#so it better be 8 parts for my sanity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitchlessdino · 8 months

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scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight.

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed. “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively.

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer.

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already.

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim.

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out.

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house.

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe.

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.”

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated. Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people.

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still.

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…”

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top.

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.”

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp.

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted.

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

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enkvyu · 11 months

Text

8:12am — gojo satoru ;

your sneeze cuts off your sentence and you sigh, apologising into the phone. “sorry, i really don’t think i can carry out the mission.”

you can imagine yaga rubbing his temples on the other side of the line. “just worry about getting better. we can always have someone else fill your absence.”

“thanks, yaga. i’m really sorry for this.”

“don’t worry about it. take care.”

you end the call and sniffle, shoving your hand and phone deep into your pockets to try and conserve heat. the sniffle does little to clear your nose so you do it again, inhaling harder. by the end of it, your airways are no clearer than before.

a doorbell interrupts your suffering and you need to clamp your mouth shut to stop from groaning. dragging your feet behind you, you painfully walk over to your door. when you peer through the peephole, you’re met with a bright blue eyeball peeking through lifted black fabric.

“what the fuck.” you pull open the door. “gojo?”

your colleague stands on the other side, adorned in his typical work uniform with a white bag of something hanging off his arm. “you took so long to open the door i thought you might have died!”

“don’t sound too upset.” you roll your eyes.

gojo pauses and leans in, causing you to take a step back. his face falls into something you’ll call the equivalent to serious considering that you were talking about gojo, and he tilts his head to study you further. “is that a new makeup look? can’t say it flatters your features.”

you growl and it sounds sickly. “i’m not! i’m—” you shake your head as a migraine threatens your sanity. “doesn’t matter, what are you here for?”

“we work together! do i need a reason to come over and hang out?”

“at eight in the morning? yeah, you kind of do.”

“it almost sounds like you don’t want me here.”

“what gave it away?” you say, drily. of course, either gojo doesn’t get the nuance behind your words or he finds pleasure in testing you because he keeps bothering you with his presence.

“my feelings are hurt.” he sulks.

"i don't give a fuck about your feelings."

gojo's eyebrows shoot up. "wow, are you mad at me?"

you shake your head, sighing. “no, i'm not."

"right? after all, i haven't even done anything."

when he doesn't elaborate and the conversation dies, you ask, "was that everything?"

“why do you want me gone so fast? are you hiding something in there?”

you open your mouth to retort when a pulsing pain in your head cuts you off; the migraine was here. you groan, rubbing your temple as gojo’s voice zones in and out. “listen gojo, i am way too sick to banter with you right now. if it’s nothing important, can you talk to me another day?”

“you’re sick? how bad?”

you try to give him patience. “bad.”

gojo hums thoughtfully. “well it’s lucky for you that i’m super great at taking care of sick people.”

you stare at him. “you? really?”

“yeah! i’m incredible at it.”

you level with him a stare before slowly closing the door, intending to shut him out. his foot comes in a blur, holding it in place and you huff.

“you don’t believe me?” he says, looking the part of a wounded animal.

“if i say i do, will you leave me alone?”

gojo tuts, shaking his head. “this won’t do, we can’t have you believe in a false truth. i’m crazy good at taking care of people, i’ll prove it to you now!”

“no, that’s okay gojo, i don’t need your help— and you’re already inside. great.” the door closes behind you with a soft click as you stumble to your living room. “just stay out of the way, okay? and for god’s sake, keep quiet.”

"it'll be like i'm not even here. i promise."

"i don't believe in your promises." you grumble, stomping over to the bathroom. you notice, notice very clearly in fact, that the tall white-haired man follows after you. you stop at the entrance, looking back at him. "are you seriously following me to the bathroom?”

"i was going to stand guard outside!"

"i don't need you to. all i need is for you to leave." you hiss, entering the bathroom and slamming the door in his face. when you come out, he's still standing there, guarding.

you scrunch your nose up at him but leave anyway. he wasn't worth it, you remind yourself.

you make it to your next destination safely, thanks to your new and improved guard dog. checking out the fridge in your kitchen, you realise there was nothing to pop in the microwave and eat whilst wallowing in self-pity.

you do the next best thing and place a pot over your gas stove. bending over, you turn the small knob and watch as the blue flame arises. you let go of the knob, and the flame dies.

this was not something you needed right now but the emptiness of your stomach is all too prominent. so you try again, bending over and rotating the knob over the small fire symbol and watching as the stove flares up. carefully, you release the knob. the flame dies again.

“you okay?”

you grit your teeth into a smile. “yes, gojo. i think i might be better if you could stop looking over my shoulder.”

“the stove does not like you.” he ignores, side stepping to try himself. and because he’s so irritatingly perfect in every way, the blue flame rises and stays when he lets go.

gojo turns to you with a bright smile.

you sniffle and nod. “thank you.”

“what are you making?”

rummaging through your pantry, you remove a packet of instant noodles. the bright red icon on the packaging causes gojo to raise his eyebrow.

“super spicy?”

“i can’t feel anything in my nose right now. i’m thinking of flushing it out with something else.” you go to fill the pot with water but he stops you. “what?”

“you’re sick, you shouldn’t be eating something like that.”

“do you have a better idea?” you ask. “this is all i have in the house right now.”

gojo grins. he lets the white bag he was still holding onto slip down from his arm to his hand and he opens the two handles with enthusiasm. because it was so contagious, you can’t help but feel excited, peering into the bag.

you blanch. “is that medicine, creamed corn and one single egg?”

“yes!”

“that isn’t a meal either, gojo.” you think again, flickering your gaze up to his eyes. “but that’s sweet, thank you. i’ll take the pills after.”

you start to move around but he stops you with his arm. “didn’t i say i was here to take care of you? i’ve got this, just go over and relax on the couch.”

“the last thing i’ll be doing is relaxing if you’re in the kitchen.” your migraine disagrees so you eventually nod, shuffling away. casting one last glance, you point at him. “don’t start a fire.”

he gives you a cheerful wave and you stumble to your couch. you fall into its cushions and exhale, deeply.

time passes in a blur as your illness takes a hold of you, digging its finger into your brain and shaking it, displacing your cerebral spinal fluid. with your face deep within a pillow, you almost miss the scent of smoke.

almost.

you spring yourself up on your arms and dart back into the kitchen, almost running into a wall. coughing, you fan away a puff of smoke as you enter, finding the culprit wishing a tune and stirring something in a pot.

"gojo?" you choke.

gojo spins around and you find that he'd somehow pulled out the "kiss the chef" pink apron shoko gifted you on your birthday which you had immediately hid. it fits him terribly, straining to cover his torso. "you're up! why are you up?"

you cough again, stepping closer. "can't you see past that blindfold? you're starting a fire! i'm surpised my smoke alarm hasn't gone off!"

you reach over and turn the exhaust fan on, something he hadn't even done, and squint through the fog to look at what he was making.

"what is that?"

"it's soup! i heard soup is good for you when you're sick."

you look between the lump of black coal in the pot and gojo's smiling face. "soup has water in it."

"i know, i added that! it just all disappeared." gojo stirs the pot, and you're no longer sure what exactly, he was stirring. "i even added the pills you wanted to take so it'll be easier."

you wordlessly reach down and turn off the gas stove.

he lets you. "thanks, i was just about to plate this."

gojo begins manoeuvring your kitchen with a familiarity you weren't sure how he obtained. he opens the overhead pantry and takes out a bowl, pulls out the utensils from its respective drawer, and uses your favourite spatula to transfer the black lump of something.

he places the bowl in front of you. "here you go."

you stare at it for so long, you start seeing black. eventually, you begin registering the item. "wait a minute, is this a cursed object? did you infuse your cursed energy into this?"

gojo has that stupid grin on his face, the one that he uses when he knows he's in the right. "it is! this should make you better in no time. i used to give this to megumi all the time when he was sick."

"but it looks so..."

gojo digs through his pockets, pulling something out and hiding it in his fist. he holds it out to you. "if you're good and eat it, i'll give you this."

"what is it?"

"it's a secret." gojo says. "c'mon, be a good girl and take your medicine."

you huff, pulling your gaze away from his hand and towards the black lump. it looks edible, maybe if you squint at it, and it didn't seem all too big. you could probably get it down in two big bites. so with the determination of a seasoned warrior, you square your shoulders and break off a chunk, throwing it into your mouth.

your face immediately scrunches up as the taste hits you.

gojo coos at you from the side. "you're almost done."

you glare at him through tears, gulping the substance down when you're able to, and stuff the remaining bit into your mouth.

when it's travelling down your oesophagus, you thrust the bowl back into gojo's hands. "you better give me that thing in your hand."

gojo places his fist in your hands and opens it. a single candy stares up at you. "it's strawberry flavour, your favourite."

you murmur curses at him under your breath, something about him treating you like a child, but take the candy anyway. when you pop it in your mouth, the sweetness is almost enough to make you forget the taste of the cursed object. gojo's sweet smile fills in those absences as he gestures you to follow him.

perhaps the cursed object gets to you, or gojo’s presence has wormed its way into being comforting because you find yourself following.

"where are we going?" you ask as he leads you around your own home.

"to bed. the medicine will only work if your parasympathetic nervous system is working and considering who you are, you'll never know true relaxation if you're awake."

"hey." you sniffle indignantly. "i know how to have fun and experience leisure."

he hums but doesn't answer, leading you into your room. thinking that a nap would indeed do you good, you start to pull off the shirt you were wearing and wriggle out of your pants. perhaps the sickness had done more to you than you realised, because you forget gojo's presence, whipping your head to find him still standing at your door, his back to you.

"i didn't see anything." he says, immediately.

you grumble, throwing yourself into your bed and sliding under the covers. only then does gojo turn to you.

"you're really docile when you're sick."

"i'll put my foot in your mouth."

gojo laughs, turning around to head out when you call his name.

"are you leaving?"

he smiles, peering over his shoulder. "miss me already? i'll be back, i promise."

"i don't believe in your promises." you say again, but let him go, sleep taking over you. you slip in and out of consciousness as the fever reaches its peak, time slipping away from your knowledge.

every now and then, you hear footsteps, and the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. one time, you open your eyes and find gojo standing over you, a towel in his hands. "good morning."

you mumble out something that even you couldn't understand, and slip into another fever-induced sleep.

the next time you open your eyes, you're relatively more lucid. you sit up slightly and something wet falls off your forehead. you catch the towel in your hands.

gojo looks up from his spot in your chair, placed beside your bed. "you're up again. here, hand me that."

you wordlessly pass it over to him and he replenishes it in the basin he'd placed on your bedside table. you say without thinking, "maybe you really are good at taking care of sick people."

gojo grins, lightly pushing you to lay down again. "i told you so. you're alot less of a handful than megumi was."

the warmth of the towel soothes you and you close your eyes against the sensation. you hear gojo flicking through a book in his hands, and the sound of paper against fingers lolls you into another comfortable slumber. a nagging thought tickles the back of your mind and with effort, you peer up at him.

when you mumble something incoherent, gojo looks over at you. “what?”

“i said.” you lick your lips and try again. “what did you come here for? you never told me.”

he gives you a slight smile and reaches over, adjusting the towel. “you said you were sick. i wanted to check up on you.”

“but—”

“you can’t fall asleep if you keep talking.” he reprimands. “shall i sing you a lullaby so you can sleep quicker? megumi never lets me.”

even before you can reply, he starts beatboxing and you realised in your sick state that it was the intro to twinkle twinkle little star.

regardless, having gotten an answer, you close your eyes again and let the sleep drag you under. vaguely, you realise gojo must have arrived at your apartment immediately after you had informed yaga that you were sick, stopping only to grab the ingredients to his cursed object cure. you'd have to thank him when you wake up, if you remember.

with a soft exhale, you slip away, gojo's rendition of twinkle twinkle little star your escort.

guess who is sick. guess who is sick studying anatomy. guess who is sick studying anatomy and with a gas stove that is out to get her. the answer may shock you!

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #fushiguro megumi #gojo satoru x you #ieiri shoko

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hazelfoureyes · 7 days

Text

A Doe in Fall (Part 8)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 📍

Part 8 - Trust

Detective Brady is sharper than you initially thought, though Alastor is (seemingly) unfazed by the threat. While you both explore the idea of ‘home’ a familiar face shows up at your apartment.

「Warnings/Tags: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, Detective Brady exists a lot and maybe too much, fingering lol, phone calls, almost our first fight, stress, Disney mom rule, Ruth is pretty alright for now, Brenda」

forgot to tag you in the deleted scene for TRDFAHS

M👻D☠️N👽I😈

Your mother always said ‘Anger is your sword and shield’. So you postured yourself as someone mad. One hip out, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“Sir I don’t appreciate a man in a lady’s space.”

Brady bit his tongue, wanting to say something sharp.

I don’t see any ladies here.

He met the glares of the women behind you. “Ah, well-,”

“Do you really expect her to leave in her robe?”

“Aren’t you the man whose been stalking her?”

“Autumn I’ll go with you.”

“You want her to get into a strange man’s car?”

He felt like a fox about to be pecked to death by the hens.

“Now-! Alright I’m seeing I maybe,” he set your shoes down and slid past you and between the other performers, “got a little eager to speak to you.”

“Does Janet know you like to hang around burlesquers?” Someone said as his back was turned.

Like having ice water poured over his head, his shoulders tensed as did his tone. “I’ll be right out the door.”

You tried to hide the tremble in your hands, but failed. Ruth slid beside you, “What do you need?”

A phone. But the cord wouldn’t reach that far. You wanted to tell Alastor. You needed him to know that detective had you cornered and knew of his existence.

“Could you stay with me? I’m not going anywhere. But I’ll feel safer if I’m not talking to him alone. In case he tries to drag me out. He seems a little off his rocker.” You were genuinely scared he would grab you by the arm and pull you out of the theater if he didn’t think anyone would see.

She patted your back, the others filing in to continue with their work of getting dressed and undressed. You took your time, trying to plan what you would say.

Brady felt an embarrassed blush take hold as the women moved past him with scowls and tsks. He could feel a little bit of his sanity slip back now that you were in front of him.

“I have some questions about Tommy. I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. We can head down now.”

Oddly, your mother also taught you, ‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’

She didn’t always make a lot of sense, contradicting herself daily.

Time to use the tried and true tactic, “I am sorry, detective. I had some trouble recently and have been keeping to myself… going home as soon as possible. Just trying to keep my nose clean. So to speak.”

Brady watched you look up at him with a face his daughter often gave him when she was in trouble. But you weren’t a child and you surely weren’t his daughter. “That’s no excuse to dodge me.”

Your turn to bite your tongue, “Of course, sir.”

Ruth was… confused. She’d never seen you so obedient. You had more venom in your voice after taking a hit from Tommy knowing a third could be close behind. Why were you being so small?

“Are you ready to go?” He fished in his pocket for his car door keys.

Ruth felt the need to interject, “She’s not going anywhere.”

Perfect.

You nodded, “I won’t be out at night, sir. You know better than most about the dangers.” Your dangers. Your darling Alastor.

“No, no no,” an unhinged chuckle from the fraying detective, “You’re not slipping away again. I have my car, I’ll take you there and bring you home.”

Ruth looked to you, then back to the detective, “Is she under arrest?”

Brady rolled his eyes, “Of course not.”

“Then? What gives you the right?”

Technically, nothing. He didn’t need to talk to you. His lead still stood. But maybe you’d slip and say something to expedite his search for the radio man. Maybe this would only end with Tommy. But he felt something tickling the back of his skull. An urge to not stop pushing.

“I’ll meet you at the station tomorrow morning. Is it the address on the card you gave me?” Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. You just needed him gone so you could call Alastor.

He was shaking his notebook, key looped onto his finger. A nervous habit. “You still have my card?”

A smile, “Of course. In case any news came up. I’d have called but I didn’t realize you were so worked up.”

He scoffed. He wasn’t worked up. He was just annoyed. Maybe a little rougher in demeanor than usual but whose fault was that?

“If you don’t turn up tomorrow-,”

Ruth, taller than most women and some men and wide at the shoulders, leaned in.

Brady’s eyeline adjusted from yours to Ruth’s. Skye Scraper wasn’t just a pun, it was a cruel nickname she took ownership of. “Finish that sentence.”

The conversation ended there, Brady leaving with a huff.

You’d memorized the number the night Alastor gave it to you, too scared to write it down. He warned you though he wouldn’t be the one to answer.

“Is Alastor still there?” You tried to smile so you sounded less panicked. Ruth mouthed his name and pretended to swoon as you held the phone close to your ear.

“Uhh depends, who is this?” Brenda answered, a voice you’d never heard but a woman Alastor had primed you for.

“….”, but why hadn’t you thought through this part, what name was safe? Which was recognizable? You didn’t like the idea of this woman knowing your name. “Tell him it’s Autumn.”

“….”

You laughed at Ruth, waiting still for a reply from Brenda, “Hello?”

“Is this a crank? Autumn like the season? I-,” a commotion, “Hey there! No. I don’t know. Well it’s past hours anywa-.”

Alastor was lying across Brenda’s desk to reach the phone, having wrestled it from the woman’s grip, “I’m here. What’s wrong? I was about to leave.”

“I’ll walk home tonight.” It hurt, physically hurt, to say it.

Alastor tried to keep his face neutral, “Oh.” Nervous fingers twirling the cord, “One second.”

Harsh whispers, some clicks, and he was back, “I’m in my office. What happened?”

“Yeah Ruth is with me. It’s okay. I’ll call you like normal tomorrow?”

“Should I swing by your apartment?” He considered doing it regardless of your answer.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t recommend it. I’ll be heading to the police station early tomorrow so I’ll be asleep as soon as I’m flat.” Putting your hand over the receiver, you spoke to Ruth, “Thank you, we got it figured out.”

His heart sank to his stomach, “Did he finally manage to catch you?”

“Yeah. Or—-,” your voice cracked a little, the fear rolling in as soon as Ruth walked away, “Yeah.”

“I’m coming over to the theater.”

