#something about the only hood she had been to was a neighborhood??? or something along those lines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chanranghaeys · 1 month ago

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🍊 "no promises."

pairing: idol!seungkwan x afab!reader word count: 1.2k+ tags: fluff, angst (ish) ending, comfort (ish i tried), another slice of life kinda like eavesdropping where you really shouldn’t haha, i wrote this with the idea of seungkwan going home to jeju after moonbin’s passing so if that’s smthn triggering here’s a heads up

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“do you really have to go?”

“what kind of question is that? of course i have to go.”

she sighs. “i know. i just wanted to ask something cliche.”

she looks at him and sees all the little mannerisms he does cross the expressions on his face. he pursed his lips in a pout, tucked his tongue in his cheek, bit his lower lip, and looked anywhere except at her.

“whoever you are and whatever you choose to be, i know there’s a reason why fate brought us to meet. never forget that,” he states as his hand intertwines with hers.

“even if we choose to stay in different places?” she asks as she lays her head on his shoulder. she only does this because she can’t bear to look at him.

“especially so. call me a romantic. besides, at least we’re in the same country.”

“but jeju is still jeju. seoul is still seoul.”

“and you’re you. and i’m me.”

“yes. you are you. how can i ever forget that?”

he laughs. “no, no! i mean you’re you, that headstrong and determined person i have the pleasure to be with right now. i’m just someone who happens to be an idol but really…i’m just a normal human being.”

“so am i.”

“but you’re a person who is blessed to never have a million cameras flashing and blinking in your eyes. they hurt, you know.”

“remember, you chose this life.”

he sighs. “yeah, i know.”

she stays there beside him in silence.

“on the bright side, you’ll always get to see me. just get on youtube or turn on the television.”

“it won’t compare to this.” she brings his hand closer to her lips, kissing the back of it and lingering there.

he finally brings himself to look at her. she had the back of his hand resting on her cheek this time, staring out to the distance toward the sunset.

“i’m sorry about binnie. i truly am. i never knew him but just by your stories, it felt as if he was still right here with us. just over there, in the next neighborhood, waiting for your call and we could go eat ramyeon by the beach later. i hope you returning home brought you comfort.”

“it did. it did. it made me so happy, despite the sadness. i’m reminded that everything was too fast-paced for so long—too fast that i didn’t even bother to slow down and see things for what they were. okay, i get why you decided to move here to jeju.”

“i wouldn’t have realized how fast life was going either if it weren’t for that incident. i wish it happened sooner than later, honestly. staying in seoul ain’t worth it for me.”

“that incident. yep. who would’ve thought i’d see you again after that? least especially here of all places.”

“who would’ve thought.” she finally looked up at him, finding that he had his eyes on her all along. his hood was up, the chill of the coming night blowing through their multiple layers of clothing. his round eyes were kind, his lips were turned up in a small smile. they used the cold as an excuse to get closer, wishing they would never need to come apart.

who would’ve thought that this much would happen in the span of a few weeks?

he brought his head closer to hers, partly as an attempt to keep her warm when he saw her nose and cheeks pink with the cold, and partly as a way to use his lips to kiss the chill away. he knew the warmth that spread from both your hearts when he did so would be enough to keep this cold away.

he rested his forehead on hers, taking in as much of her as he could, as long as he still could. “you know i can’t promise you anything.”

“i know. i can’t promise you anything, either.”

“is it too self-destructive of us to keep thinking this way? shouldn’t i be the happy one?”

“no, i think you’ve always been more realistic than the others. you’re just being that right now.”

“you know, i already saw my upcoming schedules for when i return. it’s almost as if i want to just hide away in my room here at home again.”

“i can’t even begin to imagine what it would look like.” she chuckles.

“you know on the calendar app how it’s supposed to be neat blocks? for some reason, they all overlap. but they work? i don’t understand it either? this is why i leave all that to the manager hyungs. practice and performing and variety take up too much of my head as is.”

“ya,” she says, using her finger to guide his chin and forcing his gaze back to hers. she starts tracing lazy circles on the apple of his cheek before he catches her hand and kisses her palm, peppering kisses down to her wrist. he couldn’t get enough of her—as he should. he couldn’t believe he was leaving her behind.

“yaaaaaa! seungkwan-ah!” she laughs in protest as he almost tackles her with kisses to her cheeks, her chin, her nose. quick pecks to her lips prevent her from saying more in between her giggles. night was falling, the street lamps started glowing. his hood was still up. and he didn’t care who he was at that moment. he was just a young man in love with a woman he saw the beauty of hope in.

when he finally stops his surprise attack, he has her in his arms and resting against his chest. “i never pegged you to be a guy all about pda, seungkwannie.”

“i’m not. it’s just…you.” his arms instinctively wrap tighter around her. she hopes he never has to let go.

“don’t forget to rest, okay?” she looks back at him to prove her point was serious. “really. do not forget to rest.”

“alright~”

“don’t do your aegyo on me! i’m serious. please. i don’t want to see you again so sad.”

“you won’t. i promise. i will rest. i will be better. for carats, for my members, for my family and friends, for binnie. for you. for myself.”

she nods in approval. “alright~”

“if you keep up with that aegyo, i will eat you alive right here.”

“oh, seungkwan, you wouldn’t. not here. not in public.”

he raises his eyebrow. “wanna bet?”

she blushes more than what the cold could do. “stop it!”

he laughs and settles in a comfortable silence having her in his arms, just like they’ve done on countless other days in the calm of jeju—the calm of the island they called home.

“i couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

she hums in response, a small nod accompanying it.

“thank you.”

she held onto his hand tight. “don’t forget me.” tears threatened to fall.

“i could never.” more tears threatened to fall.

“we’re still in the same country.”

“exactly.”

“i’ll go to you.”

“i’d rather go to you. i get to go to jeju too.”

“you know that’s not realistic.”

“i know. i don’t care.”

“i care. i will go to you.”

“promise?”

she stays silent.

“no promises. right.” he sighs.

“i can’t promise. but i will go to you.”

“i will wait. but…no promises.”

night has fallen. the street lamps are glowing. their hoods are up. and they’re just two people in love, with no promises to keep.

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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 2 months ago

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The Girl Next Door

Pairing: Crazy!Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Notes: This is accidetally a series maybe from he request I recived about the movie The Boy Next Door? I cannot start another series but here I am apparently

Hi! I promise you I'm writing. Like my inbox is full! But this has been the craziest week and it's going to be that way for a little longer and I just don't to right write now and it's f r u s t r a t i n g

P.S I wrote the right write in the wrong place hahahaha

Eddie looks up from his weeds as a large moving truck backs up to the garage of the house next door. It had been empty for a couple months after the Andersons had moved out and they’d been trying to sell it.

There was nothing wrong with it, they just wanted too freaking much, and when they finally came down in price, it got snatched up pretty quickly. It was an overall nice house, he’d been inside it before, two beds two baths, a freaking pool. He’d have to get in good with the new family that lived there… and what perfect way than to offer a little help unloading.

He stands up, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and stretching a little. The white tank top he’s in is already covered in dirt anyway, no need to change. He dusts off his gloves as he walks toward the new owners, rehearsing his “welcome to the neighborhood” speech in his head

“Hi I’m Eddie, wow your wife has amazing taste in furniture!” He mumbles to himself as he walks up to the truck. He drags his hand along the side of it as he comes around to the closed hatch

“Hi there!” He calls out to the man who’s standing in front of it “Eddie Diaz” he holds his hand out

“Kent” He shakes Eddie’s hand “Jonathan, You live close by?” He looks around at the surrounding houses

“Actually-“ Eddie throws a thumb back “Right there. Thought I’d be neighborly, maybe offer some help for a bit?”

“Oh man that would be so cool if you could” He grips his shoulder, smiling. Jonathan seems nice enough, he’s a bit older, maybe in his mid-40s. His hair started to grey a bit but he still looks pretty good.

He pulls out the ramp and Eddie walks up first, throwing the large door open and taking a second to look at everything.

It’s all very�� girly. And that’s really the only way he can explain it, but it looks so meticulously picked out, everything matches something, you can clearly see the bedroom furniture pieces and living room pieces

“Your wife has interesting tastes” He comments, because what the hell else do you say… she must be a young thing with the sheer amount of different freaking colors.

Well damn good for you Jonathan.

“Oh! This isn’t my wife’s stuff, this is-“

He’s interrupted by a loud honking noise as a car comes speeding down the road, a powder blue Volkswagen bug with a tan hood down comes screeching to a halt. Some song with a good beat is playing loudly in a language he can’t even understand

“We’re here!!” He hears a voice cheer and a dog barking from outside of the truck.

“There she is” Jonathan chuckles as he walks around the side of the truck. Before Eddie can even exit the truck he’s knocked over onto a couch by a large ball of fur that’s decided he’s the perfect place to sit down. He holds the dog in his arms, who apparently has no problem with the fact that he’s a complete stranger

“Hey! Vulpix get back here!!” Eddie can hear footsteps but he can’t see who they belong to around the panting pup in his lap

“Vulpix! Get off you crazy jerk!” You snap your fingers and “Vulpix” your Labrador Retriever jumps down and comes over to sit at your feet with a big huff

“I’m so sorry I thought it was just us, so I let go of the leash! He’s been dying to get on the truck. I think he likes the ramp.”

Eddie honestly stopped listening at “Vulpix” his heart must have fully stopped beating as he stared at you. You’re smaller than he is, so much smaller actually he wonders how you handle all that dog. He wonders if you need help handling all that dog

Do you have a boyfriend? It doesn’t fucking matter, he can get past that.

Is Jonathan your boyfriend?? No. No, he’s probably your father… that’s probably what he was going to say. Wait- fuck wait

“I’m Y/N!” He zones back in just in time, looking at your hand out in front of him. He takes it and gets off of your couch, your very fluffy couch. He really hopes he didn’t get any dirt on it

“Eddie” He shakes your hand a bit dumbly, he’s melting more and more with every word out of your mouth, you could be reading the dictionary and he’d know every definition by heart

He’s still shaking your hand as your father comes over now, rubbing Vulpix’s head.

“Mr. Diaz graciously offered to help move you in honey! Sorry for the interruption Eddie, but this is my daughter, she’s the one moving here”

Eddie nods at your dad… still shaking your hand. You tilt your head at him, a little smirk on your face

“You maybe wanna let go? So we can get started?”

No, no he didn’t want to let go. No way in hell was he ever letting go. You didn’t know it yet, but god did Y/N Diaz have a nice little ring to it…

A few hours later and you’re all sprawled out on the living room furniture. Eddie purposely sat on the couch with you so you’d put your legs up in his lap, actually, he put them in his lap on his own, you’d put your feet on the floor when you flopped down and he pulled them right up, saying it was your couch, your house and he was cool with it.

So, freaking cool with it.

“Dinners on me kids, you want anything in particular?” Your dad asks from the floor and you groan sorely as you turn to look at Eddie

“You’re the expert, any ideas?”

“I mean I wouldn’t say I’m an expert” He rubs your leg subtly, his fingers tracing over the smooth skin, like he’s just absentmindedly thinking

“I mean, pizza feels like moving food not gonna lie” He chuckles and you give him a thumbs-up

“Hard agree. Got any good places around here?” You pull out your phone and start looking at places and he eases your phone from your hands and sets it down on your torso

“Leo’s is literally the best, I can place the order and pick it up. That’ll give us all time to freshen up and maybe we can eat it at my place in 45 minutes? You know, where there are plates?”

You kick at his thigh and he smirks, using that as an excuse to slap your thigh back, just so he can feel you, his hand lingers there as he looks up at you with a devilish smirk. The sound of his palm hitting your skin sends a shiver up his spine because he could think of so many other things he’d love to listen to

“Plates sound great,” you say sassily, putting your hands on your hips and he gets up, letting your feet fall to the floor. Jonathan hands him a $50 and points at him

“Now don’t you go running off with that” he jokes and Eddie smiles and slips his hands into his pockets

“How could I?” He backs up toward the door and pushes it open with his side “You know where I live”

His heart flutters when you laugh, it makes him kinda dizzy and very giddy. He leaves your house and jogs over to his own to take a shower. He orders the pizza and tosses his phone onto the bed before closing his curtains, he’s thinking ahead this time, planning just a little more than usual.

Because your bedrooms are across from one another.

He peeks through the curtains real quick just making sure it was the same setup he was used to from the old neighbors. He’s not really sure why he’s second-guessing that as he wanders into the bathroom and starts stripping down slowly, he’ll admit it, he purposely put the boxes marked “bedroom” in that room. They’d been using it as an office, and seeing as the two rooms were basically the same size… he just thought he’d give you a little push in the right direction.

Stepping into the shower and letting the cool water rain down over his head, He turns it colder as his thoughts drift over to you because how could they not? He’d been watching you bend over and lift those boxes all afternoon, those tight yoga shorts had him disappearing faster into the truck and helping your dad bring in the couches faster than it took him to get the boner in the first place

He presses his fist to the shower wall and rests his forehead against it

“Shit. Shit” He curses as he grabs his cock, stroking his soapy hand over it. He pants against the wall as he tugs on his cock, jerking it quickly, he doesn’t have the time to be leisurely about this, you’re waiting.

He thrusts his hips, groaning deeply as he fucks his hand. If he thinks hard enough he can imagine your smaller hand, wrapped around his cock, your bare chest pressed to his as you giggle like a little cutie and tease him

He can imagine thrusting between your thighs, feeling your clit rubbing against his cock as he thrusts faster and gets you both off. He wonders if you’re a virgin, he hopes you are for his own sake really. Because imagining other men touching you? Another man putting his disgusting ass hands on his baby. He grunts angrily as his fist comes up to slam against the shower wall, the doors shake a little as his shoulders heave, and his mind is all over the place, switching between still dreaming of you underneath him, squirming and crying as he impales you in the shower and wondering if another man has had you before

He’d make you pay for that, just a little.

