or in the morning because he just goes through phases of forgetting to when the time comes. His little mushroom home doesn’t come with a bathroom, seeing as its wholly empty (please if anyone has housing information on George or like. Any character at all please inform me please i beg-), so he’s limited to getting clean at a friend’s or your house. Typically yours. He keeps all of his valuables at your place once you start letting him sleep over there, tucking his clothes into your closet or in your dresser when he thinks you aren’t looking, leaving a toothbrush and his soap in your bathroom, hanging his armor up on an empty armor stand you have tucked away, all due to his inability to straight out ask if he can live with you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to live with you, he practically does anyways, but there’s something in him that worries that you won’t like him if you’re forced to live with him permanently. He knows it can become… a bit much when you have to be around someone 24/7, but doesn’t realize that you pretty much already are around each other 24/7 lmao.

It takes a while but eventually he settles down and over dinner suggest that maybe you two should take it to the next level. His face is flushed pink and he keeps switching which leg he has crossed, but he takes your hand and quietly asks if he could start living with you. It’s a surprisingly sweet moment, even with your confusion (thinking you already DID live together), and of course you say yes.

He looks so relieved when you accept, and is kinda like, “I know this will be a difficult process but I’m very excited to become closer with you.” and then nothing changes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(It’s on the walk home when George finally processes that he now lives with you. It feels heavy on his heart, a mix of nervousness and excitement that makes him swallow hard and tighten his fingers around yours.

This isn’t the first time he’s spent the night at your place, nor is it the first time he’s crawled into bed with you and slept next to just because you let him, but it is his first night actually living with you. The moment feels brand new, as if it’s his first time visiting your house all over again.

He begins to wonder if maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’s moved too fast and maybe your regretting letting him live with you already and- He takes a hurried look at your face. You look… unbothered. Happy, even.

There’s this half hidden smile on your face that soothes his anxieties, drawing out his own fragile smile. He can’t wait to live with you.)

Bad:

Mmmmm, big man warm. A natural heat machine, no need for lots of blankets or heavier pajamas, Bad will take care of all your cold problems. Every night after you finish your shared nightly routine, you curl up in his arms, immediately becoming over come with his toasty embrace. It like when you get clothes out of the drier and just hug them to your chest, the warm, clean, smell good experience that Bad also delivers.

He’s got a pretty ingrained nightly schedule that he sticks to, and he always invites you to join him after you finish up dinner. It starts by cleaning up the house a little, washing the dishes, setting aside clothes for the next day, taking a quick bath, brushing his teeth, reading a few chapters from a new book he’s picked up, and then settling down to go to bed. He won’t push you to do it with him, but he does try to incorporate you into his routine when he can. Usually it’s just by doing something small, like reading together or massaging your shoulders, but sometimes he’ll ask you to join him when he bathes.

Bad bathes pretty often, always at night, and using a nice smelling soap that he makes himself. Like what was said above, he’ll sometimes ask you to join him when bathing. It’s not ever for any naughty means, but because he sees bathing as a very intimate and vulnerable activity for you to share. He won’t push it, understanding that it can be overwhelming to be so open, but if you do choose to join him, he’s so gentle with you. His hands are worked and calloused, but they’re soft when they run soap through your hair, his nails lightly scratching your scalp and running down the back of your neck. He practically purrs when you return the favor, giggling as your hands brush sensitive spots around his sides. Afterwards he becomes so cuddly and attached to your side, you fall asleep with him curled up on YOUR chest, trapped under him.

That being said, most nights he takes to being the big spoon. It’s more for convenience sake, seeing as he’s a good few feet taller than you are, but he also can appreciate being held and loved on after harsher days. He’s a lot like a weighted blanket, a nice heavy weight that keeps you warm and makes you feel loved <3 love this guy.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), you sometimes have.... Visitors. Bad is a hub for the homeless, bored, and nutty members of the smp. They flock to him like birds to the elderly, which means you have “children” to take care of for a day or two at a time :/. Dream and George aren’t regulars, per say, but Bad has a room set aside for either of them when they come over. To their credit, they do try to be polite when they come over, and will help in cooking dinner or cleaning up. Skeppy, however, is unlike Dream or George, in that he’s more of a third partner in your and Bad’s relationship.

Skeppy up and appears at random, no announcement, and makes himself comfortable any place where Bad is. Be it at your home or his, Skeppy eats your food, lounges on your furniture, hell, he even sleeps with you and Bad at night. You two share Bad’s chest whenever Skeppy is over. It’s so jarring at first, having to deal with having another boyfriend (because Skeppy will consider you to be apart of the thrupple after introductions), but he usually only stays for like 3 days before leaving to do whatever else he has planned. You don’t know if you should be worried or upset or what, but after a while it becomes kinda nice to have him around.

All in all Bad is great to sleep with <3

(Bad blows the lantern out on his bedside counter, shuffling under the cover beside you once the room was fully dark. You slung an arm over his chest instinctively, cuddling up into his side when his arm pulled up around your back and held you even closer.

You shivered pleasantly when he gently pressed a kiss into your hair, becoming sleepier and sleepier with each rise and fall of his wide chest. He sighs quietly and squeezes you, murmuring softly to you as you both fell asleep. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.”)

Have a good evening! Do something nice for yourself tonight. You deserve it.

#mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #c: george #c: quackity #c: badboyhalo #georgenotfound x reader #quackity x reader #badboyhalo x reader #hc: and there was only one bed (affectionate)#woof #sorry this took so long to get out guys ^^;#lets hope pt.3 won't take as long!

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

day 4 ❅ let’s go below zero and hide from the sun

i love you forever where we’ll have some fun

day three ❅ day four ❅ day five | series masterlist

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeeeeee meery christmas eve everyone, here’s day four!!!!! day four is my favourite out of the five, so i truly hope you all enjoy it as much as i do <3 as always, please pay attention to the warnings n stay safe!! | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), implied noncon, sub-drop, panic attacks, fingering, cockwarming, car sex, mentioned drug use, generally toxic relationships, size difference, verbal fights, tense family dynamics

words: 8.4k

synopsis:

“It’s nothing,”

Tender fingers tuck a tuft of alabaster behind his ear.

“It’s not nothing,”

“It doesn’t matter,”

Gentle lips place soft kisses along his jaw.

“It matters very much to me, niichan,”

“It’s—It’s stupid, fucking stupid,”

A small palm finds solace on his cheek, cupping it as a thumb strokes the skin.

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you, baby,”

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

Sunlight streams through the crystal window, tiny dust motes playing hide and seek between the rays, painting golden beams across the smooth skin of Touya’s bare back, his skin almost sparkling in the warm light.

A little whimper slips from between your lips as your eyelids stick together, sealed shut by dry salt, brow furrowing as you finally pry them open. They hurt, dry and tacky and squinting against the too-bright light, spitting a hiss through your teeth.

“Ow,” you whine as you try to roll onto your side, every muscle in your body aching and stuffed full of exhaustion.

You’re sweating—Touya is always way too hot, and this bed is decidedly much too tiny for the both of you—raising a heavy arm to try and shove the sheets down to your waist, only to find that you can’t. It takes your hazy mind a few moments to realize that the sheets are stuck to your skin.

Bleary eyes blink twice, raising your head off of the plush pillow with immense effort and gazing down at your naked body. The muscles in your arms are screeching in protest as stiff, sore fingers fist in the sheets, giving one hard yank and ripping the material from your body, a sharp gasp hitching in your throat.

Hard, dried cum is splattered across your entire torso, wincing a little as you arch your back and watch it crack on your skin. Vibrant petals of indigo and violet have bloomed across your body, growing in places you don’t ever remember them being planted in.

What the hell happened last night?

It’s hard for you to recall, really, eyebrows knitting as you think hard, sifting through all of your recent memories and trying to remember when someone spurted cum all over your body.

Everything from last night is nothing but a tangled mess in your mind, with loops and crisscrosses, certain memories seeming to overlap, to morph together the more you think about them. It’s as if you’re watching an old film through a thick cloud of fog, flickering and stained with sepia as the sound keeps cutting in and out, the projector stopping once in a while, stuttering and repeating frames or burning holes through the filmstock.

It takes every ounce of strength you have to roll your beaten body onto your side, yelping softly from the massive effort. A sudden rush of tears pricks your eyes, burning in your throat as you try desperately to hold them back, to swallow them silently like a good little girl.

But it’s hard, tiny hiccupped sobs attempting to climb up your raw throat, catching painfully in your chest as you strive to suppress them, to gulp them back down, to force them back into the core of your body and stay put. Yet they refuse to cooperate, becoming more and more vicious as they fight against you, causing you to cough and choke on them as they finally escape your lips, and you mentally berate yourself for such a stupid rush of senseless emotions.

Don’t cry. There’s no reason to cry. It’s too early—you’re going to wake him and he’s going to be—

“Baby?” Touya croaks, voice deeper than normal, hoarser than normal.

And, God, he sounds so fucking hot in the morning.

“M’fine,” you say, though the words just come out sounding garbled and wet.

“Baby, baby, no,” he’s saying softly as he pushes himself into a sitting position, sheet pooling around his waist and exposing his chest, strong arms hooking under yours as he pulls you up and into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” you whine into his neck, shutting your eyes tightly as tears begin to leak from the corners.

“For what, princess?”

You don’t know. You just are. Shaking your head in response, you shove your face against him, letting your tears drip off your jaw and soak into his skin.

“Alright, alright,” a large hand pets your back rhythmically, up and down, up and down, fingers tracing along your spine. “Niichan’s got you,”

“What’s going on?”

The unexpected voice startles you, and you freeze in Touya’s embrace.

“Is she okay?”

It’s groggy and rough, vibrating in his throat, and you nuzzle into Touya’s shoulder, chest hiccupping.

“I don’t—I’m not sure,” Touya responds, and you can hear it, that hint of worry laced in his voice, accompanied by a sprinkling of frustration, but it only makes you cry harder, entire body trembling against him.

The other bed groans as Natsuo slides out of it, bare feet padding against the hardwood, your mattress dipping as he sits on the edge a moment later.

“Aw, poor baby,” Natsuo purrs, a soft, massive hand clamping down on your tense shoulder, thick fingers digging into your muscles. “Was last night too much for you, sweetheart?”

His voice is so patronizing, and you whimper a little against Touya, who kicks his younger brother’s thigh with his foot.

“Don’t be an asshole,”

“Says you,” Natsuo scoffs. “I’m being serious. It might be sub-drop,” The bed shifts again, and then kisses are being pressed to the column of your spine, down, down, down your back, words murmured sweetly into your skin. “I’m sorry, babygirl,”

“S’wasn’t too much f’me,” you mumble, heat seeping into your cheeks as both men laugh.

“Definitely sub-drop,” Touya says with a sigh, resting a large palm on your head. “I’ll run a bath,”

“I’ll make some tea and eggs,”

Peaking out from Touya’s shoulder, you watch as Natsuo heaves himself off the bed, snatching his shirt up from the floor and slipping it on before exiting your bedroom with nothing but his Frosty the Snowman briefs as bottoms.

Touya gently deposits you on the bed, slipping out from under you and shaking his head with a chuckle when you whine loudly, making little grabby hands for him, muttering Yup, definitely sub-drop under his breath.

Touya pulls on a pair of grey sweatpants and a nondescript black t-shirt over his head before he returns to the bed, laughing again at the involuntary pout set on your lips.

“C’mon, brat,” he murmurs affectionately, wrapping your naked, cum-stained body in the sheet before he hoists you up, carrying you across the hall to the bathroom and placing you on the counter, still swaddled up.

“Bubbles?” You ask, voice small as he bends to start running the bath.

“I dunno if we have any, princess,” he says with a small frown as he turns back to face you, sapphire eyes scanning the washroom quickly.

It turns out you do, in a pink bottle with faded Disney princesses on the worn label, hidden behind half-finished cans of old hairspray and expired toothpaste, covered in a thin layer of dust.

“Very fitting,” Touya snorts.

It must be over ten years old, but that’s alright—bubble bath doesn’t expire, does it?

Touya pours a bit too much of the syrupy magenta substance under the running water, resulting in you being encased in a mountain of foamy suds that reek of artificial bubblegum.

“Y-You’re not coming?” You ask, a frown materializing on your face as you watch Touya turn off the tap, wiping some of the bubbles that cling to his arm on his thigh.

“No, baby,” he says softly, kneeling in front of the tub. He guesses your next question before your dazed mind can find the word. “Because niichan wouldn’t be able to resist fucking you if he did, and that’s not what you need right now,”

“I could handle it,” you grumble, and Touya laughs, eyes glittering.

“It isn’t a question of whether or not you can handle it, it’s a question of whether or not you need it,”

But even without him snuggled behind you it’s nice nonetheless, your niichan cleaning your body slowly, unhurriedly, dragging a rough cloth across your skin and lathering soap in little circles, cleaning the sweat that has dried sticky and salty on your neck and collarbone, then elbow-deep in the water as he gently pries your thighs apart, scrubbing away the dried cum. Soft, murmured affirmations spill from his lips as he works, praising you for being such a good girl last night, for being such a good girl as he washes you.

Good girl, very good girl, his good girl, his best girl.

❅ ❅ ❅

Just past noon, Rei kicks you all out of the house.

“The Takasu Snow Park is open until four today,” she tells you curtly, practically shooing the five of you out of the cabin. “Don’t come back until it’s closed.”

She lets you take different cars, this time.

“And Touya, Shouto,” she calls from the doorway, lips pressed in a firm, thin line.

Both boys freeze at the sound of their names, hesitantly turning to meet their mother’s gaze.

“Don’t forget that you’re doing the dishes tonight,”

Shouto scoffs as he turns away, climbing into the back seat of Natsuo’s car, and Touya rolls his eyes, muttering something about being treated like a child, to which Fuyumi retorts that it’s only fair, considering the fact that he’s been acting like one.

❅ ❅ ❅

The Takasu Snow Park is just under an hour from the cabin. It’s surprisingly busy for Christmas Eve, filled with high-pitched squeals of excitement and bubbles of laughter as children wrapped up in brightly coloured snowsuits waddle around with tubes in tow.

And Touya drives right past it.

“Niichan, I think you just—”

“We aren’t going tubing, baby,” he says nonchalantly, a wicked spark glinting in his eye as he glances over at you, lips tugging up into a crooked smirk at the way your head quirks cutely, shaking it a little to indicate that you don’t understand what he means. “Niichan would rather play with that pretty pussy of yours instead,”

And he does, finding a shaded little nook just off the main road, snow squeaking under rubber tires as he pulls into it, partially obscuring his car.

“C’mere, princess,” he breathes, patting a thigh. “Come play with your niichan,”

You scamper across the center console and crawl into his lap, thighs straddling him and giggling a little as his fingers inch up, up, up, until they’re pushing your white lacy panties to the side and gliding against your slit.

“Something funny, pretty girl?”

“No, niichan,” you gasp as a finger dips into you, curling as he drags it out and repeating the action a few more times before adding another, your head finding purchase on his shoulder.

Nimble fingers work slowly, lazily, messily, Touya’s free hand busy scrolling through missed text messages on his work phone as he lets you pathetically rut against his palm, fucking yourself on his digits, craning his neck a little and allowing you to trace along the brilliant ink that stains his skin with your tongue.

And it’s nice. It’s almost romantic in a sense, just the two of you silently enjoying each other’s company, the only noise your gentle little mewls and a howling gust of wind every once in a while. The countryside, draped with freshly fallen snow from the storm yesterday, glitters in the late afternoon sun, the cloudless sky as blue as Touya’s eyes. You sigh dreamily as you gaze up at it, basking in the feeling of your niichan’s fingers buried inside of you, stroking your silky walls intermittently, just the two of you in your own little world, protected from everything else by the Audi’s bulletproof glass.

“W-Wanna cockwarm you,” the words are mumbled against his neck sleepily, your eyes lidded and heavy, only half conscious and barely aware of what you’re saying.

But you can feel his cock, hard and hot through dark denim, and it makes your little hole clench, fluttering around nothing. “Jus wanna be full, wanna be close,”

Touya’s chuckling as he shifts a little, hands slipping between your bodies to unbuckle his belt. “That so, princess? Is my baby girl being a needy little slut?” And despite the degrading words used, his tone is warm, gentle and full of compassion. “Niichan will let you sit on his cock if that’s what you want,”

“Please,” you’re whining, pulling back to gaze at him with bleary eyes. “Please, please,”

“Alright, greedy little thing,” he hushes you like he’s calming a fussy baby, shucking his jeans down just enough to let his cock spring out, using his thumb to push it forward, presenting it to you.

“So pretty, niichan, so pretty,” you’re mumbling as a small hand wraps around the base, squirming a little in his lap and lifting yourself to hover over him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his hips.

He lets you do all of the work, merely watching you through hooded eyes, an odd little grin present on his face. Touya doesn’t normally allow you to cockwarm him, hates how goddamn teasing it usually is, but he figures that today we have time to kill, so why not?

“There you go, baby,” he murmurs as you sink down on him, a loud moan getting caught in your throat. “You feel better now, huh? You feel better now that niichan’s stuffing your little cunt full?”

A soft whine is all you can manage, nodding dumbly against his shoulder. Yes, yes, you feel better, you feel right, you feel complete.

And you can’t help but hump him a little, hips rocking against his in tiny, shallow motions, clit catching on his pubic bone with every push forward and drag back.

“Yeah, that’s it, princess,” he breathes, though his eyes are still focused on his phone, reading an article about a drug bust you’re sure his gang was a part of. “Use niichan to get yourself off, come on,”

He tells you to go slow, to be careful, cute pussy still sore from the abuse it suffered last night, and you obey, hips moving in unhurried motions, just enjoying the feeling of him being inside you, of him being this close, of how good it feels, sweet little whimpers of niichan, niichan, being huffed out against his neck.

It takes a good half hour of grinding before you’re finally creaming all over his cock, body trembling in his arms as he hushes you through it, whispering into your hair how good you are for him, one of his hands gripping your hips and forcing you to keep moving until your body collapses against his, boneless and pliant. Touya affords you a few moments to come down, cock still buried deep inside you, twitching as it patiently waits for your breathing to calm.

He isn’t gonna fuck you, he tells you as he shifts your limp body off of his cock, not with how you were feeling this morning. But he doesn’t think it’s very fair to make niichan suffer with such a hard cock, especially after he just let you cum all over it.

You don’t think it’s very fair, either, murmuring your agreement to him as your hand wraps around the shaft, his cock jumping at your touch.

It’s still so wet from all of your own juices, aiding your hand as it pumps him, hard and fast the way he likes it, obscene squelching echoing throughout the car.

Heat floods your cheeks while you watch your motions, stomach curling in on itself as his cock gleams with your slick, and it’s so hot, that’s so hot baby.

It doesn’t take long to have him panting out those gorgeous sounds, throaty moans and broken little whines, and you can tell he’s close when his hips begin to shift, thrusting into your fist. But you don’t want him making a mess all over his nice car, or his pretty sweater, leaning down to close your lips around the tip and suckle, tongue swiping across his slit as your hand works.

He whimpers out a curse before his hips stutter, thrusting his cock into your mouth as it paints your throat with spurts of burning cream. And you swallow it all, like the good little girl you are, looking up at him with sparkling eyes as you thank him for his cum, and God he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

❅ ❅ ❅

Christmas Eve dinner consists of a symphony of forks dragging across porcelain and spoons scraping against bowls. Rei tersely shoos everyone out of the kitchen the moment it’s over, brusquely ordering Touya and Shouto to get started on their chores.

The rest of the family shuffles into the living room, sitting stiffly on the couches, the television’s volume low as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer plays on the screen.

Fuyumi tries to reason with her mother in a hushed urgent voice, tries to tell her that it’s a bad idea to leave the two of them alone, especially with Touya surrounded by so many objects that could potentially be used as weapons.

“They’re adults,” her mother responds, tone clipped. “And they aren’t alone,” grey eyes glance over at the kitchen, at her eldest and youngest standing together at the sink, frothy bubbles beginning to build as the tap runs. “I can see them perfectly fine from here.”

“Mom—” Natsuo begins, cutting himself off at the glare his mother shoots his way, swallowing his words and nodding instead. “—is right. Mom is right,” he looks over at his sister. “They’re fine, look at them,”

But his voice is high, thin, glassy, the words trembling ever so slightly as stone eyes dart towards his siblings, both with rigid shoulders, weighted with the thick tension suffocating the room.

“They should be fine,”

But it’s hard for you to watch, too much for you to watch, entire body consumed by sharp anxiety as you observe Touya’s stiff movements. His jaw is set, nostrils flaring as he glares down at the sink, frustration and anger and red-hot hatred beginning to ooze through his mask of passivity, to seep through the cracks Shouto’s dexterously created using hostile comments and snide glances as his tools.

And on Christmas Eve, that mask finally shatters.

Because Touya doesn’t have it in him to continue his act of indifference anymore, worn out and exhausted by the effort. Trembling hands pluck a spoon from the mountain of dishes sitting in the aluminum sink, wetting it with water and then laving over it with a soapy sponge.

He’s sure he’s coming down—even though it isn’t time yet, even though he knows, deep down, that the comedown is still a few hours away, even though he knows he knows his body better than this, has been swallowing oxys for so long that he’s got the comedown memorized, right down to the fucking second—but he swears he can feel it, can feel the migraine beginning to throb behind his eyes, can feel the cold sweat beginning to bead at his temples, can feel the chills beginning to course through his body despite how warm the cabin is, teeth grinding to keep from clattering.

The air stings his clenched teeth as he sucks in a breath, exhaling slowly, shakily, trying to force his mind to focus on the dish in his hand, on the warm water cascading over his skin, on the light scent of artificial lemon wafting from his sudsy skin. It’s fine, he’s fine, all he has to do is wash a few stupid dishes and then—

“Listen—”

“Shut the fuck up and scrub,”

“I just wanted to—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Touya growls, gaze hyper-focused on the plate he’s been cleaning for over a minute now.

A lie. He has a lot to say to him, but he’d rather not make their mother cry, again, desperately hoping that Shouto will just shut his mouth and finish cleaning his side of the skin so they can get this fucking over with.

Shouto sighs, deep and patronizing, scoffing as his chest rises with the force of it.

“You’re impossible,” he grumbles. “Why can’t you—”

But then it’s all bubbling over, acidic words flowing from his mouth before he has a moment to consider what he’s saying. He wishes Shouto would’ve just left it, would’ve gritted his teeth like Touya and finished their chores silently instead of trying to play some fucking martyr, instead of trying to fix something that has always been broken.

“I heard what you said in that fucking washroom,” Touya cuts him off, eyes finally flashing to his face, jaw clenching twice as he glares at his baby brother. “Don’t you ever fill her head with that bullshit again, do you hear me?”

“She’s my step-sister, too,” Shouto shoots back, scrubbing turned needlessly aggressive, eyebrows set in a deep furrow as he glowers at the bowl in his hands.

“I don’t care,” Touya hisses. “Stay the hell away from her,”

Something massive, sharp and shiny catches his eye as he turns to deposit the clean dish on the drying rack, quivering hand hovering over it in hesitation. A butcher knife, gleaming in the dim, warm light of the kitchen, stuck halfway in the knife block.

Beside him, Shouto snorts, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust as he looks back to his hands, rinsing the bowl under a stream of hot water and placing it on the towel-covered counter.

“What? You gonna stab me? Really? In front of mom on Christmas Eve? Were the bloody nose and the black eye and the split lip not enough for you?”

No, of course not; it will never be enough for Touya.

“Why not?” Touya asks, voice calm, sounding almost serene, for the first time tonight. “It’s not like she’d miss you. I’m the one she took with her when she left, aren’t I? I think we both know that mom loves me more than she loves you—isn’t that right, scarface,”

And that—that has Shouto freezing mid motion, hand halting under the flowing tap water, half rinsed glass still in his grasp. It takes a moment for the words to sink in, Touya watching him almost lazily, that annoying indifferent smirk finally forming on his lips, achingly familiar.

Heterochromatic eyes glaze over and Shouto swallows roughly, jaw clenching twice as he turns towards his eldest brother, the glass clutched in his sudsy hand squeaking as his grip tightens. And for a moment, Touya thinks he’s won, breath bated as he waits for that first tear to escape, to roll down Shouto’s unblemished cheeks and fall crashing to the floor.

But then Shouto’s rolling his shoulders once, twice, puffing his chest out just a touch as he straightens to his full height, nearly a full inch taller that Touya, and exhales forcefully through his nose.