Cupping the phone you curved your shoulders in and turned away from the staff milling about, “Don’t, that’s worse.” Tears stung your eyes. You felt like you’d failed him. You had somehow, hadn’t you? The loose thread Brady could grab ahold of was you.

“If you can’t come to the alley I’ll leave after a couple minutes. But I’ll be there in twenty, same time as our normal pick up.”

“Alastor, that’s reckless.”

“Please, dear, I don’t want our first fight to be over my work line.” A calming breath, “You don’t have to meet me, but I’ll be there. Just five minutes, then I’ll be off.”

You decided the safest thing to do was to wait in the alley. If you saw any signs of Brady or anyone coming out, you’d go back inside and just miss the meeting. But the idea of Alastor being just beyond the wall, waiting all alone, was too much.

But how much harder would it be if the wall was of the prison? Or worse, dense earth under your feet? That’s what Brady was wanting.

You hadn’t realized you’d been chewing your nails until his car turned down the alley from the back and you tore off much of the length of your thumbnail.

Your arms were thrown around him before he was fully out of the car, “Alastor, he knows I have a guy. He wanted me to go down right now but I managed to push it to tomorrow.” Alastor tried to decipher the words as you spoke them into his vest, “What do I do?”

Normally you’d have your own plans in mind but this was too big, this was capable of hurting him more than anyone else.

He smelled like ink and smoke, a scent you inhaled as you tried to calm your breath.

A large hand patted your head, “Okay. You go tomorrow. It’ll be fine. Don’t stress.” Pulling you off he placed chaste kisses across your face. “Think about what you want to say to him and we can talk it out in the morning. Everything is fine.”

The reality of you standing in a dirty alley crying into the arms of a murderer set in. Then the little detail you were both killers creeped over your chest and took hold of your throat.

He was impressed at the strength of your hands as you gripped at his clothes. Leaning against the car, he offered you his most charming smile.

“Deep breaths, dear. Do I look scared?”

He didn’t. He looked like a magazine ad for French cologne or razor blades that left the softest skin.

“No.” You shook your head.

“No.” He nodded. “It’ll be okay. If you don’t go, he will hound you worse. If you do go, maybe he’ll realize he’s got a handful of nothing.”

His smile blinded you. Bright grin as he rested against his car, arms open.

“Do you really think so? A handful of nothing?”

“Did he say my name?”

“No.”

“Did he–” he elongated the word, lips pursed as he searched the sky for his next words, “have Tommy’s body?”

You laughed, morbid but preposterous, “I didn’t pat him down. Coulda.”

Alastor snapped his fingers, “We’ll have to just assume he didn’t.” A moment of tension. The act of joking barely traversing the space between your bodies let alone reaching the stress under your skin. His hands came to your shoulders; firm, secure. “Did you want to have that fight now? About me coming over here.”

You rolled your eyes, obviously not. “Ala-,” you started and stopped.

“I’ll admit I’m being reckless but I think we can both agree my way is more fun.” Smile sliding into a smirk, he cocked his head and lowered it to get back into your line of sight. When you stuck your tongue out he took a deep breath in, relief. “Are you sure I can’t take you home?”

To which home, you wondered. He used the word so casually and interchangeably…

Face close to yours. Eyes solely on you. Perhaps the stage wasn’t as necessary as you’d once thought. Lips on lips, the feeling of his smile spreading as he returned the kiss. A second of panic as you realized you couldn’t see or hear or sense what else was happening anymore in the alley. Brady could have had you in handcuffs and you wouldn’t be the wiser. Not as long as Alastor’s mouth was moving over yours.

“I’ll call in the morning.” He said into your exhale.

You hadn’t opened your eyes yet. Not ready to return to earth. A pout from you. A chuckle from him. “I’ll be waiting,” You finally said.

While you did your waiting, shuffling around the theater and later tossing around in bed, Alastor fell into a different kind of purgatory.

One he hadn’t realized he’d made for himself until you weren’t there.

The house was quiet, almost eerie. Even with music on he found himself nearly uncomfortable. He shifted several times in his chair while reading, not finding any way to settle in.

His bed was lopsided. Suddenly one side was too light. Multiple times his hand slid under the sheets in search of you out of habit.

What a terrible feeling; to want someone. To know you could have them but they just… weren’t there.

It didn't make any sense. He knew he’d see you soon, in less than a day's time even. He typically enjoyed his home and its silence. Being alone was predictable and therefore comforting. Well, it had been. Before you.

The feeling in his chest, akin to a magnet tugging through his sternum toward a distant partner, didn’t abate.

Only when he heard your voice again over the phone did he find a sliver of peace.

“I’ve decided I’ll deny I have a guy. And, I’ll never tell him about you. It’s safer if he never connects us.”

Alastor was listening, honestly, but he wasn’t really processing. His mind was worried about something else. The detective genuinely didn’t bother him but he had to agree, “I suppose that’s best. As long as we can manage it, to not let him know we’re together.”

Together.

You were together with him. An item. How spectacular you must be to be a part of anything with him.

But for how long? With a certain detective breathing down your neck…, “I’m scared. Actually.”

You could hear the smile in Alastor’s breath, it was odd but eased you.

“He will never have enough to convict us. He’ll drive himself crazy trying. Trust me.” He soothed.

Did you have any choice? “Okay. You’re right. I trust you.” Unequivocally so.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry to change the subject…”

“Please.”

“I want you to come over again tonight. What do you think?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, don’t even need to ask. I’ll always say yes.” All you needed to do was get through Brady and you’d be home.

But for Alastor, well, he wasn’t done asking the question. A moment of panic from a place unrecognized in his brain, fear of losing himself entirely. But what good was a safe harbor if he never ventured out to sea? That’s just a restraint then, isn’t it?

Maybe you held a place for him even richer in its comforts than his solitude.

So he let himself drift away from familiar shores, no sails and no compass, “I think it’d be smart to bring over a couple sets of clothes. I can keep them washed and always here for you. Would that be alright?” He had wanted to suggest it while together, but Brady was ruining more than his sleep.

Oh.

The same silence from when he first extended the invitation, the deja vu not lost on you. You struggled to decipher the second meaning you were sure was there. Maybe he didn't know what he had asked.

“I know it’s boring out in the boonies but, you’re welcome to just stay over while I go to work. I can come back and get you for rehearsals… I’ll enjoy the clubs or come back and make something for a late dinner for us, and bring you home when you’re done.”

He said it. He hadn’t really meant to, so he felt the need to clarify, but you also needed him to clarify just as quickly, “I -,”

“Did you me-?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“No I interrupted you-,”

“Not at all pl-,”

“Alastor for the love of God please don’t make me keep talking right now.” You lightly knocked your head with the phone a few times. Your heart was gasping for an ounce of understanding.

He chuckled, glad you were still very much yourself, “I meant, take you home as in, away from work. So, here. Or, there, if you’d prefer.” His face scrunched up, this wasn’t a conversation he had any practice in, “Anywhere really. I’ll drive you anywhere.”

“Alabama?”

He looked at the phone as if you were in it. Alabama?

“Like— the first time you asked me over.” You added quickly. A terrible joke, a bad callback that made it painfully obvious you committed everything he said to memory.

Alastor rested his cheek on the dining table, laughing into the wood before bringing the receiver back. You always offered him an out of uncomfortable situations, “Well the offer still stands. I'd be willing to even venture at least halfway across Texas.”

“The best half of Texas is on our side so that’s a generous offer. But, given our work schedules, I think your house would be much better. Time wise.”

He let his eyes close as he felt the coldness of the wood, “Is that a yes then? To bringing over a couple of items… for ease.” Was it a mistake? Would he regret it?

You were worth regrets. He had decided. He wanted you to say yes.

The weight of what he was asking wasn’t lost on you an ounce. You could see your window from the phone booth. You took great pride in your little apartment. It was your space and no one else’s. As a child you struggled to have your own anything, so you valued your home.

But could you call any place so far from Alastor a home?

It’s just a few items. You weren’t giving up your lease. It’s a baby step. One you could easily walk back if you needed to later. It’s not like you hadn’t spent every night possible already since that first offer.

“Yes.”

It was a plan that took your mind off cops. Have your interrogation, go home, then go home for a relaxing evening of jazz and drink.

The levity ended though the second you hung up the receiver. An obstacle between you and him still stood. You pulled out your bag but couldn’t find the will to pack it. Your hands were too busy as you chewed on your thumbnail again.

Brady noticed the uneven length when you sat down and set your hands on the table.

“Surprised you showed.” He opened his notebook and readied his pencil. “First things first, what is your legal name?”

A chill. You’d gotten your warning the night before to prepare something to say but ignored it. Your mind was flipping through words and images. Piercing all of it were the white reflective eyes of the deer along the road. You decided to lean into what you knew.

“Autumn.”

“Really? Never heard the name Autumn before.”

“Me either. Made for an easy stage name.”

“I’ll need to see your birth records, just to be sure.”

You sucked your teeth. “Ah, unfortunately…all that stuff was left behind with my mom when I moved.”

“And where can I find her?

“Corner of North Villere street and Piety.”

“And your address?”

You paused. His eyes rose and met yours. The radiant aqua from the cafe morning was now an icy color. “I don’t give my address out. You know where I work.”

“But you’re fine giving me your mother’s address? That’s cold.”

“Not as cold as she is, I’m sure of that.”

“Fine, I’ll find it in the census records.” He flipped the page, “Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged.” He tapped his notepad on the table like it was the starting bell of a fight.

You wished Alastor was with you, but also wished he would never enter that station. “Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he,” you remembered the man and his ugly tie, “introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently.”

“And who was that?”

You searched your memory, “S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening.”

Brady nodded, “And then he knocked you around?”

You winced without meaning too, “Yeah. Got me good.”

Brady waited for you to continue talking, but you had learned this game. People know silence is uncomfortable and will use that against you. So you let the silence stay. Let the awkward tension build. You had limited time, he knew that.

He caved first. “And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that.”

Lying was second nature to you. You had killed for Alastor. You could do this. Deep breaths, slink into yourself. You imagined Alastor choked on the park grounds, wet and unmoving. Imagined him cold to the touch.

“Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection.” Tears welled. Bloody hands and a large rock. “But as soon as he got his money he left.”

Brady was writing, “And the man? What was his name.”

“Something foreign. Kerr-something. Or Car?”

He looked up slightly, “You’re pretty terrible at names.”

You wiped away your tears, “I had more pressing concerns at the time than trying to remember that man’s name. I was hoping I’d never need to know it.”

Brady hummed, “Yeah. And what did your beau think of this?”

Did you hide it? The flash of panic that rolled under the flesh of your face, “If I had a beau Tommy wouldn’t have made me do that. He said that himself.”

“Too bad he’s not here to confirm.”

“If he was we wouldn’t be having this conversation, detective.”

“Touché. Clever little lady aren’t you?”

Fuck.

You shifted slightly in your seat, looking downward in an attempt at being bashful. “That’s kind to say.”

“So why did,” he flipped through his book, “Beth say you stopped singin’ on Sundays cuz of your radio boyfriend?”

“Ah,” a weak laugh to hide the way your breath got sucked in with panic. The words ‘radio boyfriend’ punched the air from your lungs. “You must mean the rake. Took me for a ride at a club corner and sent me off in a cab to never see me again. Didn’t know he was in radio though.”

“Well now you’re lying and I don’t appreciate it one ounce ma’am.“

“What?”

“Beth says he’s been coming to your shows for nearly half a year.”

No acting necessary for this part. “What are you talking about? I met him at a club. We arranged a date and he picked me up at—“

“Beth’s dive.”

“…. Yeah. Well.” He’d been there before? So often? And you never noticed…, “That’s news to me, that he had been there for so long, it’s got its regulars though so...” You shifted again, this time with a clear uncomfortable edge.

“He stopped coming when you stopped singing.”

“….guess he got what he wanted then. A fun time in the swing hall bathroom.” Anger. Unreal and unfounded. Trying your best to hide how confused you were.

“Sounds like a stalker, miss. Maybe one who woulda been quite unhappy to hear you were selli-,”

You cut him off, eyes snapping up to meet his, “I really recommend you reconsider your wording.”

Brady laughed with a huff, “A man dizzy with a dame can do some funny stuff. Especially if he hears she’s in a pickle.”

“Well, no knight coming to rescue me. I’ve sworn off men. It’s why I’ve been leaving work early. Getting home, reading, sleeping. He really did a number on my heart and my pride as a woman.”

Brady’s pencil stopped moving.

“And his name?”

You’d never fucking say it. He could walk in on you moaning ‘Alastor’ and you’d still act like you’d never heard that string of syllables in your life.

“John.”

Brady laughed and tossed the pencil to the table, “Let me guess, last name Doe?”

You shrugged, “We weren’t on a full name basis. He was handsome, he took me out, we fucked, I never saw him again” You delighted in the way his face screwed up at your unladylike language.

“So, someone in radio named John. You know I’m going to be at every broadcaster talking to every John, right?” The nervous shaking of his notebook again.

“When you find him let me know.”

“Oh I will.” He said it so quickly, so sharply you could feel it cut at your cheek as the words flew past you.

You pulled your hands into your lap, eyes firmly locked on Brady’s. “You look tired, sir. I hope my answers will help you. So you can rest.”

“I am tired. Of people jerking me around. You won’t give me your address, you don’t remember anyone’s name, not even your own, and you deny having a man I know you have.”

If you screamed would he have you committed? “I’m terribly sorry,” you leaned over the table and pulled a piece of fuzz off his shoulder, “my friend gave you inaccurate and dated information. I am genuinely trying to help as much as I can.”

Upon closer inspection, his eyes were more than just blue. They were dark and light, deep and shallow. Blue so far down it was nearly black. A blue so bright it was a cousin of white. Eyes you were sure would haunt you.

“Help me then, Autumn.” Your brows rose at the request. He leaned back and away from you, “Just tell me what happened to Tommy. What your guy did. If he was trying to protect your name then we could find a sympathetic jury.”

Sympathy? Your smile was too wide, stare gone too soft. What sympathy did he have or would anyone have for you? Did he think you wanted the tender hearts of strangers? “Tommy ran off with a bag of money. He was a good man with a bad habit. That’s all I know. I have no partner, man or otherwise.”

A standstill.

Brady felt a twitch in his hands he wasn’t used to. An itch to move. Unlike him, and a little frightening.

Maybe he had been running himself ragged.

Back sliding down slightly in his chair, he laced his fingers and rested them in his lap, “You know I’m gonna find out what happened, right?” His tone had shifted to something serious and calm. He said it like he was telling you a secret. Low but firm. Steady and sure.

Those eyes. No, worse. What was behind them. You could see it clearly; unflappable determination. He absolutely would.

“I trust you will.” A moment of silence again as you both felt the conversation die. As you stood, Brady did too.

“I wasn’t bluffing about him going to Beth’s for more than half a year now. I don’t know how you think this is gonna end but it won’t end pretty. Whether it was just your boss or all the others on my desk, end it with him and help us bring Tommy home to his mother.”

You adjusted your purse on your shoulder, “I don’t know how many time-,”

“Autumn. I’ve seen enough make up covered bruises to clock em from across the room. That’s the act of a possessive, immature man. Just think about what I said,” You opened the door in an effort to keep your hands from shooting to your neck. “There’s no white picket fence or church bells for you two. He’s a bad man. I think he may even be an evil man. You’re gonna end up hurt, or dead.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest but you managed to stifle it. With an honest smile you replied, “We’re all gonna end up dead someday, Detective. I’ll call if I have any news. Thanks for your concern and … evident hard work.” You offered a little nod of your head before leaving the room and the station as quickly as you could without running.

When he set down his notebook after returning to his desk, he couldn’t sit. Energy was buzzing in his limbs. He needed to run or swing or pace.

His desk neighbor watched him immediately pick up the notebook again and grab his hat. A few other men shared a glance as Brady rushed out, an unsettling feeling passed among them.

“He’s still on that case?” One asked quietly, going back to his papers.

“Not officially….” Answered Freeman, standing at the window and watching Brady flag down a taxi.

“North Villere street and Piety, please.” He told the driver, not noticing his friend in the window.

It wasn’t near the station, nor the dance scene. He wondered if your mother would be any more amiable. What kind of woman would raise such a creature as you?

When the car slowed, Brady clicked back into his surroundings. He looked through every window hoping to see something different.

After a long pause the cabbie asked, “Ya gonna get out?”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the seat. “No. Take me back to the station.”

His blood pressure rose so quickly he was sure he would black out as the cab turned around and drove back past the sign; Vincent DePaul cemetery.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor kissed away the worries when he took your bag from you. Every detail of the interview was just hummed away. “Even if he finds me, without a body he has no case.” He reminded you like it was nothing short of fact.

“What if he gets one?”

“Not one of mine, I can assure you. He’d sooner need to kill someone himself and call it my fault.” A pause, was that something the detective would do? He shook off the thought.

He was so confident that even though you knew it was just skin deep it still gave you a sense of calm. The bodies, where they went after he was done with them in the greenhouse, was the last step he hadn’t shared with you.

There was one thing you didn’t mention about the interrogation.

You waited until you were a few drinks in, Alastor’s bowtie off and shirt unbuttoned several buttons before bringing it up. Uncharacteristically nervous about how he’d react when you broached the topic, you needed several deep breaths to get up your courage. Normally the idea of offending a man with an honest question wouldn’t ruffle you a bit, but once again there was nothing normal about you and Alastor. He made you so unlike yourself but not necessarily worse. Perhaps some consideration of other’s reactions wasn’t a bad thing.

“This is awkward to ask.” It was dark already, the sun setting earlier and earlier. The buzz of the kitchen light could be heard through the screen door, the light just enough to let you see each other's features clearly. Leaning back on both hands for support, your legs rested in an unladylike spread down the porch stairs. No shoes. No girdle. No pretense.

Would he be mad? Or maybe offended?

“Brady said you had been going to my Sunday shows for awhile. Months before we actually met. Did you really meet me by coincidence?”

“Or was I stalking you as my next victim?” His head fell to the side, eyes closed and smile wide. “I saw you there, yes. And though you weren’t the best singer, I did enjoy your shows.”