He finishes washing up and shuts off the shower, he ruined it on his own really. He could have finished and been satisfied but nooo… he had to think of other shit. He steps out of the shower, wraps the towel around his waist, and walks over to the vanity

“Come on man, get it together” He scolds his reflection as he leans over the sink, his palms flat on the counter. He takes another towel and fluffs his hair, trying to dry it when he hears the doorbell

“Are you-“ he looks around for a second, but all of his clothes are in the dryer. Well, shit this is about to be awkward. He fastens the towel around his waist as tight as he can and puts the other around his neck. The doorbell rings again and he rolls his eyes

“I’m coming!” He yells as he strides down the corridor

“Jesus-“ he swings the door open and there you stand, holding a backpack in front of you

“Hey sorry, I was wondering if-“ Your mouth falls open a little as you stare at the Adonis in front of you. His towel came loose as he was walking, allowing the nearly perfect framing of the deep v-shape of his body. The happy trail nearly sends you into cardiac arrest as Eddie leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms and studying his nails

“You know…” he makes his voice deeper and he can see the little shiver that goes through you as it drops an octave or two

“I’d let you take a picture if you asked nicely”

“Huh?” You stare at him a little dumbly and he can feel his serotonin shooting through the roof. He puts his finger under your chin and closes your mouth

“You’re cute when you’re flustered” He steps aside and reaches for your arm, pulling you slowly into his house

“What a stupid lamb” He mumbles as he shuts the door and walks away from you. It’s taking every bone in his body not to drag you into his bedroom lock the door and never let you out

“Patience Eddie…” He reprimands that caged animal within him, jumping at the chance of you two being alone

“So whenever you can talk again-” He starts to walk back to his room “You just let me know what you need sweet thing”

He purposely starts to mess with his towel before he gets into his bedroom, and the way he looks back at you, his eyes flashing with a deep-seated hunger? He can swear he almost sees the same look in yours.

He’s almost done getting ready when there’s the littlest knock at his door, he snorts as he pulls his jeans over his ass and zips them

“Come in”

The door creeks open and he turns around, grabbing his shirt from the bed and smiling at you

“What can I do for you?”

He grins as you walk in with your eyes shut, feeling around so you don’t walk into anything. He takes the opportunity to step forward and your palms collide with his chest. He captures them before you can yank them away and your eyes pop open as you feel his pecks under your hands

“Uhh- um??“ you stammer and he looks down at you, stepping closer. Fuck he loves your size difference

“You realize by the time you finally get out whatever it is that you need, I’m going to have to leave to pick up the pizza?”

He lets go of one of your hands and strokes your cheek with the back of his finger before he tilts your chin up to him

“Come on Y/N,” He says it just the littlest bit sternly and he grins at the way you melt a little, blinking slowly. Good, you can take direction… that’s going to be important.

“Can I use your shower?”

Now it’s his turn to be a complete mess. You?? You want to use his shower??

“I'm done for the day, pretty tired. My dad is setting up my bed frame and I don’t want to go to bed dirty and you have everything I’ll need and I know it’s a lot to ask considering-“

“Down the hall to the left” He interrupts you, and he doesn’t want to because he loves hearing you babble… but his jeans are starting to get a little tight and if you don’t leave the room he’s going to jump you, he’s going to throw you down on that bed and-

“Thank you!! Thank you so so much!” You scurry from his bedroom/

He knows he fucking knows this is dangerous. But he also knows it’s his damn house and he can do as he pleases

Kind of.

The door hinges won’t squeak, he’s sure they won’t he’d just fixed and oiled them up a few days ago. He pushes the door open just a few inches, testing it before opening it just wide enough to slip in. You’re singing that same song from earlier and he’s getting distracted by the sweet sounds of your voice and oddly impressed you know the lyrics

“Fucking focus” He growls at himself as he hides behind the closet wall. He peeks around the corner, he knows you won’t see him…not from this angle.

But fuck can he see you

He palms at the front of his jeans and unzips them slowly while pulling out his cock, the tip leaks onto the floor as he starts to stroke himself. He watches you shampooing your hair, your breasts bouncing as you scrub it in.

He’d shampoo your hair for you, condition it too, and help you rinse the soap from your body. His hand moves faster as he dreams of holding the detachable head to your clit and watching you shudder and shake in his arms as he makes sure you’re nice and clean down there.

He bites down on his fist as he cums hard in his hand, he hasn’t cum like this in a long time. He feels like a stupid teenager as he desperately fucks his hand and fights not to moan your name.

His legs are jello as he leans against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. His head tilts back as he stares into space, enjoying the steamy atmosphere of the room as he comes down from his high

He looks down at his hands, wiping them on the front of his jeans quickly (great he has to freaking change) when he notices it

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck fuck shit fuck” He breathes as he snatches your panties from the floor and slips from the bathroom and quietly shuts the door.

“Maybe she won’t notice. Maybe it’s fine” he holds the pink cotton in his hands and looks at the cum stains on it. It… looks so fucking good there and it takes a second for him to snap out of it before he decides to get off with them all over again.

“It’s. Fine.” He takes a deep breath “So fine.”

He decides to change his jeans and stuff your panties in the bottom of his hamper. He’ll clean them and return them! You know- eventually. But it’s fine, you won’t notice, you won't question it and it’s fine”

Getting out of the danger zone is probably the best idea. He goes into the kitchen and stands at the counter, flexing his fingers before pouring himself a cup of lemonade. Personally, he’d like something a bit stronger to take the edge off but hey he has to drive. He’s just going over his monitor set up when he hears the soft pad of your feet coming down the hallway, your backpack in your hands once again

“Seriously, thanks again for everything” you sigh as you walk over to him, he can feel the warmth of the shower you were just in radiating from your body

“Yeah no, no it’s not a problem I keep telling you. It’s nice to have a new neighbor.” He sips his lemonade, watching you turn your head to the side as you look out of the kitchen window. Were you seriously not going to say anything about the fact that you were absolutely missing your underwear? Did you even notice he wonders? Maybe you didn’t… huh.

Eddie entrusts you with his house key as he goes to pick up the pizza, he walks you back over to your house and your father volunteers to go with him, to give you some space to unpack a few things or to just breathe for a bit.

“You know, I’m glad we met Eddie. You seem like a pretty okay guy”

Jonathan holds the pizzas in his lap on the way back home and Eddie smiles

“That means a lot, sir. You know you two seem pretty okay yourselves.” He jokes as he turns onto your street.

“As a dad, I- well I worry about my little girl you know? One day I’m teaching her how to ride a bike and the next she's moving into a place all on her own. I’m worried about her… and, I hope it’s not too much to ask Eddie, he’ll it already seems like it is.”

“Hey, you can ask me anything. Honestly.” He keeps his tone smooth and level, turning his head to look at him for a second.

“I think she’d kill me if she knew I asked so maybe we keep this between us… would you look out for her? Just kinda check in from time to time maybe?”

It’s like this relationship has been handed to him on a silver platter. He pulls into his driveway and turns off the car, holding onto the gearshift for a moment. Her father already trusted him, and honestly, that was the biggest hurdle he was worried about.

“Mr. Kent, it would be my honor to watch out for your little girl. I’m a firefighter, it’s kind of what I do”

Jonathan chuckles and pats Eddie’s hand “Enough with the Mr. Kent, it’s a little stuffy for my tastes, son. Jonathan or John is perfectly fine”

“Hey, have you seen my phone anywhere?” You pop your head into the kitchen and Eddie shrugs

“No sorry, uh you good with three to start?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll have my dad call it again I guess”

His fingers are practically itching as he looks down at your phone further back on the counter… you weren’t going to be back for a few minutes and that was enough time he was sure of it, he knew this process like the back of his hand. Just…hold the volume buttons and click the side three times and his software would show up. Really all it took was him placing his phone on top of yours and it would do the rest for him

It was absolutely for your safety, you were new here. He needed to know where you were and who you were with, your father asked him to look out for you after all. And who was he to deny a worried father?

[100%] flashes across the screen and Eddie slots his phone back in his pocket. He’d have to set it up within the next four hours before it erased itself. He puts a few napkins over it and goes back to plating the food when it starts ringing

“Oh, there it is!” You laugh as you come back around into the kitchen

“Aw shit, sorry sweetheart, I must’ve covered it earlier” he hands you your plate and picks up the other two and you smile at him, bumping his side with yours

“You big jerk, how do I know you weren’t creeping through it?” You laugh as he follows you into the living room

“Who me? Worried I’ll see your internet history?” He grins devilishly as he sets both plates down and your father slides one over

“I don’t think I want to know what you two are talking about” He chuckles as he digs in. It’s pleasant getting to know you, he tries not to seem like he’s hanging from your every word, your every breath, especially with your father sitting right there.

No, he needs to play it cool

“So first night in your house all alone kiddo, you excited?”

“Kinda” you smile a little “Also kinda nervous. I’m glad I have Vulpix with me…” You look down at your pizza for a minute, because it’s sinking you will be alone for the first time tonight

“Hey you have me too” Eddie reaches out and rests his hand on your arm, squeezing lightly

“You have my number and I’m right across the lawn! You call me anytime and I’ll come right over okay?”

“Oh come on Eddie” you scoff a little, missing the way his eyes darken when you move your arm to eat your pizza

“There’s no way I’m bothering you! You just helped a complete stranger move in, let me use your shower, and went and got us dinner” you list, ticking off your fingers

“That your dad paid for” he chuckles lightly, sipping his drink

“Okay so? I couldn’t ask any more of you! I doubt we’ll even talk much after this” You smile a little sadly and he has to take a minute to reign it in, he doesn’t even blink, just kind of stares at his cup for a second

“I didn’t- that was rude-“ you start, putting your hands up and he comes back, his head snapping up to you

“No no- god no it wasn’t you’re- you’re probably right. I doubt you want to stay in contact with me and-“

“Uh more like the other way around!” You laugh “Of course I want us to be friends”

“So do I” he shakes his head, laughing lightly “Consider me your new best friend okay? You won’t be able to get rid of me!”

Ever.

“Plus you have a pool” He adds playfully and you perk up, your hand shooting out to whack his arm

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow! Maybe keep me company while I unpack? And we can go swimming after!!”

He can feel his heart beating in his ears as he nods along with your offer “I’d love to! I’ll help you unpack too if you want. Actually, scratch that. You don’t have a choice”

#words by rhys #911 x reader #rhys writes #eddie diaz #911 fox #eddie diaz x reader #911 show #911 abc

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 4 months ago

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the leaves were sparkling

cw. olnf week 2024, pre!release, step 1, day 1

pairing. sparkling leaves

notes. it's august 3rd and @olnfweek2024 is finally upon us. i'm not gonna lie, i'm the most boring our life player. with my favs, i just play as myself and act accordingly to the age i would have been at the time. across both games, tamarack is my absolute favorite lead and i can't not indulge in the shenanigans. not apologizing for my shitty editing skills lmao

Standing in the fork of a road in the autumnal forest of Golden Grove, Nyla feels more like the protagonist of a movie than a normal person.

Gone is the familiar scenery of Richmond, California and the people that came along with it. Richmond came with honking cars, oil-stained parking lots and the turbulence of being an inner city kid. Golden Grove, Oregon is practically a new world in comparison to the hoods Mom normally could afford to live in. And if it wasn’t less-than-savory neighborhoods with gang violence and shady neighbors they were staying in, it was Grandma or Grandpa's.

It isn’t the first time Nyla’s moved out of California but this time feels so different.

Everything about this is different.

They weren’t moving into the house of extended family Nyla only knew through stories beforehand. Or moving in with either of her grandparents. As far as Nyla knew, they didn’t have family in Oregon.

It’s just be her and Mom.

And we’re in a house!

A house not an apartment.

An actual home not temporary residence.

Nyla would have her own room, her own space, her own everything and it was far, far away from the normality that had been Nyla’s life until today.

And it’s just ours! At least once the real estate person finally came and let the both of them in the house.

Until then, Nyla was free to play in the neighborhood and she wasn’t restricted to Mom’s normal “you can go from that corner to that corner”. At least, she wouldn’t be as soon as they’d moved in properly and gotten to know all they needed to know about the mountain town. Who cared about the town itself when there was a veritable forest to explore right behind their new house, however.

In the forest, she’d find an answer to the mystery at present.

Hello.

Go out.

Hideout.

Nyla.

Nyla reads over what had been a paper airplane once more.

Hello.

Go out.

Hideout.

Nyla.

What does it mean?! Perhaps this is how Jack felt when he was equal parts confused and enraptured by the lights and toys of Christmantown.

Strange paper in hand while she stands between two roads, it’s not hard to believe Nyla's life has suddenly become a movie. Was this some strange code left to her by the mythical beings of Golden Grove? Where is this hideout she is supposed to go to? Would this entire journey take her into one of the fantasy worlds she adored reading about? There is only one way to find out and it all comes down to whichever path she takes.

“I’m right-handed, so I should go to the right, maybe,” Nyla mumbles thoughtfully. Talking to oneself is an easy habit to develop when your many siblings live far away from you and you have to make company somehow. Nyla loves to talk, she doubts she’ll ever be incapable of shutting up and being quiet like a good chunk of her relatives desired. “But I always go right though.” Because I’m right-handed.

Going right has never steered Nyla wrong before.

In spite of her tried and true method, brown eyes can’t help wandering to the path less traveled. She can feel it in her bones, something really really good is going to happen if she goes left.

Magical adventures never happen to characters like Chihiro or Kiki or Yusuke because they decided to do what they’d normally do. Chihiro got into the spirit world because she took a risk, Kiki met Tombo because she left earlier than planned and Yusuke would have never become a spirit detective if he never pushed that kid from getting hit by a car.

Adventures come from being different.

“I’m going left!” Nyla announces to no one in particular, wide-eyed in her excitement. Humming Smile Bomb obnoxiously loud, Nyla continues her quest.

What if this really is her moment, Nyla wonders.

What if she manages to stumble onto something mystical and normally unseen? In a forest like this, it’s easy to imagine being like Alice and falling into a rabbit hole into Wonderland. Or perhaps she’d find a cave with a sleeping dragon. Or perhaps she’d even stumble upon a faerie revelry and dance with the queen?

All of the aforementioned scenarios are easy to picture in a place like this.

There were no forests in Richmond, at least not where she lived.

Nor were things so magical.

Reds and golds blend into one another, mushrooms dot the forest floor. Living with the faerie folk crosses Nyla’s mind more than once as she takes in the sights and sounds of the forest.

Then she hears it; a clatter.