“Y’know, if you loved her—I mean, if you really loved her—you’d let her go,” His voice is sharp, clear, ringing throughout the kitchen, ringing throughout Touya’s head, bouncing off the walls in his mind and reverberating. “What you have, what you’re feeling, isn’t love—it’s obsession.”

That infamous smirk begins to fall, cobalt eyes narrowing at his baby brother’s words, breath beginning to quicken. Shouto sees it then—that final crack in the mask Touya’s so painstakingly crafted, in the mask Touya so expertly worn for so many years—and he strikes.

“It’s possession.”

No. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t need to hear this—it’s all lies, isn’t it? Touya tries to scoff, tries to roll his eyes and shake his head at such ridiculousness, but it feels like his body’s encased in ice, frozen straight to the core.

“It’s insecurity.”

Blood rushes in his ears, but it fails to drown out Shouto’s crisp voice, his words slicing straight through the white noise. Touya wants to tell him to stop, wants to tell him to shut the hell up, wants to silence him by driving that huge knife straight through his fucking chest, but his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, refusing to obey his brain as it shouts at it to fight back, goddamn it!

“I meant what I said to her in that washroom,” his younger brother spits, words dripping with hostility as his eyes narrow, giving Touya a once-over like he’s the most pathetic thing Shouto has ever laid eyes on. “She does deserve so much better than you and you fucking know it, but you’re too selfish to let her go. That isn’t love.”

And it’s those final three words that finally have the mask breaking into tiny fragments and falling away, revealing glassy sapphires and a twitching nose, a trembling chin and a hard swallow. It’s those final three words that have it shattering concurrently with the glass in Shouto’s hand, shards clattering to the tiled floor, smashing into smaller pieces upon impact.

It catches Fuyumi’s attention first, who had been on edge and observing the pair sharply, body coiled and ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

“Shouto, your hand!” she cries as she leaps up, eyes wide and trained on the blood oozing from Shouto’s palm, rushing down his arm and dripping off his elbow.

But neither of them break their stare, Shouto entirely numb to the pain, Touya entirely suffocated by it, molars grinding together as he tries in vain to stop his chest from stuttering. It isn’t until Fuyumi grabs Shouto by the shoulders and forces him to face her that their gaze is broken, the youngest finally looking down to find his palm stained with viscous crimson.

Frantic sapphire eyes dart around the room, something akin to panic clawing at Touya’s chest, tearing him open from the inside out and making each breath more painful than the next. He needs to go, he needs to leave, he needs to get the hell out of this kitchen, out of this house, needs to, needs to, needs…

Feet stumble a little as he rushes up the stairs, catching himself on the railing twice as he ascends to the top. Someone calls his name, he thinks, but he can barely hear it over the intense ringing in his ears, his vision fading in and out of focus. The door to your shared bedroom slams open, brass knob whacking off the drywall and leaving an ugly little hole not unlike the larger one Shouto’s head left in the living room wall the day before.

Startled and gasping, your book falls from your hands and tumbles to the floor as Touya barrels through the threshold, making a beeline for the nondescript chest of wooden drawers tucked into the corner, yanking it open and beginning to riffle through the neatly folded clothing.

It sounds like he’s muttering something to himself, but you can’t discern what it is, heart beginning to thud against your ribcage. The tufts of hair at the back of his neck are coated in sweat, sticking to the skin, his breathing harsh and uneven as a curse hitches in his chest, rapidly moving onto the next drawer when whatever he’s looking for doesn’t turn up in the first.

A potent mix of adrenaline and dread floods your veins, and for a moment you’re frozen, little fingers curled so tightly in the sheets under you it’s painful, breathing stopped as you watch your niichan urgently rummage through the second drawer, his back beginning to hiccup.

For a moment, you aren’t sure what the hell is going on, unblinking eyes watching his motions in some sort of daze. For a moment, you’re terrified he might be overdosing, frantically searching for—for—you don’t even know, for some sort of antidote Natsuo might’ve given him, or something.

But then, he chokes out a pathetic little half-sob, trying in vain to swallow it back down akin to the first night you spent at the cabin, and then you’re leaping off the bed and rushing towards him in alarm, wrapping your arms around him tightly from behind, and he just…breaks. Collapses against the wooden chest hard enough to make the entire thing wobble, burying his head in his folded arms as his entire body shudders under the force of the sob that tears through his chest.

“Niichan!” you gasp, pawing at the front of his shirt, trying to make him move to face you. “Niichan, niichan, what is it? What’s wrong?” your own voice breaks with the threat of tears as you speak, heart racing in your chest.

He doesn’t respond, merely turns in your embrace and collapses on you instead, face buried in the crook of your neck as he weeps, big juddering breaths that have his entire back convulsing.

The action surprises you, a stark contrast from his stubborn resistance from the first night, but it worries you, too, such surrender uncharacteristic of him.

But your body’s running on autopilot, immediately petting his hair as your other arm tightens around his waist, clutching him. Soft hushes fall from your lips as you hold him, rocking your bodies slightly as you whisper into ivory tufts; it’s okay, you’re there, it’s alright, you’ve got him, you love him.

And the sob that rips from his throat as those last few words leave your lips is nothing short of vicious, has him coughing wetly into your neck and whining a little, large hands curling in the material of your dress as he tries to pull you closer, closer, closer.

“Baby, please, tell me what’s wrong,” you beg and your voice cracks, blinking hard against the tears flooding your own eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can help, please,”

He shakes his head, whimpering incoherently into your neck.

Can’t…Won’t…Pathetic…Disgusting…

“Please,” the word catches in your throat as tears finally escape your eyes, rolling down your cheeks in pairs. “Please, let me help, let me make you feel better,”

“I—I—I’m—” he tries, shaking his head again, but you urge him to continue, plead with him to try again. “Need to get out, n-need to—to make it stop,”

You aren’t sure what he means, but it doesn’t matter, body moving on pure instinct the moment the words are out of his mouth, little hand snatching the keys to the Audi off the surface of the dresser and dragging him along behind you.

❅ ❅ ❅

The road is empty, silent, entirely barren as the Audi weaves through it, fat snowflakes beginning to drift down from the wispy clouds that decorate the night sky, taking turns blanketing the full moon and softening it’s beams of ivory light.

You don’t drive very far. You haven’t a clue where you’re going, but it doesn’t matter, frenetic eyes searching for the first little secluded clearing you can pull into.

Touya is unsettlingly quiet, save for his soft sniffles and the gentle rustling of his clothing as he uses a sleeve to wipe at his nose. Hiccups are still catching in his chest, but he’s trying his hardest to stop them, to quiet them, growling a little in pure frustration each time one escapes. Your stomach churns uneasily at his muteness—you wish he would just say something, glancing over at him worriedly with your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, his sapphire eyes destitute, bloodshot and glassy as they stare indigently at his knees.

The small village that the cliff overlooks emits a warm glow of golden light, hovering hazily over it like a halo. Christmas lights are strung up on a few of the cabins, little glowing dots of red and green and blue lining the roofs. A dusting of snow has begun to collect, like gingerbread houses sprinkled with icing sugar.

Touya is still silent when you cut the engine, stays silent when you turn to peer at him from your spot in the driver’s seat, stays silent when you place a dainty hand on his bicep, rubbing soothing circles into the clothed muscle and sighing.

“Niichan,”

Nothing.

“Niichan, look at me,”

Nothing.

“Touya-nii,” you murmur, kicking off your boots and climbing over the center console into his lap, his arms immediately opening to embrace you. “What’s going on?”

His gaze still avoids yours, despite the fact that his hands are curling around your body, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to make you wince, needing you close, closer. And his voice is so quiet, almost desolate as he answers.

“It’s nothing,”

Tender fingers tuck a tuft of alabaster behind his ear.

“It’s not nothing,”

“It doesn’t matter,”

Gentle lips place soft kisses along his jaw.

“It matters very much to me, niichan,”

“It’s—It’s stupid, fucking stupid,”

A small palm finds solace on his cheek, cupping it as a thumb strokes the skin.

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you, baby,”

Cobalt darts around the car, trying to look anywhere but at your face as sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip, an attempt to quell its quivering. A soft sigh leaves your lips as gentle hands cup his face, forcing his gaze to meet yours.

“Let me in,” you whisper, soft little thumbs caressing the ink under his eyes. “Let me help,”

Burning sapphire sears into your eyes, gaze penetrating and powerful as it shines with unshed tears, and you have to force yourself to not look away, to keep staring into those pools of gleaming blue, feeling as though you’re staring directly at the sun.

He doesn’t blink, but the tears collecting in his eyes become too many, too much, spilling over his lashline and cascading down inky cheeks, leaving little gleaming trails in their wake. He inhales deeply, holding the breath in his chest for a moment before exhaling slowly, the breath trembling.

“I don’t even know where to fucking start,”

And his voice is so low you nearly miss it, raw and hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“Take your time,” tiny fingers run through his hair again, his eyes closing with the motion, more tears dripping down his cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just…Tell me what’s bothering you,”

What is bothering him? It’s hard to say, not because it’s complicated, but because he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, doesn’t want to accept it, doesn’t want to admit that his baby brother’s words have affected him more than he ever thought they would.

If you really loved her…You’d let her go.

He does really love you, he wants to scream until his throat is sore, until his throat is bleeding, molars grinding at the thought of anyone thinking otherwise. He loves you so much, loves you too much, loves you more than he’s loved anything in his entire fucking life, he’s sure of it, positive of it.

He’s loved you since he first began stealing kisses from you, in the kitchen when mom wasn’t looking. He’s loved you since you tiptoed to his room, mumbling about a nightmare and seeking solace in his warm bed, in his warm arms. He’s loved you since you sobbed into his chest, that night you told him you wanted all of him, that night when he realized that you love him, too. He’s loved you since you let him permanently sear his name into your skin, branding you as his forever.

Yes, he’s possessive, and yes, he’s selfish, and yes, he can be a fucking asshole, but he does love you. Really loves you. He can barely remember his life without you in it, everything blurry and out of focus before you entered the frame. You’re all he’s got, all he’s ever had, all he ever wants, and the thought of you being unhappy, the thought of you wanting to leave, kills him, drives a large stake straight through his chest and clean out the other side, spearing him.

And yet, he fails to put any of these thoughts, running a mile a minute through his mind, into words. Patient as ever, you wait, petting his hair, planting kisses scattered across his face, tracing patterns on his skin as a war rages inside his head.

“I’m—It’s fucking pathetic,”

“It isn’t pathetic to be human, Touya,” you whisper sadly, little thumbs swiping across both cheeks. “You don’t have to keep it together every minute of every day,” you remind him gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You’re allowed to be ‘weak’, too,”

He shakes his head, but refrains from arguing with you, because he can’t. Because he knows if he opens his mouth, if he tries to speak, he’ll start sobbing again. Sapphire tears away from your gaze, unable to hold your eyes anymore as his chin begins to quiver.

“I do really love you,” he whispers finally, head dropping, eyes squeezing shut against the prick of tears.

“I know you do, baby,” you say softly, fingers rubbing circles into his biceps, though he can hear the confusion laced in your voice.

“But do I—Do I des—”

He can’t. He can’t force those four simple little words out of his mouth, getting caught at the back of his throat, tangling into a giant ball that aches when he tries to swallow past it.

It’s starting again, that feeling from the kitchen, building in his torso, growing, stretching, higher and higher and higher until he can’t fucking breathe. A sharp gasp hitches painfully in his chest as he desperately tries to inhale, tries to suck an adequate amount of air into his lungs, coughing on the saliva pooling at the back of his throat.

“Do I—” the words escape his lips in a pitiful whine, voice cracking.

A sudden flash of blistering fury rips through his chest at his own cowardice. Disgust churns in his stomach, leaving a stinging bitterness lingering on his tongue, revolted at himself for getting so goddamn emotional over this, for letting Shouto’s words eat away at him, corrosive and parasitic as they take root in his brain, infecting his consciousness until it’s all he can fucking hear, think, see.

Tiny fingers find his face, hooking under his jaw and tilting it up, gently forcing him to look at you again. The pads of your fingertips dance along his skin, tracing along his jaw and then up his cheek to catch in the endless stream of tears.

You don’t say anything, because you don’t have to, tender little touches speaking volumes more than your words ever could, inspiring a bout of intense strength as he powers through the sentence, forcing the trembling words from his throat.

“Do I deserve you?”

And you’re so shocked by the question that your fingers halt, and his body stills, his breath stuttering in his throat, staring at you in an almost urgent manner, pleading with you to tell him the answer he’s so desperately seeking.

Salty water trickles over your thumbs, the sensation breaking you out of your reverie, response flowing from your mouth seamlessly, without a second thought.

“Of course you do,” your eyes search his face, studying his features slowly. “Where is this coming from?”

The question leaves your lips before you even know what you’re saying, but your voice is soft, kind, full of so much concern and affection as your fingers begin their ministrations again, tracing the ink decorating his cheeks.

He refuses to tell you, shakes his head as his lips press into a firm line, expression hardening. Blue fire ignites in his eyes, and you have your answer.

Shouto’s words from that first day in the washroom drift through your head, but you don’t press. Regardless of whether or not Touya had heard them on the twenty-first, it is fair to assume that Shouto must have said something along similar lines tonight, triggering this reaction.

Sighing, your expression softens, forehead falling forward to knock against his, hands still on either side of his face, keeping his gaze from escaping again as you speak.

“You—you’re sure?”

“Niichan, my niichan,” you murmur, pecking his lips in a chaste kiss. “That isn’t yours to decide, or Shouto’s to decide, or anyone’s to decide,” and your voice is so tender, filled with so much love as tiny fingers run through his hair, tension dissipating from his shoulders with each comb through. “It’s mine. And I’m telling you that you do deserve me,”

“Do I?” he chokes out brokenly, voice cracking and barely above a whisper. And the look on his face, azure eyes glazed with a thick shield of tears as they desperately search your face, chin trembling almost violently as he swallows a pitiful whine, pierces your heart; and you swear you can feel it shattering into a thousand little pieces, puncturing the surrounding organs and making your whole chest ache.

“Yes,” you whisper, tiny hands flexing on either side of his face as you grip him tighter, blinking rapidly to clear your own vision. “Yes,” you repeat, louder, stronger, fiercer, silencing whatever he was beginning to respond with by crushing your lips against his.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re murmuring between kisses, spit slicked lips sliding against his as he sobs into your mouth.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your lips, voice raspy with tears. “I love you, I love you,”

And, truly, you’re the only thing holding him together at this point—have been the only thing holding him together for a long time now. You’re the glue that keeps his life from falling apart, you’re the stitches that keep his very soul intact, sewing him back together each and every time he begins to unravel, keeping him complete, keeping him whole.

Fingernails dig into the skin of his cheek as you hold him in place, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and nibbling, relishing in the quiet, broken moan you pull from him. A little tongue laps at the salty tears staining his cheeks, licks along his jaw as his hands grip the meat of your ass, trying to pull you closer as he breathes out your name.

“I love you,” you whisper, words punctuated by kisses down the column of his neck. “So much,”

A whine gets stuck in his throat, head tilting to allow you more access to move as large hands paw at the hem of your dress, rucking it up around your waist. Something pokes you, prods you, pushes up into you through the thick, rough denim of his jeans, and you inhale sharply, instantly consumed by overwhelming need—the need to feel him, hot and pulsing and driving into you, the need to make him feel better, to make him forget, to remind him that you’re his, and he’s yours, the need to be claimed.

It hits your like a fucking freight train, burns through your veins and shoots straight to your core, sharp spikes of heat that have you huffing out his name.

“I need you,” the words are whimpered against inky skin as you grind desperately against his hard cock, clawing at his chest, his biceps, his belt. “Niichan, I need you,”

“Yeah, baby?” he pants into your mouth, hands kneading your nylon covered thighs as he presses his clothed cock against your core, forcing a mewl of his name from your throat.

“Yes,” you cry pathetically, and it’s almost too much, the scalding, throbbing heat collecting between your thighs, hips gyrating in quick little circles as you try to alleviate some of the tension coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach. “Yes, yes, need you t-to fuck me, to—” a sharp gasp cuts you off as he bites into your shoulder, growling darkly against your skin. “—To fill me up, to remind me who I belong to,”

Strong, lithe fingers tear into your thin tights, hooking into the holes they create and ripping the delicate material. Dark eyes flit down, rabidly scanning your clothed little cunt, white lace soaked and stuck to you, outlining your folds. Touya chuckles, delivering a superficial slap with the back of his hand before pushing your panties to the side.

Niichan, niichan, you’re whining out the honorific, fingers tangling in his sweater and tugging roughly as his digits caress your slit, urgently shaking your head.

His lips tug down. “Baby, you know I—”

“No!” you pout, eyebrows knitted together, Touya’s eyes flashing dangerously at being so rudely cut off. “I don’t want your fingers, they aren’t enough,” Because the need to be filled, to be stretched, to be owned is almost voracious now, desire clawing at the pit of your belly. “Mark me, claim me, breed me, I-I’m yours,” you’re wailing, cunt achingly empty, the pulsing in your clit nearly too much to take.

A snarl rumbles in his chest, large hand snaking around your bent leg, wedging between your thigh and calve and gripping the back of your knee, hitching the leg closest to the center console up in one swift movement and planting your foot on the console box, thighs stinging from the sudden stretch.

One of your hands latches onto the handle above the door while the other clutches his shoulder, nails digging into the muscles through the knit of his sweater while he fiddles with his belt, squirming a little and shoving his jeans down to his knees.

Not a second is wasted as the head of his cock nudges against your fluttering hole, and then he stills. He wants you to beg, needs to hear you beg, and so you do, high-pitched and whiny as your hips instinctually wiggle.

“Please, niichan, please! Want it, need it, need you,”

And then he’s shoving himself into you, a hiss slipping from between your teeth, familiar, welcomed tears springing into your eyes, a guttural groan catching in his throat.

It stretches, aches, stings so good, so right, so perfect as he bottoms out, pressed snugly against your cervix, and pauses for a moment, cock twitching inside of you, strong hands on your hips preventing them from rocking forward and forcing you to just feel him for a second, every inch of him, buried deep inside you. The sigh that falls from your lips is nothing short of dreamy, mumbling about feeling whole again, and he chuckles.

Yeah, that’s right, princess. Only niichan’s cock can fill you up like this.

His thrusts start gradual, fingers flexing on your hips as they dig into the sensitive flesh, forcing you to slide nearly all the way off his cock before pushing you back down, hips pressing up to meet yours, cockhead grinding against your cervix as he stuffs himself in your cunt, gaining a little more speed with each motion.

No one but niichan could ever make you feel like this.

The words are whimpered between fierce, messy kisses, between ravenous, devouring kisses, between the clacking of teeth and the slurping of tongues, glistening saliva, sticky and sweet and laced with the taste of blue fire and Marlboros dripping off your chin.

And he needs to hear it—needs to know that you belong to him and only him, needs to know that you want him and only him, needs to know that only he is deserving of you, worthy of you—so you tell him, in breathy little whines, that no, no one could ever make you feel this good; yes, niichan’s the only one that can fill you up this fully, this wholly, this rightly, eyes rolling back and sharp cries echoing through the car as he pounds into you, deep little grunts falling from his lips in time with each snap up of his hips.

“Tell niichan—ah, fuck—tell niichan how badly you need his cum,”

Senseless babbling flows freely from your lips the instant he asks for it, forever incapable of disobeying a direct order from him—please niichan, need your cum so bad, need to feel it in my belly, need to feel it in my brain, please, give it to me, give it to me, give it to me!

“Christ,” he chokes out, hips beginning to falter, muscles bulging and tensing as he forces you to keep bouncing on him, hard and fast and deep. “Cum with me, baby,” he nearly begs, voice more wrecked than you’ve ever heard it before, inspiring a whole flock of butterflies in your tummy. “Be a good girl and make a—make a mess all over niichan’s cock,”

And it’s the sense of desperateness, of urgency, of sheer neediness sown deep into his broken voice that has you spasming around him, that evokes an orgasm so intense it makes you choke on your own scream as it slashes through you, gurgling on spit and tears as violent tremors course through your body.

Hot, thick spurts of cum fill you, your name escaping his lips in a cracked whine, his hips continuing to lazily roll against yours as you milk him for every drop of cum he’s got, as you beg him for more, more, more.

Overwhelmed by emotion, you collapse against his heaving chest, hiccupping out pitiful little sobs between your harsh breathing, and he hushes you, fingers petting your sweaty hair as he murmurs against your scalp—shh, it’s alright, he’s here, he loves you, you’re his, and you did so well.

“Do you want to leave?” the question is uttered softly, after your breathing has calmed to tiny sniffles, voice so genuine it’s almost painful, curled up in his arms as your bare cunt presses against his pelvis, cum still leaking out of you. “Just say the word and we’ll go, baby,”

Swallowing thickly, he’s silent for a moment, considering. Patiently, you wait, nuzzling comfortingly against his neck and licking at the sweat pooled in the dip of his collarbone. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, laced with a hint of disbelief.

“Really?”

You pull back to gaze at him.

“Yes, really,” you whisper, catching a tear with the pad of your thumb and placing a soft kiss against his cheek. “You are more important to me than anyone else in that damn cabin by far, and I don’t care if it upsets them—if you want to leave, if you need to leave, we’ll leave. Say the word, and I’ll drive back, pack our shit, and we’ll be gone. You don’t even need to get out of the fucking car,”

Shining sapphire eyes study your face intently, searching for any sign of hesitancy, finding nothing but sincerity.

“I love you so much,” he laughs wetly, more glistening tears escaping his eyes with the motion. “So fucking much,”

Tingling warmth blossoms in your chest at his words, at his laugh, conjuring a watery smile of your own as you pepper his face with kisses, soft lips ghosting across his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and forehead until he becomes too impatient, large hands cupping your jaw and pressing your wandering lips against his.

Giggles erupt from your throat, and he’s sure that’s what liquid sunshine sounds like, allows the noise to wash over him, to bathe him in your everlasting light, to warm him to his very core. A little tongue darts out to lick teasingly along the seam of his lips, evoking an involuntary smile of his own before his tongue escapes to meet yours, another precious squeal of laughter echoing through the car.

Yes, he thinks, as your laughter vibrates against him, arms tightening around your waist as he cradles you against his chest. This is what love feels like.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi #AAAAAAAH okay #this made me cry lol #idk if it'll make u cry but it made me cry #anyway merry christmas eve i love u lots!! <33 #tw pseudo-incest

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pixieungerstories · 4 years ago

Text

Quarantine - 2

There was no sign the house had any other occupants for days. I hadn’t been able to drag the mattress out of the room where he had put it. It was heavy and I couldn’t compress it enough to get it through the door.

I went back to working from home. The conference calls helped me feel sane. After a while it was easy to pretend the whole thing was some fever dream. I was pretending, though. I still hadn’t tried to open the closet. Grocery delivery was set on a rotation so that once a week they arrived at the gate. My neighbours had theirs brought right up to the house. Mine were always left at the gate of the picket fence that surrounded the front yard.

I used the hedge trimmers to shape the lilac bushes that the neighbours on each side had planted to obscure their view of my house. I weeded and mowed the lawn wishing for grass seed before just giving up and calling it a meadow. Some of the flowers were even pretty. I chuckled with my friends about how much drywall I was going to need when this was over. We laughed about how it was lucky I was alone instead of having a roommate watching me through the holes in the walls.

Well, they laughed. I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages. Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room. I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good. It was. It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth. My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed. I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

Once again, I tried to move the mattress to another room. Once again, I failed. I spent the night wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in the other bedroom, with my laptop plugged in and netflix running to keep me company.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “Not even close.” There was a moment of silence as I strained my eyes to see something, anything, in the dark. “I can’t leave either,” he whispered. I stood there shaking in the light from my laptop screen. “Sleep in the bed. I will not bother you.”

I didn’t move. He had just sounded sad when he said it.

“Why can’t I ever see you?” I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that. “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject. “What do you want from me?”

“When you first arrived, you slept in the garden. If you had started by sleeping in the house, I would have run you off. But you were fixing things, so I let you stay. I got used to you being around. Then you got sick and it would have been so easy to just let you die. I would have gone back to being on my own. I no longer want to be on my own but I hadn’t considered the weight of you being unable to leave. I do not like the idea of you being scared of me and trapped here.”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes. So take care of yourself. Sleep in the bed. Care for the house. I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips. I didn’t want to ask but I had to know. “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

There was no answer. I waited for what felt like an eternity before I continued. “Look, it isn’t a good idea to share sex toys, so depending on where it’s been, I might need to throw it out. I can’t exactly get a new one just now. Please just tell me.”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.