You tried to see him without directly turning your head.

“But yes, it was a coincidence. I had noticed that brute of a man a couple weeks in a row, staring at you so intensely. Word got around he had made a scene some time ago with a dancer.”

You listened like someone was telling you your own story. It was an odd feeling, hearing someone recount your days from a different perspective. An unknown one.

“I was surprised to see you at the theater when I followed him there. Even more so to see you in the alleyway.”

If he had said it wasn’t a coincidence, you genuinely didn’t know what you’d have done. You’d be scared and angry. Another predator lurking just past the tree lines.

Your relief must have been visible. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” Alastor asked, leaning over and letting his shoulder bump into yours. He was still riding the high of putting away your belongings in his closet and drawers.

“Yeah. He gives me a bad feeling. Like…a brick wall barreling toward me.” You kicked a leaf off the steps, “Or like, when you see a big dark cloud on the horizon. Can’t do anything but wait and hunker down.”

How do you wait out a storm so set on burying you?

“Dear,” his hands rose and palms flipped up in a way that said he wasn’t hiding anything, “We get hurricanes annually. We’ve survived every one thus far. He’s just a drip. A sprinkle of a man.”

People have drowned on land before. A sprinkle could lead to pneumonia and that could lead to a wooden box.

He tried to change the topic, laughing about Brenda’s reaction to the call and making plans for an evening out when things settled down again. You listened, but it was your turn to be half there.

You could barely muster concern when you realized you’d forgotten your makeup and hair wrap at home when you were preparing for bed. What you would give for going home barefaced with a ruined hairdo to be the biggest stress of your week.

The distance in your stare was weighing down his joy, how could he relish in the newest addition to his home when you were so burdened? Even in the moonless night he could see the faintest light reflecting off your eyes as you stared at the ceiling. Did you even feel his stare?

He couldn’t let Brady poison his bed, and the man was clearly there now. Chasing you in your mind still.

“Could I offer you a distraction?” Alastor slipped up against you, hand finding your hip. He could see your smile forming.

“I wouldn’t argue against a distraction…,” you’d beg for one if you didn’t want to feel any lower than you already did.

“Perfect. This bed isn’t made for three, so let’s eject that little nag, dear.” His hands slipped down your legs, “I want to replace your thoughts with better ones.” He pulled you to him, your back pressed into his broad chest. The way his soft hands smoothed over your silk slip felt like foreplay, so smooth and slick. Frictionless and gentle. Those same hands ran down and between your legs, following the line of your thighs until they found your center. “It seems you forgot something else.” Two fingers caressed your lower lips, barely parting them, “Not that I’m complaining…,” his lips found the back of your neck as his fingers rubbed gently at your core.

It took so very little to get your body on board, wet and relaxed for his practiced hand. Your own fingers coming down to rub at your clit quickly when you felt your pleasure winding up.

He sighed directly into the shell of your ear, hands working in tandem with yours under the covers. His back pressed against you, hips rolling into your backside in time with his fingers.

“What are you thinking about?” Barely above a whisper as he said it into your heated skin.

“Fingers.”

“Whose?” His voice was deeper than his usual speaking tone. A tenor that made you clench around him.

“Yours.”

You’d never been so satisfied with hands before. With breath. With the sounds of a man. Never saw stars while clothed and not under the lights of the stage. Warm and wet kisses to your neck as you came down from your high, you’d never considered sex could be more than a man fucking someone. Nor that a man could find pleasure so readily with his cock still in his pants. But the way he hummed and growled softly into your skin was proof of his good time.

You’d learned a lot from those progressively chillier nights at Alastor’s over the first week of your constant cohabitation. How much you liked waking up with someone just a reach away. How Alastor woke slowly, incapable of coherent speech for at least the first twenty minutes of his day. He’d stare and smile as his eyes blinked out of sync, rolling back occasionally as he fought the urge to fall back into sleep. Hair disheveled and soft.

When the weekend came, Alastor offered again to take you out. A promise to take you somewhere no detectives would be hiding about. A week without a peep, you were sure he had followed up with your mother and was probably steaming to get at you. But, for some reason or another, he hadn’t appeared again in the crowd of your shows.

A week of going into work unmade and unkempt, you finally gave in and asked to be taken to your apartment early Friday. You’d grab a few items you needed, take them to work, and be back home that night.

Your eyes were on Alastor when his car pulled up to your building. When he kissed you, your hand scratched at the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck. Eyes closed, you could smell him and feel him so much clearer. Perhaps when you were old together you wouldn’t have to worry about your sight giving out, you thought. Because you’d always know it was him by the way his skin on yours lit you up.

“Pack something you’d like to wear out tomorrow night.” He reminded you before you pulled yourself from the car and waved him off. You lingered for a moment as he drove away, wondering if maybe the storm had been pushed off course.

“Oooh, who is he?”

Whipping around, you saw a familiar face sitting on the stoop of your building. An unwelcome one, though.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mavis?” Your bag fell from your hands as the strength drained from your limbs.

She patted the dust off her dress before bouncing down the steps. “The names Ephi now.” A half sister, though perhaps a quarter sister would be best to describe the often absentminded, when not literally absent, sibling.

“That’s not a name that’s a fucking letter of the alphabet. Mama would smack the color of your cheeks if she heard you.” You were sure you’d not see her ever again, not after she ran off to head north before your mother passed. She scowled, arms crossed as you brushed past her. “I don’t have any money so you wasted a trip. See ya in another decade.”

Ephi grinned up at you as you climbed the stairs, “Looked like he had some money. Mr. Big Shot and his shiny bus.”

“Lotsa people have cars.” Your eyes landed on the suitcase poorly hidden behind the steps. Hand halting its search for the building key as you could feel the stare of your mother looking…down? A weight slipping over your shoulders like a man’s heavy winter coat.

“Well I don’t need money or cars. I need a place to crash.”

Your head fell. You could feel it coming. The gust of wind dragging the clouds slowly towards you. No, the storm wasn’t off course. It was just building momentum.

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor smut #human Alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel smut

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parkerpeter24 · 1 year

Text

the swim quotient

pairing ➳ swim instructor!peter parker x reader

w.c. ➳ 4.6k

summary ➳ peter’s your swim instructor and even though you want to keep a professional relationship with him, feelings– and your best friend– get in the way.

okay so this is supposed to be my birthday present to myself (even tho it was like a week ago so belated birthday, me) this fic could be read for mcu as well as tasm peter

“8 to 9 am is the time for kids. if you want one-on-one lessons, you need to come at 7 am.” the guy behind the desk told you that as he pushed down his glasses to get a better look at your face. you nodded and filled the form for one-on-one classes and paid the fees.

it would be just easier without all the humiliation, you thought, that’s why you chose to learn alone. it was a reasonable price even if it cost you a few more bucks than learning with the others.

“your trainer will be mr. parker.” he informed you and you thanked him, “you’ll find his number in the list outside.” exchanging smiles with the older man before you left the office of the community club. you checked out the list, clicking a picture of number under the name ‘peter parker’.

you hoped the guy wasn’t too harsh on you. you still remembered the time your dad taught you how to drive. just the thought of it made you wince. the constant jabs at your sanity and judgement, it all was just too much to handle. but you were hoping for the best now.

when your friend called you on your way back home, you told her about your idea of learning how to swim, “you know, i would have saved you in case you were drowning.”

you rolled your eyes but her comment made you chuckle, “what if you weren’t there?” you held the phone between your shoulder and ear as you fished for your keys in the tote bag you were carrying, “i’m a little nervous, what if this peter parker guy is horrible?”

“there’s a guy?” you could practically hear your friend’s raised eyebrow but you continued your ramble, not stopping for her to elaborate on her thoughts.

“you know, i don’t really trust any guy to teach me anything.” you entered your apartment, placing the keys in the keyholder and kicking off your shoes, “they’re just not that good at teaching.”

“maybe he’s a cute guy?” she chuckled at the other end.

“it won’t matter if he’s not a good guy!” you sighed, plopping down at your couch, your legs instinctively going up as you placed them one over the other on the couch.

“what if he’s a really good guy.” your friend could not have sounded more suggestive and you almost wanted to gag at that comment.

“gwendolyne.” as you’d guessed, a whine sounded from the other side of the phone. she hated when anyone called her, her full name.

“it’s gwen for you. anyway, just give it a try and if you don’t like his way of teaching, then you can just ask for another coach.” she said and you thought it over. she was right, you could always ask for a different person to teach you.

“thanks, gwen.” you smiled, “okay, i have to go now but i’ll call you later.”

the next day you were on your way to the community club pool and even though you had hated waking up at 6 am, you were also a little excited– and nervous– to experience something new.

you entered the facility, carrying your swimming costume and other equipment in your tote bag. as the swimming pool came into view, your eyes searched for your trainer– he has to be around here somewhere.

“excuse me, miss?” the voice came from behind and you turned to find the source. your mouth parted to say something but no words came out. if anyone else was in your place, you thought, they would have had the same reaction. a gorgeously tanned guy, brown mop of hair swept across his forehead in a way that was messy but as if on purpose. and oh, he was not wearing a t-shirt.

his swim trunks hung from his waist perfectly, carved abs and a chiselled torso above that. you were almost mesmerised by just one look of him.

“um… you’re (y/n), right?” you noticed his tinted cheeks and snapped yourself out of your daydream.

“that’s me.” you answer, standing up straighter, “you must be mr. parker?”

“oh, call me peter, please.” he smiled at you and you were bound to give him one back, “why don’t you go and change and we’ll get started.”

“yes.” you nodded, quickly making your way to one of the changing rooms. your mind was racing with thoughts as you changed into the swim gear. he seemed in his early twenties, very close to your age but finding him attractive felt against your morals. you were supposed to have a professional relationship with him and if he was a good teacher, you would just suppress your feelings deeper inside you than the depth of this swimming pool.

“all ready.” you said, walking out from the changing room only to find peter was already in the swimming pool, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he emerged out of the pool. he pushed his hair back, away from his forehead, as it sat perfectly over his head.

“hey!” peter gave you a smile as you walked to the side of the pool where the pool ladder was situated, “you excited for your first lesson?”

“a little nervous.” you chuckled, telling him the truth for some reason. you should probably trust the guy if he was going to be the one who pulled you out in case you were drowning.

“hey. no need for that.” his voice was comforting as you climbed down into the pool, the water level reaching your chest, “just breathe… while your head is above water.”

“what?” you couldn’t help but chuckle at his little quip.

“sorry, that was a silly joke. anyway, let’s start with holding our breath underwater, alright?”

“you’re the boss” you smiled.

“okay, i’m not the kind of person to be all like, ‘i told you so’ but i told you so!” gwen exclaimed before you even finished your sentence.

“i was going to say he’s a good teacher!” you were back at your apartment and it was after you had breakfast that you received a call from gwen.

“and?” she waited for you to go on as if she already knew.

“and… he was kind of cute.”

“i knew it!” she cheered and you couldn’t help but laugh along with her, “you should totally kiss him.”

“i- he doesn’t even like me! i want to keep it professional.” you had said it with an affirmative tone but you doubted your own voice.

“maybe tomorrow?” you groaned at that.

“you’re mad. bye.” you chuckled.

“maybe tomorrow you can make out in the-” that was the last you heard of your friend’s voice before you cut the call.

the next day you made it to the pool on time. there was no sign of peter and you didn’t know whether you should get in the pool or not. you waited, sitting patiently on the bench near the pool until you caught sight of peter. he was carrying a bunch of equipment almost too much for a single person to carry.

you rushed up to him, “hey.” you said. he smiled when he saw you.

“sorry, i’m late.”

you just shook your head at his apology and held out your arms, “need some help?” him handing you a few of the kickboards and a few goggles.

the two of you carried those to the store room and placed the certain items in their assigned boxes. peter checked the time on his phone once you both were done, “we only have 40 minutes left, why don’t you go change and we’ll start right where we left yesterday?”

you gave him a nod and quickly went to change into your swimming clothes.

once the two of you were inside the pool, peter told you to hold onto the wall, “i need you to relax your body and hold your breath for as long as you can.”

you nodded and slid your pair of goggles over your eyes before doing as he told you. estimatedly 30 seconds later, your head was out of the water as you released your breath, standing beside your instructor.

“good! that was good. almost three seconds more than yesterday.” he gave you a grin and you chuckled, “now what i want you to do is breathe out through your nose slowly while you’re underwater.” he explained.

again you did as he said, pulling yourself up every time you needed a breath.

“don’t push your limits.” peter said once after you had tried to hold your breath for longer than 35 seconds, “my arm is right here in case you need to hold onto something.” a blush appeared over his cheeks as he realised what that must’ve sounded like, “you know! i-in case you need help.”

maybe it was you, reading in between the lines, but the chuckle he let out made him sound kind of nervous. you were definitely not going to tell gwen about this.

over the next two days, you continued to practice breath holding underwater until peter proposed you move on to the next step. as soon as you entered the pool that day, it was the first thing he said.

“leave the wall?” you gave him a look of uncertainty, “are you sure i’m ready for that?”

peter nodded simply and held out his hands for you to take, “here, i’ll help you.” you took his hands but he could probably notice your nervousness– which he didn’t need to know was partly because both your hands were in his– and hesitancy as he said, “just trust me, okay?”

“i trust you.” you replied before his sentence was even finished.

he smiled, pulling you away from the edge of the pool slightly, “i won’t leave your hands until you’re completely ready.” he smiled and guided you to relax your body and let it float just like you had been doing up until now. this time, however, it was peter’s skilled hands that you were holding instead of the dull wall.

he walked back, pulling you along the surface of the body as you let yourself float against the water. It was only a few seconds in that you pulled yourself up from the water, holding tightly onto peter’s hands, “s-sorry, i-” you expected him to be frustrated or scold you for not doing better. but he didn’t do any of that.

“you okay?” he squeezed your hands gently, “did you accidentally breathe in water? it happens when you’re a beginner.”

“i’m okay. i just thought i was going down instead of floating.” you chuckled a little awkwardly.

“oh! that means that you need to push your head further down. if your head is down, your legs will automatically float close to the surface.” he explained, all the while holding your hands and you nodded, letting him know that you were listening to him even though you were zoning out, a fluttering heart in your chest as you outlined his slightly wet curls.

thankfully you had understood the basic points of what he was trying to explain to you which made your session go smoothly from that point.

when the two of you were out of the pool and the kids had started filling in, you walked over to peter, who was standing with another guy and talking to him.

when you reached the two men chatting over whatever they were chatting over. the other guy nudged peter’s side with his elbow, giving him a smirk as soon as you reached there. He quickly turned, eyes slightly wide, “oh. hey (y/n)!” he seemed nervous again but the other guy cleared his throat before you could say anything, “right! (y/n), this is my friend ned. ned, (y/n).”

ned leeds. you’d read his name on the list of employees outside the community club office, just below peter’s name.

“i’ve heard a lot about you, (y/n).” ned gave you a smile, extending his hand for a handshake.

“oh?” you looked over at peter, shaking ned’s hand, but the brunette’s head was already turned towards his friend in what you could only assume a warning. it made you chuckle, “i teach the kids.” ned gave you a smile and you could tell why he was the one assigned to teach the kids. he seemed like the kind of person who was good at making people around him comfortable just with his presence.

“you wanted to say something?” peter was the one to ask after ned parted ways with the two of you to look after all the kids– there were way too many.

“i just wanted to ask whether i did well today…” you gave him a little smile.

“oh, you’re a natural.” he grinned back, “i was impressed!”

“yeah?” you asked, not really believing his words, even though a warmth covered your whole body. you felt a deep sense of accomplishment and the smile on your face increased tenfold.

“yeah.” he confirmed, a smile covering his own face.

“thank you.” you smiled, eyes staring into his beautiful brown ones, “you look nicer when i’m not wearing the goggles.”

peter looked at you, “w-what?”

was that a nervous ‘what’ or a disgusted ‘what’? god, had you messed up already? how could you have said that out loud? it was probably one of those stupid moments of confidence boost where you ended up telling an answer to the whole class in a very firm voice only to be told it was wrong.

you gave him a pursed smile, “uh.. i should get going. see you then.”

the look of stun was still written all over his face as you turned to leave, but you didn’t give him a chance to say something. you weren’t ready to face rejection from a guy you hadn’t even asked out. not that you were thinking about asking him out. for all you cared, you didn’t care at all.

you felt a small splash of water on your leg, wetting your jogging shoes. you let out an offended, “hey!” before you noticed the little girl leaning against the wall of the pool. you raised your eyebrows at her as she beckoned you closer with her little hand. you leaned forward in a squat position in front of her to let her say whatever it was she wanted, “hey kid, is everything alright?”

“i’m cassie.” she introduced herself before asking, “is he your boyfriend?”

even though peter could not be seen around anymore, you were certain whom she was referring to.

you chuckled and shook your head, “oh, no. he’s not my boyfriend.” yet you wanted to add but somehow refrained yourself from doing so.

“i think he is cute.” she gave you a challenging look, making you chuckle at her adorableness.

“hey, i’ll back off if you like him.” you promised, giving her a finger gun. she shrugged.

“if you really like him then, i can let you have him.” she said, her elbows holding onto the pavement that was beneath your feet.

“oh, really? that’s very sweet of you, cassie.” you smiled at her.

“but you have to buy me ice-cream.” she grinned before quickly turning away and swimming away at the sight of ned walking towards that side of the pool.

it was raining heavily the next day. you thought to call peter before going to the pool unannounced in case it was closed. you called him once at 6:23 am but his phone was busy. who could he be talking to this early in the morning?

he called you back at 6:24. you picked up after counting to five, not wanting to seem too desperate, “hello?”

“hey, (y/n).” you could hear the small smile he was holding on the other end, making you think if he had forgiven you for what you blurted out yesterday, “what’s up?”

“hey... peter, it’s raining pretty heavily, are you going to the swimming pool today?”

“oh, i’m already in! but i understand if you can’t make it today.” he stated and you nodded, realising after a moment that he couldn’t see you.