With as much reckless abandon a ten year old can possess, Nyla walks off the dirt path to find the source of the noise. Thin branches and crunchy leaves splinter underfoot and her heartbeat quickens in anticipation as she reaches a cluster of trees akin to the Circle of Holiday Towns. This is magic.

It has to be, Nyla thinks, as the golden rays that peek through the canopy paints everything in a pale glow. This is a place where faeries have their revels. The trees were harmoniously aligned and leaf piles dotted the ground. What if faeries are in them? Faeries are supposed to be good at hiding, Nyla remembers from her stories as she follows her instincts to one pile in particular. This one has a faerie.

Fate doesn’t give Nyla a second later to act on her faerie tale references.

“Hello!” Leaves red, brown and orange rise in a whirlwind as a kid around Nyla’s age leapt out of a pile, arms raised high. Brown stares into red as everything they’d thrown up gently drifts back to earth and just when it seems magic can’t be anymore real, their chests are aglow in berry-reds.

This is the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.

Sparkling, everything is sparkling.

It’s like all the sparkle in their fluffy gold hair was sharing its glow on everything surrounding it. The air and the leaves resting around them. If this is what magic is supposed to be, Nyla doesn’t feel the urge to argue against it.

“You’re so pretty,” Nyla breathes, brown cheeks warm.

“No you!” The sparkly-haired stranger giggles, round cheeks flushed pink as she beams in return.

I met a girl I'm gonna marry.

soulmate au: when you meet your soulmate, your chest glows. one of my favorite spins on soulmate verse that i rarely ever see, so i decided to whip it out for my olnf week debut! within my playthrough of olnf, it's love at first sight for the two of us, kid nyla knew she was marrying this girl when they grew up.

#look it's self shipping hours #olnf week 2024 #sparkling leaves #our life: now & forever #olnf #tamarack baumann

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anmarifromearth · 5 months ago

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Chapter 1: Beaux-Arts Note: You can read the finished version on Quotev, but for Tumblr, I'd like to upload the chapters one by one.

WC: 4.3K -- Masterlist -- featuring art by @amalthiaph

She leaned in closer, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, "since this house was built long ago, did you know that there were passages in between the walls?"

“I live with my grandmother,” I told the cab driver, who’s too inquisitive to my liking. I dug my nails on the window tint, trying to peel it away, “And she doesn’t want to talk about my parents.” Thinking being too inquisitive isn’t worthy of a broken window tint, I chose to just lay my head on the window and watch the old townhouses pass by. “Maybe I don’t have any.”

The cab driver chuckled, “That’s impossible.” He looked at me through the back mirror, “You can’t just spawn out of nowhere. Maybe you got your eyes from her.”

I sat up, with the wish that he was right. I like to think she has blue eyes, blonde hair, and skin too light that would make Snow White run for her money. I shook my head, that sight was just a dream. I’m talking about that one night I was wrapped in something like a sack or a tablecloth as I walked down the pavement in our neighborhood, the delicious smell of after rain engulfing my senses. I looked up at the hooded figure that held my hand. The orange streetlight only blessed me with a few strands of blonde hair and green medieval dress. And that was the end of the dream.

The cab driver cleared his throat. “We have arrived,” he said, as he entered a beautiful rusty gate and into a path that leads to a forest. It was an alternate of dark oak trees and eerie statues that have seen better days. This is not a good entrance to a prestigious school.

One thing that caught my attention is that old clock tower already visible above the dark oak leaves. It’s much like the Big Ben, if the Big Ben was not a tourist favorite, and is allergic to new paint, and did not bother to have an hour hand.

“Do you like the clock tower?” the cab driver noticed that I had been silently judging it.

“Is it even a clock when it doesn’t have an hour hand?” I clapped back.

He chuckled as he shook his head, “I supposed it isn’t.”

“Do you know what happened to it?” I asked, leaning to the driver’s seat.

“I have no idea, love,” he said. He lifted a hand off of the wheel to point at the end of the road. Maybe I have been too rough, I thought, as we stepped out of the forest of doom and into the yard of an old but magnificent building. The yard has bushes shaped into different shapes lined up along the path walks. There are brick stairs of about seven steps before the covered entrance to Wessman School of Arts.

The building is characterized by its symmetry, making it satisfying to look at. It has arched windows and arched doors so intricately designed. There is somewhat a hierarchy of spaces that made it easy to identify the floor levels—which are the classrooms, the library, and the dormitories without even looking at my student manual.

I jumped out of my seat as the cab driver honked its horn. “That’s 30 bucks,” he said smilingly, watching me close my jaw that I didn’t know has been opened since I saw the manor-turned-school.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as I shuffled through my wallet for thirty dollars. “The school is beautiful. Was it Beaux-Arts?” He gave me a raised eyebrow. I pointed to the building before us, “It’s raised by a few steps, arched windows, pedimented doors, symmetry and lines?”

His eyes show he was somehow in between clueless and wondering how I knew about all that, but he simply chose to shake his head as he extended his hand for the money, “It’s built in the 1800s. They call it Velvet Manor.”

“Why is it the school named Wessman, then?” I asked as I began putting on my maroon blazer, a small part of our school uniform.

“I only arrived here in 2003,” he said as he opened the door to his side. “I wish I knew,” I heard him say in a much louder voice as he walked over to my side and swung my door open. “My best guess is that the headmaster is the descendant of the Velvets,” he began as I stepped out of the vehicle, “and is not polite enough to name it after them.” He gently closed the door, “Or at least have the clock fixed.”

A small smile paints my face as I stuffed both hands on the blazer pockets, and looked up at the stupid clock tower. It's not as big as the Big Ben; it has a diameter of more or less two meters. I frown at the glare of the sun and grunted as I held up my wristwatch to check the time. Five minutes before the assembly, I mutter to myself. I pick up my maroon-colored luggage bag I adorned with little stickers and listened to the small tapping of the keychains that creates a subtle background music to my walk up the entrance. If only I knew this had stairs in front, I would have opted for a hand carried bag.

The keychains jiggle as I pulled the bag up one step, then another, then another. I have not yet gained any distance, when a boy ran past me and knocked me back down. I rolled on the stone pavement, my luggage bag landing on my right leg. Annoyed, I pushed my bag upright but gravity pulled it back down. I let out an even louder grunt, warranting a questioning look from other students as they looked down on me, looking like a wet puppy on the stone floor.

I felt weight off of my right leg as a hand pick up my luggage and set it on the floor. He held out the other over my face, and I wished I didn’t spend so much seconds thinking about what he was doing. I quickly grabbed his hand and mumbled a tiny apology. I took my time dusting off my skirt before I noticed a faint shout from the distance, “CHRISTINA!” I glance around the area. “CHRISTINA!” The woman shouted again. I quickly spun around to check the forest. “CHRISTINA!” there it is again. This time, I searched among the students, and saw, in a small window of bodies, a blonde girl underneath a hood. “Blondie,” it went again.

But that’s not right. It said ‘Christina’ and it was a woman’s voice, this was of a boy. Quick as lightning, I spun around realizing who it was. A tall boy, in full Wessman uniform, stood at the top of the stairs looking down on me, his curly black hair covering most of his forehead. He tapped his fingers at the handle of my luggage bag, which he seemed to have carried up the stairs for me while I’m too busy searching for the eerie voice. “We’re going to be late for the assembly,” he said in his British accent. Wessman School of Arts has students from all across the globe, but still, I think it's absurd to travel this far when there's Oxford.

I spared one last glance to the forest before running up the stairs to meet him, holding out my hand for my luggage. He gently pushed my hand away, “I’ve got it. There’s three more steps before the main doorway.”

I swat his hands as I reached for my luggage, “You don’t have to.” He pulled his hand farther.

“I insist,” he said as he carried it up the three steps, “I am Isaac, but you can call me Zach.”

“I am Iris, and this is too cliché for a first day in school,” I grabbed my bag. He exhaled in defeat and let it go. He gestured other his hand to our front, and I noted how he wore his leather wristwatch on his right. This means he's left-handed. I nodded as I began to make for the main doorway.

He looked down on me as we entered the rich wooden door. Half of it has small glass slots allowing people to see through it. “Are you a freshman too?”

“Yes,” I answered in a much louder voice, my voice begins to get drowned by the chatter of the other students in the hallway. I am yet to remind myself to never judge a book by its cover, for however horror-movie-looking Wessman is in the outside, it doesn’t compare to its interior. The ceiling reaches up to seven meters, maybe, made completely out of marble and designed and lined with real gold. The piers are twisted in shape and are lined at least five meters apart. And the cornices, all golden, were carefully detailed and carved. Like many old houses, it has a wainscoting that reaches up to at least two meters from the marble floor, and is made of wood.

“It’s lovely isn’t it?” Zach said, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s been renovated many times so now; it’s a mixture of different architecture styles each room you go to.”

One of the things my grandmother told me is that architecture students either run their hands on the walls or look up at the ceiling the moment they step in, so I already have a hint I’d be seeing more of Zach, whether I like it or not, “You’re majoring in Architecture as well?”

He let out a little chuckle as he turned his gaze back to me, “Yes, and you?”

“The same.”

His hands travelled to the brown leather satchel he carried over his left shoulder, and reached for a black notebook. It is also made of leather, and is engraved with the name Theodore Isaac in silver. I also noticed that he's got a blue canister over his left shoulder. He turned the notebook to my face, “Do we have the same classes?”

I scanned the schedule he held out in front of me. To both my surprise and somehow dismay, I gained myself a new friend. “Yes,” I began as I nod my head, “we do.” He clapped the notebook close, causing a tiny gust of wind to blow on my face.

“To the assembly area then,” he said enthusiastically as he gestured to a pair of wooden doors on our left. I reached out for the doorknob but he quickly swatted my hands away and pushed the door open for me. I granted one last glance to the ceiling up above, carefully noticing the exposed wooden beams, thinking about how it looked like before all the renovations.

To our, surprise, we were met with dead silence; no massive group of people in maroon blazers or chatters loud enough to make your ears ring. It was an empty ballroom.

“That’s not right,” Zach said, his voice creating an echo in the deserted room. “We might have taken a wrong turn.”

We stand beneath a white ceiling with a six-sided star recessed in the middle. A great golden chandelier hangs in the middle of it. Giant piers stood on either side, its top carved with leaves. It’s Corinthian. On our left is a series of tall windows, illuminating the room in natural golden light. Like most Beaux-Arts, there is a hierarchy of spaces. For this, there is a grand staircase that leads to a huge painting of a family.

The couple was dressed in silk and satin, much like royalties. Between them is a child, perhaps their daughter. She was dressed like her parents. She held a faint smile. She had blonde hair, thin lips, and fair skin. A picture of a blonde girl beneath a hood flashed in my eyes. I was with her in that dream. She was there in the entrance earlier.

I was pulled out of my trance by Zach’s voice. “Maybe they did some last minute change of venue we weren’t aware of,” he said.

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “It would have reached at least one of us.” I glanced back at the portrait, “Maybe we really just entered the wrong room. We were too busy checking our schedules when we walked.”

He nodded, my point getting through. He kneeled down as he brings out the Staedtler canister that has been hanging on his shoulder. He twisted the lid open and pulled it out with a pop. He pulled out a roll of deliciously smelling old paper. He began to carefully unroll it on the marble floor to reveal a floor plan. At the bottom of the paper, it says, in black ink, ‘Velvet Manor, 1815'. “See,” he pointed to the paper, “This is where we entered from the outside.” His finger travelled across two parallel lines of which I assume to be the hallway. He traced an upside down L, “This is where we turned.” There was a small box on the left of his finger, indicating there is a room there. His finger travelled further on until he reached the end of the hallway, “This is where we entered.” The pointed to the room labelled ‘The White Room’.

He looked up at me as he began to roll the floor plans. “This is one of the two copies of the school’s plan,” he explains as he carefully places it back on the canister. “My parents got them from an auction.”

I couldn’t make out the last part of Zach’s sentence, as the air gradually fills with noise with every word he spoke. He slowly stood up, frowning and fear-stricken as he looked up around. I did the same. And to our surprise, the room was now filled with students. “Is it just me,” I unknowingly placed a hand on his arm that held the canister, “Wasn’t this place deserted just a few seconds earlier?”

Still shaking, we shared a horror-filled glance. As if our brains connected, we both ran for the door.

“Where are you going? The assembly isn’t done yet,” a boy, darker in skin, chirped in. He was shorter than Zach but about twenty centimeters taller than me.

We both straightened ourselves, finally realizing that we are in the right place; the student assembly.

He raised his eyebrow on us, perhaps noticing how shaky and pale we were, he asked, “What happened to you two?”

“This place,” Zach motioned to the body of students, “was deserted earlier.”

“No,” he began, “We’ve been here the entire time. I’m Charles Clinton Andrews.” He held out his hand.

Zach exhaled, perhaps ridding himself of the terror we felt, and quickly grabbed it and gave it a little shake, “I am Theodore Isaac von Stratmann but if that’s too long for you, you can call me Zach. I am an Architecture major.” He motioned his hand to me, “This is Iris…?”

“Gardner,” I said, trying to regulate my breathing.

“That’s it?” Zach said. “Iris Gardner? I always assumed Iris is just your nickname.” I shook my head. He turned back to Charles, “This is Iris Elizabeth Gardner. She is also an Architecture major.”

Charles smiled at us, “That is cool because,” he pulled out a tiny paper from his maroon blazer, “I am an Architecture major too.”

The students began to clap their hands as the man atop the staircase, the headmaster I assume, finishes his speech. “Welcome to Wessman School of Arts,” the acoustics of the room allowed his voice to echo all throughout without the help of microphones. Beaux-Arts, I thought.

“That’s Humbert Wessman Phillips,” Charles explained. “He is the only descendant of the Velvets.” I turned my attention to the portrait behind him. It’s different now. It’s just a portrait of a man, a different one.

“What happened to the original owners?” Zach asked.

Charles tapped his fingers on his chin, “Honestly, I don’t know.” He shrugged, “Heck, no one does.”

“They disappeared?” I chimed in.