Except for when I almost fell, I thought. You caught me then. And my laptop. I wouldn’t have been able to get a new one of those either. I wondered if soap and water would do it or if I was going to end up with some shadow monster disease. How do you even ask that?

“Ok,” I mumbled. I stood there in the dark and silence. The house was silent. I realized I hadn’t heard rattles or banging or hissing since I learned he was here. “Nyctophobia,” I blurted out.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly. “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued. Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary. It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

He never did answer. Eventually, I sat back down on the floor and wrapped the blanket more tightly around myself. I wasn’t brave enough to walk through a pitch dark house, past a staircase, to get to the room where there was a monster in the closet.

----

There was coffee waiting for me when I got up, and the smell of cinnamon buns baking in the oven. The oven timer said there was 10 minutes left. I peeked inside to find the tiniest pan of monkey bread baking. I recognized the recipe and pulled out the cookbook it came from. Sure enough, in Nick’s careful handwriting was notations about scaling the recipe down to one sixth of how it had been published.

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

I didn’t see him. Well, I mean, I never see him, but the only signs of him were things being done and left obviously done while I was bathing or getting dressed. Aside from how nice it was to not do the dishes I appreciated the signs that he was not watching me.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.

“Nick? What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I was lifted and carried squirming through the dark before being pushed into a space and having the door locked behind me. I panicked as I thought I might be in his closet before I realized I was in the wine cellar. Flashes of Edgar Allen Poe stories ran through my mind.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open. Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked. There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

Yeah, all the time, I thought. There was still no way to say that and sound sane. I went with a modified version of the truth. “The power went out around 10pm and I ended up stuck in the basement since I couldn’t see the stairs.”

He frowned at me. “Have you noticed anything missing? Any signs of a break in?”

“No? Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house. “There were break-ins all down this street last night. This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again. “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses? If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me. The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone. He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock. “My building permit is posted in my window. I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

“I'm sure everything is in order with that. Good day.” Then he left. Standing on the porch I could hear him telling the other officers what a shit hole my house was. He thought it should be condemned.

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that. And it didn’t need to be condemned. I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It wasn’t break ins. It was looters. The house next to me and the four next to it, all the way to the corner, had been hit. The owners had been found tied up at best and dead at worst with a variety of options in between.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick? What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down. My laptop was in the kitchen. My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb. I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear. “I did.”

“You are different. You are helping.”

I considered that. He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.” It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

That was the point where I started to cry. I had made it through everything life had thrown at me without turning into a weepy woman, but that did it. I’m going to blame it on a night of panicking in the wine cellar combined with news reports detailing what had happened to my neighbours.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled. “Fuck. Why don’t I have kleenex?”

A roll of toilet paper was pressed into my hands. I ripped off a length and blew my nose in a way that women in the movies never do, then I jumped as he stroked my cheek with a cool finger, catching my tears. His hand was gone an instant later.

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly. I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street.

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home. That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing. Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine. “You won’t be.”

I felt him tug at the blankets underneath me and I slid over so he could turn them back. Even in the dark I could find my sleep shirt under my pillow. I stood up next to the bed, stripped and pulled it over my head. Under the covers looking at the ceiling. Red, blue, shadow, red, blue shadow.

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?”

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed. “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?” I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human. We can’t procreate. I can’t make you sick. You can’t make me sick. We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday. I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest. Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster. Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it. Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

The only furniture in the bed room was the bed and a few boxes of random stuff I had moved in. I woke to find one of them had been used as a table and was holding breakfast for me. Or at least a travel mug of coffee and a plate of toast. I sat in bed, drank my coffee, ate my toast and read the thirty seven emails from everyone I knew asking what the fuck happened next door.

I ended up posting a blanket statement on facebook that I was fine. I was still in my house. I had no idea what had happened other than what I had seen on the news. Then I posted a picture of the three squad cars I could still see out my bedroom window.

My boss emailed me to ask when he could expect the report I had been assigned, so that took up the rest of my day. It was getting dark when I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. Another freezer meal, some salad and I was raiding the wine cellar again, god damn it!

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light. “Nope. I’m not alone. You’re here.”

He didn’t answer, as I ate my dinner by the light of the street lights outside. The porch light was outside the kitchen window, so I turned it on to wash the dishes then turned it off to go upstairs. It would have been better if I hadn’t stubbed my toe on the bottom step. I swore. Nick picked me up and carried me up the stairs.

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.” He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments. Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction. Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction? We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.

There was a commotion then the cops were knocking on my door. I sighed and turned on the lights. I decided to be proactive this time. I flung open the door and demanded “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The cops on my porch blinked.

“I’m trying to sleep! Can you keep the noise down? Please? I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

There were one set of arms around my shoulders and another holding my hips and back. I tried to think of a ‘what big arms you have Mr Wolf’ quip but it died on my lips and the touch was gone in an instant.

“Nick? Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

Hands on my hips, pushing me gently forward and steering me around boxes. Another hand guiding mine to the banister. Then nothing. I carefully inched my way upstairs. I did that awkward thing at the top where you think there is still one more step but there isn’t so your leg falls through nothing and you stumble. To my right was the bedroom, still lit by the flickering screen of my computer.

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this. I really had no secrets from him anymore. “I’m anxious and keyed up. I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what you are working with. But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it. The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human. I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung. I let my hand fall to the bed. “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that. A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant. Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides. Not human, I reminded myself. In the darkness, a hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I nodded. Four hands stroking me over my clothes. A mouth kissing and licking at my neck. I was expecting him to peel me out of my clothes, instead his touch was so feathery gentle. Hands cupped my face as he nuzzled my hair. I strained my eyes trying to see him, but I could catch only the faintest outline. Any time I reached out for him he pulled away. Finally, he got frustrated with that and pinned my hands over my head.

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer. I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes. I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Damned if I know,” I admitted. “It’s been … I don’t even know anymore… how long have I been stuck in this house? Weeks? Months? None of this seems real anymore. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m real anymore either. I just need … something.”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah. Someone to make me feel like I’m real. Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands. “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built. I came because of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

“On and off since then. Most people don’t last much more than a month or two. Normally, construction crews are the advance party before they move in. It’s easy enough to get rid of the new owners. You were just too stupid to leave.”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go? Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“My heart wasn’t in it. I need you to finish fixing the place first. Sooner or later someone would have built one of those ridiculous houses on the lot.” He started to massage my calf as he spoke.

“The house is more than a hundred years old. That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him. I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness. “What are you? Are you a ghost? Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh. “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies. And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined #monster boyfriend #shadow monster

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frostahesmegabite · 3 years ago

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DWC - Romance

@daily-writing-challenge - Day 3 - Romance It wasn’t always easy to surprise Naturasu with a romantic evening. The troll had a habit of showing up suddenly, as if by magical summoning, any time Mega thought about her and so he made it a point to not think of her name during tonight's preparations. Ya know, just in case that was an actual thing. Tonight he wanted to do something special, not necessarily just pounce her for a hard night of bloodletting and fucking… Albeit, he wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how it ended anyways, it was usually a safe bet unless one of them was horribly injured in some fashion. Still, tonight he wanted something different, so he set out to work on everything! He wasted no time in calling in small favors to have food brought in for him to cook and prepare while Nat was away at The Knot in Booty Bay, doing one of her ‘New Toy/Most Popular’ showings for the members who came to watch them all get tested and reviewed. He knew she’d be away for hours, putting on a proper show for everyone and this was the perfect chance while she was distracted! It was moments like this that he was thankful for the heavy modifications they made for their kitchen. Sure, the counters and island, everything was to height for Naturasu, but when you’re an interracial couple with size differences, tasks like food preparation become such a chore that it’s near impossible without some effort. Their solution? Retractable cabinets that allow Mega to use as stairs or platforms to walk and stand on that effectively allow him to cook shoulder to shoulder with his fiancé without having to constantly drag around step ladders, stools or making her kneel, hunch or squat just to get to his level. It’s these very things that allow him to move back and forth between Island and Counters or Island and Stove, transporting various foods and ingredients around. Shrimp Scampi. Lemon Pepper Bush Chicken, Rotisserie style of course. Gilnean Clam Chowder. Filet Mignon with Garlic Butter. Those were just the main dishes as Mega wanted to make sure Nat had plenty to choose from! The ovens are in overdrive with an assortment of baking breads and desserts while in his hands he slices and dices at various fruits and melons in an effort to create a tray for nibbles to start them off. Of course, Mega couldn’t help himself from time to time. What chef could with all these scents bombarding his senses?! Black and Gold painted claws skewering the occasional piece of Pineapple just to flick into the back of his mouth before his long teeth make light work of their form. Hours were going by and thanks to a couple of magical items on top of Naturasu’s ‘Tupper’s Wares’, he was able to keep the food that was completed that needed to be kept hot or cold without drying out or their temperature changing, everything was coming along smoothly! So smoothly in fact that Mega was practically dancing as he sprinkled fruit chunks with sugar, cinnamon or even a bit of whipped topping. Tonight was meant to be a bit more of a romantic and sweet night thanks to the Kids being back with their Aunt… or was it their Uncle's turn tonight? Mega lost track thanks to the efforts of his romantic planning, but either household he knew they’d be well taken care of and that they’d end up coming back in a few days with all sorts of new stories about which kids beat up which, who was mean and what all they did. Mega’s hand comes into his shirt pocket, retrieving the chain watch to gauge the time. His eyes bulge and he heads to the window, looking outside to see where the sun was at and it was already dark. “Fuckin hell, where’s tha time gone?” He mutters out. Crunch time! He begins to move quicker now! He double checked the meats and seafood, making sure they were still nice and hot, the fruits cold and still moist and then the topper… Which he didn’t make cause baking definitely wasn’t his forte, cookies with little dollops of chocolate dropped right in their centers. Sure, a nice little sugar rush at the end never hurt anyone! That’s when he realized one important thing

was missing. “The booze! Fuck my life.” Alcohol, Nat’s primary source of… Well, anything. If she was a fish, Beer would be her water. But, tonight was a different night, romance called for more than just standard brewed beer. Nope. Mega pushes on the Island, causing it to roll and swing away and he rushes down into their cellar and begins to rummage and walk the wall, looking for a particular set of bottles. “Ahh, here we go.” He takes out a bottle of aged Arc-Wine. Something largely for himself as it didn’t take much of it’s alcoholic and magical properties to tear him the fuck up. On the other hand, Mega stops and grabs the equivalent of a Mini-Keg of Mak’gora; a Raspberry Honey Ale. He never tried it himself, but it was supposed to be hellaciously strong for an Ale. With the drinks selected, he runs upstairs and pulls the Island back in place, laying everything out and getting classes and mugs ready. “Alright, food’s prepped, just gotta remove the lids for when she gets in and time for a quick shower so I can be clean and ready for when she gets here!” He does a mixture of a sprint and skip down the hallway, throwing off clothes along the way until his naked ass cuts the corner and runs into their khorium tiled bathroom where he proceeds to lather himself up with soap that smelled of Dragon Fruit and shampoo that smelled similar to coconut. While he knew his natural minty scent would intermingle with these eventually, for now, they’d at least provide a respite to his usual. Mega was quickly throwing on his clothes, a white button up shirt, gold vest and tie along with matching white pants and shoes to match. Sure, it might have been a bit much for an in-home romantic night, but Mega knew what he looked best in and he’d be damned if he didn’t try for that tonight! With a quirky pep to his step, he heads out back out to the dining room to wait on Nat’s arrival home. However, the night had other plans and a moment of shock hits him as he comes to a complete stop and freeze frame. Upon the island wasn’t just the food and deserts he had spent the entire day and evening preparing, but a completely naked Naturasu who had taken it upon herself to adorn her body with the many bits of food he created. “I heard ya in tha shower sugah and I didn’t wanna disturb you, so… I thought that since ya spent all this time preparing to romance me, I’d offer you something back in return.” A wry, wide brimmed smile slowly begins to creep over Mega’s face as his fingers begin to loosen his tie and undo the buttons to his vest and shirt while he slowly closes the distance just to walk up the stairs to top the island (and maybe Nat in short succession). He picks up the bottle of Ale he had chosen for her and pulls off the cork topper with his teeth, spitting it across the room before smiling down at her. “And here they say Romance is dead.” He takes a hefty drink of her brew, letting it linger before leaning in to smash the food between the two of them just so he can kiss her and share the taste. “Long live romance.” He beams between a few soft, teasing kisses and lip bleeding induced love nibbles. <Fade to Black>

#dwc2021 #Day3DWC #Romance #Megahes #Naturasu #Steamy Ending #fade to black

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trvelyans-archive · 4 years ago

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something to look forward to

mari wiseman x gray black. 4k words.

Is there a piece of popcorn in your hair?

“Mari, are you listening?”

You snap to attention, finally glancing away from the mirror in the bathroom and rolling your eyes. “Yes, Dad, I’m listening,” you reply, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear while you tug your boots on. “You must not be, though, because I’ve reminded you more than once that it’s only a ten-minute walk to the train station and that I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“I should just come and get you,” Nick says. It’s past midnight now – you had to stay after your shift ended, cleaning up a puddle of Pepsi on the floor that you found accidentally after kneeling down to grab some popcorn from under the seats – and no matter what you say, he insists that you’re going to run into trouble on the way home (even though you have the grumpiest face in the Chicago area – probably all of Illinois – and there’s probably very few people who would approach you because of it without even starting to consider the whole mind-blind thing). “Did you at least bring a hat?”

You pause. “Yes?”

“Mari –“

“Nick, it’s minus ten.” You zip up your jacket and straighten, reaching to grab your phone to make sure it doesn’t topple to the ground while you swing your bag over your shoulder. “That’s nothing.”

“Alright,” he concedes, sensing that you’re not going to budge. “But… call me if you see anyone acting - I don’t know, suspicious, okay?”

“Don’t you worry enough at work?” you ask, reaching for the bathroom door and pulling it open. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

“Button.” You can hear a smile in his voice. “I never get tired of you.”

You nod at the co-worker by the ticket booth as you wander through the lobby, your boots squeaking loudly against the floor. You don’t know how they didn’t dry in the eight hours they spent sitting in your locker – they’re still as wet as they were when you got here earlier today. Well, yesterday, technically.

Jesus, you’re tired. He should be more worried about you falling asleep on the train than he should be about you getting mugged.

Before you push open the front doors of the theatre, you pause and heave a sigh, remembering that he’s still waiting on the other end of the line. “I’ll call you if I see anyone acting suspicious,” you promise, hoping that you sound sincere. And you are sincere – even you don’t want to die by a mugging-gone-wrong. “And once I get on the train.”

“And once you get off the train.”

That gets a laugh out of you – not an entirely frustrated one, either, which is a feat to behold, at this hour and after this much badgering. While he can just tune into your thoughts whenever he wants to hear whether or not they’re ‘ah, that customer sucked’ or ‘ah, I’m being actively murdered’, sometimes – especially now that you’re an adult with a part-time job – he likes to let you pretend that you have some semblance of privacy (even though you really don’t). “Alright, before and after I get on the train,” you repeat. “Anything else?”

“Nope. Be safe, okay, Button?”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Love you,” Nick replies. “Bye.”

The call clicks off before you have a chance to say ‘love you’ back, and after spending thirty seconds deliberating whether or not you want to call him again to do so, you decide against it and brace yourself before pushing out into the night.

Thankfully, it’s snowing outside, and you take a minute to tilt your head back and let the snow hit your face. Most people might complain, but you like the snow. It makes everything in the city look pretty… dreamlike, almost. Still, after breaking yourself out of your reverie, you sigh and stuff your phone in your pocket, regrettably beginning to feel the tips of your nose and ears getting cold already. It’s minus ten, you remind yourself, gritting your teeth and dragging your boot-heavy feet down the sidewalk. And you’ve survived worse. Worse weather, and…

Well, worse.

You sigh a second time like a melodramatic dog that hasn’t yet been fed by its owner and glance up just in time for you to notice a man wandering down the sidewalk towards you. Late forties or so, with a leather jacket and slicked back hair – is he a mobster? He walks like a mobster, at least ones that you’ve seen in movies, and – it’s Chicago. He could very well be a mobster.

Should you call Nick?

You opt not to this time, but tighten your fingers around your phone anyway and hold your breath as he gets closer and closer, close enough that you’d probably be able to pick him out of a line-up if he tries anything, and then, in the span of about two seconds, he walks directly past you without even looking over, leaving you shaking in your boots for more than one reason and sufficiently not-mugged. (No word on whether or not you’re sufficiently not-frostbitten, though.) You’re almost disappointed – do you not look put-together enough to at least try mugging? – and then you remember that going unnoticed by as many people as possible is something you usually like, so you let your phone fall to the bottom of your pocket and keep walking. A little faster, this time, though - just to be safe.

Which is good, because it hasn’t even been a full minute when you hear footsteps behind you – quick, careful footsteps, too close for you to run away from.

Oh, well. It was good while it lasted.

“Mari?”

You frown and turn around – sure enough, Grayson Black is standing behind you, a package of toilet paper stuffed under one arm and a paper grocery bag hanging from his opposite hand, his golden-brown hair tucked beneath what looks like a hand-knit toque.

Great. Just your luck. He looks like he stepped out of a Whole Foods advertisement and you’re wearing a coat that’s about three winters old and smell like stale popcorn that someone put way too much butter on.

“Hey, Gray.” You smile at him, trying to pretend that you hadn’t convinced yourself you were within an inch of imminent death. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh – just walking home from the store.” He frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Work,” you say, pointing to the theatre down the block. Grayson follows your finger and then sighs.

“Right.” He turns back to you. “Sorry, Nick told me you were working, I was just… surprised to see you out so late.”

“It’s okay,” you reply. It’s not like you have any friends to go clubbing with, so you can understand his confusion. “Uh – okay, well… See you later?”

“Are you going to the station?” he asks. Why is he still frowning?

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll walk you,” Gray offers.

“I – what?” You shake your head. “No, it’s fine.”

“And it’s late.” He takes a step closer, but not close enough to break the unspoken barrier between you. “Besides… Nick will kill me if he finds out we ran into each other and I didn’t walk you.”

Of course he’s only offering for Nick’s sake. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t tell him.”

“Mari.” God, the way he says your name is a prime example of why every girl in Illinois has a poster of him of their bedroom wall. “Can you let me walk you to the train station?”

You stare at him for a second, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too wide. “Okay, yeah, sure. When you ask so nicely.”

He laughs and moves closer until you walk side-by-side with the usual distance between you, though it feels much bigger tonight – actually, considering his arm is sticking out half a foot farther than it does most of the time because of the package of toilet paper stuck under it, the gap probably is bigger than usual. You glance around at the street while you walk, listening to the crunch of snow under your boots and the gentle hum of passing cars. God, you’d kill to be in a nice, warm car right now – you should’ve taken a cab.

Actually, no, you’re glad you didn’t. You’re probably safer (and happier) on the street with Gray than you are with a potential Ment cab driver.

“So.” You turn to Gray, and he turns to look at you before you even say anything. “Another late night run for Arizona?”

He laughs again, and you try not to let yourself feel too pleased with yourself about it, because he could just be doing it to be polite, right? “No, not this time,” he answers. “Just some… ah… dish soap. I’ve been out for a week, and…” He grimaces, and you get the sense he’d reach up to scratch the back of his head if he had a free hand. “I finally ran out of plastic cutlery tonight after dinner.”

“Mmm… Well, that’s a good reason for a midnight run to the grocery store if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Of course, a couple cans of Arizona just so happened to fall into my basket, and – it would be rude of me to say no...”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” You smile. “That’d be downright heretical, and Fortitude has a reputation to keep.”

Gray laughs, louder this time, and you feel your smile widen. “Anyway, enough about me,” he says. “How was work?”

“Ah… it was okay.” You shrug absently, feeling his eyes on you while you do (even though he should be looking at the ground so he doesn’t slip on a patch of ice and fall on his ass). “Had to stay late and clean up, which was gross, but… According to Nick, I have some cookies waiting for me when I get home, so that’s nice.”

“Something to look forward to,” Gray agrees, nodding.

As if anything compares to this.

“Yeah,” you say. “Something to look forward to for sure.”

“Are you getting excited for the Academy?”

You cringe. As thrilled as you were to get accepted into Aeon, the prospect of finally starting there is nowhere near as thrilling. Though it’ll be nice to have classmates that are strictly non-Ments – at least when you’re not working with Sally’s class – the idea of being back in any kind of school isn’t… well, that isn’t something to look forward to. Still… “Yeah, kinda,” you answer. “Not ready to go back to school, I think, but I also don’t want to be scraping gum out from underneath movie theatre seats for the rest of my life.”

He makes a face. “That sounds… gross.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “It is. But I’ve snuck into a couple movies so far and watched them for free, so… it’s an okay trade-off, I think.”

“Sounds like it,” Gray muses. He turns to you. “You’re really not excited to go to Aeon?”

“I said kinda!” you protest.

He smiles. “You shouldn’t be nervous, Mari.”

You’re the one to make a face this time. “Who said I was nervous?”

“No one had to.” He angles his head in your direction like he’s sharing a secret. “I can tell.”

“And Nick told you.”

“Nick… may have mentioned it.”

“I’m not nervous.” You’re lying, of course, because you’re nervous about everything. Right now, only half of your brain is tuned into the conversation because the other half is nervous that you’re going to slip on the ice and break your neck, which would both be not hot and so embarrassing that you’d have to write off your friendship with Gray entirely for the rest of your life and become a full-time hermit whenever he comes over for dinner. “I just… I don’t know…” You kick a block of ice and watch it skitter through the fresh snow in front of you. “I don’t want to disappoint Nick.”

“You could never disappoint him,” Gray responds. “You’re brilliant.”

“Psh. Not even Nick could get away with saying that.”

“He didn’t.” Gray adjusts his grip on the package of toilet paper. “I mean, I’m sure he thinks it. I meant that… I meant that I think you’re brilliant.”

Sure, that could be a really cute compliment Gray gave you, but you’re probably just being too optimistic, right? Like – sure, he’s nice to you and brought flowers to your graduation ceremony and sure, he gave you that cute teddy bear for Christmas and sure, he once brought over a 6-pack of Dr. Pepper for dinner because you were having a bad day and he knows it’s your favourite, but… “Gray,” you sigh. “British people say everything is brilliant.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if his cheeks are pink because of how cold it is out or – well, for other reasons that are so impossible that you don’t let yourself continue that train of thought. “That’s true,” he says. “But I mean it. From the bottom of my heart.”

You don’t know what to say to that, but you don’t say anything. Thankfully, you don’t think Gray seems to mind, because he doesn’t say anything else, either.

There’s a crosswalk coming up, and even though no cars are coming and you could easily get away with some perfectly safe jaywalking, you stop and press the button (ha) anyway and wait for the light to turn, figuring you don’t want to risk it if Gray wants to report anything back to Nick. (Because Nick could very well assume that you jaywalking is something to be grievously concerned about.) Although, on second thought, you’re not sure Gray’s paying very much attention right now – he’s glancing across the street with his eyebrows furrowed, a distant look in his eyes. He must be thinking hard about something, so you elect not to interrupt him.

Now that there’s a lull in conversation, you find your eyelids beginning to flutter. You stayed up late last night after falling down a Wikipedia rabbit hole – that’s why you shouldn’t watch documentaries at three in the morning, you think to yourself - and Nick had to wake you up at noon to make sure that you weren’t late for your shift, so… Yeah, falling asleep on the train sounds like a pretty likely scenario.

Gray shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and once again adjusts his grip on the toilet paper package – as he does, though, it topples out of his grasp and lands perfectly in between your feet with a soft, snowy thump. You bend down to grab it the same time Gray does, of course, because you’re the two most awkward people in the world, and there’s a three-second pause before you finally reach for the toilet paper and scoop it into your arms because it would be too awkward now not to.

“Don’t worry, I can take it,” you say before he can protest. “You have your… uh…” You gesture to his bag. “Hand full, anyway.”

He tries to protest anyway. “Mari, let me –“

“No, it’s okay.” You smile pleasantly at him. “You’re walking me, so I can… you know… take one for the team.”

He deliberates for a second before nodding – you think he might only do that because the crosswalk light has started beeping at you. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The snow is starting to lighten up, now – you can see the train station in the distance. It’s still a few blocks away, which means you more than enough time to make a sufficient fool of yourself. (Or perhaps, continuing the theme of the rest of the night, a not-fool of yourself?) “You know, uh, if you think I’m so brilliant…” You’d put air quotes around it if your fingers weren’t too cold. “Maybe we should have a Scrabble rematch soon?”