“yeah, i can’t today… and tomorrow’s sunday so i guess i’ll see you monday?” you asked.

“sounds good!” he said.

you held the phone close to your ears, not really knowing what else to say. you couldn’t think of anything as you silently heard all the background commotion on his end. he didn’t say anything either and for a moment the thought that he didn’t want to end the call either crossed your mind.

but you pushed that out of your head.

“i’m sorry about yesterday.” you finally spoke, “i shouldn’t say that to-”

“i appreciated it… it just came as a surprise.” he chuckled, “and you left too quickly.”

you couldn’t help the smile that covered your face after hearing his comment, “sorry about that.”

“hey, stop apologising already. maybe i can give you a compliment next time so that we’re even.”

it was your turn now to fall silent. your heart skipped three beats at once as he said that. despite that, you found yourself smiling, “sure, i don’t see why not.”

there was another beat of silence but peter decided to break it before it could get uncomfortable, “so, you busy?”

and so the conversation continued. you told him you were just looking out to the street where small water puddles had already formed. you told him that you loved the rain. he told you that he hated it since the time it rained so much on his birthday that he was stuck at school for five straight hours until his uncle ben came to pick him up.

it was almost an hour later when you had to excuse yourself from peter as your doorbell rang.

“i’ll see you monday!” he said before hanging up and you quickly made your way towards the door. whoever it was had rung the doorbell twenty times in five seconds.

so probably gwen.

“i cannot believe this!” was the first thing she said as she welcomed herself into your house. no ‘hello’s or ‘how are you’s, “a car went right past me and almost stained my lab coat!”

“um... good morning to you too?” you chuckled, watching her get comfortable over your couch as she removed her shoes. she was clearly going through a rough week, “what’s wrong?”

you sat over the couch and her head immediately rested on your lap, “i can’t smell any more chemicals. my brain will explode.” she complained as you ran your hand through her hair.

“you were at the lab all night again?”

“slept on the couch” she sighed and relaxed further, feeling your fingers thread through her hair comfortingly.

“maybe you should slee-”

“coffee.” she mumbled, “i need some coffee.”

getting up from the couch, she made her way into the familiar kitchen, the white tiles reflecting enough light for her to wince and squint her eyes.

“are you sure you should have coffee right now?” you asked, leaning against the counter as she pulled out her favourite coffee mug from your cupboard.

“yes.”

soon the two of you settled back onto the couch, this time with your respective coffee mugs as you talked about her work. then gwen decided to shift the conversation to you, “so how’s swimming going?”

“it’s alright.” you tried to hold back your smile but gwen kept staring at you, making you break out laughing.

“and how’s your sexy trainer?” she took a sip from her coffee unbothered whereas you almost choked on yours, coughing slightly, “come on, you can tell me.” she pushed a little.

“he’s alright.” you replied, trying to sound disinterested but who were you fooling. gwen knew you better than that.

“so, when are you asking him out?” once again you almost spat your coffee out, deciding to place the coffee mug on the coaster at your coffee table for good.

“okay, you need to stop. we’re just friends. he’s supposed to be my trainer, that’s all.” you rambled out and gwen gave you a look that told you to cut through all the bullshit, “and i like him.” you whined, falling against the armrest of your couch.

“ask. him. out.” your best friend said, emphasizing on each of her word.

“he doesn’t even-”

“how do you know! have you ever tried… oh, i don’t know, asking him out?”

you rolled your eyes at her stubbornness. it was a trait you simultaneously loved and hated about her, “i’m not doing that.”

“ask him out.”

“what if he has a girlf-”

“ask him out and he’ll tell you.”

“but what if he doesn’t want to-”

“ask him out!”

“gosh! gwen i can’t.” you shook your head, mostly to yourself.

“(y/n). come on. ask him out before someone else does.” gwen said, a soft look etched over her features despite being deeply sleep-deprived, “have faith in yourself.” she smiled

“i-i’ll see…” you gave her a smile back, feeling an ounce of confidence, “maybe i will ask him out.”

“now that’s my girl!” gwen grinned and threw her arms around you.

you spent your sunday taking gwen out to dinner and then shopping because she deserved the break and you knew the second monday’s first minute illuminated on the digital clock beside her bed, she would start worrying about working her ass off on her new project.

and you were right as she called you just as you were about to leave your house for your swimming class, complaining about the horrible coffee in the lab, “i would have picked up some on my way here but it was too early.” she groaned.

“maybe i can bring some over after swimming today?” you offered, locking the door to your apartment and throwing the keys into your bag.

“unless you’re too busy with your peter guy?” gwen snorted at the groan you let out at her comment, “you’re asking him out today.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah.” you dismissed and quickly added, “and i’m never too busy for you, you know that.”

“i know.” she said, making you smile. the two of you bid each other a goodbye once she had to get back to work.

you found peter sitting in the same spot you had waited for him that day as soon as you reached the pool. you quickly changed and walked back out, noticing that he was still busy scrolling through his phone. walking up to him, you tried to not look into his phone as he texted someone, “watcha doing?”

he jumped at your question, looking up at you with wide, brown eyes, “oh. you scared the crap out of me.” he chuckled, registering that you had asked him a question, “i was just texting my aunt… about groceries and stuff.”

“oh.” you said, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape.

“so, you ready?” he asked and you nodded.

You climbed down the stairs of the pool ladder until your feet touched the tiled floor. Peter jumped in after you.

“i think it’s time we started kicking.” was the first thing he said, “i’ll show you how it’s done then you can do it too.” you nodded and watched as he dived inside, kicking the water with his legs as he slowly moved forward, leaving behind small splashes in his wake.

swimming back towards you quickly, he wiped back his hair from his forehead and you somehow forced yourself to not lend him a hand, “your turn!”

you gave him a smile, breaking out of your chain of thoughts, “okay then.” taking a deep breath you got ready to go underwater but peter’s hand wrapping around your wrist stopped you. you looked at him this time with slightly widened eyes, “uh…?”

“you’re not wearing your glasses.” he laughed and this time you were pretty sure that he seemed nervous as he held onto your wrist.

“oh.” you realised and pfft-ed at yourself, “silly me.”

he released your hand then but before you could do anything to adjust your goggles, his hands went up, fingers grabbing at the edge of the eyewear, gently propping it over your eyes carefully, “that okay?”

you weren’t quite sure if you’d noticed right but just before the glasses covered your eyes, a tint of pink covered his cheeks. or it could have been just your rose tinted goggles. damn uv protection.

“o-oh. yep.” you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up. he smiled sweetly at you and you almost wanted to grab his pretty face right there and kiss over those upturned lips of his. but you couldn’t. not like this.

“you okay?” he asked, looking slightly concerned but you quickly nodded, not feeding into his worries.

“yeah.” you dived in then, keeping your hands straight as you kicked your legs up and down. you remembered his advice for keeping your head low and you applied that. almost thirty to forty seconds later, you resurfaced and took a deep breath, “was that alright?”

“yeah! that was good for a first try!” he gave you an encouraging smile, “just let your waist move freely.”

“how?” you asked, a little confused.

“is it okay if i place my hands on your waist?” the question made you cough even though you were several inches away from water. peter’s hands raised in defence, “i don’t need to-”

“no, it’s fine!” you blurted out, feeling on fire which even the water surrounding you couldn’t put out, “you can.”

“okay, just do what you were doing, i’ll guide you.” he said, seeming as nervous as you were feeling.

you did as told and this time peter’s hands placed themselves on either side of your waist as you started kicking. he helped you with the movement, moving your waist a little in tandem with your legs.

after the hour was finally up and you had changed into your regular clothes, you found peter talking to ned and contemplated going up to him for all of fifteen seconds before deciding to go up to him.

you waited until ned was gone and walked in his direction, “peter?”

he immediately looked in your direction, “oh, hey… you’re leaving?”

“yeah. well, i actually… i needed to talk to you about something.” your heart was going to jump out of your chest. you couldn’t even meet his eyes, your gaze fixed upon the dusky floor.

“what is it, (y/n)?” you could feel his curious eyes over yourself.

“well, i… it’s kinda…” you waved your hands around, trying to find the right words to say until he disrupted you mid-sentence.

“is it about that compliment i owe you?” he said, letting out a small laugh. he was probably trying to lighten the mood but this was not helping your situation, “well, i’d say you’re really-”

“i kinda like you-” you shut yourself up after that, looking up to see his reaction. his face changed from one of shock to a confused one.

“wait, you-”

“i thought i would keep a professional relationship with you. but i… you’re just really pretty and it’s unfair!” you complained, not holding back now. this was your last chance. you considered he might not want you around here anymore.

“how is it unfair, exactly?” you looked up at him to catch his raised eyebrows, however, a small smile played over his lips.

“well, for starters i wish you would go out with me. but that’s-”

“yes.”

“what?” you were sure you looked like a raccoon caught red-handed stealing food.

“i wanna go out with you. afterall i do owe you a compliment.” he smiled, making you smile too.

“i might owe a little girl an ice-cream.”

———

masterlist ✨

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker #mcu peter parker #tasm!#tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter fluff #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader

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kaciidubs · 7 months

Text

✧ Kacii's 8 Days of SKZcember 2023 Masterlist ✧

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas! In honor of the holiday spirit, I'll be posting short one-shot fics featuring our favorite guys - filled with nothing but fluff and warmth for this cold season! Each of these fics are based on prompts from the amazing @novelbear found here, so please check her out if you're ever looking for writing inspiration! Note: Even though these are all fluff, I still prefer minors to not interact.

Wrapping Master - Jeongin | 12/18

✧ Wrapping gifts isn't as easy as it looks, apparently.

Christmas Playlist - Seungmin | 12/19

✧ Rocking around the Christmas tree with your favorite singer was always your favorite part of the holidays.

Mr. & Mrs. Gingerbread - Felix | 12/20

✧ The perfect ginger house for the perfect ginger family.

My Mrs. Claus - Jisung | 12/21

✧ Who didn't want to make a statement for one of the final parties of the year?

Winter [Snow] Falls - Hyunjin | 12/22

✧ An impromptu cafe date with an unexpected snowy surprise.

Twinkling Lights - Changbin | 12/23

✧ His eyes shone brighter than the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree.

Decorating Mishaps - Minho | 12/24

✧ Later is better than never, at the sacrifice of your shared sanity.

24 to 25 [Merry Christmas] - Chris | 12/25

✧ There was a first for everything, and Christmas in Australia was one of them.

#✧. ┊ kacii's skzcember 2023 #kacii's skzcember 2023 masterlist #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #bangchan fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know fluff #seo changbin fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #han jisung fluff #lee felix fluff #yang jeongin fluff

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crying-fantasies · 10 months

Text

Rodimus wasn't ready to be a creator (1)

Masterlist

The silence was present in the room again when one of the sensors were pressed, going straight to the very beginning of the visual record.

"Well, okay, good, we are-" there is a fleshy in the screen, it's young for it's kind, looking with tired eyes at the little, probably custommade, data pad, little finger searching and pointing till something finally catches the attention in those little and watery eyes "in the entry number 3065... I guess? I lost count of it after the first 4 digits number" there is a sound, like the fleshy is annoyed, it comes from the mouth, no, throat, "anyway, this is more about good news, I know that the last entry was of me shouting out loud about the end of the world" there is a pause, the hand of the fleshy goes straight to it's forehead, a sigh, a heavy one, "I don't even know how we survived that last one but here we are, at least 5 days since the last near to the death experience of the ship" again, that sound, a move of the mouth, a smile, a forced one, it looks at the end of it's sanity, especially when other voice just appears.

"It wasn't that bad" there is a bot behind, bigger than the fleshy, it's easy to tell when all that can be seen it's the midsection, bright red.

"What part of near death experience wasn't bad?" There is a laugh, almost bitter before it gets real, warmer, "anyway, the topic of today, the matrix: part 8, well, Rodimus is going to help us with the topic, again"

"Who could do it better, right?"

"Um, Great OP-?"

"Now you just want to tease me-"

There is a little cut, mainly because the video record is stopped at the appearance of another voice, but he just pushed it so hard that the record is on and out, even going to other entries, letting the voice in the video and the one in the present to be heard almost at the same time.

A present one, in the very same room.

"Aw, I remember that one" the very same voice, the very same bright red, yellow and orange paint job with the same freaking smile on his face plate.

And the very same problem of disruptive behavior, especially when entering other bots chambers.

"Why did you get in here? When?"

"Well, I just heard the voice of your mo-"

"That doesn't give you the right to enter my hab suit like nothing!"

"Hey, my ship, my rules, and before all that, I'm your fa-"

"Ugh, you can't say that everytime, what about my privacy?!"

Those words apparently seem to stir something inside of him, big blue optics go wide open while one servo goes straight over his chassis, just above his spark chamber.

"You sound just like your mot-"

"Agh, I don't want to hear you anymore!" And with that the younger bot changes his alt mode to try and overrun the older one, quite a joke really, it was obvious that the alt mode of his 'sire' was far more than capable of surpassing him.

"I just want to spend more time with you, Sunny!"

"Leave me alone!" Both just got out of the area at high speed, but the screen was still showing the video record.

"-Rodimus, seriously, respect my privacy" the fleshy was smiling, words losing strength, the tired eyes present as always, while the big bot smiled alongside the human, one could describe them as close, maybe too much.

"Aw, but this is also my hab suit, you know-?"

"-Entry number 5809" the very same human, now showing a little thing, gray in color with newly formed optics tightly closed, wrapped in soft and fuzzy blankets to keep the sentio metallico, the birth metal, warm till the moment the new born is finally ready to at least show a more defined face, the little thing kindly wrapped between loving arms, as small as a human baby "well, um, it was harder than expected, I kind of died at least 4 times before this little thing was out and finally took form", the human starts to laugh, more tired than ever, almost looking at the edge of it's own sanity, again, it looks like a few pounds were stolen from the organic's body, hands and arms wrapped in patches of new synthetic skin.

"Don't bring that up again" there is the very same bot, he looks exhausted, maybe even scared, while both his servos are still holding the human for dear life itself next to his chest armor, looking at the pair with big eyes, fearful ones, his whole demeanor showing that he is protecting the human and protoform with his whole body if necessary, "never again..."

"Heh, quite the adventure, right Sunset?"

The protoform only moves a little, trying to be as close as possible to the nearest warm place, that being his mother's embrace, mouth forming slowly.

"You're really going with Sunset?"

"I like it"

"Hum, yeah, me too, let's see what the little bitlet chooses later"

"What? Sunset Eve is a good name"

"I get you but, we don't exactly have those in Cybertron or in space"

The video finally ends, while it could still be heard in the distance the shouting of the young bot and the older one, now in some kind of father and son activity while other bots just get out of their way to prevent an accident.

This is so self-indulgent, I'm sorry but this is a phase that I can't escape.

You are my inspiration, I love your work

@my-writings-and-musings @lost-light-incorrect-quotes @montyuh @compaculaaa

#reader insert #x reader #transformers #rodimus prime #rodimus #angst #rodimus x reader #transformers x reader

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capturecharlesau · 1 year

Text

WELOME to Captured Charles AU !!

My name is Minnie! I’m over 18, I’m female, and my birthday is on April 17 :D I’m a happy go lucky person who is heterosexual and I LOVE EVERYTHING THSC :D

Hey! Here you can see my story in order so people can get caught up! :D

The main protagonists are: Reginald Copperbottom and Charles Calvin

The main antagonists are: Terrence Suave and Burt Su— erm I mean Curtis 👀

I hope you enjoy!! :D

There will also be a series of flashbacks in my story from either Reginald, RHM, and Terrence!

(Flashback) R = Reginald’s memory

(Flashback) R = RHM’s memory

(Flashback) T = Terrence’s memories

WARNING!! My story can be VERY dark at times read at your own risk!

Cover art for this was made by @rubyshot

Author for this story is me! My helper and co-creator is @jaytoons7 who helped me mold my universe and made this a reality!

RE-UPLOAD

The following links are RE-UPLOADED from my last blog so I’ll be adding the chapter’s/links down here to get caught up in my story! :D

Chapter One: ✨ Captured Charles ✨

✨ Part 1: Courage… ✨

✨ Part 2: Uh oh…something’s wrong… ✨

Chapter Two: ✨ Why hello there… ✨

✨ Part 1: Oh hi Toppat Leaders! ✨

✨ Part 2: Svensson’s trouble’s ✨

✨ Part 3: Guess who’s here! ✨

Chapter 3: ✨ Guilty ✨

✨Part 1: Yeah, where is Burt? ✨

✨ Part 2: It’s stronger then you ✨

✨ Part 3: Rule through fear ✨

✨ Part 4: You did this ✨

✨ Part 5: My angel, my world… ✨

Chapter 4: ✨ London ✨

✨ Part 1: Capture Reg! ✨

✨ Part 2: Suave and Charm ✨

Chapter 5: ✨ Drunk nights ✨

✨ Part 1: Control ✨

✨ Part 2: Manipulation ✨

✨ Part 3: Lovey Terry ✨

✨ Part 4: Blinding Lights ✨

✨ Part 5: Hungry… ✨

✨ Part 6: I would never hurt someone…. ✨

From this point forward it is NOT a Re-Upload it is now a continuation :D 👇

Chapter 6: ✨ See through… ✨

✨ Part 1: Stolen ✨

✨ Part 2: Don’t make me!! ✨

✨ Part 3: Jealousy… ✨

✨ Part 4: (Flashback)R Swedish freak… ✨

✨ Part 5: Old memories… ✨

✨ Part 6: Stay here…. ✨

Chapter 7: ✨ Decision making… ✨

✨ Part 1: (Flashback) R Stupid Reg… ✨

✨ Part 2: Give ‘em hell! ✨

✨ Part 3: One true love… ✨

✨ Part 4: Loss of sanity… ✨

✨ Part 5: Doesn’t deserve… ✨

✨ Part 6: Found ya! ✨

✨ Part 7: Confessions ✨

✨ Part 8: Spread my wings…. ✨

Chapter 8: ✨ Better… ✨

✨Part 1: Mi amore… ✨

✨ Part 2: Teasing… ✨

✨ Part 3: Made of love… ✨

✨ Part 4: Before you do… ✨

✨ Part 5: (Flashback)/R Night after night… ✨

✨ Part 6: Forced… ✨

✨ Part 7: Boys a liar… ✨

✨ Part 8: Only human… ✨

✨ Part 9: Hypocrite… ✨

✨ Part 10: Psychotic… ✨

Chapter 10: ✨ PAY!!! ✨

✨ Part 1: (Flashback)/T You’ll see… ✨

✨ Part 2: You make me begin…. ✨

✨ Part 3: Look at what you did… ✨

✨ Part 4: A better idea…. ✨

✨ Part 5: Not around… ✨

✨ Part 6: It’s time… ✨

Chapter 11: ✨ People of the Pride (Part one) ✨

✨ People of the Pride (Part two) ✨

✨ Part 2: Once again… ✨

✨ Part 3: (Final Chapter) My name is Terrence Suave… ✨

Captured Charles: The Epilogue

Wanna know what happens next? Will Sven execute Burt? How will the clan recover from Terrence Suave? Find out in the link below to lead you to my chapters to find out!