“They did,” Charles began to pull us out. “I know what's going to happen next so lower your head, Zach. We're sneaking out.” Carefully, he guided me and Zach through the students, some giving us a questioning look. Charles only ignores them. Finally, we reached the oak door and carefully pulled it open, just wide enough for the three of us to pass through unnoticed. We straightened ourselves as we reach the deserted hallway. Charles began to walk and Zach quickly followed. I listened one last time to the faint sound of the assembly, which was a woman grouping the students for something.

“Where are we going?” I asked, pulling my luggage.

“Anywhere we can hide so we wouldn’t need to listen to the tour,” Charles said.

“Don’t you think we should be there?” I asked.

“Nah,” Charles said, looking at the closed doors along the hallway. “It’ll just be talking about where’s where. As if we can’t figure that out ourselves.”

Zach held out his canister again, “Well, we should hide, or they’ll definitely see us.”

“We could hide here,” I pointed to the door on the left.

“That’s the museum,” Charles said without even looking at me, “And it’s been locked since 2003 after a bunch of students broke in at night.”

Charles stopped at the end of the hallway and pointed his finger to the left. “Let’s hide in the forest.”

“No one wants to go to the forest,” Zach protested as places the canister’s strings over his left shoulder.

“Exactly why we should hide there,” Charles said with a smile.

***

We didn’t walk further into the forest. No one wants to. We decided to settle underneath the oak tree that is closest to the edge. In order to not be noticed, we sat crossed-legged on the side of the trunk that faces away from the school, the only downside is having to stare into the dark series of trees. We used our blazers as cover.

“Why did you want to leave the assembly?” Zach turned to Charles, who was crushing the dry leaves with his fingers.

“I told you,” he began to say without even looking up, “I don’t like the tour.”

“But you haven’t experienced the tour,” Zach pointed out. “Why did you really want to leave the assembly?”

Charles threw the dry leaves he’s been crushing, defeated. He exhaled as he faced Zach, “I don’t like the White Room.”

“Why not?” I asked, placing my right hand over my chin, “I think it’s pretty.”

“Because it’s haunted,” he answered.

And it’s as if Zach and my brains were connected, we both let out a groan in unison. “Are you for real?”

“YES!”

“It’s old,” I protested, “Of course ghosts would live there. You know, given the chance, I’d haunt this school too, it’s beautiful.”

“You know,” Charles slightly got up to reposition himself into a kneel, and faced us, “It’s been haunted even after it’s just new. One of the maids was cleaning the windows one Sunday and she saw two unfamiliar people walk in the White Room.”

“Could be anyone, really,” I rebutted.

“The maid has seen everyone who live in the manor,” Charles answered back, violently throwing more dry leaves, “She was certain it wasn’t anyone she knows. What’s weirder is that, before she could even ask who they are and what they’re doing in White Room, they vanished into thin air.”

Zach opened his mouth to speak, “I must agree, that does raise some questions.” He leaned his back to the trunk, “But I would rather be there than here on our blazers, on damp ground, beneath an oak tree and facing a creepy forest,” he pointed to the forest, dark from the oak tree leaves that prevent the sunlight from passing through.

“This is better,” Charles settled back to sitting position. “Heck, anywhere is better than Velvet Manor.”

***

This is a beautiful room, I thought while staring at the ceiling. The wooden beams are exposed, for aesthetics maybe. The horizontal beams are painted gold and the vertical ones are maroon, and carved on them are patterns; chevron and thread respectively. The walls were finished with dark oak wood from the floor to about the height of the doorway, and the rest to the ceiling were covered with peach wallpaper, gold patterns in it. The moldings on the dark wood oak are very grand. The windows were about three meters high, white curtains hanging onto them. The floor was of rich and shiny cherry; it would be a shame to step on it. The ceiling was finished with wood planks lined and spaced at about a centimeter apart. And there, in the middle of the room hangs a very beautiful bronze and gold chandelier. Its light looks some sort of a flower that's about to open on spring. It gives off an orange lighting to the peach room.

It was all so grand, like the room of a royalty. Well, every room here looks as grand as this one. I twisted in my bed. It was a single, but a bit bigger and more layers than the ordinary. But the sheets were soft I could bury myself in it forever.

"Are you trying to make yourself into a giant burrito?"

I forgot. I have a roommate. I quickly sat up, holding myself up with one elbow. "No," I replied, "I was just thinking this is such a nice room," a hint of amusement in my lips.

Her brown hair scattered around her head as she plopped down on her bed. She has green eyes and tanned skin. I haven't really asked her name. “'Nice' is an understatement,” she said, locking eyes with me. It seems she has better people skills as she held out her right hand, “I’m Charlotte Amelie Meyer.”

I grunted as broke out of the roll of soft blankets I caged myself in, to walk across the room, in my socks. “Iris Gardner,” I said as I shook her soft hand.

“What?” she held herself up on one elbow, “That’s it? No second name?”

I shrugged.

She nodded her head hesitantly, “Alright, then. It’s very nice to meet you, Iris Nicole Gardner.” She chuckled.

I did a playful roll of my eyes as I laugh. “You’re like my friend Zach. Zach von Stratmann.”

“Isaac?” she jolts up, surprised.

“You know him?”

“You know him?” she asked back. “I’ve known him since kindergarten. We’ve always been classmates but we never talked. Everyone tries to, but he’s too fixated on those floor plans he always kept in that stupid blue Staedtler canister. It was Rotring in middle school.”

I raised an eyebrow, “He’s always had those floor plans?”

“Always,” she answered as she lay back on her bed to stare at the ceiling. “If he’s ever had a sibling, it’s that canister.”

I smiled.

“His parents always wanted him to go here,” her whispers have a tone of sadness in them, “and I’d pay to know why.” She glanced to me, who kneels by her bedside. “Hey, by the way," she leaned in closer, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, "since this house was built long ago, did you know that there were passages in between the walls?" with that, her eyes travelled to the walls, looking as if she'd want to try them. “I like to think his father wants him to learn about the architecture of the manor that’s why he was sent here. His father’s an architect. Did he ever mention that?”

I shrugged my head. “He only ever said his father got the plans from an auction.”

“Yes, and perhaps,” she reached out for the ceiling, “he fell in love with this manor he thought it would be best if he sent his son to see it in real life,” she exhaled.

“How did you know about the passages?”

“They mentioned it in the tour earlier,” Charlotte answered.

We were thrown out of our shared moment when my phone ticked, multiple times. I got up from Charlotte’s bedside to grab my phone off of my nightstand. I unlocked it to find a floating Messenger icon on the upper right corner of the screen, the small circle divided into three. It’s a group chat of three people, and I don’t need to open it to know the members.

Zach and Charles had already had a long conversation, mostly composed of talks about their rooms with an exchange of photos every now and then. Their rooms were much like ours, just different in wallpaper color. Zach was blue and Charles was of sage. A more notable difference was the fact they were both alone in their rooms. Perhaps they’re smaller than hours, making it not ideal to make them shared room.

CHARLES: Do you want to go out tonight?

ZACH: Yes, where do you plan to go? I saw a café just within walking distance from the gate.

CHARLES: No, not out out. I meant sneak around after curfew and find the ghosts.

ZACH: There are no ghosts.

CHARLES: Oh, come on. I just want to prove there are ghosts and that Velvet Manor should be feared more than that forest of doom.

I blew some raspberries. This seems to have caught Charlotte’s attention, who is now looking at me and not on the ceiling. “My friend thinks the manor is haunted after a maid said she once saw two people she’s unfamiliar with.”

Charlotte smiled as she resumes her moment with the ceiling, “Five dollars and the ghosts are probably just people who travelled to different rooms using the secret wall passages.”

Holy crap. “Charlotte, you are a genius.” With excitement I never had before, I quickly unlocked my phone to type in my message, a series of taps sounded off the room as I did so.

IRIS: There were no ghosts. The manor has secret wall passages. And it’s these passages that they used which is why the maid didn’t see them arrive nor exit.

I closed my eyes to celebrate my silent victory, phone still in hand. But this little victory didn’t last long when that ticking sound filled the room sooner than I planned.

CHARLES: Hidden passages? Let’s check them out!

***

And that was the first chapter. It's terrible, I know but I wanna share it anyway. Being bad at it is better than not doing it at all.

#writeblr #writersblr #creative writing #original writing #writers of tumblr #young adult #ya #fantasy #mystery #velvet manor 1845

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the-broken-truth · 2 years ago

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Broken-Style Remix: Platonic Yandere Bruce Wayne + Bat-Family & Dakota Blake (Part 6 - 1)

SUBTITLE: JASON GOES OUT

Summary: Jason Todd is sick of hearing Bruce and Damian talking about a girl that wants nothing to do with the Wayne Family regardless of her blood ties to the family & he goes into town to get away from it all. He happens upon a Gun Shop and Shooting Range owned by Dakota's Aunt.

[LOCATION: STREETS OF GOTHAM CITY - AROUND 2 IN THE AFTERNOON]

Jason Todd - The Red Hood of the Bat Family - had enough. For the past few months, Bruce has been obsessed with getting his eldest child - Dakota Blake - to take the Wayne Name and claim her spot as the Wayne Heir but she constantly resisted him and now the little brat - Damian - was in on it too; which made Jason even more annoyed. Just the other night, Damian came home with scratches and bruises as well as a broken arm as he told the tale of him going after Tobias Blake - A Former Military Man who happened to raise Dakota along with her mother, Marissa Blake - Tobias' Younger Sister. He was about the kill the man when a masked huntress appeared and dispatched him, showing him that he wasn't as skilled as he thought he was while being trained by the Batman and League of Assassins. The Huntress of Artemis warned Damian to stay away from the Blake Family or she was going to do more than just break his arm the next time she saw him before disappearing into the night.

"Maybe you both should listen." Jason said, causing Bruce and Damian to look at him with raised eyebrows, "It's clear this girl wants nothing to do with the Wayne Family but you two are trying to force her into something she doesn't want. Bruce, you tried to go to her mother and buy her off, only to get your hand cut by a Hunter of Artemis. Damian, you tried to kill her uncle even though the Bat Family doesn't kill; and you got your ass handed to you by the same person who cut Bruce. Maybe you both should leave Dakota alone and just live life as you did before you found out she even existed."

"What could you understand, Todd?" Damian snarled at the taller man, "Dakota is a Wayne, she is my elder sister, and Father & I want her home, in Wayne Manor, where she belongs. You wouldn't understand what father is going through because you aren't blood linked to him, you're just someone he took pity on." Damian said as he walked away from the area with his arm in a cast - whoever broke it made sure it wouldn't recover for a while.

"Regardless of me not being blood linked to Bruce, I understand that Dakota wants to remain in the life she has known for her entire life. Just let the girl live how she wants to." Jason said as he looked at Damian's retreating before looking at Bruce, who was making phone calls to lawyers that would hear his case to get Dakota in his custody willingly. He was willing to pay whatever it took to get his daughter under his thumb. Jason exhaled before he walked out of the cave, to the manor, and out of it to get to his bike in the garage so he could get some fresh air - it was far too suffocating in the manor and the cave.

Jason drove down the streets of Gotham with his bike helmet on - thinking of how he was going to spend the day; that's when he heard 3 gunshots coming from the right side of the road. He stopped at the red light and looked to the side before reading the sign on the building.

Amria's Armory & Gun Shop

'A Gunshop and Armory? Here in Gotham? Well, the neighborhood can be dangerous enough. I wonder…' Jason said as he pulled off to the side and parked in one of the parking spots and killed the ignition before getting off the bike and taking off his helmet. He walked over to the door and opened it, went inside, and looked around: Guns & Bows were perfectly lined on the wall behind the counter, and the place was perfectly decorated in the theme of hunters and huntresses.

'Huntresses… Just like the huntress that kicked the brat's ass. I wonder if they get their weapons from here, they all look top-grade.' Jason thought as the sound of a bell rang out and he came face to face with a green-eyed woman, with tan skin, and reddish long hair that was tied into a ponytail; she was wearing a black shirt with a white long-sleeved shirt under it, blue jeans with black combat boots on her feet. But what caught Jason's eyes was the scar on her face that went across the bridge of her nose.

"Welcome to Amira's Armory and Gunshop, I'm Amira Blake of the Blake Family. How can I be of service to you today? Looking to purchase a new piece for your collection and just wanna blow off some steam in the shooting range?" The woman - Amira Blake - asked as she smiled at Jason who just smiled at her as he ran a hand through his short black and white hair.

"You can tell I need to blow off some steam?" Jason asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"You look like my niece when he came in here - puffed up muscles, irritated face, fists balled up. All the signs of someone who had enough shit for one day and just need to blow off some steam and what better way to do that than at a shooting range?" Amira explained as she counted on her fingers all the ways that Jason looked like he needed to blow off steam.

"You read me like an open book." He held his hand out from Amira to shake, "Jason. Jason Todd."

Amira shook his hand with a smile on her face.

"Pleasure. Now, what can I do for you today, Jason? Need some time in the shooting range? We're working on the Ak-47s & pistols this week." Amira said as she walked over to the counter with her hand raised over the tablet by the register.

"I could go for an hour in the shooting range. Anything I need to know about using the shooting range?" Jason asked as he reached into his wallet to get his I.D. and some cash for the hour but all Amira took was the I.D. and told him that his first hour with them was free.

"Nothing that isn't already a given - stay in your lane with the weapons, don't remove them from the stall without emptying the clip, don't point weapons - Loaded or Not - at the other customers. Oh, my niece is actually in there right now, say hi to her if you want to but be careful, she's had a rather rough day as if late." Amira said as she logged Jason into her system before handing him back his I.D. which he returned to his wallet before pocketing it.

"Your Niece?" Jason asked.

"You must not use social media or watch the news a lot. My Niece is Dakota Blake - the Daughter of Bruce Wayne that wants nothing to do with him." Amira said with an exhale as she looked at the door that lead to the shooting range.

"Oh, I heard about that but I didn't think you would be related…well, having the same surname kinda makes a connection but there are surely other people named 'Blake' in Gotham. Sorry that your niece is going through all of that, no one should be forced into something they do want." Jason said as he looked at the ground.

"Don't worry about it, Jason, we're going to keep Dakota safe from Bruce; he doesn't have a leg to stand on when it comes to this case. He may be rich and powerful but the facts are with us." Amira said as she pulled and pair of pistols off the wall and loaded them before gesturing for Jason to follow her behind the counter and into the Shooting Range.