You, Nick, and Gray ended up playing a round last time Gray came over for dinner, but Nick stopped halfway through because he was getting bored and decided to go try mixing a new drink instead. Usually you would’ve complained – you like to wipe the literal board with him whenever you can – but it was hard to complain when you were sitting across the coffee table from Gray and splitting a plate of cookies like a couple of little kids. (It’s hard not to feel like a kid around Gray – shy and long-limbed and awkward. Like Bambi, but less cute because you’re a human and also, just generally, not cute.) “I still can’t believe you beat me...”

“Is now a bad time to remind you that I was my school’s valedictorian?”

“Yes, it’s a terrible time,” you reply, watching Gray grin out of the corner of your eye. “English was one of my best classes! I’m supposed to be good at Scrabble.”

“Well… maybe you’ll be better during our rematch.”

Okay. Keep it cool, Mari.

It only sort of sounds like you’re arranging a date with the love of your life and he’s not even taking a couple seconds to be weird about it.

“Oh, I will be better,” you say. “That’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Do you work tomorrow?” He sniffles – he must be cold. This is what he gets for wasting his night walking you to the station instead of going back to his nice, warm apartment. “Maybe I could pick you up after your shift and train with you back to your house.”

“Oh, uh –“ You clear your throat. “Yeah, I work tomorrow! I think I get off at six?”

“Okay, great. Just let me know if – erm, that changes or… something.”

“Yeah, I will,” you reply, a little taken aback.

What in the world is happening?

Did you actually get stabbed by that maybe-mobster, and awkwardly making plans to play Scrabble with Grayson Black is your purgatory?

“Uh… I just – I hope I remember to tell Nick,” you comment. “Not that he’s ever bad when you show up on our doorstep unannounced and ask for dinner…”

“I – I don’t ask,” Gray stammers, “he offers before I can even get a word in, and – and I say yes because it would be rude not to!”

“Mmm… sure.” You shake your head fondly. “You’d probably eat Nick’s dinners every night if you could.”

“Yes, but for the company,” he says, smiling. “Not for the dinner.”

“Not entirely for the dinner.”

He laughs. “Alright, you got me. Not entirely for the dinner. But…” Clearing his throat, he adds, “Mostly for the company.”

You can’t exactly disagree. Nick could serve you a plate with nothing more than an uncooked chicken breast on it and you wouldn’t even care as long as Gray was there to get salmonella with you.

You’re nearly at your stop, you realize suddenly. You’re both disappointed and relieved – disappointed because you always hate to leave Gray, but relieved because things have gone too well so far and you’re starting to get suspicious. It’s just like you always say (to yourself) – you’re not lucky. You’re incredibly unlucky. If something is going well, it means that something incredibly unwell is going to happen as soon as possible.

You pause before you reach the stairs to the train platform and turn to Gray to say goodbye.

“Well… here’s my, uh… stop.”

Gray looks at you. “Here it is,” he repeats.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say. He tilts his head, almost in question, but you continue – “You really didn’t have to.”

“Mari.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch carefully as Gray raises a hand like he’s in a trance, reaching out to you like –

Like what?

Is he going to kiss you?

He blinks and the trance breaks, shattering into a thousand little pieces like a snowy sidewalk under a winter boot. “Oh, sorry,” he says softly, and you don’t miss the way he backs up a half-step. Did he really forget about the… well, everything? He never forgets. Gray drops his hand before raising it to his head again, moving it in little circles near his temple. “You have a –“

Following his movements, you reach up, and –

Of fucking course. There was popcorn in your hair the whole time! You make a note to guilt Nick about distracting you when you get home.

“Damn it.” You pull it out of your hair – how did it get so tangled in there? – and toss it onto the ground, hoping that he’s not going to call you out for littering. (Would that even count?) “Thanks.”

“Uh… you’re welcome.” Gray smiles at you again, and though it’s awkward and a little forced, it’s still a Grayson smile. “I should… let you catch your train,” he continues, running his free hand over his head before scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I should let you get back to – uh – doing dishes?”

He nods, laughing. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds right.” With one last lingering look, he smiles a little wider. “Goodnight, Mari. Get home safe.”

You smile back at him, suddenly bashful. “Yeah, you too.”

Should you watch him leave? No, that’s weird, right? You stand under the streetlight and consider it for several seconds before realizing that you’ve watched him for too long already, and then you shake your head, turning to the stairs and bracing yourself to trudge through the snow that’s gathered on top of them (as if you need anything else to be unnecessarily difficult today). The platform is relatively empty when you reach it, save for a couple of teenage girls and a man in a business suit looking entirely out of place at this time of night and at this weather, and you take a seat on a bench, settling in while you wait for the train to come.

You’re much more aware of how cold it is out now that Gray’s gone – even the sweat on your hands feels like it’s going to freeze – so to distract yourself, you look around the platform for something to entertain you. You manage squint at a weird-looking piece of graffiti a few feet away from you when you hear footsteps approaching.

Sure enough, when you turn around –

“Mari,” Gray says. “I’m sorry, I forgot the –“

He points to your lap, where you’ve diligently placed his package of toilet paper.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” you say, picking it up and holding it out to him from one end so he can grab onto the other. “I totally forgot.”

“No, that’s alright, I forgot too,” Gray assures you, because of course he does – when is he ever anything but nice and diplomatic? Once he’s tucked the toilet paper under his arm again, he chuckles to himself and continues, “Alright. Erm… goodnight again, Mari.”

“Goodnight,” you reply.

With the toilet paper returned to him, he gives you a short, stilted wave before he turns and heads for the stairs again. You force yourself to look the other direction, making a mental note not to stare at him whenever he walks away from you.

You make a couple other mental notes on the train home, too, though it’s mostly in an effort to keep yourself awake. You definitely need to get more than four hours of sleep tonight if you have a long shift again tomorrow, especially since Gray’s coming over; you probably shouldn’t wear new jeans to work in case you run (or, more accurately, sit) into any more puddles, and you might as well bring a hat with you next time you leave the house, because there’s a spare sitting on the shoe rack near the door, anyway.

You definitely make a note to double-check your hair for pieces of someone else’s half-chewed popcorn before leaving the theatre from now on, too - then, when you think about the possibility of running into Gray outside work after all of your shifts from now on, you decide that you should probably triple-check, instead.

#oc: mari #pairing: mari x gray #my writing #my ocs #hi. this is bad. sorry.#ALSO GRAY IS PROBABLY INCREDIBLY OOC SORRY #there is no point to this except me seeing the option to give button a part time job at a movie theatre and getting excited about it #bc it's so MARI !!! it's as mari of an option as Every Single Morbid option !!!#anyway yes here's this. do with it what you will.#also this is so fucking long for no reason sorry LKSDJFLDSJFLKDS #I JUST WANTED TO TALK ABOUT. THEM BONDING AND BEING DOMESTIC OK.#THEY PLAY BOARD GAMES. THEY HAVE INSIDE JOKES. THEY BANTER. ALRIGHT. IS ME WRITING THAT A CRIME.#ok anyway thanks for reading this tags if you read them loVE YOU BYE !!#long post #mind blind

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saintofpride201 · 3 years ago

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I want to address something that I've been seeing far too frequently. It's really starting to piss me off tbh.

People... You are not paranoid for prepping for the worst. You are not irrational for saving up supplies in case shit does indeed hit the fan. You are not some "crazed conspiracy theorist" for wanting to secure survival for you and your family/friends. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

My mom, back in 2019, had an urge to start canning her own foods. She enjoys it. She's actually in the process of canning some Chilli beans right now as I write this. She always had a love for it, and it was beneficial to us as well.

She also took up couponing a couple years before that. She enjoyed how along with stimulating her mind, she saved tons of money AND got a shit ton of essential items. Our secondary bathroom is also a supply pantry, in case we need toilet paper, paper towels, dish soap, laundry detergent, aluminum foil, cough drops, etc (don't worry, it's sanitary, we clean often and store everything in boxes. Also the storage space is separate from the toilet space).

We had no idea what an absolute nightmare 2020 was going to be. We had no idea there was going to be shortages of almost everything. Meats, dairy products, foods in general, medicine, and of course the goddamn toilet paper was gone. The shelves were completely empty because of a mass panic (no due in small part to NBC staging a damn shortage by moving everything off the shelves onto the floor in one of their news pieces). We had no idea we were going to be stuck at home for almost the entire year. But we were prepared. And all because Mom had an urge to do so. We didn't have to go to the store too often because we still had shit from 3 years ago that we saved up.

Just because someone's preparing for when shit hits the fan does not make them a "paranoid maniacal conspiracy theorist". It makes them prepared and smart. Y'all love to mock the shit out of people for doing so... despite the fact that shit, indeed, did hit the fuckin fan, and quick. And y'all still do it, regardless.

In fact, regardless of whatever the fuck you think of doomsday preppers, I urge you to prepare yourself anyway. You really never know when some stupid bullshit like 2020 will happen again. Like the saying goes, it's better to be safe than sorry.

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themadlostgirl · 4 years ago

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When It’s Cold (2)

*Horny teens are horny. Mild smut mentions ahead.*

~~~

I laid in bed watching the lightning flash outside my windows as thunder shook the room and rain poured down. As a child a storm like this would have had me hiding under my covers. Tonight though I watched the storm, every inch of my body on alert with every crack of lightning and thunder. The doors to my room burst open with a roll of thunder. A shadowed figured stood in the hallway. My heart hammered fast as I tried to see through the darkness at my intruder. A flash of lightning illuminated the once dark room and I recognized the jagged line down my visitor’s face.

“Felix?” I sat up straighter. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to make sure you weren’t scared.” He prowled closer, a wicked grin on his face as he got to the foot of my bed. “You always were so scared of storms.”

“I was…” I murmured. He was dressed only in a pair of pants. That same chiseled torso I had gawked at earlier on full display.

He crawled onto the bed until he was hovering over me. “Do you want me to stay?” His voice purred in my ear, “I can keep you warm if it gets cold.”

“Yes please,” I let the robe around me fall from my shoulders leaving me exposed. “Keep me warm, Felix.”

“Gladly.” He swooped down upon me.

~~~

I woke with a start. My body was wound up tight and I was tangled in the blankets on my bed. I gazed around me confused before the previous day’s events caught up to me. It felt like a dream that Felix and I had found this mansion last night.

Felix…

The real dream came back to me with stark detail. What had that been all about? I’ve never had a dream like that before. I never have dreams in the first place. Even when I do they’re nothing like that and most certainly do not feature Felix. Yet he had been the epicenter.

Half naked with a devilish grin looking down at my own nude body. I had wanted him to--to--

I buried my face in my pillow. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t gone to his room last night and saw him coming out of the bathroom. Why did I have to see that? Now I was having borderline erotic dreams about him. Oh screw borderline! I knew exactly what I had been hoping to happen and the aching between my legs only solidified it.

It’s not like I never found Felix ugly or anything. He was pleasant to look at. I dare say at times he was handsome but I never dwelled on it. Maybe a stray intrusive thought or two but they never went so far as my dream had. I couldn’t stop picturing it. Felix and I in bed, his large hands on my body, his lips caressing my skin…

I pressed my legs together as the image took root in my head. Maybe I deserve to indulge a little. For right now there is nothing to worry about. Besides, it’s not like Felix will ever know. My hand dipped between my legs as I let myself fall back into the dream. My body was extra sensitive since I hadn’t been able to indulge in this particular past time since Neverland. Not that I got to do it a whole lot there either. I swear there is absolutely no privacy on that island.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

And none here either it seems.

With a small whine I swung out of bed and pulled my robe in tight. I opened the door and Felix was waiting on the other side already dressed. Could it be considered poetic irony that the boy I had just a moment ago been masturbating to interrupted said masturbation?

“Did you just wake up?” Felix looked me up and down.

“Kinda. I figured I was allowed to sleep in. What do you want?” I stepped back and started collecting my clothes from the floor.

“Get dressed. I discovered something you’re gonna wanna see.”

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“No. Now hurry up.” He closed the door and left.

With a sigh a pulled my clothes back on and followed Felix up a set of stairs to a hallway that led to a dead end. “This is what you wanted to show me? A wall with a picture on it?”

“Watch this,” He pulled the light fixture next to the painting and suddenly the wall came loose and rotated opening up a passageway into a whole new room.

“This place has secret rooms now. Very cool.” I stepped inside. “A library?” I looked at the books but there were no names on the spines. I pulled one off and flipped through it but all the pages were blank. “I will say I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Oh but it gets better.” Felix went over to the desk at the end of the room and pulled open the drawer. There was a button inside. He pressed it and a section of the floor popped up. I knelt down and opened the hatch and my eyes went wide. It was a safe!

I turned the latch and nearly cried at what I saw. Money. Just stacks and stacks of money! One less thing to worry about. We wouldn’t need to scrape by or get jobs. This safe could keep us comfortable for months! Years even!

“How did you find this?” I asked Felix.

“I like puzzles and I like to snoop.” He grinned pulling out a stack of hundreds. The band around it said ten thousand. Ten thousand dollars and there were easily a hundred or more just like it from what I could tell from the naked eye. We have someplace warm to sleep and we have money for food.

I started sniffling and I could sense Felix watching me befuddled. “Sorry, I just--” I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from my eyes, “We’re going to survive the winter. We don’t have to be hungry or cold again.”

“I know,” Felix pulled a few hundreds from the stack and dropped the rest back in the safe. “Now how about we go do that grocery shopping you were so insistent on?”

“Yes!” I hopped to my feet. We put everything back in place and left the room. I found a pad of paper and started making a list of everything we would need. Unlike Felix who had spent so much time on Neverland that he couldn’t remember who he had been before being a Lost Boy , I did remember who I was. I remembered the responsibilities I had before Neverland. What was needed when I was made to go to market. The grocery store wasn’t like the open air markets I was used to but it was still the same general concept.

Felix and I got weird looks as we entered the store and I took one of the trollies. My first stop was to grab some toiletries. Toilet paper, shampoo, body wash, loofah, deodorant, toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss, and even a set of razors in case Felix wanted to shave. Next we grabbed laundry detergent, dish soap, paper towels, spray cleaner, trash bags, aluminum, and hangers. We would need to go to a different store for clothes. Lastly, food. Now, being the designated responsible person out of the two of us I know we couldn’t just indulge in the sweets and other delicious yet not necessarily healthy food for us.

I sped up and down the aisles with Felix trailing after me as I dumped stuff into the trolley. Chicken, beef, bacon, vegetables, fruits, a ten pound bag of potatoes, bread, milk, two dozen eggs, pasta, rice, butter, flour, sugar, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, vanilla, yeast (it’s been forever since I baked anything but I figured I could give it a try), orange juice, apple juice, cheese, canola oil, olive oil, and spices. Then came on the things I knew less about, peanut butter, chocolate chips, gummy candies, dressings, chips, ice cream, instant brownie mix, pizza rolls (they sounded good), cans of soup, yogurt, pancake/waffle mix, whipped cream, cereal, granola bars, pretzels, and tea bags.

Our trolley was overflowing with items as we wheeled our way over to the register. The man bagging our items looked at us strangely as we started unloading our groceries onto the counter. Several minutes and a trolley full of groceries later we were given our grand total. I was scared that we wouldn’t have enough but thankfully we did. We left the store and looked at our haul.

“Hey, Felix,” I paused as we were halfway through the parking lot, “How are we gonna get all this back to the mansion?”

“We steal the cart.” He said it like it was obvious. “Who is gonna stop us?”

“True.” We started out trip back to the mansion and pushed the trolley into the house. We spent the next several minute cramming things into cabinets and the icebox. I pushed the trolley back outside and went to put my toiletries away while Felix took the laundry items down to the basement. I would also need to learn how to use the electronic washers they had here if I wanted clean clothes.

Speaking of clean clothes, “Felix!” I shouted down the steps, “We’re not done yet today. We need to go clothes shopping.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t bring any extra sets of clothes with me when we left Neverland and I’m sick of wearing these dirty rags. Now get a move on!”

Felix came upstairs with a scowl. “Don’t pout. Even if we kept these clothes clean they stand out too much. I think it’s part of the reason everyone glares at us. We’ll arise less suspicion if we blend in. Especially since our mission is to find a way out of here and back to Neverland.”

“Fine.” Felix grumbled. He counted the remaining money in his pocket. “Let me grab a few more bills from the library just to be safe.”

My stomach grumbled and I decided to grab a granola bar to settle my stomach while I waited for Felix. This house was so strange. They didn’t have any dish soap but they had pots and pans. No shampoo but they had combs. Not a lick of food but a cabinet dedicated to what looked like a very fragile table set.

Felix came back a few hundred dollars richer and we made our way back into town for the second time that day. The clothes store was emptier than the grocery store which put me more at ease. Felix and I went our separate ways as I perused around the racks and racks of clothing. I grabbed a few shirts, pajamas, sweatshirts, sweat pants, underwear, socks, gloves, a scarf, hat, a thick jacket, a new pair of boots, and a large messenger bag. When I went to try on some pants though I was thoroughly disappointed. They fit fine but the pockets on them were tiny! I could barely get my hand in them. Was this what pants were like here? Why?!

I went over to the men’s section and found Felix also trying on some new clothes. It was a simple black t-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans but it looked really good on him. He almost looked less foreboding. Maybe that was just due to the fact that he didn’t have his cloak hood up like usual.

“You look mad,” Felix chuckled upon seeing me stomp up to him.

“I am! Look at this.” I squeezed a few of my fingers into my jeans pocket. “These pants have absolutely no room! Are yours like this as well?”

“Mine?” he stuck his entire hand in his pocket up to the middle of his forearm. “Nope.”

“What the hell?” I stuck my hand in his other pocket. These were so much roomier than mine! “Why are these better than the ones in my section?”

“I don’t know,” Felix pulled my hand out of his pocket, his face was red with anger again and he wouldn’t look me in the eye, “You can stop invading my personal space though.”

“Oops, sorry.” I snatched my hand back to my chest. What had I been thinking? I essentially stuck my hand down his pants and for what? Because I was jealous of the size of his pockets? I grabbed a few pants from his section that looked to be my size and raced back to the dressing rooms in my section. These fit just as well as the ones I was wearing now but the pockets were much roomier so I chucked the others away and got the men’s pants.

Felix met me at the registers when he was done browsing. He still wasn’t looking at me. I think I made things between us really uncomfortable. We paid for the clothes but had no trolley this time so had to carry everything in large bags back to the mansion. After we got back Felix disappeared into his room. I changed into a pair of the comfy new clothes I bought and went downstairs to make myself something to eat.

I heated a can of soup up and sat down to eat. I wasn’t in the mood to be so adventurous as to make a full blown meal. Now that we had all the essentials Felix and I could start our search for a way back to Neverland in earnest.

I didn’t see Felix for the rest of the night. Figures he wouldn’t want to be around me after we spent all day together. I drew myself another hot bath and this time was able to actually wash myself with the soap and shampoo we had bought. I felt truly clean for the first time in a long time as I slid on the pajamas I bought and crawled back into bed.

Rain pattered outside and I was reminded of my dream from this morning. A part of me dreading and hoping that I would have another just like it.

~~~

Fucking hell! You were killing him! You had to be trying to kill him! That’s what Felix concluded as he locked himself in the master bedroom of the mansion.

Ever since Felix had let himself be talked into going to Storybrooke with you he had been forced by your side. You were the only Lost One in Storybrooke still loyal to Pan when all the others had run off to find families for themselves. He told himself he was tagging along instead of staying in Neverland to enact revenge on those that murdered Pan but that was only half of the story.

He should have never followed you though. Revenge aside. It hadn’t worked out anyway. Even after he learned that Pan was still alive, albeit in someone else’s body, it wasn’t enough. Pan died anyway before he got to enact the curse that would have turned this worthless town into a new Neverland. Now everyone was happy and safe and you and Felix were both very much stranded.

Finding this mansion had been a sweet turn of luck. He knew you were right when you mentioned needing a better place to stay over winter. Felix didn’t like the cold either but he could tolerate it better than you. Every night since you two got here you would shiver the night away at your camp. The night before it had been so cold that even Felix was cursing the wind. While he shivered though he glanced across the fire pit at you. You were huddled in so tight to yourself. Teeth chattering and body convulsing.

He was glad that you didn’t make any mention of him giving you his cloak as an extra form of warmth that night. He didn’t want to try explaining why he had done it. Terrible complicated feelings that he refused to acknowledge. He pushed them down hard, stomped them into dust so they could never rear their ugly head again.

Then he had gotten out of the bath. Truly clean for the first time in years he had left the bathroom and all those complicated feelings from before shot to the surface at the scene laid out before him. You knelt on the ground with only a towel barely covering you. Your wet hair leaving drops of water rolling down your shoulders and back.

His jaw clenched and he fumbled to maintain some composure as you explained what you were doing practically naked in his room. He had found the robe in the master bathroom and was planning on wearing it to bed himself but when he caught sight of you he was only too happy to chuck it into your arms. He needed you to cover up. He needed you clothed and out of his room that instant!

He was far from relaxed after you had left that night. The sight of you knelt over, the towel just barely covering your ass was burned into his brain. He ignored the stirring under his towel and dove into the large bed. He tossed and turned most of the night trying to rid the image and the thoughts he was having. His mind betrayed him though as it brought him much more vivid fantasies of you on his bed wearing nothing at all and beckoning him to take you.

He woke soon after breathing hard and his hand around his cock. Felix cursed the fact that he had a lewd dream about you of all people. He tried to ignore the images flashing in his head but when he closed his eyes there you were on all fours again with a teasing smile. He jumped into the bathroom and turned on the shower hoping a cold jolt would snap him back to sense but then he was thinking of you in this shower with him. Water rolling down your body, that same teasing smile and sultry voice begging him to take you against the wall.

For a few minutes he swallowed his embarrassment and let the fantasy play out fucking into his fist and pretending it was you squeezing around him instead. He thought of your moans and whimpers egging him on. Begging him to be harder, faster, rougher. He bit his lip to keep from shouting as he finally spent himself and started coming down from his high.

He felt more relaxed afterwards but the release of tension didn’t make him feel better knowing he had masturbated to you. You were his...friend? You two had never been friends before coming to Storybrooke and he doubted that you two were that now. Whatever you were to him he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. You both wanted to get back to Neverland and having obscene fantasies of you was not the way to go about that.

It was still fairly early but he was too wound up to go back to bed. So he got dressed and went exploring throughout the mansion. That’s how he had found the secret library full of blank books and that secret vault under the floorboards. He put everything back in place before racing to wake you up and show you. He had almost forgotten about his dream until you opened the door and he was met with your sleepy face and bedhead. Had you always been this attractive or was it just the layers of dirt that had gotten washed away last night that made you much more appealing to him suddenly? He decided not to dwell on why he was having these thoughts and instead took you down to see the stash of money he had found.

You were so giddy at the knowledge that you could actually have a roof over your head and food in your belly that he found himself smiling too. Your smile was so infectious. He let you take the lead when you went shopping. He didn’t recognize half the stuff he saw in that store but trusted your judgement when you dropped something in the cart.

Then there was when you went to go clothes shopping. Felix wouldn’t admit that he was getting a little worn out of his Neverland attire. It was functional but that was all he could say about it. The smell of it after he had gotten out of the bath the night before almost made him gag. Perhaps this was the reason no one wanted you or him around. You both reeked of years of living in a jungle.

You two were on totally opposite ends of the clothing store so Felix thought he was safe until you came charging into his dressing room ranting about the tiny pockets on your pants. The tight fitted pants that hugged your legs and ass perfectly. Then when you unceremoniously stuffed your hand down his pocket to see how deep they were it took all his self control and thoughts of rotting animal carcasses to not pop an erection right there in the store.

You were trying to make him burst a blood vessel and you didn’t even seem to notice! Which is why he was back in his room sitting on his bed hungry and horny. He was waiting until after he was sure you had gone to bed to get some food. He really didn’t want to chance running into you again and risk those impure thoughts bubbling to the surface once more.

Hopefully today had just been a spoof and tomorrow all these strange new thoughts and feelings would be gone. You two had a mission after all. Get back to Neverland. Lust wasn’t going to help that mission.

---

(Previous) (Next)

#felix imagine #felix x reader #ouat felix #ouat #neverland #peter pan ouat #roommate au #felix's pov is in 2nd person

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victoria-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Seven: Specialty

AN: I meant to post this earlier, but I had errands to run and then I got sidetracked after that. Anyways, enjoy the chapter.

Word Count: 4.6k

Trigger Warnings: none

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Eight: Fun & Games

"You are nothing but a freak!"

"You would be nothing without me!"

"No one wants you!"

I sat up abruptly in my bed, a gasp loudly escaping my mouth as my eyes shot open, sweat caking my hair to my forehead and my clothes to my body. I threw the covers off of me, stumbling out of the bed as I went into a little state of panic before I registered where I was. I was in my cozy bedroom in Charles' mansion, illuminated by the outside sun that shone through the large window.

"He can't hurt you anymore, remember," I whispered to myself.

I slid to the floor, wiping the stray tears off my cheeks and took a couple of deep breaths, my shoulders no longer shaking as violently. I drew my legs up to my chest, arms hugging my knees and face resting on top of my arms. A hiccup escaped me from the hysteria that had seized my body momentarily as I felt the world right itself. I was okay. I was safe.

Ever so slowly, I came back.

I unwrapped my arms from my legs and slowly pushed myself up from the wooden floor and went to my bathroom. Along with the cold sweat, the remnants of my nightmare seemed to cling to my skin like particles of dirt. The sensation of warm water on my skin would hopefully wash away the memories.

Before entering the shower I stared at my reflection, my hand slightly trembling as my fingers grazed over the discoloration around my eye I had received two nights prior. Shaking off my stupor, I quickly went into the shower, shedding my night clothes as if they were on fire. The water stung where it hit the small cuts on my back, but I ignored the pain, blissfully soaking up the warmth it offered the rest of my aching muscles. I scrubbed myself down with soaps and oils, I washed myself at least five times, trying to rid myself of the unpleasant sensation plaguing me.

Five minutes later, I wiped the steam off that fogged the mirror and I found myself looking at a completely different person. Her eyes were bright and she looked comfortable and clean and...Happy. Very happy. She was smiling. I liked when she smiled.

It was my best defense to mask that I was not slowly, painfully slowly, beginning to lose my mind.