CAPTURED CHARLES: EPILOGUE

Character Bios (Get to know my versions of the characters and some OC’s

💜 Character Bio: Reginald Copperbottom 💜

♥️ Character Bio: Charles Calvin ♥️

💛Character Bio: Terrence Suave 💛

🧡Character Bio: Burt Curtis 🧡

💖Charecter Bio: Danny Felizima 💖

💙Character Bio: Sven Svensson 💙

🌟 💕 Everything about my Danny OC: 💕 🌟

🌟 Why Is Danny Felizima (my OC persona) so dark and bloody? 🌟

🌟 Danny’s shitfucked priorities :) 🌟

⭐️ Danny’s food priorities :) ⭐️

👔Captured Charles clothes:

Part 1: 👔 Charles, Reginald, Terrence, Sven, Burt, RHM 👔

The canon voices of my OC’s

🎙 Official OC canon voices 🎙

🎙 Danny Talking regular example as his canon voice The Weeknd 🎙

THSC CHARACTER AND OC HEIGHT CHART :D

⬆️ Height chart ⬆️

ORIGIN STORIES:

Want to know the origins of our many beloved THSC characters? The link below will show you links to different characters!

CAPTURED CHARLES: ORIGINS

#the henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin collection #thsc #captured!charles au #terrence suave #reginald copperbottom #charles calvin #burt curtis

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negative-ease · 6 months

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cast OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

what's the opposite of the boyfriend curse?

gentleman's delight? gentleman's blessing? i tried to write about this a few times but i don't like how it's coming out, so, whatever.

it's about my partner (this sweater is for him) and his infinite patience and support. and seeing all of the bright and shadowy parts and sharp angles of someone and loving all of them because that's what makes up their whole.

anyway, i started making it for his birthday in early 2016. when i put it down, i had the entire back and the front up to the first 3 rows or so of the chart. it was still on the needles. it and all its many skeins and the terrible pattern printout survived close to 8 yrs and 4 moves without issue. miraculously i had taken notes on the pattern about adding 3/4" to the body length. i have no notes about why i did a provisional cast-on for the body pieces, which was a royal pain in the ass to take out this morning. (there is probably a better way but as usual i'd rather spend 25 minutes suffering and muttering than look it up.)

i'm really apprehensive about Finishing School for this one. he's so thrilled that i picked it up again and i really want it to fit and look right. the body pieces are blocking now --

-- and then i'll sew the shoulders and do a short crew neck collar while the sleeves block. then i plan to review a bunch of my reference books before setting the sleeves and sewing the main seams.

fingers crossed...!

also shoutout to opening to a random page in that kaffee fasset book and being reminded that you can weave ends in as you work instead of doing them all at the end. OMG. i did this for the sleeves and it absolutely saved my sanity. i'm working on creating a really simple chart for an event but other than that i think i'm done with colorwork for awhile...

one more thing. when i was purling the (multi-ply) yarn was twisting the opposite direction which made the pattern look weird (in a bad way unfortunately). luckily the blocking has really helped this a lot but i'm really perplexed because the back, which i did originally, did NOT have this problem. my gauge hasn't changed since 2006 like it's not like i knit differently so what was past mo doing that present mo is not grasping?????

#cast off #knitting #hand crafted

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celerydays · 8 months

Note

Are you planning on continuing Reprieve? :-)

Absolutely! I know it's been a HOT MINUTE 😩 but I'm chipping away at it as we speak 💗

After I finally get Part 2 up and out of my damn hands at last, I'm going to be changing how I update because I'm learning that this method of doing larger updates of 8-10 pages is not working for me lol.

I'll likely start uploading small batches of 2-4 pages as I finish them so that updates come quicker – and for my own sanity as well 😵‍💫

I'm definitely one of those artists that work better when I can sit down and crank out a finished drawing in one sitting or at most a couple of days because the longer I have to spend on it, the more it feels like it just drags on 😮‍💨 I probably should have just done this from the start but I might have overestimated my ability to adapt to doing long-form comics for the first time 🥲

🧐 IN CONCLUSION 🧐 I think the shorter 2-4 page updates will be nice to be able to post for Reprieve more often while also satisfying my brain's need to feel like I'm completing finished pieces/pages faster 🫠

I hope that's okay with you guys! 👉👈

But until then, I'm gonna go hole myself up until I get this longer Part 2 update complete! Wish me luck~

#thank u all for being patient with me while i struggled to get my shit and health together for like the entirety of October! 🥺🙏#ask #anon #hl #hl reprieve

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e-dubbc11 · 2 years

Text

The Heart That Hurts You

The photos aren’t mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, a lot of it. Crying, a lot of it. Swearing. Little bit violent. Mention of a gun.

Word Count: 2132-ish

Summary: Your weekly Wednesday night dinner with Billy at your apartment takes an unexpected turn. After asking him what you thought was an innocent question, it escalates into a full blown fight that ends with you making him leave. He tries everything to try and get you back, but you’re not ready. Surprise ending. Part 1 of 2

A/N: I had a difficult time coming up with a title for this one so I’d like to thank my sweet sweet Lily @munsonownsmyass for coming to my rescue! I’ve been writing a LOT of fluff lately, mostly because that’s really all I got 🤣 but I felt I was due for some angst so I hope you guys like it.

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

A lone piece of broken glass eluded your cleanup efforts in the aftermath of your fight with Billy because it was now lodged in the bottom of your foot. You managed to retrieve it without wincing too much. After pulling the glass out, you held it up to the light, pinched in between the tweezers, covered in blood and the tears began forming in your eyes.

You still loved him, with all your heart, you loved him but you weren’t going to let him do things like this, even if it meant leaving. No, that’s not how you were going to be treated.

He immediately regretted it as soon as he threw the glass, the shock and horror on his face was apparent after he had let go. It was too late though, he couldn’t take it back. You had never seen him so angry, so broken, or hurt that you would even ask that question.

And it wasn’t as if you were accusing him of cheating or questioning where he was last night, no, nothing like that. It was just, what you thought was, an innocent question. Why was he still going out on dangerous jobs as the CEO of his company? You had no idea he would react that way, how could you?

Billy Russo was a marine, a soldier, a combat veteran. In his words, that’s all he knew how to be. You knew that wasn’t true, he was so much more than he gave himself credit for. He started Anvil to give veterans an opportunity to continue their service but for a private contractor rather than being property of the United States government.

He did it because he understood some veterans feel they have no purpose after their service time is over, and he wanted to give them one. He cared about them and wanted to give them a chance if they felt like they still had work to do.

He had been working on himself to be a better boyfriend to you, a better CEO, and a better man. Billy tried very hard, for you but also for himself. He had overcome so much in his life but he still had slip-ups. This was a big one though, one you couldn’t let slide.

8 Weeks Ago

It was an ordinary Wednesday night, Billy always came over on Wednesdays and he brought Chinese food and wine with him. He set the table, the two of you had dinner and the conversation was great.

Billy was getting better at communicating to you how he felt or just communicating in general. But the conversation took a turn you weren’t expecting, and suddenly you didn’t recognize the person in front of you.

“Why do you still go out on dangerous jobs though, baby?” You asked him.

His expression became cold, he pressed his lips together and asked softly but through gnashed teeth “How could you even ask me something like that, y/n? Do you have any idea how important those jobs are for me? For my sanity? To be able to keep my shit together? Do you?!!”

And you don’t remember a lot of what happened after that or maybe you just didn’t want to remember. There were a few flashbacks of Billy getting angry, yelling, and the final straw of him throwing the wine glass and it shattering against the cabinet.

He didn’t throw the glass at you, he threw it off to the side, when it hit the cabinet, the pieces broke off in different directions, and one piece cut your chin slightly in the process. You were speechless, horrified, and your heart was completely broken. He didn’t mean it, you knew he didn’t but it didn’t matter. Billy needed to know he couldn’t just say “I’m sorry” and everything would be ok.

“Get out, Billy.” You calmly said.

“Baby, I’m so—“ He made a motion towards you when he saw the blood on your chin.

You cut him off. “I’m only going to tell you one more time before I call the police. Get…out…I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Sweet girl, please!” He pleaded with you.

Your voice would have broken if you didn’t compose yourself long enough to yell. “NOW BILLY!!”

He knew you meant what you said and as much as he wanted to hold you, kiss you, and apologize to you, Billy grabbed his suit jacket, looked at you one last time and walked out of your apartment.

After he left, everything you had been holding inside had risen to the surface, the tears started flowing, your whole body was shaking and you could barely hold yourself up.

He was gone.

Billy tried to call, you ignored him. He sent texts, you ignored those too and he also tried showing up at your office to get you to talk to him. You weren’t ready. He tried sending flowers but you threw them in the trash and he even tried sending you cards in the mail. But somehow, those didn’t get thrown away, they just sat in a pile on your coffee table, unopened.

At night, sometimes you would sit on your couch in silence with the soft glow of the city lights as your only light inside your apartment, holding one of the cards in your hand, smiling a little at his terrible handwriting, and wondering what was on the inside.

What could he possibly have to say for himself? He’s sorry and he misses you? He loves you? What is it? All you had to do was open one up and find out but you couldn’t do it, every time you tried your hand would begin to shake uncontrollably and you couldn’t bring yourself to open it.

The only thing you could do was stare at the tear stains you had made on them, your vision blurred from the tears to the point where you couldn’t even read your name anymore. And you’d gently place it back onto the table, still unopened.

Then there were the dreams. Billy invaded your dreams every night good or bad, he would be there, as soon as you’d close your eyes you would see his face. His rich, deep brown eyes were like freshly turned soil after the rain, gazing at you full of love and adoration.

No one ever showed you love quite like Billy did, kissing your shoulder every morning before even opening his eyes, leaving messages on the mirror after taking a shower, your initials along with his carved into a tree in Central Park, which was probably illegal but so sweet. You would dream about those things all the time.

Sometimes you had bad dreams and he was in those too. They were always the same, they were from that night. The arguing, the yelling, and glass everywhere, it was just on repeat in your mind all the time. Only in your dreams would you remember what was actually said that night, his words slipped into your heart like a piece of broken glass, they cut you deep and you wondered if the bleeding would ever stop.

“You want me to stop the only thing I know how to do, don’t you!! You just want me to sit behind a desk and not do anything to help my team!” He had said.

The words he shouted at you broke your heart, not because he was yelling at you but because, that wasn’t the only thing Billy knew how to do and you knew that. He was smart, there were other ways he could help veterans while running his company and not put himself in the middle of dangerous jobs all the time.

“That is NOT what I’m saying, Billy and you know that! That’s not the only thing you know how to do!” You remember saying and never at any point did he frighten you but he had crossed the line.

He started pacing, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger then pointing at his chest before shouting at you. “I’m a marine, y/n!! That IS all I know how to do and this fancy suit doesn’t change that! It doesn’t change what I did over there, it doesn’t! I need these jobs just as much as the vets I hire, do! I can’t give that up!”

That’s when the wine glass torpedoed into the cabinet, the pieces ricocheted in all directions and that’s always when you would wake up with that same tight feeling in your chest you had when it actually happened. Billy wasn’t there to comfort you like he usually did if you had a bad dream, you wanted him to be, even though he was the reason you were having them.

Present Day—Inside Billy’s Office

Billy sat at his desk, his eyes were half closed and the circles underneath his eyes were dark purple, he hasn’t slept in weeks. The knock on the door jolted him awake and Frank stuck his head inside.

“Hey Bill—can I talk to you for a minute?” Frank sounded concerned. He took one look at Billy and knew he hadn’t been sleeping, or eating. “You look like shit, by the way.”

“Thank you, Frankie—you ready for the job tonight?” Billy asked.

Frank sat down in the chair across from Billy. “Yeah see, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about—I don’t think you should go out tonight. I think maybe you should sit this one out or be our long shot across from the building—I know you miss her, I do, but you can’t protect other people if you’re not on top of your game, yeah? He’s a senator, we can’t fuck this up.”

Billy looked at Frank and leaned forward in his chair. “I appreciate your concern, Frankie, I do but I’m fine, alright? I’m fine. I’m always on the ground.”

Frank knew Billy wasn’t fine but he also knew Billy wasn’t going to let anyone tell him what to do or how to do it. Billy was the best marine Frank had ever seen but he was going to keep a close eye on his friend tonight.

Your Apartment—Later on that Night

You took a little extra time with your nighttime routine, you washed and dried your hair, and in addition to your skincare you used a sheet mask for extra hydration. The air had been a little drier than usual so you used an all over body lotion also. Next, you spent more time looking for something to watch on tv than actually watching anything before ultimately just deciding to make it an early night and go to bed.

Before heading to your bedroom, you held Billy’s unopened cards in your hands again. You felt like a part of you was missing, you wondered what he was doing tonight, if he was ok, or if he was thinking about you. He was on your mind every minute of every day.

The past 8 weeks hadn’t been easy for you, crying every single night, leaving work in the middle of the day because you couldn’t concentrate on anything except him, and not really wanting to be around your friends because you didn’t want them to see you like this.

You weren’t making excuses for what he did because it was wrong but you understood why he reacted the way he did, you just wanted him to see himself the way you see him and for him to be safe. He thinks all he’ll ever be is a marine but he has such a big heart, he loves what he does and it wasn’t your intention to try and take that away from him.

You closed your eyes, gently kissed the envelope, and left it on the coffee table before heading off to bed.

It was the first time in a long time you had fallen into a deep sleep, so deep in fact that your phone buzzing scared you awake. Your eyes couldn’t even focus on the name “Billy” or his handsome face that appeared anytime he called so you just hit the answer button.

“Hello?” You said, your voice was raspy.

The voice on the other side wasn’t Billy’s. “Hey sweetheart.”

“Frank? What time is it? What’s going on?” You were wide awake now, you sat bolt upright in bed, and your heart was in your throat.

“Frank!? What happened!?” There was a sinking feeling in your stomach and you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before Frank spoke again. And the words that came out next were the ones you hoped you never had to hear.

“It’s Bill, sweetheart—he’s been shot.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕

#billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo #billy russo fanfic #ben barnes

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sesillee · 1 month

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Building Jean Grey in DnD 5e

All images featured are credited to the user that edited and posted them, not me.

The idea of a Character Forge is shamelessly taken from @raeynbowboi, whose posts I love, and drew a ton of inspiration from.

Jean Grey has always been one of my favorite Marvel characters, ever since I saw her for the first time in the 2000 X-Men movie, portrayed by Famke Janssen. I hope I did her justice, haha.

I contemplated making her a Kalashtar for free telepathy, but Variant Human fits better, and with this build we end up getting telepathy from multiple sources anyway. I feel like something a lot of portrayals of Jean don't do is her original origin story.

At ten years old, her best friend died traumatically in front of her, and Jean's newly awakened powers gave her a front row seat to the emotions and thoughts of a dying girl. Professor Xavier then suppressed her telepathic abilities.

WTF??? That's a lot for anybody, let alone a ten year old.

So I think her background is 100% Haunted One.

"You are haunted by something so terrible that you dare not speak of it. You’ve tried to bury it and run away from it, to no avail. Whatever this thing is that haunts you can’t be slain with a sword or banished with a spell. It might come to you as a shadow on the wall, a bloodcurdling nightmare, a memory that refuses to die, or a demonic whisper in the dark. The burden has taken its toll, isolating you from most people and making you question your sanity. You must find a way to overcome it before it destroys you."

Unfortunately I think that's a great descriptor for Jean.

Through the Haunted One background, we're going to take Arcana and Religion proficiences, as well as two free languages. It really depends on the campaign which language would work best, but I took Dwarvish and Infernal.

Aberrant Mind Sorcerer

I immediately thought of Aberrant Mind Sorcerer for her base class. Sorcerer fits any mutant with spellcasting-like abilities, and Jean's main powers are her telepathy and telekinesis. Aberrant Mind sorcerers get telepathy at first level, but they don't have any inherent telekinesis baked in. As a Variant Human though we can pick a free feat, so we'll naturally go with Telekinetic.

This feat gives us access to the mage hand cantrip and a telekinetic shove ability that's perfect for Jean.

You could definitely go all 20 levels with Sorcerer, but I think it leaves out a very important part of Jean's character: the Phoenix Force. It was obvious to me the best way to represent the Phoenix Force was with the Warlock class.

Great Old One Warlock

I think it's also no question that the Great Old One patron is the best fit for the Phoenix Force. In its first appearance in 1976, its described as one of the oldest known cosmic entities in the universe. Its origin, capabilities, and motives are a mystery. Sure sounds like a "mysterious entity whose nature is utterly foreign to the fabric of reality" to me.

What level split you do is up to you, but I did 8 in Sorcerer and 12 in Warlock, just because Warlock gets more in the 9-12 levels than Sorcerer. Aberrant Mind Sorcerer's don't get any subclass features whatsoever between levels 6 and 14, whereas Great Old One Warlocks get Thought Shield at level 10.