Jason was placed in his lane, given the guns, and Amira started the targets so that Jason could shoot them. Jason looked down the lanes and saw a young girl who looked like Amira shooting the targets with a bow and arrow and from the looks of it, she was hitting bullseyes on all of them, How could she be that good at hunting? Who taught her?

Then the hour was up and Amira called Jason to come over to her and he did just as the girl - wearing dark sunglasses - walked over to them and spoke to Amira for a while before turning to face Jason.

"Who is this, Auntie Amira?" The girl asked.

"Dakota, meet Jason Todd. Jason, meet my niece Dakota." Amira gestured between them as she introduced them. Jason looked at Dakota as she did the same and they held their hands out to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Dakota." Jason said.

"Likewise, Jason." Dakota smiled.

This was the start of a beautiful friendship.

#dakota blake #oc:amira blake #jason todd #platonic yandere

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 4 years ago

Text

I'll Stand By You (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! We've reached Halloween in Westview. I hope you all enjoy!

Songs used: "I'll Stand By You" by The Pretenders (1994) and "This I Promise You" by NSYNC (2000)

Summary: Westview is slowly falling apart as Wanda worries reader is drifting away. With some sibling chaos. I'm bad at summaries. :)

With a sigh, you began making your way downstairs, following the sounds of the commotion. Wearily tugging at the skin-tight suit that you couldn’t seem to avoid wearing for the day.

“Woah, smokin’ costume, sis-in-law!” You heard Pietro whistle which only made you sigh again in exasperation. “If you weren’t already married to witchy over here…” He trailed off as he leaned against the wall.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a chuckle when you saw Anna smack his shoulder. “That’s my sister you’re talking to.” She warned, glaring at Pietro who just laughed in response.

“You and Mom look nice, Momma.” Billy said sweetly with a smile which you easily returned. Reaching over to affectionately ruffle his hair.

“Yeah, Mom is old Red Riding Hood and you’re old green riding hood, Momma.” Charlie said with a laugh, looking at Pietro for approval who merely held up a hand for a high five. You clutched your chest to feign hurt and gave Anna a disbelieving stare when she began to laugh as well.

Much to your annoyance Pietro then turned his attention back to you. “Let me guess, you’re a… woodland fairy queen? Or the woman of my dreams?” He finished with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Pietro.” Wanda warned. Anna smacked him in the back of the head.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I was going for, Pietro. I live to visually please you.” You quipped back sarcastically.

Before he could say anything else, Wanda walked over to you. Leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips which you shortly returned. “Thank you for humoring me and wearing this… dramatic get-up, honey.”

“Well, there were no other clothes in my closet, so…” You replied flatly, watching the way Wanda’s smile faltered. Unable to stand seeing the look on her face, you attempted to lighten your tone. “I knew you had a thing for me in tights.”

Her shoulders relaxed when you posed dramatically and sent a teasing smile her way. “I have a thing for you in general.” Wanda said in a husky voice, a small smirk on her lips.

Leaning in closer you matched her smirk, “What a coincidence because I just so happen to have a thing for you as well.”

Wanda let out a quiet giggle and you smiled adoringly at the way her nose scrunched. As Wanda was leaning in again, you turned to face the rest of the family in the living room. Wanda sighed.

A short laugh escaped your lips as you watched Billy and Anna cover Pietro and Charlie’s eyes in a desperate bid to win the video game that they were playing. The laughter faded when you watched Pietro pull out sodas, teaching the twins how to chug the can and then burp much to your annoyance. Anna threw her own can at Pietro’s head.

“It’s wonderful that our siblings are so…” You paused as you watched the four begin wrestling for the remote. “Great with kids.”

Wanda nodded unconvincingly as she watched the scene by your side. “Yeah... They’re just full of surprises.”

Lightly you pat her shoulder as you stepped around her. “Well, good luck with them tonight. I’m sure it’ll be entertaining to say the least.”

Wanda turned to face you, a frown tugging down at the corners of her lips. “What?” She followed after you as you made your way to the door. “What do you mean? You’re all dressed and ready to go.”

You gestured vaguely to yourself. “I’m undercover. Ellie said there’s been mischief running amuck in the community and she suspects neighborhood watch. An inside job, Wanda! I'm an investigative journalist now.” Dramatically you tossed your cape over your shoulder for emphasis.

The frown on Wanda’s face remained as she shook her head lightly, “But that’s not what you’re supposed to…”

Skeptically you eyed Wanda. “What do you mean supposed to?”

“You didn’t tell me you had plans.” She eventually grumbled in annoyance, ignoring the question entirely.

“Well, I’m telling you now.” You replied with a small shrug.

Her eyes gleamed with frustration as if she couldn’t believe the words you were saying. “It’s the twins first Halloween. You have to be there.”

Anna and Pietro stepped over before you could get a word out. “Woah, what’s the big deal?” Pietro asked as he teasingly placing his hands in between you both like you were about to start fighting. “I’m much more fun than Y/n. No offense, you’re still smokin’.” He winked your way and you gagged.

Anna pushed him away and turned to Wanda with a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Wanda. We can help with the twins. It’ll still be fun.”

“Uncle Petey to the rescue, huh?” Pietro added with a goofy grin.

You clapped his shoulder and turned to Wanda. “Sure… Petey. Problem solved. Have a spooky time tonight, kiddos. I love you!” You called out to Billy and Charlie who were engrossed in their game.

“Love you.” They called back distractedly, never taking their eyes off the screen.

Hesitantly you stepped back over to Wanda, ignoring the gloomy expression on her face as you lightly caressed her cheek.

With a small smile you leaned in and kissed her other check. “Be good.” You whispered before pulling away. Once again, you posed dramatically, smirking when Wanda begrudgingly replicated the action. “Time to solve this case!” With a final toss of your cape you left.

Wanda’s shoulders drooped slightly as the door closed behind you. Seconds later, you poked your head back in. “I forgot to say… you look beautiful, my love.” You called out sincerely, sending a wink Wanda’s way before shutting the door behind yourself again.

The blush on Wanda’s cheeks made both Pietro and Anna smirk in amusement.

____________

“Unleash hell, demon spawn!” Pietro called after the twins with a smile as they walked off to one of the houses with Anna. He furrowed his eyebrows questioningly when he noticed Wanda staring at him.

Wanda attempted to force an easygoing smile on her lips. “Do you remember when we were at the orphanage and there was this song that we used to sing? The one that would play on the radio whenever the soldiers radio frequencies would interfere with the our frequencies? It went like,” Pietro just stared, his head tilted slightly. “Let me come along, ‘cause even if you’re wrong-”

“-I’ll stand by you, I’ll stand by you. Won’t let nobody hurt you. I’ll stand by you.”

You sat patiently outside the door, the music playing quietly on your phone to break up the silence that surrounded you. And possibly send a message to the woman who was currently ignoring you.

Natasha walked over and kneeled by your side. “Are you planning on staying out here all night?” In response you lifted your shoulders slightly in a small shrug. “You should at least eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” You murmured, spinning the rings on your fingers absently.

With a sigh Natasha stood up and gently pat your head. “I’m going to bring you both food. And I expect you both to eat, even if you aren’t talking right now.”

Almost as soon as Natasha had walked away the door behind you opened, causing you to fall backwards. “You can turn the cheesy 90s music off now. I get it.” Wanda said quietly, her posture tense.

You scrambled to shut the music off and rushed to your feet. “Hi.” You said nervously.

From where you stood you could see Wanda fight a smile. “You’ve been sat outside my room for three hours and all you came up with was hi?”

Shyly you rubbed your arm. “I did have a whole speech planned out in my head but looking at you now I can’t seem to think of anything other than you.”

Wanda melted with your words and you could see the frustration in her eyes begin to fade away. “Did you really mean what you said? That you don’t care?”

Tentatively you reached out and took her hands. “Never. Not about you. I was talking about myself. I will care about you forever.” Care was a placeholder for what you truly wanted to say and you both knew it. "I'm sorry for making you think I didn't."

With a sigh, Wanda pulled you into her arms. “Well I care about you, so if you care about me you also have to care about yourself.”

You buried your face in her neck, breathing in her sweet scent. “Okay. I care...” You mumbled letting the silence wash over the moment. “Did we just have our first fight? I hated every minute of that.”

Wanda’s chuckled slightly. “Yeah. Me too…” Her eyes shone brightly with amusement as she gently tilted your head up to meet her lips, finding comfort in your touch.

You were her safety.

Impatiently Pietro snapped his fingers in Wanda’s face, squinting his eyes slightly at her expression. “You’re testing me.” He said flatly with a knowing point of his finger.

Wanda quickly feigned innocence, still shaking away the memory that had filled her mind. “No, I’m not.” She insisted.

Wanda was testing him though. She knew he wouldn’t know that song. He shouldn’t have.

In response he waved a hand dismissively as he gestured vaguely to his face. “Hey, it’s cool. I know I look different.”

Unable to help herself, Wanda nodded. Her brows furrowed. “Why do you look different?”

Pietro shrugged. “You tell me. I mean, if I found Shangri-La I wouldn’t want to be reminded of the past either.” Wanda looked back at him pensively.

Anna then rushed back with the twins. “Your turn, Uncle Petey!” She exclaimed patting Pietro on the shoulder.

“Alright, Uncle Petey’s about to maximize your candy acquisition. Not like your lame Aunt Annie over here.” He joked, ruffling Anna’s hair who just smacked his hand away. He offered a hand to Charlie who eagerly took it as Billy linked on.

Before Wanda could even blink they had sped away. “I’m beginning to think he’s a bad influence.”

Anna spun around to face her. “Beginning? I hate to break it to you, Wanda, but between the two of us I’m the only good role model here.”

Wanda just shook her head in amusement when someone in the distance caught her attention. “I’ll be right back, Anna.” Anna nodded and ran to try to catch up to the twins. Wanda made her way over to the person of interest. “Hello, Ellie.”

Ellie turned to face Wanda a mild look of surprise covering her features. “Hi, Wanda. Where’s your lovely wife?”

The polite smile that Wanda had grown so accustomed to made an appearance. “Oh, it’s okay you don’t have to be secretive. Y/n told me about the undercover piece about neighborhood watch that you have her working on.”

Curiously Ellie quirked her eyebrows. “I haven’t assigned Y/n to any undercover pieces.”

Wanda’s smile wavered slightly. “Oh. I thought… I thought she…” Her lips pulled down slightly in thought.

Ellie shifted nervously in the silence as her brows furrowed in concern. “Is there something I can do for you, Wanda?” She continued on before Wanda could utter a response. “Do you want something changed?”

A confused chuckle fell from Wanda’s lips. “No. It’s fine. I must have just misheard her this morning.”

“If you say so. Tell Y/n I said hello.” Ellie finally replied, sending a wink Wanda’s way as she walked off.

“Hey, that woman looked so much like Amelia. Y/n loved her.” Wanda jumped at Anna’s sudden appearance. Her eyes clouded over when she processed what the teenage girl had just said.

__________________

“This is so lame. I can’t believe you’re making them return all the candy.” Pietro grumbled with a roll of his eyes.

Wanda crossed her arms indignantly. “Well, I can’t believe what a bad influence you are.”

“That’s why I’m better.” Anna added in a sing song voice.

Pietro sneered. “Oh, shut it, pipsqueak. We’re here to do the exact same thing, okay? Come to town unexpectedly, create tension with the sis-in-law, stir up trouble with the rugrats and ultimately… Give Wanda grief.”

Anna huffed when Wanda looked at her suspiciously. “I mean, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” She asked, her tone dripping with irritation that was a stark contrast to her positive attitude earlier.

The confusion at the situation caused Wanda to purse her lips as she allowed herself to consider the two people before her. “Anna, weren’t you six when Hydra… I mean, you weren’t a teenager when you…” She trailed off slightly, not wanting to finish the thought.

The younger girl rolled her eyes defensively. “Look, that was years ago. I aged. That’s what happens inn life, isn’t it?” Anna crossed her arms when Wanda didn't seem convinced. “I don’t know, okay?”

Wanda frowned slightly then turned her attention to Pietro. “And you. What happened to your accent?”

“What happened to yours?” Pietro countered defensively. He sighed when Wanda leveled him with an unimpressed stare. “Look. Details are fuzzy, man. For both of us. All I remember is getting shot like a chump in the streets for no reason at all. Next thing I know, I heard you calling us.”

Anna stepped forward, nodding along with Pietro. “We knew you needed us.”

The words hung in the air like an unanswered question. “Uncle P, Auntie A, guess what?” Charlie shouted excitedly effectively ending the conversation as she rushed over with Billy.

“There’s a treasure bag with full sized candy bars on the lamp post!” Billy pointed up eagerly at the post that was hanging directly above their heads. “Mom, can you help us get it?”

The sound of metal crunching filled the air as Charlie waved a hand. The lamppost giving way easily as she skipped over and took the bag off the light. “Next stop, Cavity Town!” She cheered as she walked back over and passed one of the treats to Billy.

“My niece is a badass!” Pietro hollered as he lifted Charlie on his shoulders. Wanda couldn't help the pride that bubbled in her chest as she watched her daughter's powers develop. She wished you would have been there to see it too. “Just like your uncle P! Chip off the old Maximoff block!”

Anna coughed pointedly. “Manipulating earth and metal? Sounds a lot like the badass comes from my genes.”

“It’s okay, baby. You can take it slow, and you can-” Wanda’s words were interrupted as Charlie began flying through the sky, cheering all the while. Wanda shook her head in amusement at the way Charlie smoothly flew through the air, her smile unwavering.

Billy watched his twin excitedly which Wanda took note of.

When Charlie floated too low, Wanda grabbed her foot and gently pulled her down. “If you’re going to explore, please just take your brother with you.” Wanda said seriously.

“Really?” Billy asked happily.

“Really?” Charlie repeated with a pout.

Wanda bit back a smile as she nodded. “Really. And please, just remember-”

“Don’t go past Ellis Avenue.” They responded in unison.

“We know, Mom. We know.” Charlie said dismissively as she offered her hand to Billy and a moment later they floated into the air.

Pietro and Anna shook their heads. “Be careful! I love you!” Wanda shouted after the twins.