~~~x~~~

"I think today is going to well," Charles beamed, after breakfast, everyone had left the kitchen and the two of us cleared the table while everyone changed into their training gear. Ever the gentleman, after collecting all the dishes, he ushered me into the kitchen. "Ladies first," he gestured with his free hand.

"Is that so?" I asked, grabbing the pitcher of syrup and tray of butter. "Thank you kind sir," I returned with a slight curtsy, and a flirtatious smile thrown over my shoulder, as I proceeded towards the fridge. "What's the lesson plan today, Professor?" I joked, sticking the syrup and butter back in the refrigerator.

"Ha ha ha, very funny," Charles drawled, placing the dishes down on the counter and turned the knob to the sink and water streamed out, he placed his hand underneath the water waiting for it to warm up. He squirted soap into the dish filled sink.

I reached out to the dishes on the counter, and with a telekinetic tug floated the dishes over to the sink. The moving dishes startled Charles a bit and I laughed as I walked over to him, rolling my sleeves up.

I scrubbed the first dish, "I'll wash, and you dry," I instructed, handed him the first cleaned dish and a towel. We made skin-to-skin contact, the touch was electric and both of us flinched involuntarily. Charles almost dropped the dish. He looked over at me, just as I turned my head to look at him as well. A smile pulled at his lips and I laughed softly, shaking my head before turning my attention back to the task at hand.

I continued to soap the dishes and Charles dried them in silence. Tension hung in the still air. The only sound came from the running tap. After the eighth dish, Charles finally broke the silence.

"You know, I could set up a course for your telekinesis. It looked like you were struggling there to lift the dishes," Charles gibed with a smile, as he dried off the last dish.

I blinked at him, "Charles, if you weren't such a great masseuse, I would break each and every one of your fingers to show how wrong you are," I leaned back on the counter with a grin. "You are so lucky you have magic hands," I commented, shaking my head.

"Is that all I am to you?" Charles countered with a smile, "Just a pair of magic, telepathic hands that make you putty over my treatment of your feet?"

"Yeah," I answered bluntly. "Face it, pretty boy, this is all you're good for," I shrugged, his blue eyes amused as I raised an eyebrow at the telepath.

"Oh Claudia, love, how you wound me," Charles grinned, placing his hands over his chest where his heart is.

"Would you like a kiss to make it better?" I asked, a smile making its way on my lips.

Charles had a smirk on his lips as well as he moved closer to me, "Is that an offer?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

I bit my lip and smiled as I sauntered up to him, "It could be a promise," I whispered into his ear. "The world may never know," I added, backing away from him with a grin on my face.

~~~x~~~

Closing my eyes, I leaned against the railing, breathing in the cool air. A gentle wind started up and I welcomed it, leaning my face into the soft breeze. It wasn't until I felt another warm body near mine that I turned my head with a raised an eyebrow at the mutant next to me.

"Something I can help you with?" I questioned, focusing my gaze to Erik.

"Is that your favorite line to say?" Erik asked back, and I just smiled, quirking an eyebrow that expressed the answer of 'maybe'. "I want to try something, help me warm up my powers you could say," he began.

"Shouldn't you be discussing this with Charles?" I quizzed, my smile falling slightly as my eyebrows came together, confusion in my eyes.

"Charles, wouldn't exactly agree with what I have in mind. But I think you would," Erik answered vaguely.

"Erik, why do I feel I'll be the guinea pig of this experiment?" I replied wearily a small smile on my face.

"For what I want to try I will need you to trust me," Erik stated, staring deeply into my eyes.

"Trust," I repeated, lazily stretching out my arms in front of me. "That's the foundation of a friendship," I stated, mirroring his eyes. "Are we friends Erik?" I questioned, all joking aside my gaze sincere and intense.

A soft grin appeared on Erik's face and his hand appeared before my abdomen, "Claudia Walker, I would be honored to call you my friend, if you'll have me," Erik affirmed, I mimicked his motion and firmly shook his hand. "Even if you can be a royal pain," he finished smiling at me, as he let go of my hand and I lightly punched his arm. "Come on, follow me," Erik motioned leading us down the balcony steps and towards the back lawns.

"Alright Erik, color me intrigued. What is so special about this training that you needed to give me a disclaimer?" I questioned, crossing my arms against my chest as we came to a stop. Erik reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out a sleek gun and my eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Are you insane?" I exclaimed, my eyes bouncing from the gun to Erik.

"You have nothing to fear, I promise," Erik assured, as the unmistakable click of the safety being turned off was deafening to my ears.

"Easy for you to say, you're not facing the barrel," I quipped, moving my hands to my hips.

He aimed the gun towards me his eyes boring into mine, "Do you trust me?"

I lifted one hand from my hip and pinched the brim of my nose, "This feels like one of those moments where I know I should go with my gut feeling and say 'no', but I have this strange feeling in my heart..." I trailed off, taking a deep breath closing my eyes before opening them again to face Erik. Staring determinedly at him, I repeated his words. "I trust you Erik," his lips quirked up into a smile momentarily, and he nodded his head.

The tension in the air was monumental, his finger slid to the trigger. I knew he could stop it, hell, I could stop it, yet my heart still raced and my hands trembled. BANG! The bullet soared through the air stopping right in front of my heart. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. We both looked towards each other laughter flowing freely from our lips.

"I have to say Erik you sure know how to treat a girl shooting at her with a gun after proclaiming we're friends! I can't imagine what your wedding day would be like with your wife!" I teased smirking.

"Very funny! Don't you forget I could have easily let that bullet hit you!" Erik reminded smiling.

"No, I don't think you'd do that, you see I think I'm growing on you," I challenged, mirroring his smile. "Which is why I want you to shoot me again," I requested, a plan formulating in my mind.

"What?"

"And don't stop the bullet,"

Erik looked at me doubtfully, "You're not serious?" he asked, I could hear the doubt in his voice that matched his expression.

I returned his gaze, a smile lifted the corners of my mouth, "What's wrong? Scared?" I asked smiling, because now the tables were slightly turned. "It's not like you didn't just shoot at me only a minute ago," I reminded smirking, placing my hands on my hips.

Erik regained his stance, "Okay, but you asked for it. Ready?"

I nodded and braced myself. This worked almost every time, hopefully it would not fail now, or I would be dead. That would be unfortunate. The gunshot cracked through the the silence and flew towards me and I heard Erik hold his breath in anticipation. Just before the bullet hit me, I stuck my hand, a violet barrier formed in front of me, and the bullet bounced off of it and onto to the ground

Erik smiled, "Well, I know now not to get any ideas," he noted cheekily.

I dropped my hand and placed it on my hip, "Honestly Erik, I would be offended if you didn't attempt to try at least another time," I quipped, as the barrier vanished into thin air.

Just then I heard quick, light footsteps pounding on the gravel approaching us, Charles emerged from around the corner of the mansion.

"What are you two doing?" Charles asked, gasping for breath.

I quickly glanced at Erik before returning my stare to Charles, "Trusting each other," I answered simply, with a shrug.

~~~x~~~

Five minutes later, the three of us had entered the mansion. Erik and Charles went to the library to play a match of chess and plan out new training's for the younger mutants and I found myself in the kitchen facing the back of Moira, she was doing dishes, obviously just having finished eating lunch herself. I hadn't eaten since my time spent with Erik, and I could feel my stomach rumbling painfully.

"Afternoon Moira," I greeted, stepping forward to a cupboard and grabbed a cup.

Moira greeted me in return with a smile, "You gave Charles and I quite the scare when we heard gunshots," she stated still smiling, as she dried her hands on the towel next to the sink.

"Oh, come now, I can't take all the credit. Erik was the one that actually fired the gun," I quipped returning her smile, as I poured myself a glass of water from the sink.

I set the glass down on the island and moved over to the fridge, opening the door I stared at the array of food available, still partly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choices I had. Grinning, I grabbed a jar of mayo and slices of ham proceeded to make a sandwich. As I prepared my meal Moira turned her back to me, focusing on her dishes. Which gave me time to observe her and the burning question that had been in my mind since we arrived at the mansion.

"Why is Moira still here?" I thought. "After everything she has seen I expected her to turn on us the way most humans do when they're scared,"

I decided to voice the thoughts that had been floating through my mind, "Moira...why are you still here?" I asked curiously, screwing the lid back onto the mayo and Moira's body stilled at my question. "I mean after what you saw with Shaw and the Hellfire Club, not to mention the destruction of the CIA facility, why did you decide to trust us and still want to work with us?" I clarified, as Moira turned to face me.

Moira looked at me like the answer was obvious. "I was being realistic, I mean there's good and bad in all of us. Mutant, not mutant, Black, White, man, woman–it doesn't matter," she answered.

"If you were realistic you would have picked up and left. No one in their right mind would stay and help us," I said bluntly, though my intention was not to be rude. "Hell, if I were a normal human, I'd probably wouldn't if we're being honest," I confessed, before going back inside the fridge, placing the mayo down.

Moira leaned back against the sink, The reason I trust you, the reason I trust all of you is because you're you," she answered sincerely, and I didn't detect any dishonesty in her statement.

"You know what? I respect that," I stated, nodding my head. "Thank you for your honesty Moira," I smiled.

She returned a smile of her own, "No problem. I just hope the feeling is mutual," Moira had said it jokingly, but it sounded more like a question.

"Of course I respect you Moira," I addressed her, flashing a smile. "Just as long as you don't get the romantic idea of you being able to help us will somehow make you the savior of mutants," I explained, and arched a challenging eyebrow.

Moira shook her head side to side vehemently, "Oh no, never!" she concurred.