Stats and Proficiences

Her highest stat should be Charisma, and from there it's really up to you. A high Constitution is always good and can represent that extra durability from the Phoenix Force. Her Dexterity should be kept in mind too, since she won't be wearing any armor. Technically she can wear light armor, but it isn't super necessary, since I took the eldritch invocation that gives unlimited mage armor.

Proficiencies: arcana, deception, insight, intimidation, perception, persuasion, religion, light armor, and simple weapons

Spellbook

You're obviously going to want as many psoinic style spells as possible for Jean. Her main source of damage is going to be her magic, since Jean is never really depicted using weapons. She's going to be relying mainly on her cantrips to do damage in this build, since I wanted to pick up as many "utility" spells as possible.

As an Aberrant Mind Sorcerer, she automatically learns several Psion Spells.

Mind Sliver (Cantrip) Arms of Hadar (1st) Dissonant Whispers (1st) Calm Emotions (2nd) Detect Thoughts (2nd) Hunger of Hadar (3rd) Sending (3rd) Evard’s Black Tentacles (4th) Summon Aberration (4th)

Through Warlock invocations, she can cast False Life, Jump, and Mage Armor on herself at will. She can also cast Confusion once per day via the Dreadful Word invocation.

Almost all of the invocations I chose were ones that give her more spells for less, since as a Sorcerer/Warlock she is more limited in spell slots than another spellcaster might be.

A few other spells that I would say are absolutely essential for Jean are Fly, Psychic Lance, Telekinesis, and Dream.

As her Mystic Arcanum, the Warlock feature that lets her have 1 use of a sixth level spell, I chose Investiture of Flame. It definitely feels like a Dark Phoenix moment to me.

See the rest of her statistics and spell list below the cut.

Name: Jean Elaine Grey-Summers, Marvel Girl/Phoenix

Race: Variant Human

Background: Haunted One

Alignment: Neutral Good

Class: Aberrant Mind Sorcerer 8

Great Old One Warlock 12

Base Stats:

Strength: 8 -1 Dexterity: 14 +2 Constitution: 16 +3 Intelligence: 10 +0 Wisdom: 15 +2 Charisma: 19 +4

Saving Throws:

Strength: -1 Dexterity: +2 Constitution: +9 Intelligence: +0 Wisdom: +2 Charisma: +10

Combat Stats:

HP: 8d6 + 12d8 or 154 total AC: 12 (unarmored), 15 (mage armor) Speed: 30 Initiative: +2 Proficiency Bonus: +6 Passive Perception: 8 Dark Vision: 120 feet

Languages:

Common Elvish Infernal Dwarvish

Proficiencies:

Arcana (Haunted One) Religion (Haunted One) Deception (Beguiling Influence Warlock Invocation) Insight (Sorcerer) Intimidation (Sorcerer) Perception (Sorcerer) Persuasion (Beguiling Influence Warlock Invocation)

Damage Resistances:

Psychic

Damage Immunities:

None

Feats

Telekinetic. (TCoE, pg. 81)

You learn to move things with your mind, granting you the following benefits:

Increase your Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma score by 1, to a maximum of 20.

You learn the mage hand cantrip. You can cast it without verbal or somatic components, and you can make the spectral hand invisible. If you already know this spell, its range increases by 30 feet when you cast it. Its spellcasting ability is the ability increased by this feat.

As a bonus action, you can try to telekinetically shove one creature you can see within 30 feet of you. When you do so, the target must succeed on a Strength saving throw (DC 8 + your proficiency bonus + the ability modifier of the score increased by this feat) or be moved 5 feet toward you or away from you. A creature can willingly fail this save.

War Caster. (PHB, pg. 170) Prerequisite: The ability to cast at least one spell

You have practiced casting spells in the midst of combat, learning techniques that grant you the following benefits:

You have advantage on Constitution saving throws that you make to maintain your concentration on a spell when you take damage.

You can perform the somatic components of spells even when you have weapons or a shield in one or both hands.

When a hostile creature's movement provokes an opportunity attack from you, you can use your reaction to cast a spell at the creature, rather than making an opportunity attack. The spell must have a casting time of 1 action and must target only that creature.

Metamagic Adept. (TCoE, pg. 80) Prerequisite: Spellcasting or Pact Magic feature

You’ve learned how to exert your will on your spells to alter how they function:

You learn two Metamagic options of your choice from the sorcerer class. You can use only one Metamagic option on a spell when you cast it, unless the option says otherwise. Whenever you reach a level that grants the Ability Score Improvement feature, you can replace one of these Metamagic options with another one from the sorcerer class.

You gain 2 sorcery points to spend on Metamagic (these points are added to any sorcery points you have from another source but can be used only on Metamagic). You regain all spent sorcery points when you finish a long rest.

In all my campaigns I've played we've allowed a free feat at level 1. I would chose War Caster or Survivor for Jean in that case.

Survivor.

You are well-versed in surviving in hostile environments, even thriving where others are sure to perish. You gain the following benefits:

Increase your Constitution or Wisdom score by 1, to a maximum of 20.

You require only half of the food and water normally required for a creature of your size.

You can withstand extreme temperatures indefinitely, and you automatically pass saving throws made against extreme heat and cold for a number of days equal to your Constitution or Wisdom modifier, whichever is lower. After this time, you must make saving throws as normal until you spend 24 hours in a comfortable temperature.

Level Choices:

Level 4: Ability Score Increase. +1 Charisma, +1 Wisdom

Level 8: War Caster Feat.

Level 12: Ability Score Increase. +1 Dexterity, +1 Charisma

Level 16: Ability Score Increase. +1 Charisma, +1 Constitution

Level 19: Metamagic Adept Feat.

Jean’s Spellbook

Cantrips: Dancing Lights, Eldritch Blast, Friends, Gust, Lightning Lure, Mage Hand, Mending, Message, Mind Sliver, Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation

1st level: Arms of Hadar, Dissonant Whispers, False Life (at will), Feather Fall, Hellish REbuke, Jump (at will), Mage Armor (at will), Magic Missile, Shield

2nd level: Calm Emotions, Detect Thoughts, Hold Person, Invisbility, Mind Spike, Shatter

3rd level: Clairvoyance, Counterspell, Dispel Magic, Fly, Hunger of Hadar, Lightning Bolt, Sending, Slow

4th level: Evard’s Black Tentacles, Hallucinatory Terrain, Raulothim's Psychic Lance, Shadow of Moil, Sickening Radiance, Summon Aberration

5th level: Telekinesis, Dream, Wall of Light

6th level: Investiture of Flame

Features:

I decided not to paste them all haha. But if you want to see all of the features she has an more, you can follow this link to her character sheet in DnD Beyond, which I used to facilitate this build.

#jean grey #marvel girl #phoenix #marvel #xmen #dnd #dnd 5e #dnd character builds #d&d #5e #homebrew #mine

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virgo-mess · 1 month

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The Birds and the Bees

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Chapter List

1.Alexithymia- The Inability to Express your Feelings Parts 1 and 2

2.The Woes of Adolescence/ What the heck Happened that Summer Parts 1 and 2

3.Caught in a Summer Storm/ What the heck Happened that Christmas.

4.Summer Bluffs? Part 1

5.Disco, Strippers, and Margaritassss Part 2

6.Sleepless in a Hotel Suite Part 3

7.Shades of Pink

8.The Things I’ve Dreamed Part 1

9.Renewal Part 2

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TW: Mostly just fluff and repressed feelings, I ended up splitting this chapter into two parts for my own sanity, ENJOY!

The Woes of Adolescence/ What the Heck Happened That Summer Part 1

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“Yet the summer which was to change everything was coming nearer every day. When boys and girls are growing up, life can’t stand still, not even in the quietest of country towns; and they have to grow up, whether they will or no. That is what their elders are always forgetting.”- Willa Cather

Shay's Pov

The days leading up to the wedding ticked by like the hands track the minutes and hours on a clock, some days flew by, and others were agonizingly slow. Shay wasn’t sure which she preferred, the fast days were the ones where she and Cash had the most fun. They seemed to get along better on those days when the planning felt less like planning and more like hanging out, but not the way you hang out with a friend. It felt more like dating than anything and Shay found it comparable to those carefree, albeit fleeting beginnings of her relationship with Tyler and those early buddings of her crush on Cash. When the butterflies in her stomach were endless and the bashful giggles were a dime a dozen, the sweet days. The ones before Shay’s anxiety induced depressive spirals surfaced as a result of her parents’ contentious divorce and threw a wrench in her and Cash’s friendship. The quote on quote, sweet days, in her and Tyler’s relationship, however, were the ones before his narcissistic and abusive tendencies surfaced. Shay was about as happy as she could be in those days, having settled for being in a relationship with someone she only kind of liked because the person she really wanted felt just out of reach.

The slow, tedious days Shay and Cash spent planning, however, were a lot less fun. They were the days she and Cash seemed to do nothing except bicker, they couldn’t agree on anything on those days. That was the primary reason they still hadn’t managed to come to a consensus on the bachelor parties. Shay knew she was just being difficult but how could she not be? She had come to a point in her life where nothing made sense anymore and being with Cash, the man she could admit she wholeheartedly still loved, was only making her more confused. There were moments they’d shared over the past week or so, intimate ones, where Shay got the feeling, he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him. That talk at brunch about their dreams was one of a few. Shay couldn’t stop thinking about the way his fingers ran down her arm, the way his thumb caressed her cheek, and the way his ocean blue eyes gazed into her in a way that felt like he was seeing into her soul. Shay had evidently mistaken the emotions swirling in his blue orbs, but it wasn’t like it was the first time Cash had brought her hopes up to an embarrassing all-time high.

“Shaylee, where are you?” Shay’s mother, Maggie Harris’ chipper voice floated out at Shay from somewhere down the hallway near her bedroom. Shay craned her neck to peer down the hallway from her current sprawled out position on the living room couch and saw her mom standing in the hall with a suitcase by her side for the trip she was taking this week with Cash’s mom Jo. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and her blue eyes were scanning Shay’s empty bedroom slowly, people often mistook Shay and her mom for sisters more so than mother and daughter. Shay never really thought they looked all that much alike aside from the blonde hair. Shay had her father, Beau Harris’ eyes, whom she only really saw on holidays because their close relationship suffered significantly when she came home from school early one day to find him cheating. Not that Beau Harris hadn’t tried to adamantly repair the rift that his infidelity had caused between them, in fact he still called her once a week to catch up and ask her how she was doing. The answer was always the same of course, fine just fine. Shay supposed she should forgive him by now but for whatever reason, she couldn’t help but still feel so betrayed.

“I’m in the living room” Shay said, turning back around to put a bookmark in the book she’d been reading before fully sitting up. She filled most of the time she wasn’t wedding planning or hanging out with Cash reading, she hadn’t really had a chance to read for pleasure with all the long and often times sleepless nights she spent going through client files and crunching numbers back in New York.

“There you are, what are you reading? You know you’ve got boxes full of books in the attic still, I thought you were going to ask Cash to come over and help you with all that stuff up there?” her mom said, walking into their open concept kitchen and living room with her suitcase rolling behind her. Shay didn’t miss the almost impish grin on her face as she stared at her from the kitchen island and eyed her mother suspiciously from her spot on the couch with an arched eyebrow. Maggie Harris had been nosier than usual these few weeks that Shay had been home and that was saying a lot, to say the least. After that summer between eighth grade and high school, Maggie Harris, had become a bit of a hover parent. Not that Shay could blame her, that meltdown she had on the last day of school that year, the day she locked Cash out, refused to open the window, and screamed at him for the first time ever was a rollercoaster for them all.

“Between wedding planning and trying to talk him into a western themed bachelor party I forgot, I guess… Why are you looking at me like that?” Shay asked her wearily, the impish grin on her mom’s face only seemed to grow as she shuffled towards the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

“I’m not looking at you like anything, pumpkin but I figured you forgot so I asked him myself. Jo put a lot of his stuff from the basement up there when she was having it renovated and with both of you lovebirds gone for the past two years, we haven’t gotten around to getting everything back over there. Cash said he’s more than happy to help you with the attic and to keep you company while I’m gone” She replied taking a seat on one of the bar stools near the island with the same grin on her face. Shay felt her cheeks flush at her mom insinuating that she and Cash were anything more than friends.

“Mom, Cash is only hanging out with me because Pete and Daisy gave him no choice... we’re just friends. I can go through the stuff in the attic by myself and make sure he gets his stuff back; I don’t need a babysitter. I’m fine, really.” Shay sighed; she knew what her mom meant by Cash keeping her company. She knew it as soon as Miss DeDe Green stopped her at the farmers market last weekend and asked, “But how are you really cupcake?”.

“I know you don’t need a babysitter Shaylee Rose; Cash isn’t coming to babysit you at all. Have you ever considered he just likes spending time with you, I only asked him to help you with the attic he’s the one that wanted to keep you company.” Maggie said there was a sincere note in her tone, but Shay still found herself highly doubting her words given her mother’s meddlesome history.

“Uh huh, and what excuse was that mom” Shay huffed, rising from her spot on the couch she felt a bit, exasperated as she walked over to join her at the island. Maggie chuckled under her breath as she reached out to stroke Shay’s cheek affectionately.

“His exact words were ‘She’s got to stop leaving unlocked lower-level windows around your house Mrs. Harris, it’s not safe. I’ll help her with the attic and crash on the couch for a few nights, so she doesn’t get kidnapped.’” she said with amusement swirling in her blue eyes.

“That’s what I said but he insisted I leave it unlocked for him like I used to, or he’d wake me up before 9:30” Shay huffed rolling her eyes to herself at Cash’s silly antics, he had reined in a good portion of his usually, incessant teasing over the days they’d spent together, much to Shay’s surprise. At least when they weren’t having a bicker fest that is, an action which had Shay feeling as confused and besotted as she was when she was fourteen. Which only meant all those anxious and insecure tendencies she had during those bewildering days of her early teens were starting to resurface the more time she spent with him. She could tell Cash was really putting forth the effort not to escalate their bickering into full on arguments, but part of Shay found herself wanting him to. There was so much to be said and they both knew it…

“That sounds like another excuse to spend time with you to me. He sure had a lot of them when you were kids too.” Her mom said with a fond smile on her face. Like she was recalling memories of the summers their families spent down in Cape Cod before happy homes became less happy. Doomed in the gloom of a tumultuous melodrama, fit for a some scandalous tell-all, at least that’s what everyone in town said.

“What do you mean.” Shay said, propping an elbow up on the granite counter, she rested her chin in the palm of her hand and looked at her mother in expectation and mild suspicion. She could feel one of her mother’s deep, heart to heart chats quickly approaching and Shay wasn’t sure if she could handle another one, it would be about the fourth heart to heart chat since Shay had come home. Cash of course had been the subject of every single one of them.

“Well, he didn’t have to spend the night every day after Huck was gone did he?” Maggie said with a knowing smile though her blue eyes were still incredibly impish as they held Shay’s gaze. Shay pondered her statement for a brief moment, she hadn’t really considered the fact Cash didn’t have to spend as much time with her as he did back then after Huck Ewing went to prison and basically dropped off the face of the earth after his release. Shay always just assumed it was because Jo needed someone to keep an eye on Cash while she was busy putting in extra hours at work so she and Cash wouldn’t have to move to a more affordable section of Plymouth.

“I don’t know, I guess I never really thought much about it because he stopped doing it by the time I got home that summer. He kind of just left me alone” Shay said, she caught a glimpse of a memory in her mother’s eyes like she was recalling something Shay knew nothing about. She wished her mom, Daisy, and Pete would just get over wanting her and Cash to talk everything out and just spill whatever it was they were all holding back. It was very obvious they all knew something she didn’t…

“Did he or maybe you were just having a hard time seeing too far outside of yourself, Shaylee?” Maggie asked in a soft but pointed tone, Shay let out another sigh partly in exasperation and partly in relief that the awaited heart to heart was finally being laid out on the table.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shay asked mostly just to humor her mother but also because she was genuinely curious what wise, parent psychology mumbo jumbo she was preparing to throw at her today. Shay watched the last remnants of the impish proclivities leave her mom’s blue eyes, they became a soft mix of maternal seriousness and sincerity as they gazed into Shay’s green ones.

“You were very much going through the woes of adolescence that summer, pumpkin, that whole year really. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s normal and scientifically proven teens are a little self-centered during those years. Adolescent egocentrism is what they call it, it makes it hard for you to accept other points of views, makes you feel like the world’s out to get you, and everyone is judging you. Even if they’re not and I know the divorce only made this worse for you.” Her mom admitted in a soft tone. Shay wordlessly nodded her head in acknowledgement, feeling a little exposed among other things.

“Oh, so you think because I was suffering from Adolescent egocentrism among other things, I may be misremembering things about Cash and our friendship. Okay mom…” Shay muttered more to herself than anything else, her mother wasn’t wrong, and she found it mildly irritating. That age when you realized your parents were right, that they did get it, and they weren’t just saying it because they’re your parents, was actually no less aggravating than the age when you shouted the opposite at them constantly. Shay wasn’t quite ready to give her a “you were right mom” just yet…

“You could be… take going through your old things as an opportunity to look at stuff with a pair of fresh eyes, maybe there was something you missed the first time around, maybe you might even find yourself up there…hmm. Fourteen is a rough year for everybody, things that seemed easy to say suddenly aren’t. The woes...” Maggie trailed with a faint smile on her face because she of course knew what Shay was actually thinking. Shay rolled her eyes to herself and wondered why her mom’s motherly intuition radar was always on the up and up.

“The woes of adolescence got it mom no need to get so philosophical on me…” Shay said just as a soft thud came from her bedroom. Shay rolled her eyes, peering down the hall she saw Cash clamber in through her bedroom window with a large black duffle on one arm and a few bags of groceries on the other. He set his duffle near her bed before his tall, muscled frame stalked down the hall and into the kitchen with the groceries and a big grin on his face.

“Hey Mrs. Harris, Cherry Blossom” he greeted in a cheery tone and dumped the bags on the kitchen island. Shay peered down at all the bags to find a plethora of her favorite snacks, candy, and a few decks of playing cards.