_________________

For the past several hours a feeling of discomfort had settled in your chest as you wandered the city of Westview. The feeling reached its breaking point when you watched a woman frozen in time, replicating the same action again and again. The moment solidified your resolve. You needed to see what was outside this city. To see if all these odd occurrences were just that… odd occurrences.

You didn’t want to believe it was Wanda. It couldn’t be.

In a bid of desperation, you took advantage of one of your new-found skills and allowed yourself to fly into the skies of Westview. Everything looked completely normal... Except for one set of lights stopped strangely at the edge of the town.

Curiosity got the better of you as you flew over to investigate the scene. The sight of the stalled car unnerved you as you wearily made your way over to the driver’s side. “Agnes? What are you doing here?”

Despite the question, Agnes continued to stare off into the distance, almost as if you weren’t there at all. “Took a wrong turn.” She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. You worriedly took note of the way her eyes were glossed over with unshed tears despite her face being completely void of emotion. “Got lost.”

Her words were monotonous which was so out of character for the woman you’d seen before. You frowned. “Lost? In the town you grew up in?” There was no response from the other woman as she continued to stare blankly ahead. Your fingers tingled with uneasy energy. “I wonder…” Hesitantly you lifted your hand until it hovered over her temple. You closed your eyes as you focused, becoming one with the earth’s current until a short burst of light drifted from the tips of your fingers into the side of Agnes’ temple.

With a gasp, she sprung back to life. Agnes desperately took your hands, pulling you down. “You! You’re one of the Avengers! Are you here to help us?”

“I do want to help.” You assured her. “But what’s an Avenger?”

Agnes pulled her hands away as if she’d been burned. “What? Why don’t you know?” Suddenly she began patting herself down anxiously. “Am I dead?”

Your brows furrowed in concern. “No, no, why would you think that?”

There was a brief pause before Agnes turned her attention back to you. “Because you are.”

The tightness in your chest increased tenfold. “I am what?”

“Dead. You’re dead. Dead, Dead!” Agnes shouted hysterically causing you to flinch back involuntarily.

Determinedly you pushed forward again, ignoring her words. “Agnes, I want to help. I’m going to get help. To reach someone outside of Westview and figure everything out.”

“How? No one leaves. Wanda won’t even let us think about it.” Manic laughter startled you into silence as she continued. “All is lost. We’ll never escape her.”

Despite numerous attempts to call out to her, Agnes’ laughter never stopped. The unsteady tingling in your fingers began again as you took a deep breath and grounded yourself with the earth once more. You lifted your hand to her temple and almost as soon as the light entered her temple the laughter stopped.

“I will fix this.” You declared softly.

A caricature of a smile overcame her features. “Alrighty, neighbor!” She said as she turned the car around. “Happy Halloweenie!”

With a new sense of determination, you marched forward into the open field in the distance. The soft buzzing of static becoming louder and louder the further into the field you ventured.

Cautiously you reached a hand out to touch where the sound seemed to be coming from only to be met with resistance even though nothing was there. Confusion took hold of your emotions as you watched the costume you were wearing transform into your typical clothes as you pushed your arm through the energy barrier.

Knowing this was the only way, you pushed forward, feeling as if your mind was being wiped clean the further you walked.

The pain was becoming unbearable, but you knew you couldn’t turn back.

As the pain worsened, a quiet song began playing in your mind, almost as it was attempting to comfort you.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Look at me.” A soft hand on your face tilted your chin up. Her eyes were flooded with worry but her gentle touch brought you comfort. “This might hurt a bit, but we have to do this.”

A soft groan fell from your lips as you could feel the first stitch begin to close your wound. “Wait, wait.” You hissed, pushing her hand away from your bleeding side.

Her fingers gently brushed through your hair. “Y/n. You’re bleeding, we need to stitch this up now.” You knew she was right, but you still wanted to roll away. The woman quickly scrambled to her feet, stepping away for a moment before rushing back with a small device in her hands. “Here. Focus on the music. Focus on me. Not on the pain.”

“I've loved you forever, in lifetimes before and I promise never will you hurt anymore. I give you my word, I give you my heart. This is a battle we’ve won and with this vow, forever has now begun…”

When the song from the radio reached your ears, a choked laugh fell from your lips despite the pain you were in. “Did you plan for the cheesiest 90s song to play?”

In response she smiled ever so slightly, but her eyes remained focused on the task. “I didn’t, I swear. Guess I just got lucky.”

“Yeah. Me too…”

Staring up at her made it impossible for you to focus on anything else as you processed the words that floated from the radio. She was done before the song had even finished. You didn’t feel a thing.

“I didn’t see they were government agents.” You murmured guiltily after a moment as you watched her wrap your now stitched up side.

Her concerned eyes met yours. “Y/n, I don’t blame you. I’m just glad you’re okay. I was so scared I wouldn’t get there in time. That I wouldn’t be able to protect you. I... care about you.” Her words were sincere as her thumb lightly caressed your cheek. The placeholder word from your past making a comeback.

The small box of a room that was your newest hideout was dingy, but with her here it was the most beautiful place in the world.

Your chest tightened with familiar feelings that you spent so long avoiding. “Can you hold me?” You looked away as you asked, still not used to the vulnerability.

“Of course.” She breathed out, carefully helping you to bed before gathering you in her arms. Her heartbeat against your ear was the sweetest song you had ever heard. You had never felt safer than when you were in her arms.

Wanda was your safety.

“Wanda.” You gasped out, feeling yourself refocus on the current world around you as thoughts of Wanda flashed through your mind. Of Wanda smiling. Of Wanda laughing. Of Wanda crying. It was all there again.

Until it wasn’t.

With a gasp you fell to the floor, clutching your head, feeling yourself – your mind - begin to fade away.

“Why aren’t you helping her? Something is wrong with her, she needs help!” You heard a voice scream anxiously. You looked up just in time to see the woman get held back by someone. “Steve! Natasha! Help her!” She cried out holding her ear as a man tugged her arm down and handcuffed her to a car.

Despite the pain coursing through your veins you continued to weakly crawl forward. The threat of losing consciousness and the sense of who you were increasing the further out you moved from the barrier. “Th-they need h-elp.” You gritted out, not remembering why, but knowing it was why you were there. One of your arms gave out from under you as you fought to keep your eyes open.

The bespectacled woman watched you with growing concern, tugging desperately at the handcuffs that kept her in place. “Steve, Natasha, you need to hurry.” She said quietly, her eyes widening when you fell to the floor.

Everything went dark.

__________________

There was a comfortable silence in the air and Wanda could almost allow herself to relax as she sat on one of the bales of hay while the twins played on their own in the town square.

Almost.

“Where were you hiding all these kids up until now?” Pietro suddenly questioned with a smirk.

“What?” Wanda replied in surprise.

Anna leaned back on her hands, feigning amusement. “I assume she let them all sleep peacefully in their beds.” She picked at the hay in disinterest. “No need to traumatize beyond the occasional holiday cameo, right?”

Pietro rolled his eyes. “Hey, back off. She’s the empathetic twin.”

“I don’t-… I didn’t-” Wanda stuttered. Anna smirked slightly.

Waving his hands dismissively, Pietro continued. “She handled all the ethical considerations of this scenario as best she could.” Wanda’s mind seemed to be put at ease as Pietro’s speech continued. “Families and couples stayed together, most personalities are the same, people got better jobs. Better style, for sure.”

Flicking a piece of hay at Pietro’s head, Anna added. “Convincing my sister that she’s in love with her.”

Wanda turned her head sharply at Anna’s words. “What do you mean convincing? Y/n loves me.” Her brows furrowed as she considered Anna’s words. “She does.”

A laugh fell from Anna’s lips. “You can cut the act, Wanda. Pietro and I know everything.”

“I’m not acting. Y/n and I love each other.” Wanda defended quietly, trying desperately not to let Anna’s words get to her.

Anna shrugged. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself. Y/n was in love with Amelia- sorry, you renamed her Ellie.” She smirked when she saw Wanda’s fingers flex slightly. “They were soulmates. They made the best team. I’ve never seen Y/n more in love than she was with her.”

Wanda’s jaw clenched, and Anna’s smirk grew.

“Do it. Make her go away.” Pietro encouraged Wanda when familiar red tendrils began drifting from her fingers.

Anna tilted her head in mock sympathy. “What? You don’t want to hear the truth?”

With a wave of her hand, Anna slumped on the hay. Pietro cheered. “She’s just sleeping. She’ll be up in a few minutes.” Wanda said quietly, feeling the shame creep up on her as she tried to shake Anna’s words. Pietro laughed, and she turned to face him. “You don’t think it’s wrong?” Wanda asked quietly, her voice uncertain.

“What, are you kidding? I’m impressed! Seriously.” He admitted with a knowing smile. “It’s a pretty big leap from giving people nightmares and shooting red wiggly-woos out of your hands.”

For a moment Wanda stared off in the distance, allowing his words to wash over her.

“How’d you even do all this?” He finally asked. Wanda shifted uncomfortably at the question. “Hey, I’m not some stranger, or your wife, or your wife’s annoying little sister. I'm your brother. You can talk to me.”

Wanda’s eyes began to glisten to unshed tears as she thought over his question. “I don’t know how I did it.” She admitted quietly. “I… I only remember feeling completely alone. Like I was drowning. Just… Endless nothingness. Empty.” A tear fell down Wanda’s cheek.

“Mom! Mom!” Wanda heard Billy call out to her frantically as he ran over with Charlie following closely behind him. Wanda quickly composed herself.

Rushing over to the twins, Wanda felt dread build in her chest. “What is it, Billy?”

“I hear Momma. In my head! She’s in trouble.” The fear on his face made Wanda’s concern increase tenfold as her stomach dropped. “I don’t know understand. What’s happening to me?”

Wanda placed comforting hands on his shoulders as she struggled to control her emotions. “Where is she? Where is your mother?”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, sis. It’s not like your dead wife can die twice.” Pietro flippantly replied with a chuckle.

Anger. That's all she felt when Pietro spoke so dismissively about you. Unable to control her anger, Wanda shot out a hand as Pietro was sent flying back from the force of her powers.

Taking a breath, Wanda turned back to her terrified son. “Billy, I need you to focus.”

Closing his eyes, Billy began recounting what he saw. “I can’t tell. I see these… soldiers.” Wanda tensed even more. Billy gasped. “They think she’s dying!”

For a moment Wanda was sure her heart stopped.

Thinking quickly, she turned away from Billy, her eyes glowing red.

Steve and Natasha ran up just as the walls of the barriers began moving forward. They continued to sprint forward while Haywards minions made desperate attempts to run away.

“Y/n!” Steve cried out, feeling fear seep into his bones when he saw your lifeless form sprawled out on the empty field. On numb legs he began moving faster. Hopelessly, he was forced to watch the red energy wash over you once again.

Natasha cursed as they lost sight of your body. The red barrier continued to push forward when they were mere feet away from Darcy. “Fu-” They heard her mumble through a wince as she also became lost behind the barrier.

“We have to get in there!” Steve shouted.

With determination, Natasha nodded. “Let’s try.” A moment later they were pushing against the red energy that was fighting against letting them in.

Annnnnd we have concluded with the 90s! Chaos is the main population of Westview right now. A lot happened here. I'm not even sure what to say to be completely honest. A little nervous about this part.

Anyway...

As always, thoughts and comments are always welcome! Let me know what you think. :)

Taglist:

@theofficialzivadavid // @tquick99 // @abimess // @marrymemcgrath // @the-camilucha // @afuckingshituniverse //@pxterstrk // @aimezvousbrahms // @ensorcellme // @sapphicshots

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x y/n #wandavision #wanda x you #mcu x reader #mcu fanfiction

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boldlyanxious · 3 years ago

Text

A year of Glitter

Part 7

Glitter series

Masterlist

Red Hood didn’t really have a lot of work to do tonight so he was mostly just wandering around the neighborhood. It was good for people to see him so they didn’t try to decide he wasn’t worth following anymore. Black Mask was pushing back hard in some areas but as far as he could tell most of the people around preferred him in charge. It made the struggle harder for his crew but overall the people were better off with him around. The kids were fed and off drugs and those who chose to be working jobs were able to do it without resorting to crime. Those who chose the higher risk, higher reward of crime worked harder because they wanted to get somewhere in that line of work.

A door opened in the alley ahead, spilling light out and shining on the woman who had stepped into the otherwise dark space. She closed the door quickly and appeared to be trying to sneak around. Typically he would check to make sure she was safe and not followed without interacting but this particular woman made him crave interaction. He did wonder about her sudden appearance though. She could be dressed up for any number of reasons but she definitely looked like she was trying to escape a bad date.

He moved swiftly to catch up with her before she reached the end of the alley. He should have thought to say something to her before he reached her but he was more concerned with not being spotted by anyone else than considering how she might react. He reached out for her arm to guide her back to the alley but she turned back to defend herself. He was pretty pleased with her form and ability to defend herself, even if he was easily able to stop her from hitting him. He had more skills than most and she also stopped herself when she realized that it was him.

She visibly relaxed against him and allowed him to guide her along to a more private section of the alley.

“You startled me. I thought you were someone else,” she said.

“Your boyfriend?” he asked.

Marinette couldn’t tell what his reaction was to the possibility. He didn’t sound upset by the idea. She didn’t know how she felt about that. She was single and had been every time she had seen him but if he didn’t care about her dating life, maybe that meant she wasn’t the only one he was meeting with.

“Definitely not. He certainly did make an attempt though.”

“That doesn’t sound very good for him. I can’t complain though. I don’t think I would like it if you had a boyfriend.”

“So you are thinking of me then?” she asked slyly.

“Darling, I don’t think of anyone else the way I think of you.” He reached out and brushed her cheek. “You certainly look like you were on a date. That dress looks great on you.”

“I was supposed to be meeting up with a client who wanted to commission me for some accessories. She brought a friend to the meeting and then had to rush out. He was not surprised by this, they had planned the whole thing. So I wasted my night and I won’t be getting a commission out of it.”

“Do you want me to kill him?”

His voice was low and serious but Marinette was fairly certain he had a teasing edge to it. He didn’t seem the type to kill someone for trying to get a date with her so she just brushed past his question.