"Good," I answered, and flashed Moira another smile.

~~~x~~~

I was bored. So very bored. I could envision what the other occupants of the mansion would be doing right now. Alex was probably storming around the mansion aimlessly, taking his anger out on whatever objects happened to be within kicking distance. Raven was staring at herself in a mirror, Hank locking himself up in the lab, Sean running off to probably get stoned. I could see Charles curled up in a chair reading a novel with a cup of tea and Erik was probably in his room plotting multiple ways to kill Shaw. And who knows what Moira does, maybe she reads files in her spare time?

I watched from the window as the rain fell, clouds had rolled in and the sky darkened making the once bright, sunny day, dreary. Then came the rain, the sky had opened up about an hour of ago and showed no signs of stopping. The rain fell steadily, drops running down the windowpane I was in front of. Music from the radio played softly in the background and it reverberated throughout the living room.

"So why exactly are we here?" Sean asked from behind me.

I twirled around lowering my knuckle from my mouth and faced the four mutants behind me, "I wanted to have some fun since the rain has canceled training for today," I explained, shrugging my shoulders. "Speaking of training, I've been wanting to practice an ability of mine," I added, walking closer to them.

"And what would that be?" the redhead boy questioned curiously.

"My ability to create illusions," I answered smiling. "I can change how something looks, I can make people see what I want them to, make them believe or feel something that not there or that's not true. I can make things appear out of thin air, although somethings are harder than others," I finished, interlocking my arms behind my back.

"Awesome! Show us!" Sean cried in delight, I smirked, this was gonna be fun.

"Who wants to be my guinea pig?" I asked grinning wickedly, and tented my fingertips together, tapping them lightly. I was met with silence. It wasn't surprising from my smile and sinister finger tapping that no one would want to volunteer. "Fine I'll pick," Hmm. Who shall I pick on? I looked at them until my eyes landed on my favorite red head and smirked. "Sean, get up," I ordered, pointing at him.

"Aw! What! Why me?" he groaned getting up as everyone else laughed.

"Because you were the one who was so eager to see my power," I responded to him. "Don't worry. You won't be the only one who's going to be my victim," I carried on still with a grin on my face.

"Victim?" he balked as everyone else shouted out a, "What!" or "Come on!"

I focused on Sean and trapped him in my stare and watched the blank look manifest in his eyes. I closed my eyes and thought about I wanted him to do for the next minute or so and implanted it into his mind. My eyes snapped open and he burst into motion. Sean quickly crouched down, placing his hands on the floor and began panting as if he were a dog. Everyone burst out laughing and I joined. He started spinning around as if he were chasing his imaginary tail. He then turned his attention to Raven. She let out a firm "No" before Sean pounced on her, grabbed her hand and started repeatedly licking it.

"EWWWWW! GET HIM OFF! GET HIM OFF!" Raven started screaming in a mix of disgust and humor as the rest of us carried on laughing.

Sean then whipped around to Alex, quickly crawling over before he started to hump his leg.

"OH MY-! CLAUDIA GET HIM OFF!" Alex yelled at me whilst he attempted to keep Sean at bay. By now Raven, Hank, and I were hysterically laughing, Raven even had tears streaming down her face.

Finally Sean backed away and sat back on his chair, the blank look coming over him before he was released from my illusion and he looked around at all of us.

"That was awesome!" he laughed. "Apart from the humping, obviously. Sorry man,"he apologized looking at Alex who looked traumatized, whilst everyone still laughed. "It was weird like I knew what I was doing but I couldn't stop it. And there was a purple tint over my vision. Does that happen every time you do that?" He asked.

"Yep," I told him as I sat back down. "Anyone up for another game?" I asked smirking, looking around.

"NO!" the four of them yelled in unison.

"Oh come on," I began. "I was thinking about a harmless game of hide and go seek," I stated, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. "What do you say?" I asked.

"I'm in!" Raven cheered.

"Me too!" Sean agreed.

"Why not," Hank murmured.

"No powers!" Alex demanded, and I raised my hands in surrender.

"No powers," I repeated, nodding my head in agreement. "Not it!" I called quickly, standing up from my seat. Everyone followed my lead except for Alex because he called 'not it' too slowly. "All right Alex, you know the rules. Cover your eyes and count to fifteen since this place is so huge," I said, slowly backing away from him.

Alex grumbled under his breath and covered his face with his hands

"One," Alex began, and everyone in the living scattered in different directions.

"Two," As quietly as possible I bounded up the grand staircase and swiveled my head from left to right, looking down at each side.

"Three," I moved down the hallway and decided to hide in the last place that Alex would like. Feeling quite proud of myself I reached the door to my hiding spot. I opened the door without even bothering to knock, and spun around closing the door both quietly and quickly at the same time.

I leaned my head against the door momentarily and smiled, lifting my head from the door I turned and quickly glanced around the room. It was a lot like mine, the only difference being the strong masculine cologne that floated in the air. I spotted a cozy chair arranged near the fireplace and made my over to it sit down in the chair, only to be startled out of doing so by a familiar voice.

"Please don't," whipping around and looking down at the chair, I found one Charles Xavier sitting with his left leg over the right, where he had not been just seconds ago and grinning like a loon. "Sorry for the deception, love, but I was curious to see who was quickly approaching my door,"

I crossed my arms against my chest, "But why hide yourself?"

"You're playing hide and seek with the children, are you not?" Charles asked grinning.

"I was thinking of it as more of a training exercise," I replied, my lips forming into a smirk, "They don't know it, but I'm teaching them to think outside of the box," I explained. "Although, I think making yourself invisible is cheating Charles. No powers remember?" I pointed out.

Charles' lips upturned into a smile, "Out of all of the rooms in this house, why did you choose my room, Claudia?"

"Because I knew no one would be bold enough to try," I retorted.

"No one except you," Charles smirked.

"No one except me," I repeated grinning.

"I shouldn't have expected less," the telepath chuckled, his eyes sparkled with mirth. I opened my mouth to respond, but he just put his finger to his lips. "You'll thank me in a moment," he whispered, and almost simultaneously his bedroom door was opened by two familiar blonde headed mutants.

Alex and Raven both looked directly at me, but yet made no comment, it was like...I was invisible. I felt a small smile begin to work at my mouth and I looked back at Charles who mirrored my expression as he had two fingers on his temple.

"I thought you said you heard talking," Alex stated, slight frustration in his tone. "Because there is no one in here," he added, stepping in the room and checking the most obvious spots to hide like the closet, bathroom, and underneath the bed.

"I swear I did!" Raven exclaimed. "Maybe it was just the music I heard," she suggested, as Alex walked back to door.

"Maybe," he agreed, closing the door behind him.

Charles and I waited for about thirty seconds before erupting in soft laughter, "This house is enormous, this is hardly a fair fight," Charles pointed out, and I merely shrugged. "There's never been a dull moment in this house since you got here Claudia," he smiled, brandishing a book that had previously escaped my notice. "Can I assume you're the one responsible for the mayhem downstairs about five minutes ago?" Charles inquired.

"I wanted to further explore my abilities," I answered smiling. "Do you mind a companion?" I asked.

"Not at all, provided you don't try to sit on me again," Charles quipped, before looking back down at his book.

I glanced around the room seeing there wasn't another chair for me to sit.

"I might have to," I thought.

And so, it was with a small smirk that I sidled up the handsome man before me, and slid down into his lap just as Lena Horne cooed ‘Stormy Weather’ from the record player in the corner of the room.

Charles nearly jumped out of the chair, "Claudia! Wha-What are you-"

I looked up at him, "There were no other chairs, so I'd figure we could share," I explained, before raising my brows at him and watching a red flush crawl up his neck.

He swallowed thickly but managed a cool smirk of his own, "Is that so?" Charles asked, cocking his head to the side. His book slowly slipping out of his grasp and onto the floor with a soft thud.

My fingers moved to his shirt, straightening it out and brushing the strands of hair from his face, "Very much so," I smirked, flipping my hair over my shoulder. I leaned closer to Charles, my lips close to his ear, "Stormy weather. Just can't get my poor self together. I'm weary all the time, the time. Yes, weary all the time," I sung, slowly raising my knee until it brushed his crotch, my teasing, mischievous nature coming into play.

This harmless flirting had to peak eventually right?

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, "T-This is inappropriate," Charles' breathing hitched.

"How so?" I breathed out. "You're surely weren't thinking that this morning," I reminded.

"Well, I'm not going to deny that you are the most amazingly beautiful woman I have ever met-" Charles began.

"Oh how you flatter me Charles," I smiled.

"I've also been thinking about how I'm much older than you," Charles continued, and I rolled my eyes before pulling my head back to face Charles.

"I've been with old men before Charles," I drawled.

"Are you calling me old, Claudia?" he questioned, his lips quirking into a small smile.

"I never did such a thing, you called yourself old, Charles," I retorted, tilting my head slightly.

He chuckled and looked at me, his intense blue gaze that was fixed upon my own. I glance down at his lips and back to this eyes and he did the same as I leaned forward, our lips barely touching.

Charles lifted one of his hands and caressed my cheek softly, "While I want nothing more to claim your lips with my own," he sighed, pulling away from me. "Let's not rush into things, love," Charles suggested gently, a small smile gracing his features.

I recognized the look in his eye as he smiled at me. Charles Xavier may have been abnormal in almost every other aspect of his life, but when it came to attraction and women, he was exceedingly normal. And for the first time in years the thought of a man being attracted to me suited me just fine, especially one who said there was no need to rush.

I exhaled deeply and nodded my head, "If that's what you want," I conceded, pulling my head back as well. "Well, guess I was right," I mused, and Charles furrowed his brow. "The world may never really know when you're going to get that kiss," I smirked.

Charles grinned and I contented myself with him wrapping an arm around my waist as he read to me, all the while watching in amusement every time one of the children came in and searched the room over, each more frustrated than the last.

Chapter Nine: Challenges

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

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years ago

Text

just as much as all those years ago

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment over on Ao3!

This is for my ever wonderful girlfriend @spiky-lesbian who is just the Best and will always be the absolute Best and I love her very much. Returning to my favourite comfort AU and of course it’s angst I write.

Trigger warnings: descriptions of an injury, specifically a burn

--------

Memories were funny things for Juno Steel.

They came when he didn’t call them and hadn’t asked for them. When he needed them, he couldn’t find them, only the ragged edged gaps where they’d once been. And they were never whole either. They came as sounds, one random lyric from a song his brother used to warm up to or the sound of his mother’s footsteps in the hall or the way the coffee maker in the HCPD had always sputtered close to the end of its cycle. They came as smells, Buddy’s hairspray or the way the hallways had reeked in his old high school, the milky smell of when his babies had been brand new or Rita’s goddamn salmon things. They were fractured and jumbled and awkward to hold.

And they were so hard to tell from reality. One moment Juno was up to his elbows in soapy water, taking advantage of the boys actually going to bed at a reasonable time to get the dinner dishes done. He was whistling a song that had been on the radio as he’d driven back from the office, tapping the hell of his bare foot against the tiles in time with the beat that existed only in his head. He was tired, he had a few new aches to catalogue and he was perfectly happy.

And the next moment his nose was full of burning ozone, scorched fabric, heat and blood.

Juno froze, hands stilling and letting the plate he’d been soaping drop back into the water. Suddenly he was pulled into a handful of times and places at once. He was at the practise range at the academy, he was trying not to be sick the first time a perp had shot at him, he was pounding on his brother’s bedroom door and begging him to answer, he was lying on the floor of the Carte Blanche and seeing Sasha shake, he was a cop, he was a kid, he was a pirate, he was a twin without a brother. All because of a smell in the air.

And he might have shook himself, pushed it all away and told himself not to be an idiot if he hadn’t heard the voice and realised it wasn’t a memory.

“Mama? I...I’m sorry…”

It wasn’t a memory. Juno whirled, eye wide, heart no closer to restarting in his chest. His oldest daughter stood just behind him, holding her arm tightly with a hand that trembled, with skin that was ashen and a face wet with tears. His old coat was black from elbow to shoulder, one stripe of it completely gone and giving a glimpse of raw, red skin. A laser burn from a distance, it had just glanced off her but it was enough.

She looked so scared.

“Bianca?” he breathed, not really wanting to believe this was actually happening. His daughter was off on a job, of course she could never tell them much about it but she was meant to be off being young and reckless and having fun and swinging on starlight, just like her daddy did.

“I...I thought I got away but I missed one of the guards,” Bianca’s voice was tight, adrenaline clearly the only thing holding back the pain, “Mama…”

Juno swallowed hard, putting a firm, hard foot on his panic and shoving down hard. His baby girl needed him and when it was over he could go and find a quiet corner to scream and cry and rage about it. But for now he needed to get a goddamn grip.

“Bathroom,” he moved forward, sliding an arm to take her weight, just in time as her knees buckled.

Suddenly her free hand was bunched in his shirt tight enough to pinch his skin, his arms holding her as easily as if she was two instead of twenty two. As if she was as small and delicate as she had been then, when he’d first met her and realised just how much he’d be willing to give to keep her safe…

No. Not now.

He went to call for Nureyev, he was doing yoga in their bedroom, but Bianca’s hand tightened and she gave a strained, pained whine through her teeth.

“No,” she begged, breathing coming hard and shallow, the pain of her wound coming in through the cracks as she realised she was safe and didn’t need to run on sheer adrenaline, “Please don’t, not until...not until it’s covered up, I don’t want him to see…”

Juno went to protest but stopped himself, they didn’t have time and he couldn’t say she was wrong. Nureyev didn’t need to see this part, his husband’s field medicine skills weren’t as practised and when he saw the state their daughter was in, it wouldn’t even have mattered. He would freeze and he would break. Juno didn’t blame him in the slightest, he’d nearly gone himself, but he couldn’t hold both of them together.

So he kept quiet and carried his daughter to the poky bathroom of their apartment, moving quickly and quietly as he could past the twin’s bedroom.

“You need to keep talking for me, kiddo,” he said through gritted teeth, as soon as the door was shut behind them, “Tell me how you got in without any of us hearing you. Give me all the details.”

Bee Bee managed a weak chuckle as he sat her down against the edge of the bath, “I’m not giving you all my secrets, mama…”

Juno could dredge a smile for her, if she was going to make the effort, throwing it over his shoulder as he wrenched open the medicine cabinet and pulled out one of the many emergency first aid kits stowed around the apartment.

“Then give me all the moons of Jupiter in size order, biggest to smallest. I know your daddy made you memorise them.”

Bee Bee swallowed hard, shifting as she started to slump, “Um...Ganymede. Callisto…”

“Good, good girl,” Juno was more focused on pulling out the scissors and cutting away the ruins of the coat sleeve so he could start cleaning and dressing it, but as long as he could hear her talking he knew she was conscious.

“Io…oh mama, no, your coat…” Bianca tried to lean away from the blades.

“Bee Bee, I don’t know if you noticed but I care about you a little more than I care about some ratty old coat,” Juno sighed, ignoring her weak protests.

He couldn’t help but wince as he saw her arm, fully exposed. The bolt had only grazed her but clearly it had been set to kill, it had scorched a clean edged, diagonal path along the top of her arm. If she hadn’t been running away, if the person had fired a second before…

Juno shook himself and focused, it was clean and wouldn’t need more than a gentle dousing with cold water which he quickly set to. Don’t think about what could have happened, focus on what’s in front of you.

It broke his heart when she hissed in pain, the second where she clearly wanted to pull away from him, however much he could rationalise it. But he’d been doing some version of this for a long time, from the first time Bee had caught her tiny fingers in the door on the Carte Blanche.

“Hey,” he gently reached over and turned her face to him, “Just look at me, okay? You’re doing so well.”

His brave Bianca took a shaky breath and nodded, ‘Himalia is next. In the size order.”

Juno smiled with a soft, tired pride, motioning for her to go on as he applied a thin layer of salve and started to bind it with the smart tech bandages that wrapped tightly around her arm with no effort from him. They’d hold it fast and safe, healing the torn and blistering skin underneath until barely a trace remained.

But Bianca wouldn’t forget this. This would be another one of her memories, the ones that would come up when least welcome and stop her in her tracks when she thought she was safe.

Juno contented himself with doing what he could for her now. He helped her up, though her legs were still shaky, helping her take shuffling steps to her bedroom, the one they still kept exactly as she’d left it the last time she visited. Neither he nor his husband could ever bring themselves to move anything around, happy to admit to themselves that they were just waiting until their daughter came home again. So the old stuffed animals were still lining the bottom of the bed, the books were still piled on the nightstand, there were still soft blankets ready for her to sink down onto.

“Right,” Juno brushed a hand over her curls, “Now water, painkillers and lots of rest. Got it, kiddo?”

“Yes mama,” she sighed, leaning into his touch, “Um...I think I want to see daddy now.”

He saw the guilt flicker through her dark eyes and he softened it with a kiss to her forehead. He understood the instinct to protect people you cared about, feeling like you couldn’t let them see you cry or fall or hurt because you’d see just how much they cared about you and it could be so scary. Knowing so much of someone else’s happiness rested with you.

He left her to get settled, needing to take a few deep breaths as soon as the door closed. Just a little longer.

Nureyev was just stepping out of their room, his long hair pushed back from his face with a band that had probably once been Bianca’s. He looked calm, content, and his whole face lit up when he saw his wife walking towards him. Having to watch all that unravel, that would hurt Juno as much as any of it.

He tried to speak clearly, concisely, only repeating again and again that she was fine, that there would be no lasting damage or even a mark. But he wasn’t sure any of it actually got through after he finally said the words ‘Bianca’s been shot’. Because that was when he pushed past him and started running down the hall. Cursing under his breath, Juno took off but couldn’t hope to catch his husband on those legs, only getting there when the bedroom door was already open.

He was braced for tears, he was braced for the anger that sometimes came when Nureyev was feeling too much to hold within himself and had to lash out to try and grasp some control. He was braced to have to pull his husband out of there.

What he found was his husband and his daughter embracing as tightly as her wound would allow.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Bianca was sniffling, har face pressed to his shoulder, where it had always fit so perfectly ever since she was small, “I know you said to check, you said and I thought I did but…”

Nureyev shook his head, his own voice thick but steady, “No, no, it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, as long as you’re okay.”

“Promise?” Bianca mumbled, still sounding a little like a child wondering what her punishment would be.

“Oh my treasure,” Nureyev drew back to hold her face in his hands, “I promise. All I care about is that you’re whole and well and...and next time, you will see it. You’ll get better and better every time, just like I did. I just couldn’t be more thankful it was no worse but...next time will be better.”

Bianca’s face flooded with obvious relief, she’d clearly been worried her daddy’s first response would have been to ground her. Juno had to admit, he’d expected it too.

Nureyev only touched her bandages lightly, checking everything was in place, “But...if you wanted to stay here for just a few days just while you healed? We could make room for you?”

Bianca gave a tired smile, rolling her eyes, “Only if you could make the room, of course.”

Juno leaned against the doorframe, giving them a few more moments together before joining them, giving Bianca some time before having to endure both of her parents fussing over her. As he watched Nureyev draw Bee Bee back in to hug her tightly and let her rest against him, he felt other times overlapping it, other times he’d seen that light in Nureyev’s eyes, the smile he saved only for their babies, the way they clung to him and looked to him for safety. He felt the years they’d spent together as parents, the memories sending warmth running through his chest, soothing the anxiety still gnawing there, giving him a few more hours before he’d need to release it. Hopefully Nureyev would be in his arms by then.

Memories were funny things for Juno Steel. But some were everything.

#jupeter #juno steel #Peter nureyev #Bianca nureyev #jupeter dads au #hurt/comfort #tpp #the penumbra podcast

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jonesinghardy · 4 years ago

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No More Spitting Feathers 02/?

PAIRINGS: Warren Worthington III x Reader WARNINGS: injury, blood, implied drug use RATING: T+, will be raised later. WORD COUNT: 2.2k INSTALLATIONS: Part 01 AUTHOR’S NOTE: Dedication and thanks to Andi @venombxby for discussion and honorary mentions to Monica @rosesvioletshardy and Wella for inspo. This is written in second person bc I have never been able to get on board with Y/N trends, and the reader is a mutant with a limited mix of healing, telekinesis and some empathic inclinations.

The night is never as dark as you’d like in a city, and no matter the hour, night owls are bound to be turning their gaze onto anything that moves above the shadows.

He casts quite a shadow.

Dove.

You don’t speak much after he agrees to go with you. There is a stalemate between the two of you for many minutes before he offers an arm and helps you up, getting you to a more comfortable place in the warehouse to rest until you could stand on your own.

You didn’t think he’d be able to fold his wings enough to hide them, you thought it would hurt too much, but he manages to do it anyway and tucks them away into a long coat that he found in the disused warehouse staffroom, along with a large umbrella that helps conceal him better.

Once you could stand you found a dusty bathroom with running water and managed to clean your arms and face of blood and wrangle your hair into something less dishevelled. You also took off all your absurd jewelry, cleaning it all with hot water and chucking it into the same locker you find a pair of shoes that are too big but are better than trying to walk barefoot.

You get the privilege of draping his leather jacket over your shoulders, which doesn’t exactly keep you warm given the modifications he made to the back to accommodate his wings, but you suppose you’d be colder without it.

You walk in silence side by side for most of the journey, and calling it such is no exaggeration. It only takes half an hour for the pain to creep into his wing again, especially with how he has them folded against his back— you feel it, and have to breathe through the discomfort, the one aspect of your powers that you can’t turn off, but that thankfully doesn’t wipe you out the same way healing or telekinesis does.

It takes three hours, and neither of you seeks a break, somehow knowing that stopping would benefit neither of you. He gets more tired though, but you can tell he relaxes a bit when the city falls away and the trees thicken, and the people and cars become few and far between.

The safe house looks abandoned from the outside, and to your benefit, it has thick overgrowth around its perimeter that provides plenty of privacy. All of the windows are either frosted or boarded up save for the stained glass windows on the old domed church that will be your shelter.

You find the key where you expect it, and as soon as you enter you’re working on autopilot. You throw off the shoes that have given you blisters, walk across the confused space to a large set of shelves and pick out a change of clothes that don’t quite fit but are better than the tiny cocktail dress you’ve had to trek your way here in.

Dove throws off the coat and drops onto the nearest cot, groaning as he stretches out his wings. You shudder from the incomparable empathic impression it leaves in your back. You change without caring if he looks (he doesn’t), putting on the pants and a too-large shirt, collecting a blanket from a crate in the corner and yourself dropping onto a cot not too far from where he’d lain down. You pass out after you heal your blistered feet.

You sleep for eighteen hours.

He sleeps for twelve, and when he awakens he’s hungry and hungover, aching in unpleasant but not unfamiliar ways. You can feel the malaise even though it doesn’t wake you, creeping into your body and your dreams and then fading once he freely navigates the space and finds the food and water kept in the makeshift pantry.

You feel better when you wake, but you’re ravenous, and dig into whatever shelf-stable item seems most appealing— you’re still chewing when you go and find him, having made himself a more private corner to relax in with cushions, two cot mattresses and a few blankets.

Swallowing doesn’t quite soothe the scratch in your throat, and you notice some subtly floating feather particles in the air, leaving you to idly wonder how much he sheds.

“Are you well enough to heal me now?” he asks, filling the silence. You’re not sure if he believes you are, he seems tired and resigned.

“No,” you reply. “Not significantly anyway.”

He levels you with an incredulous look.

You sigh. “I could give myself an aneurysm if I try to heal you too fast.”

“What can you do, then?”

“I could have you flying again in ten days,” you say, “that won’t put too much strain on me.”

His wing, the undamaged one, flutters slightly. “Fourteen.”

“What?”

“Take fourteen days. You were like a rag doll at the warehouse, Häschen, you’re no use to me like that. You think you can do ten days— I don’t have anywhere to be— we’ll do fourteen.”

You look at him for a moment, trying to spot some ulterior motive and figure he must be doing the same.

“Okay, alright. Two weeks.” That’s probably how long you’ll need to arrange extraction anyway.

You swallow again against the scratch in your throat and take a deep breath.

“You need a tour?” you ask, feeling awkward.

He shakes his head. “I looked around while you were sleeping.”

“The church is free-reign,” you say, explaining anyway, “the rest of the building is not really safe, but isn’t off-limits.” You shrug. “The shower room is over there.” You point. “Towels and soap are in the baskets… they’re all labelled.”

“You planning to leave me alone here, Häschen?” he asks, sitting forward slightly and canting his head to the side.

You both react when he strains his wing, and you try to hide your whimper with a cough. His wings shudder and the feathers tighten up, drooping slightly as he sits back against the wall with a slight grunt of pain.

“I want to get some supplies from the store… like better food,” you explain with a shrug. You also want to get him some medicine to tide him over between your attempts to heal him.

“Are you going to walk?”

You shake your head. “There’s a car stored on the property, I have what I need. I shouldn’t be more than forty minutes.”

He doesn’t say anything further, and it feels too invasive to watch him struggle through his pain.

“You want anything?” you ask, already planning to get him some clothes.

“No.”

“Okay. What clothing sizes do you wear?”

The look he gives you is almost a smirk, a raised brow and a quirk of his lip that makes you flush. You look away in embarrassment and clear your throat again.

He tells you the sizes. “You don’t like my clothes?” he asks.

“That’s— that’s not the point,” you say, and motion at him, his pants and boots, the lack of a shirt, the modified leather jacket he’d taken back while you slept. “That’s all you have.”

He shrugs with his hands. “Do what you want.”

“I will.”

“See you in an hour, then.” He seems inclined to give you more time than you think you’ll need.

—

The subtle hiss and splash of water greet your ears from across the echoey safe house when you return. You took less than the hour, but more than the forty minutes to get everything done. You put the bags down on the tables that make up the kitchen (which isn’t much of a kitchen at all. There is an old fridge, two hot plates, a toaster oven and some cookware and dishes next to a deep industrial sink).

There is steam coming from the shower room, and when you get closer with the bag of clothes you got for him, you feel a malaise creep into your body.

“Dove?” you call, but he doesn’t answer.

You put down the bag and go to the door, not sure what you’ll find, but hardly wanting to violate his privacy nor open yourself up to any teasing if you’ve misinterpreted the empathic impression.

A small gasp leaves your lips. His wings are almost totally clean now, free of the dirt and char and blood that had been caked on them— some of which sits over the drain grate to his right. Feathers are missing from his left wing, and it continues to droop, but what concerns you is how he’s kneeling on the floor with his head against the wall, taking in shuddering breaths. The wings hide his nakedness almost completely, but that hardly crosses your mind as you step into the room.

“Dove?” you say again, more urgently now, your new shoes splashing on the wet floor as you cross over to him.

It’s a rather bare room, stripped of all curtains and half-stalls, with only a dozen showerheads set a few feet apart around the space. He has two showers running to cover all of him, and you gasp when you feel how hot the water is, yanking the tap to the left to make it cold and then reaching over him to do the same to the other.

“What are you doing!” your voice is louder than you intend, and he tenses, groaning when cold water penetrates whatever daze he was in. You get down on one knee and grab his face between your hands. He’s hot hot hot, and not just from the water, flushed. He startles, wings jerking and feathers fluffing, and he gives a slight grunt of alarm.

“Hey, hey, it’s me— it’s just me.”

He doesn’t quite relax but he seems to calm, bowing his head slightly and shivering. You carefully reach up to turn off both showers and bring your hand to his neck. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus through the haze and urgency.

“What are you doing…” he says dully, lifting a hand to grasp your forearm. He groans when he feels the initial relief of your healing. “Don’t, you’re not— I’ll be fine—”

“I can handle it, you’re not well,” you reply, almost scolding. He makes a sound of acknowledgement but speaks no further, he keeps his hand on your arm.

You don’t find what you’re looking for, you assumed it would be an infection from the fracture, but his whole nervous system is rioting. You quickly readjust, your fingers pressing against his neck, by the nape. It’s not the healing you expected him to need, but you hadn’t exactly gotten the chance to examine him and come up with a plan. Your healing balances his autonomic nervous system, calming the sympathetic and re-engaging the parasympathetic. He’d need more help than that, you can tell, but easing his distress is your primary goal.

A drop of blood hits the floor, and his hand squeezes your arm. Your nose is bleeding.

“That’s enough,” he says, his voice much more controlled now.

“I’m alright,” you assure him, “I know my limits, I can do a bit more…” You aren’t lying but you know how far you can push yourself before you get as bad as you were last night. You can do more now that you’re touching him too, that always makes you more precise.

His breathing even outs and his heart rate calm, and his head bows in relief after another long moment. Your bloody nose gets worse, but you set him up better this time, stimulating his immune system and provoking a healing response throughout his body, natural pain relief. It would help his body help itself until you could resume your efforts tomorrow.