“Not babysitting me, huh, he brought games and snacks…” Shay said raising an eyebrow at her mom pointedly, Maggie flashed her an almost sheepish smile. Cash looked down at her amused as he rounded the island and wrapped his strong arms around Shay’s waist in the form of a tender embrace. Shay jumped slightly in surprise at the action because she still wasn’t used to Cash being this touchy with her. The hugs after that lonely summer were so far and few between but each one still had nervous, smitten butterflies swirling in her stomach every time.

“Hadn’t planned on babysitting although I am the oldest and the most mature out of the two of us blondie. We’re just best friends having a sleepover like old times.” Cash said teasingly into her ear, Shay felt his chest rumble against her back as he let out a soft chuckle and placed a long kiss into her hair, gingerly. Shay felt her stomach do about a dozen nervous flips and let out an almost nervous giggle despite herself at the display of affection.

“I think that’s the best joke you’ve made in a long time, Cash, Cash parties always a smash” Shay said nonchalantly, ignoring the way her cheeks flushed a bright, rosy shade of pink at the feel of his lips brushing against her ear as she craned her neck to give him a teasing smile.

“I resent that title, Cherry Blossom; Pete was the one throwing the parties I was just providing the space. Cute jammies by the way” Cash crooned, toying with the thin strap of her floral top as he stared down at her with a coquettish smile on his face. Shay rolled her eyes at him almost playfully though she was sure her face was the brightest shade of pink imaginable by now. She hadn’t missed the way his eyes would linger on certain areas of her body the last few days and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t give her a bit of an ego boost though Shay wasn’t sure what to do with that information.

“Yeah, a space for underage drinking. How’d you become a cop again, were all your teachers at the academy divorcees that caressed your muscles during target practice or something?” Shay said teasingly, though the thought of Cash being in such a predicament had her heart twinging with jealousy. Cash let out another soft chuckle, his blue eyes were swirling with amusement and his smile was still tormentingly coquettish as his arms tightened their hold around Shay’s waist ever so slightly.

“No but if you’re looking for an excuse to caress my muscles darling, you don’t need one. You can touch ‘em all you want while I’m moving boxes in the attic, can’t believe you forgot to ask me to give you a hand for a whole week Shaylee.” Cash said teasingly, Shay rolled her eyes again though her heart was racing a mile a minute at the mere thought of running her hands down the length of his arms and chest. She’d had a number of heated dreams about doing just that since she was a hormonal teenager and even more so now that she was a lost, single woman approaching her thirties. This past week alone Shay had endless dreams about the amorous entanglements that would follow her running her hands along his chiseled form in both a passionate want and need. Fantasizing really, and no amount of time, distance, or the mental cage that came with a traumatic sham of a relationship could prevent her mind from getting lost in a maze of steamy yet romantic trysts with the man that really had her heart. Shay held onto those deeply personal entanglements and yearnings in her perfectly crafted, sheltered fantasy world of unbridled passion and romance. A world void of the fears and loud thoughts that talked her out of crossing that pesky imaginary line Shay had convinced herself lay between her and Cash Ewing. Shay gazed up at Cash absentmindedly for what felt like forever, he held her gaze with an unreadable emotion now swirling in his ocean blue eyes though his smile was still mildly coquettish even as beaming as it was at the present moment. Maggie Harris cleared her throat, breaking the brief stretch of silence that had lulled in the air. Shay felt her cheeks heat up again under her mother’s amused gaze.

“Skipped my mind, he’s been very distracting you know mom, with his Casanova ways.” Shay said, she felt Cash tighten his hold on her waist yet again and his chest rumble against her back tantalizingly. She gazed back at him still rosy cheeked as she tried to stifle an amused, slightly smitten, giggle under her breath.

“I think you’re starting to like my Casanova ways, Sweetheart.” Cash crooned in a flirty tone and rested his chin on her shoulder with an almost sheepish grin on his face as he stared deeply into her eyes. Shay stared back at him, completely breathless with the familiar fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. She found herself resisting the strong urge to kiss him again, she’d been resisting the urge to throw herself at him for days now and she wondered just how long she’d be able to keep it up. That imaginary line between them grew blurrier with each of the clocks tedious ticking hands. Shay’s mom cleared her throat again, pulling Shay and Cash out of their intimate staring contest with an almost smug smirk on her lips.

“You two are going to have a lot of fun this week, I can already tell so it’s best I get out of your flirty way. Please keep her busy Cashton, when you’re not here all she does is lay around all day and watch TV.” Her mom said pointedly as she slipped off the bar stool and made her way towards the pair, wheeling her suitcase behind her. Shay let out a breathless sigh and narrowed her eyes at her mom’s subtle attempt at bringing the long-buried events of that lonely summer to the surface again. If there was one thing Maggie Harris would go down in history for, it would be stirring the pot.

“That’s not true… today I laid around and read a book.” Shay said giving her mom a weary look in warning. Shay didn’t think she could handle trudging up the past yet, though she wasn’t sure why such a thing scared her so deeply. It’s not like Cash could gossip about her past predicament to the whole school now or anything, so what was standing in her way?

“Make sure she eats something too.” Maggie said, ignoring Shay’s statement as she focused her blue eyes on Cash. Shay’s eyes only narrowed further as she looked quickly between her mother and Cash with a scowl-like pout on her face. She couldn’t believe the two of them were actually trying to have a silent conversation in front of her right now, all while Cash still had her wrapped up in his arms.

“Alright Mrs. Harris” Cash said, lifting his chin off Shay’s shoulder he flashed her what she could only assume was an attempt at a reassuring smile. Shay looked up at him suspiciously and wondered just what he and her mother had discussed when she wasn’t around and when they even had managed to make time to talk about her.

“This sounds an awful lot like babysitting to me…” Shay muttered under her breath, Cash flashed her another smile and began dragging his hands in soothing motions along her exposed waist and navel. The action was almost titillating enough to make Shay forget how annoyed she was getting with her mom’s meddlesome scheming. Shay felt a small wave of arousal wash over her at the feel of Cash’s large, warm hands caressing her now goosebump ridden skin. She found herself stifling a surely erotic sounding sigh of contentment as she gazed up at him doe eyed, nibbling on the inner side of her cheek while her stomach did excitedly nervous flips. Cash seemed to only pick up on her nerves though, he bowed down to place another tender kiss in her hair with a trace of a blush on his cheeks. Shay’s eyes fluttered closed, trying to rein in the now ragged breaths of want and need, escaping her lips. The clock’s tedious ticking seemed to slow to a pause for the briefest of moments and that invisible line was quite nearly erased from Shay’s mind when Cash’s lips left her hair and dared to ghost her flushed cheek. Shay’s eyes snapped open in a bashful surprise and met Cash’s deep blue orbs and sheepish grin once more. But the moment was over as quickly as it began, and the imaginary clocks tedious ticking resumed in Shay’s head with an almost spiteful vengeance as Maggie Harris’ next words hit Shay’s ears.

“She’s been a little depressed, you know.” Her mom said in a soft matter of fact type of tone that made Shay’s jaw clench in frustration. She so wished her mother would stop telling people her problems and diagnosing her whenever she saw fit. Sure, Shay was down in the dumps the past few months… or years, but that didn’t mean she was beyond repair…

“Mom! Stop telling people I’m depressed!” Shay scolded her with a now prominent scowl on her face though her stomach still made excited flips with each soothing pass Cash’s large, calloused hands made over her exposed skin. It wasn’t enough to subside Shay’s annoyance as she glared at her mother with a flushed face.

“Relax pumpkin, it’s just Cash.” Maggie said softly, but her tone was dismissive. Shay let out an exasperated, low groan and ignored the way Cash immediately pulled her small frame closer to his chest when she tried to take an attempt at an intimidating step towards her smug looking mother.

“It’s not just Cash, I know you told DeDe Green the same thing!” Shay said pointedly, Maggie let out an exasperated sigh of her own and gave Shay one of her scolding, maternal stares. Shay let out another groan, though it sounded more like a growl with her increasing annoyance, Cash increased the pace of the soothing patterns his slightly rough finger pads made against Shay’s skin.

“Okay! Mrs. Harris, I think my mom is waiting for you in the car. Pretty sure I heard her honk the horn. You guys go have a good time at the festival this week, Shay and I will get that attic all cleaned out for you, don’t worry.” Cash said reassuringly, he made a few more soothing caresses before finally letting go of Shay’s waist to grab her mom’s suitcase. The loss of Cash’s warm body against hers left Shay feeling cold and almost empty as his sudden shift away from her brought her back to reality. The invisible line was becoming less blurry, but Shay still found herself reaching back out to him with a shaky hand instinctively because all she ever wanted was to feel his warm touch all over her skin forever. Cash glanced back at her with a soft expression on his face and laced her small shaky fingers with his large steady ones. Shay flushed again, this time in embarrassment that she’d reached out for Cash without even thinking about it though part of her wished she could do things without thinking about it all the time. Especially when it came to Cashton Ewing.

“Okay, bye you two have fun but beha…” Maggie Harris didn’t get to finish her sentence because Cash began insistently ushering her towards the front door, rolling the suitcase with one hand while his other held Shay’s so tenderly she thought her heart might burst as his thumb caressed the back of her hand. Shay couldn’t help but stare at their interlocked fingers with a bashfully smitten blush and smile on her face, she could hear her mother babbling about something, but it sounded a lot like when the adults on Charlie Brown talk, utter nonsense.

“Yeah, okay, bye mom, have fun.” Shay said in a dismissive tone that definitely sounded snarky, but Shay was still too focused on Cash and her interlocked fingers to care. It still caught her by surprise when he’d hold her hand even though he held it the whole way into the restaurant mere days ago. In the moment, their tender touches and instant chemistry always made sense to Shay, but the aftermath always left her feeling so confused. She often found herself rethinking every detail of the time they spent together when she sat awake in the wee hours of the morning staring out her window. Something she’d be doing tonight without a doubt, to talk herself out of her brain mistaking Cash’s… friendliness for anything more than it was, for anything more than it meant to him even if it meant the world to her…

“Bye Mrs. Harris, tell my mom bye again for me” Cash said sharply, Shay looked up from their hands for a moment to watch Cash usher her mom out the door hastily before all but slamming it shut. Shay gazed up at him sheepishly through her thick lashes, her mind was still reeling a mile a minute and she found she was unsure of what to do with herself. There were voices in her head screaming at her to let go of his large hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. In fact, Shay found herself inching closer to him mindlessly.

“She’s getting to be too much in her old divorcee age, we have to get her a boyfriend or something…” Shay said jokingly though her expression was incredibly sheepish as she gazed up at Cash with doe like green eyes. Cash bit down on his lip and let out another soft chuckle as he gazed back down at her with a coquettish glint in his blue eyes once more. The action had Shay getting swept up in another brief current of arousal and she found herself biting down on her own lip with a dusty pink blush spreading across her cheeks. Her eyes lingered on his lips for longer than necessary…

“Her and my mom both, they’re a little too invested in our lives… They’re going to spend the whole festival gabbing about us you know.” Cash crooned causing Shay to pull her eyes off his lips to meet his gaze with a sheepish smile on her face. Cash returned her gaze of course but she could’ve sworn Cash’s blue orbs had been lingering on her lips the same way her green ones had been on his. Shay awkwardly cleared her throat and realized their fingers were still perfectly intertwined like two pieces of a puzzle. Sometimes Shay thought she and Cash were made for each other because she never really felt complete unless he was somewhere near. In fact, she felt mostly empty without him she swore he was the only one who could make her feel anything and everything….

“Yeah, I’m sure they are…I’m uh, not depressed you know.” Shay trailed softly, finally making an attempt to move towards the attic staircase. She half expected Cash to just let go of her hand at that point, but he didn’t. His grip only tightened on Shay’s small hand as they ventured down the hall towards the attic, almost like he was trying to keep her from slipping away from him somehow though she was sure it was just her mind running away from her again. Shay wondered how he hadn’t figured out she never wanted to slip away from him to begin with. If he’d asked her not to go to NYU all those years ago, she would’ve stayed in a heartbeat, without a second thought but he never did. So, she went off to live something resembling a life though it felt more like existing than living.

“I know you’re not depressed Cherry Blossom…nothing wrong with saying you’re having a hard time though. You wouldn’t be the only one, you know so, no judgement on my part beautiful.” Cash said in a gentle tone of reassurance, Shay felt her cheeks heat up again at the word beautiful rolling off his tongue effortlessly though she couldn’t help the wave of suspicion that washed over her. He hardly ever commented on her appearance after that bittersweet Valentines Day at the movies. Which she took as confirmation of his guilt for inviting her to fifth wheel on his double date at the time. Sure, Cash tried to make it up to her by taking her ice skating and buying her heaps of her favorite candy before retreating back to her house for one of their traditional movie nights.

“Right, Casanova. Are things not going so well for you over in New Jersey?” Shay said lightheartedly though her tone was sincere as she met his gaze for the first time since they wandered out of the kitchen. Cash looked down at her with an unreadable emotion swirling in his eyes just as they stopped their stroll at the bottom of the attic stairs. Shay could feel the sudden emotional shift between them almost instantly and she found herself regretting asking such a prying. She knew a serious conversation between them was inevitable, but she so wished it could wait until she was done holding his hand…

“Jersey is… alright I guess I don’t really know many people outside of the department so, it gets a little lonely. I spend most of my free time staring out my apartment window, watching the waves on the Hudson River.” Cash said softly, Shay caught the faintest hint of a blush sweep across his cheeks at the admittance and found herself wondering why he found such a detail embarrassing.

“I think most adults do that Cashy that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, making friends in adulthood is hard I only talk to people from work too. At least you have a good view of the water, my loft is big and all, but all that space makes it feel quite lonesome and on top of that it only has views of the Manhattan skyline. I’d prefer the Hudson River; you know for homesick sake.” Shay said sheepishly, she wasn’t sure why she’d openly complained about her sequestered loft in such a way. She’d complained about such a thing once to a coworker and was met with the poor little rich girl spiel about how she should be grateful she had a nice expensive loft in the heart of Manhattan. And Shay could understand why she should be grateful to some extent, but a spacious loft didn’t take away the fact she now had no one to share it with. Cash tugged on Shay’s arm slightly, pulling her out of her inner ramblings with a serious look in his ocean blue eyes.

“Well, my apartment is on the smaller side, but I’ve got a view of the river and Manhattan Cherry Blossom. I wouldn’t even charge you rent considering you’re on the fence about making a career shift and all…” Cash trailed nonchalantly, Shay raised her brows at him in dumfounded surprised as she processed what he was proposing to her right now. They’d had several conversations like this when they were kids, she remembered a particular conversation when they were about ten. When Cash declared they’d run away from Plymouth and be together forever, promises only a child untainted by the morose weight of adulthood or the woes of adolescence could make.

“Are you…asking me to move in with you Cashton?” Shay asked with her eyebrows still raised in surprise even as her green eyes took in the fact that his expression was undoubtedly sincere. Cash nodded his head almost instantly.

“Well yeah, I think it would solve both of our lonesome problems and you’ll save a ton of money moving out of the city. Just letting you know it’s an option, I don’t need an answer right away or anything just think about it Cherry Blossom.” Cash shrugged nonchalantly, in a way that made it seem he was talking about something as casual as the weather. Shay nodded her head in acknowledgement even though she had no intention of actually considering such a proposition. Her feelings for Cash Ewing were way too deep for Shay to needlessly torture herself by being his roommate no matter how much she wanted to.

“I don’t think I want a roommate Cash but thanks anyway…um, let’s get started on cleaning huh” Shay said shifting the conversation to something seemingly less daunting and awkward for the time being. Cash nodded his head wordlessly, but Shay thought she saw a hint of dejection in his eyes even as he tightened his grip on her hand yet again as she began to walk up the stairs. An obvious thick layer of uncomfortable silence had fallen between them now and Shay couldn’t help the guilt now swirling in her stomach at the look on Cash’s face no matter how brief it was.

“I haven’t been up here in ages… I see your mom’s been busy with renovation too. It’s very cozy up here now” Cash said trying to ease some of the tension in the air when they halted at the top of the stairs. Shay nodded her head in agreement, taking in the new plush sectional, freshly painted walls and sleek entertainment center her mom had put in the attic sometime over the last few years.

“That makes two of us, no clue why she wanted a second living room, but it looks nice. The last time I was up here I was redoing my bedroom, that’s what most of this stuff is. Some of it’s yours too though I guess, from when your mom redid the basement. You want to bring some boxes over and I’ll plug in a movie?” Shay asked softly, Cash nodded his head once again, but Shay was happy to see a smile make its way onto his face for the first time since they left the kitchen.

“Sure thing gorgeous, but I’m going to need my hand back” Cash said in a soft teasing tone that had Shay’s face flushing a vibrant shade of pink. She reluctantly unlatched her now clammy hand from Cash’s larger one just as a sheepishly nervous string of laughter escaped her lips. She could hear Cash chuckling under his breath before placing a ginger kiss into her hair for the third time today.

“We’ll be holding hands again before the days over, trust me, Cherry Blossom. Why’d you redo your room anyway if you don’t mind me asking” Cash said lightheartedly, Shay watched him pile large cardboard boxes into his strong arms for an embarrassing amount of time. She couldn’t help but be transfixed by the way his rippling biceps flexed with every move he made She had to all but force her feet to walk over to the entertainment center so she could focus her eyes and rein in the implosion of impure thoughts and inklings that stomped through her head at the sight.

“Just wanted something new it was all a bit juvenile, and I know you thought the pink and orange were nauseatingly obnoxious. I thought you’d like the muted blues and grays better, but you didn’t really come over that much after that summer a…” Shay shrugged to herself as her hands rummaged through the entertainment center’s cabinets full of old DVDs and VHS cassette tapes.

“No Shay, I loved your bedroom that way what gave you the idea that I didn’t?” Cash asked seriously. Shay could tell he was near the couch now even with her back turned towards the TV, she let out a soft sigh as she finally settled on When Harry Met Sally for the time being.