“That wouldn’t improve my night.” She took a step towards him. “Do you have any ideas on ways to improve my night?”

“I have many--.”

His voice trailed off as she walked up to him and pushed on his chest with her hand. He allowed her to back him up to the wall. He reached and pulled her against him by her hip. She wasn’t focused on that. She reached up to his helmet to work on getting it off him. He pushed the release behind his head to allow her to remove his helmet. He waited for her to kiss him. Based on her behavior he had expected her to do it as soon as she got it off him but she had paused. Her hand came up and rubbed at the scruffy beard on his face. He had forgotten about it. He decided it would be okay to skip shaving for a couple days, not expecting anyone to see it.

“Do you like the look, Doll?” he asked.

“Mmm.” She kept running her fingers against his beard. “I’ve never been a huge fan of beards but you might be changing my mind. You really pull it off.”

“So should I just always keep it like this? My new look?”

“No. I like it the other way too. I like the way it feels clean shaven,” she paused. “But I really like it like this too.”

“I think that just means you like me.”

He smiled down at her and that is when she moved up to kiss him. She already had his back against the wall but she pushed against him into bricks to keep him there. Their lips searched for a rhythm against each other. Marinette could think of nothing better to wash away her waste of a night. He held back and followed her lead as she kissed him desperately. Her fingers moved up into his hair but she kept moving a hand back down to feel his beard again. He smiled into her. After a moment she started to sag against him so he lifted her up to him to help them with the height difference.

Red Hood was disappointed when she pulled back but she didn’t stay away. She moved down to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses. He could barely breathe at the feeling of her teeth sinking into him. He wished away all of his armor so he could get closer to her. Since that wasn’t actually possible he just took a moment to move his hands over her back and legs appreciating that she was not wearing armor. He could tell that he would end up with marks down his neck from her attention but he didn’t care. Very few people saw him without his full suit on and none of them would say a thing about it.

When their lips met again he turned so she was the one against the wall. He kissed her deeply without pulling away for several minutes. She was gasping by the time he pulled back. He made the same path she did, down her jawline and pressed his lips into her neck. He covered all the skin with licks and small bites, sucking gently so he wouldn’t mark her exposed skin. She had a much larger area of skin available to him and he took full advantage. Her hands were digging into his hair as he moved down to the top of her dress line. He made sure to kiss at the lowest part of her skin exposed by the neckline of her dress before he returned to her mouth.

Red Hood was fully ready to suggest they move things somewhere else. She seemed receptive to moving things further but they were still in public. Unfortunately just then he heard an alert come through his helmet. He groaned at the timing. He responded close to the microphone and then went back to kissing her. Luckily it wasn’t an urgent issue so he was still able to kiss her soundly before her ride arrived to take her safely home.

He moved back to kiss her neck again and then up her throat.

“So are you ready to tell me your name?”

“What’s in a name? You won’t tell me yours.”

“It’s safer for you if you don’t know anything else.”

“Is it safe for me to tell you my name?”

He wasn’t actually sure. He knew she would be better off without him in her life but he couldn’t get himself to make that decision. He would wait to see what she decided, whether he knew her name or not. He moved to put his helmet back on but she pulled him down for one more searing kiss before he did. Then she walked away without looking back. He moved to make sure he saw her get in the car to take her home and hoped he would have a chance to check to make sure she got home safely later.

Taglist

#maribat #jasonette #a year of Glitter #now kiss #boldlyanxious

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xmint-conditionx · 4 years ago

Text

tongue tied | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader, f2l

w/c: 3.5k

summary: you've been best friends with yoongi for almost a decade, and you're hopelessly in love with him. he's the most important person in your life, and you don't want to mess that up, so you can never be anything more... right?

written as a response to a request from the old blog -- the requestor was @yoongi--enthusiast; thanks again for your request, i loved doing it!!! "I had an idea... something based off of the song “tongue tied” with yoongi. I feel like it would be super soft with soft smut... I just think it would be nice to read so can you please wright it 🥺👉👈"

tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, outdoor sex, overall a little angsty but super cute too

a/n: i did not know that there was a song called tongue tied by marshmello before i wrote this so... i hope the person who requested this didn’t mean that song because I wrote this drabble over the grouplove song lmaooo but anyway, here goes! thanks luv, enjoy! also reposted from the old blog!!

Yoongi’s laugh is so beautiful. It’s rare, so when you see it, you soak up everything you can about it. The way his eyes crinkle up into crescent moons, the way his lips curl back putting his gummy smile on bright display. You can swear you see his eyes sparkle.

You are in love with him. You are in love with your best friend.

He makes loving him such an easy thing to do; bringing you into his inner world, showing you the sweet and warm center he conceals from everyone else. The way he looks at you, the way he says your name, the way he pouts when he wants a back scratch, all of those little things that make him who he is only deepen your infatuation with him.

You’re with him again this Friday night, making the drive to Bom’s house. It’s been a long week for the both of you; he’s been wrapped up in producing a track and you’ve been nose deep in college textbooks. His track is completed, and your exams are over. It’s safe to say that you both could use a good break.

It’s the end of the spring semester and the weather is going to be gorgeous tonight. The racing summer breeze coming through the open car windows is exhilarating. The sun is setting, and the warm evening light on Yoongi’s dewy skin makes him appear absolutely radiant as he navigates the highway.

You’re just listening to fun little summer jams as you speed off toward the city’s suburbs. Ones with funky little basslines that are easy to groove and sing along to. Ones that make you shout and laugh into the rushing wind. Ones that make you drink in the moment you’re having with Yoongi; ones that make you soak up all of his joy.

And when he steals a sly look your way, one hand still on the top of the steering wheel, you can swear your heart stops.

You’ve loved him as long as you can remember really knowing him. Since you were both 12, bonding over games of tag and basketball and the spilling of secrets to each other. You’d sit beneath the big tree in his backyard and share the snacks you’d bought at the corner store. He’d always let you have the last chocolate.

The only secret you’ve ever kept from Yoongi is the matter of your infatuation, and you are pretty resolute in keeping it that way.

He is the single most important person in your life. He had been there with you through it all; when your parents split up at 13, when your dad got you your first car at 15, when your long time boyfriend cheated on you at 16, when your dream college denied you at 17, when you got a full ride scholarship to a smaller university outside of the city right after that, when you were drugged at a house party at 20, when you were diagnosed with depression at 21, and when you were accepted into your masters program at 22.

You needed him, and because of that, you could never tell him.

You pull into the gates that surround Bom’s neighborhood. Her parents are pretty wealthy, so they live on a golf course. As you pull up into the driveway, you see some other students milling about, catching Frisbee. There’s Eunha, Ireum, Ji-Ah, and Miyeun that you recognize from some of your classes, but there are a few more that you’ve never met.

After a few rounds of drinks and a few lost games of flip cup, you all head outside to the back patio with all of your schoolwork from the year. Bom turns on the bluetooth speaker and sets it on the railing. You take in the night air and gaze up at the sky, wishing there was a shooting star to wish upon.

“Alright, everyone,” Bom begins, “essays and lab reports first, then tests, then miscellaneous homework.” Yoongi helps you dig through your stack to fish out the cursed papers. You all toss the stapled packages into the fire pit, one by one, each hitting with a soft thud. Once everyone has thrown their woes into the pit, Bom tops it with actual firewood and unceremoniously sets the whole lot of it on fire. You gaze into the center of the flame, watching your entire year catch fire. All the hours you spent doing that research project, all the disappointment when your group members wouldn’t follow through. Gone, like it never existed.

Yoongi’s holding your hand in his, and he’s busy drawing little circles with his thumb on your palm. Your head rests soundly on his shoulder, and you sigh into him, comfortable in where you are. The whole group piles in more papers, as you lament about the shitty professors and the shitty group projects and the shitty caf’ food and the shitty grades. Yoongi turns into you and nuzzles gently on your forehead. You feel his soft lips graze your temple, breath warm on your skin, tingles rising through your body, and you’re right where you want to be. Under the moon’s gaze with the person you love.

Before long, the breeze sends a chill through you that even the fire won’t remedy. Yoongi feels your shiver and unceremoniously removes his hoodie and puts it on over you, pulling up the hood and kissing your forehead. You always love when you wear his jackets; they surround you in his warmth, his smell. A smile plays across your lips until you notice Yoongi’s goosebumps.

“Hey,” you pout, “I don't wanna wear this if you’re gonna be cold.”

“I don’t wanna wear it if you’re gonna be cold,” he snaps back, smiling.

“Here,” you say, standing up from your deck chair. You take the step to get you to Yoongi’s chair, and sit in his lap. “This way we can both be warm, yeah?”

It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms firmly around you again, mumbling a “yeah, that’s fine” when you glance at him over your shoulder.

Your attention is called back to the group with Bom asks if you’re going to the Summer Romance Festival by the river next weekend. She’s been pushing you to get yourself out there more. The last time you were in a real relationship was high school, after all.

“I’d love to go; I hear they have the most beautiful fireworks display,” you start, “but I don’t think I will this year.”

“Well,” Bom says, “Why not?!”

“Because I don’t have a date, Bom!” you say, covering your face in the sweater paws you’ve made from Yoongi’s hoodie. “I don’t think I could find one in enough time.”

“Ya, just get Yoongi to go with you! You already do everything together anyway,” Eunha quips.

You notice that the steady rise and fall of Yoongi’s chest has stopped.

“Hey, you know we’re just friends, right Yoongi?” you look to him for backup.

The man nods, looking down and to the left.

“Okay,” Ireum speaks up, “In that case, do you want to go with me?”

“Wait, what?” you say.

“Do you want to go to the Summer Romance Festival with me? As a date?”

Yoongi tenses beneath you.

“Oh, I don’t know…” you breathe, “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. We can even get dinner before we go. Not too much, though. I’ll want to get us a treat from one of the dessert stalls.” Ireum says with a soft smile.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling back at him, “Okay. We’ll go together.”

Yoongi stirs beneath you. “Hey, can you get off of me?”

“What, why?” you pout.

“I said get off.”

“Yoongi, wh--”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish before he abruptly stands up, forcing you to catch yourself. When you look back at him, he’s walking toward the French doors that lead back into the house.

“Ya! What was that about?”

He keeps walking. You storm after him and slam the door, trapping you both inside.

“Yoongi, I’m talking to you! What’s your fucking problem?”

He whirs around.

“Oh, I have a problem?”

“Well, it sure seems like it.” you spit back, hands on your hips.

“Why don’t you go talk about it with your date, huh?” he says, gesturing out the window to Ireum. “Don’t you have some details to work out? He gonna pick you up? You gonna let him hold your hand? On your nice little extra special romantic date? I guess I’ll just fuck right off and leave you two alone, yeah? That’s what you want, cause we’re just friends and all.”

“Yoongi, we… are friends! You’re my best friend!”

“Did you ever for a second think that I could want more?”

“What?!”

“I fucking love you, Y/N! Isn’t it obvious?! I’ve loved you since the 7th grade. You remember when we played spin the bottle at Ha-joon’s house? Do you remember when you kissed me?”

“Yoongi…”

“No, let me finish. Do you remember the frat party we crashed junior year? Remember when we got up onto the roof and made out until we fell asleep? And then you weren't there when I woke up so I walked back to my dorm and then we just pretended it never happened? What the fuck was that, Y/N?!”

You reach for his arm, but he backs up, flinching away from you.

“I am so in love with you it hurts!”

“Yoongi.”

“But I guess if that guy can make you happy, then whatever,” he sighs.

“Yoongi.”

“Go on your little date and have fun and I’ll just go write some more goddamn songs about you--”

“Yoongi!”

He stills, pain flashing through his eyes.

“Yoongi,” you say quietly, easing toward him, “I had no idea. I left the roof to go inside and get you some water. When I came back, you were gone. You had been drinking a lot that night… and I felt really bad because… I thought I had taken advantage of you… Ever since I first kissed you at Ha-joon’s house, I wanted to do it again. And again. And, you looked so good that night and up on the roof when you were laughing about the quarterback I just… I couldn't hold myself back anymore. I thought surely you didn’t want to actually be kissing me.”

“Why the fuck would I have kissed you back, then?”

“You were drunk, and I--” you’re cut off when he grabs your wrist.“I have wanted to kiss you every time I’ve seen you since you first kissed me,” he says, glancing down at your lips. ”I want to kiss you right now.”

You take no time in closing the distance between the two of you, your lips crashing desperately. You’ve tasted his kiss before, but this time feels different. His hands are winding through your hair, pulling you deeper into his kiss. You moan against his mouth, and he responds with his tongue teasing your lips, asking for entry. You grant it, and he explores. One of his hands holds your jaw, the other still intertwined with your hair. His tongue runs along your bottom lip before he sucks it in, drawing out a small whimper from you. Taking his hand from your jaw, he runs it down your neck and décolleté and then down over your stomach and latches it on your hip, sinking his fingers into your skin. He gives your hair a small tug, just enough to break the kiss and expose your neck. He breaks off and trails kisses up your jawline and then onto your neck, speaking in between kisses.

“You have… no idea how… much I’ve… wanted to tell… you everything,” he breathes onto your neck, and you feel a heat pooling in your panties.

“Please, Yoongi…” you say as you begin to run one hand under his shirt. He stops kissing and looks up at you with the softest expression.

“What is it?” he asks as he grabs both of your hands in his, bringing one of them up to his mouth to sprinkle kisses along your fingers.

“You…” you begin and sigh, “you have no idea how much I want you.”

He stills.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to, I’m sorry, I just…” he trails off, eyes getting lost in the way his jacket is draped on your figure.

Him eyeing you up doesn’t make it any better.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” you say, eyes pleading up at him. “I’m tired of waiting.”

After a beat, he sighs.

“Neither of us are waiting another minute,” he says, landing a quick peck on your lips and going across the room to the couch, grabbing the throw blanket that rests on the arm.

“Come on, I have an idea,” he says, grabbing your arm and leading you out of the front door, across the street, through someone’s back yard until you reach the top of a hill on the side of a fairway. You watch as he scans the area, holding the blanket tight. His gaze lingers on two hills near the green of whatever hole this is, where there are a few more trees and hills to block you from the sightline of those second story windows. He looks at you, eyes asking the question. You smile and nod, and that’s all he needs.