You move your hand away from his neck and move it to under your nose. The leg of your pants is wet when you stand, and you turn away but he gives your arm a little tug, making you look back down at him. His face isn’t as flushed now, and there’s a different kind of pain in his eyes, something non-physical. Something like guilt.

“I didn’t deserve that,” he says gravely. You slowly pull your hand away.

“You were in distress, I wasn’t going to leave you like that.”

His wings twitch, ruffling carefully. “Some pain deserves to be felt,” he argues weakly. “Especially for something of my own doing.”

“Withdrawal isn’t a penance, Dove.” When he meets your gaze, you think he might be searching for judgement, but he won’t find any. He looks away.

“It’s an unfair strain on you.”

You turn away, still holding your bloody nose. “I can’t just pick and choose what I heal. If you’re sick I can’t fix your wing effectively.” You huff, turning away. “And I’m fine. It’s not as draining when I can touch you… I left you some clothes by the door. If you really don’t want to waste my efforts, you’d better get some rest. Your body can do the work itself until tomorrow.”

You start out of the room deliberately, shoesfalls splashing wetly. As you pass the threshold, the echoey walls of the shower room amplify his quiet words just enough for you to hear.

“Thank you.”

You keep going without acknowledging it.

#warren worthington x reader #warren worthington x you #warren worthington iii #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #warren fic.#warren x reader.#my fic.

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mulderist · 4 years ago

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DEVIL AT MY DOORSTEP

Post-Orison Hurt/comfort || MSR, UST || Scully POV || Moderate violence || AO3 link

A/N: This fic was originally written way back in 2001 when I was in college. It was my first post-episode fic and I posted it to FF.net back in the day. I unearthed it 3 years ago and gave it some extremely heavy edits because it’s that ridiculous and dramatic (lol). I then nervously posted the revised version to AO3.

@today-in-fic

"If you want to pack some things we can get outta here," Mulder said as he walked into my bedroom. I pulled open a dresser drawer revealing my copy of the Holy Bible. I felt the strong weight of guilt in my hand as I lifted it out. Mulder noticed the book. "You can't judge yourself," he tried to reassure me. I walked over to my bed and carefully sat my beaten body down.

"Maybe I don't have to." I told him.

"The Bible allows for vengeance."

"But the law doesn't."

"The way I see it," Mulder began as he leaned toward me, "he didn't give you a choice. And my report will reflect that, in case you're worried. Donnie Pfaster would have surely killed again if given the chance."

"He was evil Mulder. I'm sure about that without a doubt. But there's one thing that I'm not sure of," I said softly.

"What's that?"

"Who was at work in me? Or what? What made me - what made me pull the trigger?"

"You mean if it was God?"

"I mean - what if it wasn't?" There was a beat of silence and I could sense that Mulder wanted to say something. Instead I felt his hand gently slide across my upper back. I looked up at him and could see the concern written on his face.

"I'll finish up out there," he said. Then he moved past me and back towards the bedroom door, pulling it behind him.

I slowly stood and went to my dresser to find some clothes. I tossed an outfit on the bed and stripped off my pajamas leaving them in a heap on the floor. As I absentmindedly packed an overnight bag I took a look around my bedroom. The bookcase I had pulled over on Pfaster to slow him down resulted in a disjointed cascade of books and broken trinkets. There were stains of crimson blood, more than likely my own, which dotted the once clean carpet. The thought that blood was shed in my bedroom made me swallow hard. I scanned over my bed to the wall where my mirror once hung. All that remained were jagged pieces of glass and the remnants of the frame. More pieces scattered the floor. I closed my eyes briefly attempting to block out the events that had occurred. Then a shudder shook me back into reality and I turned to leave my room.

The police had finally cleared out leaving an unsettling calm in the apartment. I was grateful Mulder took it upon himself to answer their questions. As I walked to the living room I could still smell a faint scent of lit matches combined with the dying fragrance of my candles, though they had been extinguished for some time now. I stopped after I crossed the thresh hold and looked down at the large burgundy stain on the rug. Very faint markings of a chalk outline could still be seen on the floor. I saw Mulder sitting on the end of my couch with his elbows on his knees, hands folded. He rose when he realized I was in the room. I said softly,

"Let's go."

Mulder nodded and followed me out the door, locking it behind us. Once we got outside he took my bag and popped the trunk to place it inside. I took my place in the passenger seat and winced slightly as I reached across to grab the seat belt. My eyelids felt like lead weights and I couldn't help but let them close as I leaned my head back against the headrest. I heard Mulder get in the car and start the engine. He tried to make conversation on the ride to his apartment but I think after a short while he realized I didn't want to talk just yet. He knew me well. The remainder of the drive was in silence. Even after Mulder parked the car we still said nothing. It wasn't until we had stepped inside his apartment that he uttered,

"I can put some coffee on." I glanced up at him and nodded with a heavy sigh.

"I think I want to take a shower."

"Sure," he replied, sounding slightly wounded, "It'll be ready once you're done."

Jesus, why are we doing this awkward small talk? He handed me my overnight bag and before I went down the hall I squeezed his hand. After I closed the bathroom door behind me I put my bag on the floor then turned on the water for the shower. As it warmed up I slowly shed my clothes and inspected myself to see if there were any injuries I might have missed. I turned slightly and saw the initial stages of bruising setting in on my upper back. My naked figure in the mirror was unsettling. I had never seen myself look so vulnerable. I turned away from the defeated reflection and pulled aside the shower curtain, stepping into the warm waterfall.

Steam began to swirl around in the tiny room, creating an eerie fog. The slight burn of the water began to relax me as it massaged my tired frame. I self-consciously crossed my arms over my breasts and placed my hands on my shoulders. I then ran a hand over my wet hair. "Ah, dammit," I hissed. My index finger found a remaining chip of glass hiding at the back of my head. A speck of blood oozed from where I was pricked. That's when I noticed my fingernails. There was a fine line of scarlet caked under them.

Blood.

Blood that was not mine. My hands showed traces of the struggle in my apartment. I flexed and tightened my right hand noticing how awkward and stiff the movement was. Sprain, edema, contusion, hematoma: bland clinical terms I knew all too well. I took the bar of soap off its dish and began working it into a lather. As the suds formed on my arms, I tried to wash away the gritty feeling, the sense of guilt, and the memory of Donnie Pfaster.

Pfaster. His cryptic face clawed its way to the surface though I tried desperately to suppress it. His was the face of pure evil, a vision of a demon that shook me to my core. When I took the case I tried to prove to myself that it didn't bother me. I had gone through the counseling sessions during and after Minneapolis. Bouts of anxiety would return every once and a while, flashes of terrible things usually triggered after a particularly difficult assignment. Subconsciously I knew I was kidding myself when I thought I had overcome what happened.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to melt away as I stood there breathing in the heavy steam. Water pushed the soapy residue from my body and I saw a light red trail spiral down the drain. I closed my eyes for a moment but couldn't shake the chaos that happened in my apartment. Pfaster was in my home - the devil at my doorstep. I angrily grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squeezed some of it into my hand. As I massaged the gel into my hair the familiar scent wound around in the air and my mood softened. Then my thoughts turned to Mulder. He told me not to look any further and I followed his advice. I don't know how he ended up in my living room with his gun drawn, ready to do what I was shockingly more capable of doing. He always managed to find me – to save me. I was still in shock when he rushed over and held me close. I just stood there, motionless, letting my weapon slip from my fingers. Every time I ended up in his arms I had this overwhelming feeling that I'm safe and it's a sensation I never want to lose. As I rinsed my hair I did what I feared most.

I lost control.

The water felt tepid as it mixed with the scalding tears in my eyes. I brought my hands to my face as if to conceal the pain and anger from myself. Oh God I thought. Everything was rushing at me too fast; horrible sounds and smells returned shocking my senses. I lost the comforting warmth that had enveloped me. Stability failed and I placed my left hand against the cool tile wall. My knees softened and with a hand over my mouth, I tried to muffle my crying. My shoulders lurched as I sobbed and I moved my hip closer to the wall for support. Water raced down my bruised back. My arms slid across my stomach and I held on, trying to shield myself from the terrible thoughts flashing in my mind. I leaned a shoulder into the wall almost as if I expected it to open up and embrace me.

"Mulder…"

I didn't realize I had said it aloud. It's not the first time I've called out to him but it felt different as I stood in his shower. I needed to say his name. I needed to know he was on the other side of that door. I needed to allow myself this one fleeting moment of vulnerability and begin to accept the unacceptable. As my sobs slowed one was caught in my throat. I hated how I sounded when I was upset and more often than not tried desperately to express sorrow in silence. Over the roar of the water I exhaled deeply and wiped my eyes. My hands found their way to my shoulders once again and I breathed in the last few clouds of steam. Then I turned off the faucet, pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped out onto the waiting bathmat. I pulled a towel off the hook and gently dried off, finding comfort in that familiar scent once again.

I got dressed and combed my hair then walked out to Mulder's living room. There was a lone mug on the coffee table. I happened upon him lying down on the couch, eyes closed. I moved closer and noticed that his brow was furrowed. I touched his shoulder causing him to stir.

"Mmm, sorry I must have dozed off. Did the shower help? " he said while he sat upright and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I think so. I feel a little more human." I joined him in the space he had cleared. He stretched then reached for the mug and took a long swallow. I leaned back against the couch.

"I can pour you a cup if you'd like," I heard him say. My fingers began to fiddle with a tender spot on my left hand.

"No thanks." I know Mulder could tell I had been crying, puffiness under the eyes was not easy to conceal. I could feel my cheeks flush and I licked my lips as I searched for something to say.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm still having difficulty finding the words right now and I can't stand this awkward small talk."

He shook his head after swallowing a sip of coffee. "You know I can see it on your face. And this awkward small talk wouldn't be so awkward if you would just let me in. It's like I told you earlier, I've never seen something give you this much of a head trip before."

"I have to be able to accept this on my own terms, Mulder." That tasted bitter. "I've been trying to forget for five years. I just can't do this right now." I got off the couch and started to head for his bedroom. After pushing the door slightly behind me, I turned down the sheets and slowly crawled into the large bed. I gingerly placed my head upon Mulder's pillow and felt the smoothness against my skin. Every muscle in my body struggled to unwind. Before I closed my eyes I noticed a shadow move in front of the door.

"I'll be fine." I muttered under my breath.

The last thing I heard was the click from the door being closed.

I awoke in the dark to a stinging sensation in the side of my head. My mouth was sore and I could taste blood. There was a taunt strip of cloth tied tightly around my head causing my cheeks to hurt. My hands were bound behind my back and my bare feet were tied together. I weakly struggled to shift positions, fighting the pain in my temple. Once my eyes focused I slowly maneuvered myself near the light source coming from the crack underneath the door. Where the hell am I? I couldn't see anything in the room aside from the hardwood floor. I attempted to sit back up and tried to figure out how I got here. Adrenaline had kicked in now and I started thinking of a way to escape. Then I saw a shadow sweep across the floor. Suddenly the door pulled open. I shot back against a nearby wall in a lame attempt to protect myself. I looked at the figure in the doorway and it didn't look human. The figure bent down, grabbed my ankles, and dragged me on the floor out of the closet into the empty room. I writhed and twisted in its grip. A dim light from somewhere else in the dilapidated house illuminated the figure just enough so I could distinguish human hands as they removed the tie from my ankles. The man reached over and forcefully pulled me up by my shoulders to my feet. Our eyes met for a split second as I stood and in that moment I felt malevolence swarm over my body. His pushed me in front of him and a smile snaked across his lips.

His hand roughly clung to my bare shoulder as he shoved me down a hallway. Everything in the sparsely lit house looked the same, bare and unremarkable. There was a warm glow coming from one of the rooms on the left and he led me in that direction. It was a master bedroom. Once inside I was shoved towards the bathroom. I saw an oversized bathtub nestled in the back under a window. There was a double sink to the right and the white porcelain toilet resided next to it with a towel bar hanging low over the tank. Candles covered just about every surface to provide mood lighting for whatever diabolical plans he had in mind. He moved me over to the sink and untied my hands for a moment, only to tie them to the towel bar. I saw the horrible smirk form on his face as he stepped back to look at his work.

"It'll all be over soon." And with that he left the bathroom. My mind yelled at me to escape. I pulled violently at the bar, foolishly hoping that I could pull it off the wall and run. Then I leaned my head down to meet my hands and try to loosen the gag. As I feverishly worked I heard a thud from the other room. I stopped for just a second and listened and to my horror I saw the man pull Mulder's body into the doorway and toss him on the floor.

No!

"Mulder! What have you done to him?!" I yelled against the gag. The man lunged at me and struck me across the face. Then he snatched my jaw and pressed the flat side of a knife against my cheek.

"Don't worry Girly-Girl. I have plans for him too." I fought the tears welling in my eyes. He moved away from me and went toward the bathtub, reaching for the faucet to turn on the water. I tried to free my hands from the towel bar while he was distracted. My fingers squeezed together and with a tug I was loose then I quickly removed the cloth from around my mouth. I looked out into the other room and saw Mulder stir but just as I did Pfaster noticed I had gotten one step closer to escape and took measures to slow me down. With a flash of metal his knife came quickly across my right hand. I tried to grab it; tried to disarm him for even a moment. He caught my arm and plunged the blade in-between my ribs. I screamed. He attacked me again, this time hitting my upper arm. I took all the strength I could muster and kicked Pfaster in the gut sending him back towards the bathtub. I cried out over the roar of the water and fell to the floor just missing the edge of the sink. I started to crawl in a prone position to the door and out into the bedroom, blood soaking rapidly through my tank top. I had to get to Mulder. He was lying face down on the floor and I could tell he was injured or God knows what else.

"S-Scully.." he muttered as he lifted his head revealing a gash on his cheek. My injured hand reached out for his, finding his fingertips and holding as tight as I could.

"Mulder, please…" I pleaded. "I need you to get up. I can't –" Pfaster was on his feet now. He turned around sharply and quickly ran out to seize my leg. I kicked him in the shin but he still managed to pull me in his direction. I cried out for Mulder as I was dragged back into the bathroom. Pfaster brought my arms above my head and held them together while straddling me. My right arm went numb from the stab wounds and blood started to seep into the bathmat as my body was pressed onto the tile. I winced as he tightened his hold on me, pulling my injured arm more than needed.

"You know," he began once he caught his breath, "I didn't think I'd finally catch the one that got away. That red hair never left my mind. I wasn't going to stop until I found you." My lips moved as I tried to form words, but no sound escaped. He stood and yanked me up off the floor. I could barely fight against him and that's what frightened me the most. I was running out of time. Still with a grip on my shoulders he turned off the water to the bathtub.

"Let her go, Pfaster," said Mulder from the doorway, his voice sounded dark. Pfaster pressed a hand over my mouth before I could put a voice to my suffering. The taste on my lips was nauseating.

"You're not going to take her from me. Not again," said Pfaster. Then he brought his face close to me and smelt my hair making my skin crawl. Then he dropped me in the tub, holding me under. I kicked and thrashed as hard as I could but I was growing weaker. I heard Mulder yell.

Two shots rang out.

The frigid cold water sent a shockwave through my body and stung my wounds. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. I could feel my body shutting down. All of my energy started to fade and I physically couldn't struggle anymore. I couldn't move. My breath slowed as I stared at the ceiling. The lights from the remaining candles flickered back and forth across the walls.

My life started to slip away.

Then I saw Mulder's face above me as he climbed into the tub. He reached in and quickly picked me up from under my arms then shifted my weight so he could slide his right arm under my knees. As he lifted my limp wounded body out of the bathtub I closed my eyes and heard him say "I'm sorry, Scully. God I'm so sorry." He carried me out of the bathroom, leaving the body of Donnie Pfaster behind.

Mulder knelt down with me on the floor of the barren bedroom, holding me tight in his arms. I coughed and sputtered, expelling the bathwater. He pulled out his cell phone and I knew he was calling for an ambulance. "Yes this Agent Mulder with the FBI, I have an agent down!" He gave some more information then tossed the phone aside. One hand pressed firmly on my side, adding compression to the oozing stab wound. "Help is on the way. Just hang on." My eyelids fluttered and I said his name.

"Scully, talk to me. Come on."

"What happened to you?" I asked weakly.

"That bastard cold-cocked me once I made it upstairs. He must have already had you tied-up in the bathroom. God, I should have shot him as soon as I saw him."

"I can't Mulder…" I said with a shiver.

"No. No. You have to stay with me, Scully" he said with a wavering voice.

"I can't feel …I don't…I'm sorry," My words were nonsensical as I tried to focus on him. My fingers grazed his shirt before I lost consciousness.

Mulder began CPR.

His lips felt so warm against mine as he forced air into my mouth. I felt the wetness of his cheek as he leaned in to deliver each breath. I was so numb I barely felt the chest compressions. His hands were soaked in my blood. Desperation crossed Mulder's face after he gave two more sets of compressions and saw no change.

"Dammit Scully, come on! You can't leave me!" I heard him say as he pressed on my chest. His composure was gone as he tried frantically to revive me. Mulder choked out a sob as he clutched me to his chest. He rocked back and forth then let out a primal, gut-wrenching scream.

A siren was heard howling down the street. Red lights flashed in through the window and danced along the ceiling as the ambulance pulled up. The paramedics flung open the door to the house and called in inside. It didn't take them long to find us. They rushed in and took me from Mulder so they could begin their work. He slid back a little and sat with his head in his hands. The EMTs readied the defibrillator to restart my heart. One of the medics cut open my shirt and stuck pads on my bare chest to prepare me before using the paddles. Then a paramedic called,

"Clear!"

I cried out and woke with a start; my hands pushed me into an awkward upright position on the bed. Disoriented at first and head spinning, I started to piece together where I was. The layout of the room became more familiar as my senses came into focus with the morning light. My weight shifted to my left elbow and as I rubbed my eyes I heard the bedroom door open, Mulder said my name as he entered. I sat up and he joined me on the bed. The wave of tension broke and quickly I leaned forward to wrap my arms tightly around his neck.

"I had a bad dream," I said softly, feeling my lip start to tremble as I pulled him closer. I felt like a child that needed to be consoled.

"Tell me," he whispered.

"I was in a house, like when I was taken before." My throat felt dry causing my voice to falter. "Pfaster dragged me into a room lined with candles and was intent on finishing what he started. You were there too but you couldn't - There was so much blood, Mulder," I pulled away from him and drew in a breath to try and regain some sense of composure. "It all just felt so real. " I shook my head and ran a hand over my hair leaving it to rest behind my neck. We sat there for a moment, no words between us. At one point he tenderly kissed the top of my head. Finally he said,

"I was hesitant to tell you, but I heard that song as I was getting ready for bed last night."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," he looked down and motioned to take my hand, "I tried to call you but you didn't pick up. I guess you could call it divine intervention."

"That was playing in my apartment. He was playing that damn song…" Mulder leaned in and embraced me.

This time I buried my head in his chest and unwillingly started to hear the opening notes of the song fade in once again. My eyes closed and my hands pressed harder against Mulder's back, pulling him closer.

With those phantom tones I was replaying what had happened mere hours ago. The panic of knowing Pfaster was in my home, the anger that drove each blow I threw at him, the fear when he had me pinned down and screaming out for help.

Don't let go.

The tempo sent me reeling back to Minneapolis. That house. That closet. The feel of the rope around my wrists. Falling down those stairs and feeling paralyzed by fear. What was going to happen to me? Would I ever see Mulder again?

Hold on to me.

The rhythm began to fade and I felt the mist in my eyes. I pushed back for a brief moment and looked at Mulder as he brushed away tear that found its way to my cheek.

"Stay with me," I whispered. He nodded and I moved over, allowing him to slip into bed alongside me.

"It's alright. I'm here." He kissed the nape of my neck knowing there wasn't much else he could do but hold me. And that's all I really wanted him to do. At that point I didn't care that I had broken down. I had never wanted him closer to me than in that moment.

I was so tired. My body ached and eventually my sobs began to subside. The air was no longer caught in my throat. I began to listen to the cadence of Mulder's breath and I wasn't sure if he was still awake. My inhale met with his. Once he noticed my breathing began to slow he slid his hand from under mine. Fingertips found a strand of hair and placed it behind my ear. I could feel the sunlight coming through the bedroom window.

"Thank you," I uttered, my voice raspy and heavy with exhaustion.

"Rest. I'm not going anywhere." I struggled to shift positions and turned over to face him. My hand found his cheek and I moved closer, sharing his breath. The hint of smile tugged at his mouth. Ever so slightly my lips parted and I felt warmth as his lips met mine. Soft and tender.

At last I was able to begin to forget.

#I wrote this #xf fanfic #fanfic anniversary #msr #hurt/comfort #xfiles

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aloesarchives · 5 years ago

Text

Gaolang Headcanons

(A/N):Sorry this took so long, I recently had a writer's block that made me really unmotivated to write. Another reason that it took so long was because I made the reader have a background that would’ve made it oc like, which I usually tend to stay away from. But after so pep talk with a friend and remembering this is my blog, I decided to say fuck it and write to self-indulge in my writing more and write this headcanon(what I mean is appearance is up to you but things like job occupation would be up to me. And also literally after eating ice cream, the thought of writing came back and here I am. Plus, who wouldn’t dream of being able to fight(doesn’t mean fighter) and kick ass in the Kengan series? If you said no, you lying.

(Edit July 1 2020 2:44am: Okay so Tumblr glitched again where my posts having been showing up on me blog and just disappeared from the search so I had to repost them again, I apologize for any inconveniences)

Word count:4257 words

But now, what many of you have been waiting for,

The Man, the myth, the legend himself,

Gaolang Fucking Daddy Wongsawat

I’ma write so much for this man you have no idea

Let’s gets two things out of the way first about this absolute unit of a man right here: Gaolang Wongsawat

First things first, Gaolang is literally a man of few words. He’s not mute, of course, it’s just he’s more of a man that speaks when spoken to. However, it doesn’t mean you start and carry every conversation the two of you have. Gaolang is always listening to you when you speak even though he’s not looking at you. He just gives you a short reply or answer when you ask him certain things, not a a tired or agitated response but more of them not pushing an agenda into the conversation unless needed so.

But when it’s just the two of you and a silent falls in between, it’s unsurprisingly serene and pleasant. Like the silence and energy that Gaolang gives off doesn’t make you uncomfortable or awkward, which is ideal when you both don’t want to talk because you’re either tired and lean on Gaolang, or when words aren’t needed in the moment and you silently enjoy each other company. He’s one of the few people to be able to not talk much and make the air not feel unbearable.

Second, Gaolang is a man of honor. With his status in Thailand and being the bodyguard of King Rama XII, Gaolang doesn’t use his status to prey on others/ those who are weaker than him. He deems that as cowardice and dishonorable so he doesn’t really want to cause trouble for King Rama and you.

Now with that out of the way, let’s got on it with this man, shall we?

TBH, you could’ve met Gaolang anywhere so it’s up in the air how you guys met.

The apartment is always clean and nice since Gaolang cleans up the place once or twice a week. You do you part around the house, of course, to keep it clean when Gaolang isn’t home, especially when he’s out for his boxing matches and championships for heavyweight. But Gaolang has a particular way of keeping the apartment clean and gets kinda of passive aggressive when something isn’t cleaned properly.

You two mostly split doing the chores in the house, like you vacuum and he does the dishes for the week and it would switch every other week. The only chore Gaolang just leaves solely up to you is the laundry. This is due to him not wanting to mess up any of your clothing when he’s washing them so you do both of your guys’s laundry. Plus, Gaolang doesn’t have that much of a diverse closet so washing his clothes isn’t much of a hassle.

Cooking wise, you mostly leave it up to Gaolang b/c face it, Gaolang is the better cook between the two of you, no offense mate. But Gaolang’s cooking smacks so hard you don’t eat out/get takeout anymore unless you’re craving some of that Thailand street food, which he doesn’t mind as long as it’s not frequent. But fam, why go out when Gaolang’s cooking is so good?

Domestic life with Gaolang is honestly lovely, holy shit. Like it’s pure bliss and wonderful. Usually it goes like this:

Every morning, Gaolang usually wakes up earlier than you which you don’t mind. He gets dress but doesn’t put on his dress shirt on until he has to leave for work. While you get ready for the day and freshen up, he already made coffee(if you drink it) and is cooking breakfast. When you’re done and walk out of the bed room, you already greet him good morning where you either hug him from behind or give him a good morning kiss( but the second one is always your go to). The tv is on in the background and you sip your drink as you watch what’s currently on. Gaolang calls out saying breakfast is ready and you two eat at the table. Once down, dishes are put into the sink and after a few minutes, Gaolang has to leave for work. He puts on his dress shirt, grabs his blazer, and while he’s tying his tie you’re at the door to bid him a good day at work. Once he’s finish and has put on his shoes on, you wish him a good day along with a kiss as you wave him off. Once you hear the door click, you knew it would be awhile until he comes back home. Your job allows you do work at home so you’re always in the apartment. Once done, you would clean the place, do the laundry, run a couple of errands, or relax. For lunch you have leftovers that Gaolang cooked the day before in the fridge. Afterwards, you do stuff to let the time pass whether it be productive or not. You know Gaolang is home by the clicking of the door and his voice saying “I’m home”. You give him a welcome back kiss and asked him about his day while holding onto his blazer to be later stemmed. He just said it was normal and nothing of the sort. However, there was one time he told you fought someone who tried to claim he’s spot as his majesty’s bodyguard but by the look of things you can assume Gaolang won. While you put away his blazer, he ask you about your day which you reply with the usual that you say. Right away, you and Gaolang start making dinner for the evening. Gaolang is at the stove while you cut up the meat and vegetables and handing it to them when you’re done. Washing your hands, you set up the table and waited until he was done. Dinner mostly has minimal talking because it’s eating time but Gaolang will answer you if you ask him something. The aftermath of dinner is mostly compromise of cleaning the dishes, the table, counter tops, and putting away the left overs in the fridge. Then it’s off to the bedroom where the two of you get ready for bed. You always let Gaolang go first into the bathroom to do what need to do since he’s quick. Once done with both of your nightly routines, you two head off for bed. You always give him a good night kiss before sleeping and Gaolang has an arm around you as the two of you sleep.

There are very few times where you wake up first: when he gets the day off, just got back to Thailand from weeks abroad for championships and matches, or from a hefty training session. However, this is mostly uncommon to happen as Gaolang is a early bird.

Sleepwise, Gaolang doesn’t really snore. He’s a quiet sleeper, however, he leans in more of moderate- lighter sleeper where heavy stirring and noise can bring him out of sleep. But it does take some minimal effort to wake him up. Gaolang is the type of person to face away you the two of you would fall asleep but when you wake up his body is facing you and his arms are caging you in. I can see him also being the type of spouse to carry you into your bed if you fell asleep on the couch or while working, Gaolang is more than welcome to carry off to bed, hell he’ll tuck you in and give you a forehead kiss.

This man will HOLD you in your sleep, fucking on cloud 9, sis. And you never felt more safe and comfortable in your life.

Gaolang doesn’t talk a lot when eating, but again he won’t shy away when you’re talking/asking him something.

Straight up, Gaolang loves to watch those soap operas/Asian dramas, it’s sort of his guilty pleasure. When you found out about it, you didn’t really judge him for it because you actually liked the series he was watching. He was a little bit anxious when you didn’t say anything but relaxed when the only words you said to him was “Gao, scoot over this is getting interesting.” Like he’s motionless and his face barely contorts when the plot begins to thicken but you can tell he is enjoying the show.

It would be untrue if you didn’t at least have some encounter with Saw Paing. God, I can imagine as soon Gaolang leaves for work and you have the apartment to yourself, then the next thing you know there’s a Burmese man in his 30′s outside of your window and he’s screaming at the top of his lungs what seem to be your beloved names. Two thoughts are running through your head as you’re just staring on at this man: #1- Who the hell is this man and how does he know Gaolang? and #2- How in the hell was he able to climb up to you and Gaolang’s high rise apartment? After you let him in through one of your windows, the man was quite surprise because he hasn’t seen you before, or more rather in the apartment. He asked you who were you, when you said you’re Gaolang’s wife, he was shock and kind of ecstatic to know that Gaolang has gotten himself a spouse. The first thing you took note was his loud and constant yelling; however, when you’re talking to him in the apartment, he dies down his voice and doesn’t yell. He somehow manages to leave the apartment and miss Gaolang arrival from work. And when Gaolang comes home and asked about your day, he’s slightly intrigued when you said you made a new friend. As soon as you mention Saw Paing, you see Gaolang’s face slightly grimace as he let out an annoyed sigh. He apologizes for his behavior and for you not to say sorry for causing it. After he explains his history with Saw Paing, you now understand his reaction. Gaolang is kind of happy for you to be friends with Saw Paing because at least Saw Paing gets to hang out with you and not bother him whiles he’s trying to live his life with you. Surprisingly, when you became friends with Saw Paing, he won’t barge into your guys’s apartment or yell anymore, most of the time that is. But it’s all good with Saw Paing being and Gaolang doesn’t mind as long as he is minimal involvement in it.