“Cash, you don’t have to lie alright I heard you telling Pete and Opal May that you hated it, it’s really okay. I don’t care about it anymore believe me.” Shay said dismissively, placing the disc in the player and hitting the close button. She made sure to wipe the trace of a scowl off her face before she turned around to meet Cash’s gaze, his eyes looked a mix of confusion, anger, and offended all at the same time when they met hers from his spot on the couch. He looked surprisingly small surrounded by heaps of brown boxes full of long forgotten repressed memories and feelings….

“I don’t know what you overheard Shaylee but it’s just not true. I really liked your room I spent more time in yours than I did my own because everything in it was warm and comforting. Especially when my dad was around, I couldn’t really sleep well anywhere else because I felt safest there with you.” Cash said in a way that was so soft and vulnerable Shay swore she felt her heart melt and shatter simultaneously. Shay’s brain didn’t quite register exactly when her feet had carried her over to the couch or Cash’s side but before she knew it, they were face to face. Close enough to kiss him if she wanted to but she couldn't go there…

“If I knew it was that level of comforting for you Cashy, I never would have changed it, I’m so sorry…” Shay’s voice was barely a whisper by the time her arms had flung themselves around his neck in the form of a tender embrace. She could feel Cash snake, his strong arms around her waist and the warm tantalizing caress of his hot breath hitting her cheek and hair as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay Cherry Blossom, really” Cash cooed out in a reassuring tone just as his hands started to run along her spine in soothing circles. Shay let out a content sounding sigh at the action and felt small waves of whatever emotion was bubbling inside her leave her small form with every pass Cash’s hands gently made over her exposed skin.

🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝

#thomas ian griffith #cash x oc #eventual smut #summer romance #friends to lovers #not so slow burn 👀

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absolutebitchgetter · 6 months

Text

The problems of CS. Combined in one.

Since the CS ninjas are onto me, i shant give up. You will forever hear the tunes of the rumours of ABG'S unbanning.

Heres all the CS posts i can find:

All of this might share the same topic, and thats a feature of how Comic Studio doesnt - or probably will never - fix its problems. Insane. I know. However, why am i not giving up if we cant fix it?

To save people's sanity.

Im trying to get unbanned so i can prove i am trying to become a better person, and save people's mental health by pointing out thr flaws in:

-moderation

-people

-studios

-controversy

-kids

Its honestly pretty scary how kids are exposed to Jayst- i mean the toxicity of comic studio, and also how the experienced CS users are saying its worse than fucking Twitter.

Where can i begin with the fucking moderation? Where were they when i was getting banned? One is treated like an angel after the fucking outrageous calls he does. How long was i banned? 8 months? Yes. 8 Fucking Months. Above Half a year. One has literally made DOXXING JOKES TO ME and made me fear for my life. One in the cs discord takes someone elses side when i ask for a spoiler for Binding of Isaac (a pretty scary game). One is just fucking horrible at moderation. And one is probably biased after i did a few too many pings in a server. A server i owned btw, no one stopped me. You know who you are. :)

To name a few very shit studios,

-Probably fucking most of them

Probably 10% of the studios get used.

And a lot of them are just fucking shit.

We have a fucking NICK JR studio for like 2 YEAR OLDS.

When is there a fucking Despicable Me comic studio?

To name types of people:

Suspected pedophiles

probably pedophiles

pedophiles

nazis

racists

homophobes

transphobes

xenophobes

sexists

anti semetic

Jokes aside tho there are lot of people i named that are actually one of the things above. There are also lots of fucking toxic people.

To my next point

popular beats all apparently

If your popular, dont fear of being banned! You fucking wont be!

I can name, a shit ton of people that should be banned but wouldnt because they have a shit ton of followers and that would get a lot of people to quit the site.

-Puffyy (Should i say more?)

-Jaystar (☠️)

-Onion_Rabbit (Threw about users like hell, faked harassment, legit got people to witchhunt me (December 2022), was toxic to me before i got banned (unfairly) (July 2023)

-Deathzy (A fucking mpreg and sex comic untagged, did the same as Onion_Rabbit July 2023, has known cases of being cocky as fuck when they get their way)

-SarahKomik (Has threw about users under the bus pretending to victimise themselves over the slightest of out of context things. The current situation with Oka is one.)

-Zappy (The same as above.)

Theres a lot more! Holy fuck

This community has a complete fucking hivemind too.

When popular users say "this person has done something bad (slightly or horrible) target them guys" and when they say "dont harass this person pls" they're praying that the mods dont fucking mob them. Oh wait.

Its like a lot of people have pointed out popular beats all!

Also, this is how people say "fuck the rules" (e.g, Oka and me)

If you have any problems, comment it, You probably shouldnt have but if your a snowflake, combat me.

Oh yeah i also forgot Tammy got knocked about like the school thot at summer time with the football team. They need apologising yall. This is the reason why people quit, my point above. Tammy quitting is one of the worst things to happen to CS.

#comic studio #is fucking balls #and this one is for the champions #your mother #monke #cold monkey in the freezing cold weather someone save him

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karatekels · 10 months

Text

Fresh Start - Day 12 (Part 1)

I had to break Day 12 into 2 parts for my own sanity; I hope you don't mind!

Days 4 & 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Days 8 & 9 | Days 10 & 11 (Future updates will be added below!)

---

Day 12 - Afternoon

You are running late the next day as you drive up to Terry’s house. You hear your phone vibrate a second time from within your bag, and you just know that it’s him. Ignoring it, you listen to the car’s GPS, making the last few turns through the glamorous neighbourhood before approaching the gate outside of Terry’s home. Reaching through your window, you hit the buzzer.

“Mr. Silver’s residence. Please state your name and business.”

“Hi Victor! It’s Y/N, your favourite trespasser! I’m here to see Terry,” you announce cheerily. There is no response, but after a moment the gate swings open. Bothering Victor wasn’t as fun when you couldn’t see his reaction.

Driving through the gate, you head up the winding driveway, parking beside Terry’s Ferrari. Hoping that was alright – maybe Victor would get his revenge and have it towed – you hop out of the car with your bag, walking up to the front door.

Before you can knock, it swings open, revealing Terry with a scowl that doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I know I know, I’m late, I’m sorry!” you say apologetically as you walk past him into the front entrance, your voice echoing through the halls. This place was huge; you’d known it would be, but seeing it with your own eyes was another thing entirely. “This place is incredible,” you breathe.

“I’m glad it lives up to your standards,” comes Terry’s reply behind you. You spin around to face him, grinning at him sheepishly, giving him the thumbs up with both hands. He snatches one of your wrists up suddenly, making you flinch reflexively, but all he does is inspect your hand.

“What on earth have you done to your hands, Y/N?” he asks, looking over the collection of bandages decorating your fingers with mild concern.

“Well, you’re to blame for that, actually,” you say, laughing as you tug your arm out of his grip, giving him a brief hug. “They’re from getting your present together.”

“You got me a present?” Terry asks, a slight smile curving his lips that you find incredibly sweet. “What is it, a rabid cat you found on the street?” he jokes, reaching out once again to brush over one of the band-aids with his thumb. You can’t help but squeeze his finger lightly in response.

“Of course you’re getting a present,” you say exasperatedly, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Granted, it was difficult to come up with something for the man who has everything. What did you think I was doing yesterday?”

“I thought you were buying gifts for people back home,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

You smile sheepishly up at him. “I lied,” you announced proudly. “It’s why I was late today too, but hopefully it will all be worth it.”

“Well, what is it?”

“So impatient, Mr. Silver,” you tease, clutching your bag to you protectively. “I believe I was promised the grand tour; you hold up your end of the bargain, and then I’ll see if I even want to give you your present.”

“Well, I’d better put on one hell of a show then, hmm?” he replies, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you into his home.

---

The “grand tour” had gone on for well over two hours; not only was Terry’s home absolutely massive, but he had so much within these walls to show you. You had spent twenty minutes in the library alone, and would have been content to spend the day there, poring over his collection.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” you had said at the time, perhaps a bit more flirtatiously than was wise.

“Of course,” Terry had replied, his eyes twinkling down at you. “If I revealed everything all at once, it would be a lot more difficult to convince you to come back for a visit, now wouldn’t it?”

You hadn’t been able to stop the wide smile that broke out across your face, or the blush in your cheeks, feeling more pleased at his interest in having you back in town than upset at the thought of leaving in the first place.

After managing to get you out of the library, he had led you past the grand staircase that ran through the home – “just bedrooms and bathrooms on the third floor, nothing special” – to show you his office, a solarium filled with plants that took your breath away, and the wing of the house dedicated to his personal dojo and collection of Japanese artifacts. You had tried to convince him to show you some karate, but he refused, saying he drew the line at making a spectacle of himself. Like he wasn’t already a wonder to behold…

The first floor had also been a surprise; while obviously very opulent, it was also very warm and comfortable, including a beautiful kitchen, living room with a home theatre system (he had made sure to point out the original painting he had told you about in the museum, sending you both into a spirited debate about the value of owning originals again), and dining room. It felt lived in and happy, and you were glad for that – this was such a big space to live in alone (aside from the staff); you were grateful that it felt cozy for him.

Finally, he led you outside, through his expansive gardens which you immediately loved more than the ones you had visited with him the other day, his outdoor pool and hot tub, and then around the corner, to the path that led to the beachfront; the place where you had first met, not even ten days ago. You can hear the waves crashing against the sand in the distance as you turn to face him, his expression telling you that he was likely thinking the same thing as you were.

“It seems like so much longer than nine days since we were here last,” you comment quietly, looking up at him with a shy smile. You can’t think of another time in your life when you had gotten so close to someone so fast, but with Terry the pacing just felt natural.

“I still haven’t thanked Victor for his persistence,” Terry quips, chuckling softly. “If he hadn’t bothered reading you the Riot Act, we never would have met.”

“We truly owe him a lifetime of gratitude for manhandling me,” you giggle, before biting your lip nervously. “Well, I guess it’s appropriate to give you your gift here, then.”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a large square of canvas folded in half, and hand it to him.

“TA-DA!” you exclaim with a flourish, and he gives you an amused quirk of his lips.

“What’s this?” he asks, looking down at the fabric.

“Your present,” you answer him patiently, trying not to bounce on your toes in anticipation. You really hope he likes it…

Terry unfolds the fabric, revealing an embroidery of two white flowers, their stems twined around one another. Across the top, the scientific name, yerba mansa, is written in thread, while below, its common name, lizard’s tail, is scrawled to match.

“I took apart my already-ruined tote bag, a hotel linen napkin, and three articles of clothing!” you announce, oddly proud of your own creativity and resourcefulness. “It took a long time to get it just right – I tried to copy it exactly from the book you gave me, so it’s kind of something we can share even when I’m back home!”

Terry is frozen in place, staring at the embroidery without blinking. You feel nervous, and keep explaining.

“I was looking through the book yesterday, and this is one of the plants that they had around the Teahouse. The common name is lizard’s tail, which made me think of you telling me about Cobra Kai – I know it’s not exactly the same, but I didn’t find any plants named after snakes that seemed as symbolic as this one…” you joke, trailing off when Terry still hasn’t moved.

You try to let the silence stretch, hoping he’ll be the one to break it, but he doesn’t, still seemingly transfixed. You bite your lip.

“Okay look, you don’t like it. I get it, it’s silly. It would look better if I’d had more time, and supplies, and –”

“It’s the most perfect gift anyone has ever given me,” he interrupts you in an oddly hoarse voice.

And then his lips are on yours.

--- Terry’s POV ---

He had thought he had planned everything out to the letter, but once again he had underestimated your tendency to throw a wrench in his plans. As the clock kept ticking after noon, he became more and more nervous; he knew you hadn’t blown him off or forgotten – you were too kind and loyal for that – which made him worry that something had happened to you. He fires off a couple of texts to you to check in, but they go unread and unanswered until finally he gets the notification through the security app on his phone that someone has been let through the gate, and lets out a relieved sigh, knowing that you are here and safe. He immediately notices the bandages covering your hands, checking them over with concern and a deep desire to finally touch you again. Your explanation of the injuries being from working on a gift for him entertains him, his curiosity piqued at what sort of thing you had acquired for him. At your bratty insistence, figuratively holding his gift over your head, he takes you through his home, taking you in at every opportunity. You looked at home here, like you belonged, like he had lived his life and built up this house with you in mind years before he ever met you.

Eventually you make your way outside, through the garden and to the path to the beachfront where he had first spotted you, only days ago. This was where he would make his confession, and do everything in his power to persuade you to stay here with him, just for eternity, please.

Before he can, you insist on giving him your gift. Of course, he acquiesces; he didn’t think he could refrain from giving you anything you wanted. You hand him a piece of fabric, clearly excited about it, and he recognizes it as being the same material from your old bag. Unfolding it, he takes in the image you have made, and your words about how it would tie the two of you together, and finds it difficult to remember how to breathe.

You had made this with your own hands, using your own clothing (something Terry found incredibly intimate), pricking yourself countless times (if the number of bandages decorating your fingers was any indication) with a needle in your haste to give him a token to remember you by, stitching together a memory of your time with him… stitching your story together into a beautiful image that he knew he would cherish until the end of his days.

Something primal burns fiercely within Terry as he takes in your gift, his heart thudding painfully from the emotions raging within him. He had planned on confessing to you here, the place where you had met, but once again you had gotten the jump on him, pouring your own heart out first through the presentation of your gift. It was clear to him that you shared his feelings; there was no need for words now.

Distantly, he recognizes that you are feeling anxious and self-conscious, hearing you mumble some nonsense about him not liking your gift (as if that were a possibility), and his eyes dart over to you, taking in your concave form as your shoulders hunch in on themselves. You silly, silly girl.

“It’s the most perfect gift anyone has ever given me,” Terry admits to you, for once letting the depth of his devotion carry over into his voice; you have him completely at your mercy, at you don’t even seem to recognize it. Your head lifts, seemingly startled by his tone, or his words, or both; it didn’t matter. It was finally time.

He turns to you, reaching down to caress the side of your face and bends to claim your lips with his own. You gasp against his mouth before he feels your dainty hands grab fistfuls of his shirt and pull him down closer to you, kissing him back in a way that has his heart soaring. The fire and passion that you regularly let burst out of you on a whim flows through your lips into the kiss, making him wonder if you loved him as much as he adored you.

Eagerly, he slides his hand from the side of your face to tangle in your hair at the back of your head, the way he had been aching to for what seemed like forever, his other hand coming around your waist, clutching you to him and lifting you onto your toes. You let out a whimper that nearly has him throwing you over his shoulder to take you inside, but he resists, wanting to savour the moment he had been hoping for since he had met you.

He runs his tongue along your lower lip, teasing the spot that you liked to bite when you were nervous or worried about something, and you deepen the kiss, stroking his tongue with your own and sliding your hands up his chest to twine around his neck.

As always, you seem incapable of going without teasing him, testing his control, and he sees no need to restrain himself any further. Sliding his hands down to your hips, Terry lifts you up easily, his hands supporting you with a firm grip on your thighs. You cling to him for support, your legs coming around his waist like they were made to be there, and he growls possessively, walking you both towards the stairs, kissing you desperately without pausing for breath.

“No, wait,” you say, breaking the kiss and squirming out of his grip, your feet back on the ground once more as you throw your arms out towards him. Terry allows you to move back a couple of steps, though he isn’t sure how long he can keep himself from grabbing hold of you again as he observes the way that you’re panting for breath through your kiss-swollen lips. Christ, you were beautiful.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, we don’t need to rush this,” he purrs soothingly, stepping towards you.

“Terry, no. We can’t do this,” you insist, your body turning in on itself again, like you were trying to shrink yourself down to escape his gaze. As if it was possible for him to overlook you.

“We can, we should, we will,” he croons passionately, trying to close the distance between you while you back away from him until your back hits a tree. He takes the opportunity to cage you against it with his arms, his forehead resting on yours. “I don’t know why we waited so long, but there’s still time to make up for it,” he says softly, gently taking your chin in one hand and tilting your face up to look at him. You shudder.

“We don’t have time, Terry!” you cry out, though your voice is still soft. “I leave in two days!”

“So stay,” he murmurs, looking deeply into your eyes. It would be no problem; on the contrary, it would be the ideal situation. He would keep you here in his home until it was your home as well. He would take care of everything.

“I can’t!” Your breathing is becoming frantic, like you’re starting to hyperventilate. But what could you possibly be scared of?

“Of course you can, my dear. We were meant to be.”

“I can’t just up and leave home, Terry, it’s crazy. We barely know each other.”

Well, that was hardly true. He was still trying to understand all of your strange, unpredictable eccentricities, but that was what the future was for. And you already knew him better than anyone else did.

“We know enough,” he insists, his thumbs wiping away your tears as they spill over. He understands that this must be overwhelming for you and tries his best to console you. “I’ve known enough for awhile now, and I think you have too. I know it’s crazy, Y/N, and scary, and fast, but you know this is right. I know you do.”

“I have to go,” you say decisively, your voice suddenly clear and determined as you slip under his arm and make for the stairs. He catches your hand before you can get away, keeping you in place. You couldn’t leave; it wasn’t part of the plan, Terry thinks, his heart somehow sinking into his stomach and rising to catch in his throat all at once as he starts to panic.

“We can figure this out together,” he whispers, desperation evident in his voice. His eyes scan your body, looking for any sign of your faltering resolve that he could cling to.

“Please let me go, Terry,” you breathe brokenly through your tears. “I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

He releases your hand as if you’ve burned him; something about you crying and begging him to let you go has sent a jolt through his system. You back up to the stairs, your expression pained and surprised, as if you thought he was going to keep you prisoner here or something. And why wasn’t he? You were clearly confused, you just needed some time to sit with the situation and think things over, clearly…

He watches you scramble up the stairs and out of sight, unsure of why he can’t seem to force his body to move, to go after you.

You don’t come back, and Victor finds him sitting on the stairs some time later, holding onto a scrap of embroidered fabric for dear life.

---

(I'm so sorry; this hurt me more than it hurt you)

#terry silver #thomas ian griffith #terry silver x reader #cobra kai #eventual smut #heartbreak #heartache #fresh start

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