Saw Paing is your buddy, fam. It’s bound to happen.

You do fight but it’s more on the side and a hobby you do. Unlike Gaolang, who does this as a profession, you do this as more for fitness and self defense. You’re not as powerful as Gaolang, but you can handle yourself enough where Gaolang doesn’t have to worry about you going out without him. The two of you spar and train together when given the time but during the small sparring Gaolang goes easy on you because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

King Rama every now and then would ask Gaolang about you. Rama is pretty much Gucci with Gaolang so it doesn’t really bug him. King Rama is one of the few people that knew about you being with Gaolang, so yeah. He was intrigued by the fact that Gaolang subtle mentions you the first time he asked him. Over time, Rama listen to his royal subject and bodyguard as Gaolang talks about you, he just wants Gaolang to spill the tea. Although it’s very hard for many people notice, King Rama notice a slight soften in Gaolang during those moments. The fact that you were able to make a dent in the stoic Thai God of War was more than enough for Rama to have a reason to meet you. He was curious on who you were to able to do that to Gaolang. Then queue the day you were invited by the King of Thailand himself to have a simple small meeting. You had no idea why the King wanted audience with you, but you knew you had to go b/c it would be rude if you didn’t. You told Gaolang that you had to leave early to go somewhere and he thought nothing of it. You also didn’t tell Gaolang about it cause you assumed he knew about it. For some reason, King Rama keep things simple and asked you to walk around the palace’s garden, contrasting his extravagant behavior. Being the charismatic person he is, you’re not intimidated by him and answer his questions truthfully. After listening to your replies and responses, especially ones about Gaolang, he now understands why Gaolang took interest to you, you’re unique in the sense that you’re a blue diamond. Matchless, rare, and unlike any other, not in the way you shiny above everyone since you blended into the crowd, but once they have stumble upon and get to know you there’s no turning back from there. Just the imagine the shock on Gaolang’s face when he gets to work and sees you talking to his majesty. He was curious and a bit scared that you were talking to Rama but after a short exchange of laughter it disappeared. After you spotted Gaolang and the two of you walked towards him, Rama stated the two of you had a little chat and that you were heading on your way. Once Gaolang responded with a head nod, you bow to the King and wave bye to Gaolang as you go for the rest of the day. Soon as you’re out of sight, King Rama comments to Gaolang that you’re a hidden gem and told him to take good care of you. And Gaolang being Gaolang, smiles and fulfills his duties given by his king.

King Rama, low key, wants Gaolang to settle down because, I’m gonna be honest, he deserves it. Like Rama is vigile and gives Gaolang days off so he can spend time with you, this includes when Gaolang has boxing matches and championships too. He just wants Gaolang to slow down in life and spends his life with you without stress or worry.

King Rama implicitly ships you and Gaolang but you didn't hear it from me.

You definitely have run into King Rama during Gaolang’s boxing matches. Speaking of which, you always watch his matches. Whether it be at home or in the actually stadium. you make sure you were watching every single one of his fights. It’s enthralling to watch him fight, like his infamous Flash of 13 jabs is something that never cease to amaze you. Having won 4 heavyweight championship, you’ve never really doubted him and his abilities one bit. During one of his championship, King Rama was actually present and invited you to join him in the VIP lounge to watch Gaolang. The fight was intense but Gaolang came out victorious and won with a knock out. It was one of the most amazing things you have every seen as the crowd roared at the win and King Rama allowed Gaolang to take a 5 day rest as his fruitful victory.

There are times where you’re either at the entrance of the ring or inside the locker room to wish him luck. The most he’ll accept is a hug and a kiss on the cheek, that’s it. But he does flash you a smile before going out there.

Without a doubt, Gaolang is a very private person, except to you of course. Like Gaolang doesn’t reveal much of his home life to the public to keep the paparazzi away. He likes to keep the his work life and home life extremely separate. Your relationship with him and even your own existence is unknown to the public, THAT’S how private Gaolang is. And a little bit of help from King Rama as well.

Gaolang is not much of a confrontation man, but will confront and be straightforward with you when something is wrong with/bothering you.

He’s also is an observant person, you could tell by the way he analyzes opponents so he at least can read you and situations at home.

Due to this, he is very good a giving compliments. Not the super cheesy one, it’s usually the simple ones, and those are the one that get you all the time.

He has a chill personality, calm and collected, he’s not the type to jump the gun on assumptions. The man trusts you, fam.

It’s really hard to make Gaolang mad. He gets annoyed and aggravated, yeah, but it’ll never escalates to him being furious. Gaolang knows how to manage his emotions and has never really been irrational or lashed out before. The only time you ever saw Gaolang lose his composure was when he yelled at Saw Paing. And that moment, right there, was terrifying to you because you never seen Gaolang lash out before. So you do your best to not push his buttons too much.

Gaolang lets you do your own thing because he understands that you have your own life and do things on your own accord. Not much of a controlling person, far from you. But Gaolang doesn’t understand why you have a job when he makes a reasonable salary for the both of you to live off on. When you told him that you wanted to contribute to society and not rely on him for everything, and you also said you like to have save pocket money. Gaolang respects your answer and kinda likes that you take accountability for yourself.

Jealousy is something that Gaolang knows about and doesn’t really feel, but more rather avoid. Gaolang is comfortable in his own skin and abilities to know that you will not betray him and leave him for someone else. And it’s obvious when you’re not interested in anyone other than Gaolang and tell people off when they hit on you. But what really aggravates him is when the person can’t take a goddamn hint when you tell them off or deny any of their advances on you. Especially if it’s a scumbag of a guy. But Gaolang can’t be irrational due to him having a public image to uphold so he has to logical and clear minded. So Gaolang rational annoyance is rising in level, like his stare goes hard, his aura becomes daunting, anyone who’s near him fear like they would shit in their pants if they ever had to face Gaolang in such a state. You kept telling the guy that your husband/boyfriend wouldn’t be happy if he keep up his behavior with you. Then the man mocks about your lover and asks who is the lucky guy. Then queue my man Gaolang standing behind him and saying it was him and Gaolang was with you. After commenting that Gaolang was your boyfriend/lover, you were humored by the guy’s reaction. The man went pale, apologized to the Thai God of War and was out of sight from then. I don’t know who said it, but I think it was @bokutosbiceps (follow them, they have really good Kengan writing pieces.) that Gaolang goes into a state of grumpiness, which I can totally see. He be like this for what, like a week at max, and this is where everyone just stands clear of Gaolang and try to not get on his bad side. Like even Saw Paing doesn’t come over when he encountered Gaolang’s grumpiness, it’s that bad. Again, he knows that you won’t really leave him because he trust you won’t be that disloyal to him. But the only way to pull him out of that slump is excessive amount of words of affirmation from you and a simple promise that you’ll never leave him. But even after pulling him out of his grumpy pants state, Gaolang acts more of a bodyguard just in case a similar case happens again. If the person/people/guy tries their luck with you then it’s over for them and they will really die, literally Gaolang goes into Thai God of War mode and it ain’t pretty. But overtime, when incidents happen like that, his reaction is less elevated every time due to your unwavering loyalty to him. Jealousy is not foreign feeling to Gaolang but he tends to stay away from it as much as possible.

Seriously, imagine leaving Gaolang for someone else. Sis/fam not only are you a damn circus act, that’s a literal downgrade on so many levels. Like why? I’ll personally find you, smack your forehead, and lecture you why that was a bad move.

I mean, everyone does stay clear on bothering you in general. But after that incident where Gaolang reveal your relationship with him, then people really know to actually stay on your good side. You don’t use Gaolang’s status to abuse power, of course, to get your way with things. But you do make it clear that you’re with/married to him.

However, it’s safe to say that no one messes with you when your boyfriend/husband is literally the best Muay Thai fighter, undisputed heavyweight boxing champion, and bodyguard of the King of Thailand. They’re about of clowns that really want to be humiliated. I’ll also beat them up for you fam, i gotchu

One flaw Gaolang probably has is him having basic logic/common sense but he can be easily swayed and convinced on things he doesn’t have prior knowledge on. The man’s open up to new things, it’s more of him acting like a dumbass for a bit.

God, the horror of seeing Gaolang with wrong Japanese etiquette hurts your eyes and soul. You had to reteach him a lot on these types of things. He’s a little bit embarrassed but grateful that you’re have enough patience to teach him the proper etiquette.

POWER COUPLE OF THAILAND, I’LL FIGHT ANYONE THAT DISAGREES WITH ME. YOU DESERVE TO BE WITH THIS MAN, THAT’S FINAL.

I’ma tell you something sis so you better open them ears: Gaolang isn’t the type to have multiple flings or be in many relationship. He has better things to do with his time than waste on short term infatuation. So if he chooses you, that’s speaking VOLUMES.

In other words, if you’re the one, YOU ARE THE ONE! Like Gaolang could’ve been a playboy and have anyone in the world but the man chose you. YOU’RE THE FUCKING CHOSEN ONE!!!!

Gaolang is not one to push things but he does have conversations with you that marriage and kids can be apart of the equation if you want.

Besides, who wouldn’t marry a man like Gaolang? You be missing out on so much.

Time with Gaolang is always productive no matter what since he knows how to use his time efficiently. You two go to the grocery store together and sometimes you divide and conquer in the store to save time. Being with Gaolang helps you manage your time effectively which helps you a lot.

Bruh, Gaolang’s hair is SOFT. You play with it when the two of you are laying down together and you can tell that he takes good care of his hair. Gaolang lets you do his hair, combing through it and add the bead at the end of his hair. He likes it when you do it.

I like to headcanon that the jewel on his forehead was a gift you gave him and every since you gave it to him he’s been wearing all day everyday.

Gaolang’s kisses are like angel feathers. They’re light and pure. He doesn’t really have any ulterior motive other than missing you on some work days. These are *chef kiss some of the most bless things you’ll ever have.

His hugs, fucking god send. Firm where you’re flush against him but not too tight. Gaolang’s hugs were just right. Those things make you feel safe, and all warm on the inside. There are some days where work is slow, where Gaolang just comes home and holds you in his arms while swaying back and forth. It helps him wine down and relax, transitioning into his home life with you. But hey, free hugs from Gaolang.

Another thing we need to talk about is his smile. I...god... seeing Gaolang smile is when you’ve achieved paradise. You do note that Gaolang doesn’t really smile that often. But if you ask him the right things, have a way with words and play your cards correctly, you can get him to smile and hell even a small chuckle out of him. And there’s no denying that you get butterflies in your stomach and feel warm, fuzzy, and so many positive emotions that you got to witness Gaolang smile.

His smile kills you, heart squeezes

Y’ALL can’t tell me that Gaolang’s smile right here gave you goose bumps or a shiver up your back. If you deny it, you’re lying to yourself, fam.

The man is CANONICALLY husband material, which mean the high possibility of him being a family man.

Literally best Husband, CHANGE MY MIND, I DARE YOU.

Gaolang is super soft to you, he is soft spoken to you, smiles more often around you, became more emotionally open, etc. He really does love and care about you, like a lot.

He is stoic teddy bear for you.

Thai Jesus, Done with everyone’s shit except yours and King Rama.

The most cursed images you have ever seen is that signature shocked express he has, it’s something you never really want ever.

Just living a good, satisfying, and tranquil life with Gaolang. A wholesome man of honor and loyalty, being with Gaolang is a goddamn dream you never want to wake up on.

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God this took way too long. Sorry for being gone for some time, I hit a writer’s block but it’s gone now. I finished on June 30th but stayed up until 12am to edit it. I’ma switch up the order and do Cosmo’s headcanon next. I’ll put the Gaolang oneshot on hold and actually finish my Chapter 2 for my series. This is my longest headcanon yet, and I’m tired.

Stay safe and beautiful, fam!

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #gaolang wongsawat #kengan ashura headcanons

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vegetalass · 4 years ago

Note

hcs of the gang being quarantined in one big house together maybe?? 🥺 lub ur writing

i lub u, anon!!🥺 sorry this took forever!

General

Oh my godddddddddd

They had to stop doing movie nights because there was too much fighting

They tried to set it up such that everyone got a turn to pick a movie but there were still complaints

Now, movies are viewed at random and the policy is that

1. The TV is first come first serve

2. You have to announce when you’re using it

3. Anyone is allowed to join you

This has stemmed into multiple people shouting “IM WATCHING _____” at random times

And yes, people will try to hide the remote (mostly Sean)

If they can find it, that is

The lines between public and private property have been blurred. Everything must be labeled or there is a chance someone will take it

You can risk it, but it’s not recommended since they’re all dudes and will most likely eat anything

And even with your name on a box of graham crackers, there’s still a chance someone will stick their hand it in and steal a few

All the dudes walk around in their Long Johns like it’s not awkward

They have to do their own laundry so everyone is missing socks

Or they have extras

And wet laundry is constantly being left on the ground if it’s unattended and someone needs the washer

Arthur

This dude double dips

He licks the spoon and puts it back in, too

Gets yelled at a lot for this, but never remembers to stop

Everybody is afraid to touch all of the dips now because of this

And Hosea has to start buying separate ones just for Arthur

He’s the one who takes 3 hour baths

I imagine that there’s multiple bathrooms in the house but not enough for everyone so there are definitely times when people are like “WTF, Arthur you’re still in there?” or “Where’s Arthur?”

Usually it’s Charles or John because they don’t mind sharing a bathroom with each other

Cue Arthur having accidentally fallen asleep in the tub

But yea he’s just chilling in there, otherwise

Started the quarantine off by trying to fix up the house… But immediately got lazy

There’s probably a number of things he keeps saying that he’ll “get to, eventually”

The only reason Dutch hasn’t called someone is because it’s a PANDEMIC

Technologically challenged

Barely knows how to turn on the TV and still uses an iPhone 5 that has pretty much stopped working

John has given up trying to explain how to make things fullscreen on YouTube

Because of this, probably spends most of his time wandering around the yard and reading or journaling

Tilly even bought him some scrapbooking supplies, which he’s been trying to use

Little washi tapes and highlighters because she knows it can’t get too complicated too fast

She also makes him an Instagram account so he can take photos or post art

But figuring out how it works is a losing battle, and he never remembers to use it, anyway

“I think we should get a pet”

Everyone: “Arthur... Do we look like we take care of ourselves?

If anyone tries to talk about how annoying the quarantine is, starts ranting about people who refuse to take it seriously

And the conversation ends up spiraling into him blaming capitalism for everything

John

Every other meal he eats is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or Doritos

He does that thing where he wraps a bowl or plate in plastic wrap so he doesn’t have to wash it

Doesn’t clean up after himself

Leaves used tissues, slimy butter knives with PB on them, and crusty socks laying around

Unluckiest of them all

His snacks get taken the most, the bathroom is always occupied when he needs it, never gets to use the TV, his laundry is always moved, etc.

Always ends up using the bathroom when there’s no toilet paper

Texts Arthur for help and then makes an announcement in the group chat about “common courtesy”

Nobody replies

His texts are full of messages to Abigail that all say the same thing

“Help.” + “Please come get me” + “I hate it here”

They’re all left on read except for the occasional response asking if he needs anything from Target

The list he sends back is like four paragraphs long and it’s all dumb stuff

He’s like “FaceTime me when you get there, I wanna go shopping too”

Doesn’t even really want to leave the house for necessities, so he has to do stuff like water down his soaps or steal other people’s toiletries just to prolong how often he needs to go shopping for himself

He’s the one using Irish Spring from the dollar store mixed with water or a block of orange Dial soap that hasn’t been touched in five years

Charles tries to throw away an empty hand soap and John is like “THERE’S STILL SOAP IN THERE LOOK” *mixes water with it*

Steals razors and Shampoo

Thinks conditioner is “unnecessary” and “doesn’t do anything”

Complains about being bored but doesn’t bother to do the things people that people offer

Charles

Voluntarily becomes a recluse

Not because he wants to but because everyone else is too annoying to deal with

He’s forced to start using the internet and when he’s not on the computer he’s trying to block out the noise of the 8 other men he lives with just living

Going on walks is his other hobby

Also probably buys one of those adult coloring books to color

Like Athur, Charles hogs the bathroom

It’s not as bad as Arthur since he’s not in the tub for the whole time but he really will spend an hour getting ready in the morning for absolutely no reason

If anyone asks about it he just tells them that since they’re in quarantine there’s no reason to rush

But he does get yelled at if there’s no other bathrooms available

Becomes a self-care connoisseur

Walks around in a bathrobe and face mask just to try and achieve some sort of zen

Literally the only one who doesn’t walk around half naked

Besides Hosea, the one of the only guys who tries to wake up on time and eat three healthy meals a day

The house is entirely dark and he’s eating toast while Hosea makes coffee

It’s awkward, not because they’re weird about each other but because no one else is awake and it’s quiet for once

Dutch is the third person up and Charles leaves the kitchen by the time he’s around

Gave up trying to do the dishes and only cleans what he uses

Sometimes if he feels like being nice he’ll do Arthur’s dishes, too

But only if he gets something back in return, like Arthur doing his laundry or something

The only one who changes his bedsheets on the regular

Him and Kieran are the only ones trusted by Hosea to leave the house safely

Micah

Everyone is surprised Micah isn’t dead yet

Everyone is constantly fed up with him for something or for just being irritating

And try to ignore him for the most part, which is hard

Tries to defends himself with “Well, you don’t have to bother me if you don’t want to”

Doesn’t clean up after himself, either

John leaves more mess, but Micah does worse stuff

While John just leaves his dirty peanut butter knives around, Micah does stuff like forget to put the mayo back in the fridge, leave the bread bag out and open, forgets to bring his used dishes to the dishwasher, throws his trash in other people’s trash cans, leaves his wet laundry in the dryer, etc.

If it’s annoying and gross, he does it

And tries to eat food that other people have made for themselves or don’t want to share with him

Dutch is the only one who shares with him willingly

Does not pick up his hair from the bottom of the shower

And doesn’t clean the sink after he shaves

Honestly, I doubt any of the drains in the house work properly because so much shaving goes on

It’s honestly surprising to everyone that he takes the quarantine seriously

Accuses people of being sick even though all of them have barely left the house…

Wears a mask inside when he’s feeling salty

He doesn’t even care about the mask, it’s just to make people feel gross and bad about themselves

Besides Sean, he’s always trying to hog the TV

And everything he watches is annoying, pretentious, or both

Complains about there being “nothing to watch” despite always having something on and refusing to stop

Tries to smoke inside and literally always get busted for it

Even if other people are doing it too, he’s the one who doesn’t even bother to be by a window when he does it

His room is always off limits

If you need something from him you need to knock and wait in the doorway

Also does the “You’re too close… Step back, please” thing

And if anyone gets mad, says it’s a pandemic and he’s just trying to be SAFE

Mostly does this to feel powerful

Turns in to Uncle Jr. with all the complaining and berating he does

Uncle is honestly offended

Hosea

The only person allowed to do the shopping

He gave up trying to give people lists because the groceries they came back with were never right

Either too few, too many, not the right stuff... You name it

See here for more

That’s why, despite being the oldest, he’s the one who goes grocery shopping for meals twice a week

Refuses to buy alcohol because of incidents that they’ve had

Can’t stop people from sneaking it, though

Similar to Dutch in that he gets annoyed when people oversleep, but because its quarantine, he tries to not mention it, and at the worst, gets passive aggressive

Tries to make a chore chart for people to follow but it gets ignored

He ends up having to force people to do things by reminding them constantly

He’s the one who starts opening people’s doors in the morning and turning on the lights

Makes everybody start eating on paper plates with plastic silverware because he’s tired of trying to make people use the dishwasher

Arthur doesn’t know how, John doesn’t put his plates in the right place, Charles refuses to since no one else contributes to keeping it neat, Micah doesn’t even know they have one, Kieran also can’t fill it correctly...

Basically, it’s too much for Hosea to handle

His dinners are all Costco pre-made meals that can be made quickly

Frozen lasagna and prepackaged salad type stuff

He’s the guy who falls asleep on the couch sitting up while watching TV and if you try to talk to him he says “I’m awake” without opening his eyes

And if he’s using it, don’t even think about suggesting to change the channel

The answer is and always will be no

Even when he’s not really paying attention

And it’s either on the History Channel or Discovery Channel

Always complaining about how cold his feet are

Doesn’t let anyone touch the thermostat

He’s an in real life Elf on the Shelf

Dutch

If anyone, and I mean anyone starts sleeping in, he gets in a really pissy mood

“While I’m up, doing work for you, you’re sitting in bed being lazy!!!” and “What do you mean you don’t understand why! Why should I have to tell you why wasting the day is annoying to all those who are working!”

Even despite this, he can’t actually change the fact that no one wakes up on time

And it’s not like the work he’s doing for them is very important

He’s the one who thinks that a pandemic is the perfect time to be or do something useful

Eat healthy, write a book, pump iron… Anything

And when people complain about being useless he’s like “You have all this free time!!!1! Stop complaining!!! You can do anything!!!”

And if he’s doing something he considers useful, yells at people who try to bother him

Arthur: “Hosea wanted to know-”

Dutch: *doing sit ups* “CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY?”

When it’s his turn to cook dinner, he’s making 8 boxes of Trader Joe’s mac and cheese in a huge pot and calling a meal

Literally the only meal no one complains about

He won’t clean the pot when it’s finished, though

Literally just cooks and leaves it out for someone else to deal with

Another self-care aficionado

Also walks around in a bathrobe and face mask

He’s worse than Charles though, because while Charles wears pants... Dutch will be booty ass naked under his

Also keeps trying to make homemade masks and scrubs and walks around in those, too

He’s like “This is a good one, I can tell already”

Everyone: “Dutch... is that... mayo... in your hair?”

Annoyingly good at monopoly

Does not invite Molly over and gets yelled at over FaceTime

Cue everyone eavesdropping on their arguments

Goes on power walks

Yells at people when they listen to loud music with swear words

Honestly, always yelling at people

“Can somebody get me my slippers? Arthur? John? Hosea? AnYoNe!!!”

Kieran

Spends the least time in the bathroom because he’s afraid of getting yelled at

Does everything in five minute increments

Except for showers, when he allows himself ten minutes

Barely

Most of what he eats is just microwave popcorn and shredded cheese

He’s the one asking people if they want to go on “family walks” with him

Literally no one joins him

Also tries to play board games with everyone

This goes a little better at least because Hosea will sometimes play and if he’s there, a few people will definitely join

Very bad at monopoly

The most conscious about wearing a mask

The others wear them but Kieran is the one who wears double masks, gloves, and carries around Febreeze

Also will get mad if anyone forgets their “safety equipment”

Or if they’re within six feet of him in public

Props to him though for staying healthy

I’ve mentioned this before, but... Spends most of his time playing games on a big tablet wearing headphones

Candy Crush and FarmVille and Words with Friends and stuff like that

Though all of his internet friends are weird old ladies he doesn’t know

Everyone is mad at him for sending non-stop game notifications, too

Hosea is the only one who responds to any of them

He’ll never admit this, though

Also tries to start doing arts and crafts

Mary-Beth started telling him about the various crafts she’s been doing, so he’s started trying to follow along, too

Things like crocheting or popsicle stick art

His stuff all looks bad, but he’s just happy to be doing it

And to be FaceTiming Mary-Beth

When he gets to choose a movie, he’s picking a “family-friendly” movie like Inside Out or Lilo and Stitch

Everyone starts out being mad but they all end up watching the whole thing without complaining

Heated debates ensue, too

For example, like about whether Flynn should’ve cut Repunzel’s hair in Tangled

“YOU’RE GONNA LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME THAT I’M WRONG?”

Charles + Arthur vs. Dutch + Bill

Makes meatloaf or Hamburger Helper like once a week

They’re basically the only thing he knows how to make

Sides with Arthur when he suggests getting a pet

Wears a Snuggie

Doesn’t change his socks

Javier

Plays his own music very loudly and won’t turn it off or down if you ask

Either that or he’s practicing guitar

It’s not really that bad but when you can’t escape it.... People get mad

The only saving grace is that the singing is usually in Spanish so it’s not as bothersome

The door to his room is always closed

Refuses to open it

To talk to him, you have to knock and then he’ll exit

Dutch is the only one allowed in and he thinks Javier’s rules about entering are creepy so never does it

Javier cooks his own food and won’t share

Only makes enough for exactly one person so even if he wanted to, there’s not enough

Eats dinner in his room to prevent people from bothering him or asking for some

However, he has the biggest stash of quarantine snacks…

No one knows where he gets them

And getting him to share is like trying to do a drug deal, but he’s not against it as long as he gets something in return

He didn’t personally cook all these snacks so the rules are different

His room is full of scented candles to make it smell better since the whole house kinda smells like Boy

Buys a gamer chair at the start of quarantine

Claims it’s more comfortable than the office chair that Dutch and Hosea chose for everyone

Everyone is jealous

Wears fuzzy pajama pants only

Sean

Sean is the one sleeping in

Never sleeps in his bed and just falls asleep wherever, basically

Usually the couch

Because he’s always snoozing, he’s the one who watches the most TV

Micah claims this isn’t “fair,” despite doing the same thing

And even if he’s not watching TV, he’s just using the couch to watch Tik Toks full volume

Tries to make his own Tik Toks, but they either stink or no one wants to participate

Constantly having people get mad at him for recording them

Stopped wearing clothes the moment quarantine started

Always in a tank top and his underpants

It’s kinda weird

People cared at first but by now they can’t be bothered to complain since they’re

1. Used to it

2. Probably start doing the same thing

Leaves his laundry laying around

Also won’t share anything he’s eating

Gets mad when people steal food

Doesn’t address anyone in particular though, just walks around yelling about how “nobody has the common decency not to steal”

Has food delivered almost every other day

No one knows where he’s getting the money from, either

Everyone think it’s a waste

Mostly because he doesn’t share, but also because all hell broke loose when Hosea found out about an expense called “delivery fees”

Also has a stick up his ass about wasting food

Started yelling about this randomly, too

If he can’t force someone else to finish leftovers, he forces himself to finish them

Probably gets caught watching a certain type of nasty video a lot

Lowkey it probably happens to everybody at least once

Yells at anti-maskers

Tries to wrestle the other boys and gets his ass handed to him

Bill

Possessive of everything

Usually he’s not this bad but being cooped up with a bunch of thieves and liars doesn’t make him confident that his Circus Animal cookies will last very long

Doesn’t share anything and very adamant about making sure there’s labels on things so nothing gets mixed up

Also makes his own space in the fridge with tape

BILL’S SPACE DO NOT TOUCH

And will start yelling in anything is moved

Not as bad as Sean though because he only cares about his own stuff

The whole thing is super hypocritical though, because he definitely steals other people’s stuff

If he gets caught, claims “it’s only fair”

Hosea has to buy him soap because he won’t buy it himself

Definitely the one who learns how to make prison hooch with cranberry juice and yeast

And the one who eats all of the ice cream

Even the nasty flavors

Wears the same clothes everyday because since he’s not working, “they’re not dirty”

They start getting holes in them, though

If anyone tries to suggest something for him to do, he gets mad and claims he “knows how to entertain himself”

Also constantly accusing people of being in his space or business

Ends up starting a ton of fights over this and then complaining about how mean everyone is to him

He’s not doing it on purpose, though

Ends up buying some kind of gaming console to pass the time

If he buys an Xbox, he shares with the rest of the boys

If he buys a nintendo switch, he starts playing Animal Crossing and doesn’t put it down for weeks

Out of everyone… He’s the one who takes the pandemic the least serious

He follows the rules because he doesn’t want to be eaten alive by any of the boys, but he probably thought the virus was a hoax at first

He learned his lesson the first time he tried to go out without a mask and got locked in the car, though

Forgets to flush the toilet

His room is dirty

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 #arthur morgan #HOPE U ENJOY ANON SORRY IM SLOW #and will probs continue to be slow #my car broke down at mcdonalds today LOL and by the time it got fixed mcdonalds WAS FUCKING CLOSED #i was so sad my mom actually ended up taking me to a different one #but they didnt have what i wanted LOL #but it was fine bc i was happy with just fries #also y'all.... my sink is fixed and let me tell u #I AM NEVER PAYING FOR A PLUMBER AGAIN #i took that bitch apart and snaked it myself #and enough hair to make a wig came out of it but she was fixed #and i saved so much money my mom bought me lunch as a reward #LOL #anyways i love u all thanks for reading hope this shows up in the tags and u like it #i hope i put enough!!#and lmk if i should republish in a new format #i keep getting scared to make a new post and not answer anon directly #oH WELL JUST CATO PROBLEMS #also went back to work and it was... fine i guess #idk #Anonymous

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