He tugs your hand and you both go running down the fairway, laughing along the way. Once you reach your spot, he quickly puts down the blanket and lays on it. You’re still standing at his feet, hands fiddling with the ends of the jacket sleeves.

He smiles up at you and holds his arms up in your direction and says, “come here, beautiful,” while doing little grabby hands.

You slowly walk up to where he’s laying and sit on top of his hips, feeling how hard he already is. His hand rests on your hip underneath the fabric of his jacket, the other holding the side of your face.

“Let me see you,” he says with a tinge of whine in his voice, and that gives you an idea.

You reach under the still zipped jacket and fiddle around. Yoongi looks up at you befuddled, the corners of his lips turning down slightly as he tries to figure out what’s going on. When your hands emerge, one is holding your strapless bra and the other is holding the halter top you had been wearing. You can’t believe you managed to unzip the back by yourself.

You throw the garments to the side, and watch as understanding hits his face. His eyes glaze over and he licks his lips, clearly shaken up by your little trick.

He carefully dips his fingers below the waistband of your shorts and eases them down. You put your weight on him and give him a few kisses as he continues to move them down your legs. Once they too have been tossed to the side, you sit back up, lips red and swollen from the kiss.

He gently reaches up to the zipper of the jacket and begins to slowly pull it down, letting the cool night air in. You feel your nipples harden at the exposure to both the night air and Yoongi’s hungry eyes. He swallows and licks his lips as he runs his eyes over every new inch of you that is revealed. Memorizing your form, your perked nipples, the way your chest rises with each anxious breath.

He reaches back up to the collar and eases one shoulder of fabric off. You move to take the rest off despite the cold, but he stills your hand with his.

“Keep it on, please. I love seeing you wear my clothes,” Yoongi says, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing them against his knuckles as you slowly grind your still covered core on his length. He groans in frustration, his pants getting tighter. You let go of his hand and run your fingers up beneath his white cotton v-neck, his ab muscles flinching under your touch. You help him remove his shirt, taking in the way his pale skin shines under the moonlight.

Seeing you look at him makes his cock twitch in his pants, and you think it’s time to provide him some relief.

You scoot back and start to undo his belt, getting low and staring up at him through your lashes. His breath hitches when you make eye contact with him, and then it starts to pick up as you undo the button and zipper. You shimmy down the denim, but leave his black boxer-briefs where they are.

You come back up to the waistband after releasing his jeans, and you take the elastic in between your teeth. You tug them down with your teeth while your hands pull them on the sides. His erection springs free, and he sucks in a fast breath when his cock meets the cool air. You take the opportunity to let your warm breath ghost over his throbbing cock, coaxing a deep groan from Yoongi. He puts his hand to your cheek, and you look up to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think I can last if you put me in your mouth, baby girl. We can do head next time,” Yoongi says, and your heart soars at the pet name. You ease back up so that you’re straddling him once more, and reflexively start to grind on him again.

“Please let me take care of you. Look how wet you are,” he says, running his fingers over your clothed slit, dipping one finger in to collect a bit of slick. He tastes his finger and says. “Yeah, we’re definitely going to need to do head next time.”

You blush at the thought of him buried between your thighs, vulgarly slurping up everything you have to give him. You clench just thinking about it, and Yoongi notices. He pulls your panties to the side, takes the head of his cock and presses it to your clit, teasing your entrance. His precum mixes with your wetness, and you can’t resist him any more. You’ve resisted him for years, and you’re done.

You slowly ease yourself down on his cock, only making it halfway down before you have to wait for you to adjust. You both look at each other; Yoongi’s jaw is set and his eyebrows are furrowed together. Your mouth drops open as you raise and lower yourself again, feeling the delicious stretch that accompanies it. You bottom out and begin setting a slow and gentle pace.

Your body is rolling steadily, moonlight creating beautiful shadows on your body as you take him in over and over. As many times as you’ve dreamed of this, you still didn’t fathom it being this good or it feeling this right.

Yoongi is everything you had imagined he would be and then some. The way he is looking up at you, the way his soft little moans escape every time you bottom out, the way his eyebrows furrow together at the sight of your dripping heat enveloping him. Perfection.

He takes his hands and trails them up the curve of your waist, stopping just below your breasts. He runs his thumbs over your nipples, making you shudder and arch your back, pushing your chest into his hands. He palms them, kneading little circles around your areolas.

You lean forward, putting your weight on him again, and he meets you eagerly with another kiss. He wraps his arms around your back, keeping himself under the jacket, and you pick up the rhythm. Yoongi scratches his nails all the way down your back. Once he gets to your ass, he cups it, squeezing gently. You place your forehead against his, and your eyes meet.

“Y/N,” he whispers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you look so beautiful on top of me like this. Please let me see this sight for the rest of my life.” You whimper at the praise, and pick up the pace.

“Please,” he continues, small grunts mixing in with his words, “Don’t wake up tomorrow and pretend like this never happened. Please... don’t break my heart,” he pleads.

“Not a chance, Yoon. I can never let you go. You’re everything to me. You’ve always been.”

“Baby, I am so close. Can I--”

“Come with me, Yoongi. Let’s do it together,” you say. Yoongi’s hands are on your hips and he’s thrusting up into you with an unrelenting pace. At this angle, you can feel his head graze against your cervix with each thrust, sending white spots in your vision.

You both reach your end at the same time, breaths mingling as you come down from your highs. You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat gradually slow. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head and sighs into your hair.

“So…” he begins, “do you wanna go to the festival with me?” Yoongi asks.

“Are you gonna pick me up? Let me hold your hand? Have a nice little special romantic date?” you fire back, trying your best to sound like him. You sit up on your arm, letting your hair hang over to one side, and watch the light dance in his eyes as he laughs.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “I might even get us a little snack from one of the desert vendors.”

#bts smut #bts smut reactions #bts smut one shot #bts fanfiction #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi smut one shot #soft!yoongi #yoongi--enthusiast #send me requests

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little-diable · 4 years ago

Text

Greasy Hands - Spencer Reid (smut)

Written by @playboysbunny and little-diable (that’s me - in case you were wondering). Thank you for writing the fluff and letting me have my fun with the smutty part. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: a soft drabble about a broken down car, a confused Spencer and some lovemaking in a garage

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

“You don’t understand,” she complained, “my dad used to fix everything! Dishwashers, washing machines, radios - anything that broke, my dad could fix!”

Spencer nodded, trying to calm her.

“I just don’t see the issue in sending it to the mechanic.”

She threw her arms in the air, releasing a frustrated sigh.

“It just doesn’t feel right!”

Spencer let her emotions settle. (Y/n) paced her apartment, back and forth, his eyes watching her from his leather reading chair in the corner. He kept his eyes on her with a patient expression, as she slowed eventually she stopped in front of the window. (Y/n) held a hand at her jaw as she watched the sunset; she didn’t want to admit what Spencer clearly already knew.

He didn’t push her, waiting for (y/n) to come to her own conclusion. She spoke in a whisper without turning to him.

“It just feels like he’s really gone,” she said. “He’s not here to fix my car and now it’s real. He’s really gone.”

(Y/n) didn’t cry as she had through the months. Her father had passed in the fall and the green of the trees now brought her some sort of hope and solace; things would get better. It wasn’t the changing of the seasons that brought her peace, though. No, that was Spencer.

She turned to him then and sighed, his expression was understanding and sympathetic.

“We’ll figure something out,” Spencer said, getting up from his chair. He walked across the room and took her in his arms, placing his chin on the top of (y/n)’s head.

They spent the evening together, since she was lucky enough to have him home for a rare occasion. He unfolded the team’s latest case for her over a bottle of red wine, sparing the gorey details, but giving them to her bit by bit as she begged for them. They made dinner together, danced to music she liked, but Spencer detested, but he went along with it anyway, spinning her around the kitchen and reciting all the words to her as he memorized them instantaneously.

Over dinner, she told him the downfall of her day; on the way home from work, her car suddenly started overheating and she ended up in a strange neighborhood she’d never ventured into before. It was an industrial area without a lot of foot traffic. Every window had a set of accompanying bars. (Y/n) felt oddly isolated and out of place. She was uncomfortable and nervous and then she had to walk away from her car to get a signal to call a tow truck.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Spencer scolded her from across the table. “If something had happened to you…” he couldn’t finish the thought.

“What choice did I have?” (Y/n) countered. “Should I have stayed there and waited for you to come and rescue me?”

“I would have,” he replied. “I will always find you.”

He looked at her over the candlelight, his eyes glistening with truth. His words filled her with exultant joy.

They went to bed together, finally reuniting after weeks apart. Spencer fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the case he’d just returned from. He held her in his arms as she drifted off to sleep.

(Y/n) woke up alone and felt the coldness of his absence, frantically searching for a note; he’d always leave a note if he was called to a case and she was still asleep. She patted her hands around in the dim morning light, finding nothing.

She launched herself out of the bed and threw on whatever she could find. (Y/n) ran into the living room in his boxers and his button down from the night before.

“Spencer?”

The hollow echo of the empty apartment made her heart drop. She scanned the room quickly, looking for him. His go-bag was still sitting by the door, his keys and badge on the table beside it. A cup of cold coffee was resting there too, under the faint light from the floor lamp that Spencer had left on. In his leather armchair, there was a thick book she hadn’t seen before.

(Y/n) picked it up and read the cover aloud. “Haynes Repair Manual based on a complete teardown and rebuild?”

It was for her 1969 Chevrolet Camaro, though she was positive she didn’t own the manual. Why would she? She had no idea how to fix anything.

(Y/n) grabbed the only pair of shoes she had left at the door - an old pair of tall, yellow, rubber rain boots - and ran into the hallway of her apartment building. She rushed down the stairs with the manual still in-hand. (Y/n) ran out to the back alley, where her car and others were in a long string of garages; of course, her garage door was already open.

“Damn!” Spencer yelled, clattering around under her car.

The hood was propped up and the car was up on jackstands. Spencer’s legs dangled out from underneath and tools and parts were scattered about the garage floor.

“Where did you get all this?” (Y/n) shouted.

Spencer rolled out from under the car and propped himself up on his elbow. He was in ratty blue jeans she’d never seen before and a plain white t-shirt. He was covered with splotches of black grease like a child that had been dabbling in finger paints.

“All of what?” he said, incredulously.

(Y/n) waved the manual in the air above her head.

“Spencer!” she laughed, “What are you doing?”

He stood up then, tossing the bolts he held in his hand to the floor. He ran a hand through his messy hair, stopping to pull on the roots.

“You need your car fixed and that’s what I’m going to do! It shouldn’t be this hard, really,” he huffed. “It’s simple mechanics and mathematics, you’d think someone with a Ph.D in both would be able to do it!”

He continued rambling on, kicking the bolts he had scattered, waving his hands as he struggled to explain to her how his brain and his hands seemed to have a disconnect. Spencer carried on like that for a while and she knew best to let him have his soliloquies. But (y/n) didn’t miss a single drop of sweat that ran down his slightly heated skin.

She couldn’t help but stare, forcing herself to stay calm, trying to drown out the needy longing for her man.

There was something about the way the frustration spurred him on that made her lose her focus. His intensity and passion had (y/n) biting her lip in anticipation. She couldn’t control the feeling that arose in the pit of her stomach.

He moved back to the car and attempted to refocus himself, reciting the steps of the manual he had memorized as he got back to work. How easy - she thought - it would be to let him bend her over the car, to allow Spencer to run his oil covered hands all over her body.

“You’re staring.”

The change in Spencer’s tone recaptured her attention, though he didn’t lift his head to make his remark; his eyes were focused on his task, his expression strained from stopping his smirk from spreading.

For a profiler, Spencer had never been very aware of her advances, to the sly glances she’d cast his direction. But now - with her thighs pressed together, her teeth pierced into her lower lip, the soft humming that she trilled while she was lost in her fantasies of him - he knew all about the heat that took over her senses.

He didn’t need to be a genius to understand her, to know the arousal that was dripping from her folds, about the way her nipples were beginning to harden, uncomfortably rubbing against the material of his button down shirt hung over her body.

She stumbled over her words, nervously pulling a strand of hair behind her ear.

A small “sorry” left her slightly parted lips, coaxing a chuckle out of him. Spencer rose from his kneeling position, hand reaching for hers, pulling (y/n) in for a messy kiss, tongues meeting, teeth clashing - clearly projecting the lust that kept them both distracted.

He pulled her in close, resting himself on the side of the car.

“Maybe I should get cleaned up first,” Spencer said, putting some distance between them, very well knowing that he’d lose control soon.

But the pleading whine that escaped her held him frozen and gaping as she fell to her knees in front of him, reaching for his belt loops. He braced himself on the car behind him. His usually busy psyche suddenly emptied, thoughts instantly leaving his mind as his tongue wet his lips, enjoying the feeling of her warm hands on his clothed bulge as she rubbed him through the fabric.

“Somebody's excited,” (y/n) teased.

He turned down to her, a wide smile on his pretty face, his eyes glazed over in ecstasy. Slowly - teasingly - she undid his trousers, kissing up his thighs as she toyed with the elastics of his boxers. Her touches burned on his skin, pushing the genius into a dangerous headstate; the blood was quickly rushing down to his hard cock.

He couldn’t remember his own name, and best yet, he didn’t care.

As her hands grasped his length, Spencer gasped her name - relieved to finally feel her soft skin pressed against his sensitive one. (Y/n)’s thumb circled his tip, smearing the drops of precum that bearded his skin. She couldn’t help but have a taste, lips parted, allowing him to thrust forward, cock disappearing down her throat.

Every moan that left her vibrated on his skin, pushing him closer to his release - but it was much too soon for Spencer's liking. He wanted to fill her up, claiming her, his lover, in the most sinful way, with his seed spilling out of her as she’d cry out for him.

“(Y/n), I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll-” he moaned, she cut his rambling short as she added more pressure to her movements.

She couldn’t deny the effect his words had on her. (Y/n) loved to hear his dirty talk and the promises he’d make as waves of euphoria would clash upon him.

It was no secret that he was close, tightening his grip on her hair, unevenly panting her name. She was eager to push him over the edge - oh, so eager to please him - but he pushed her away before he could reach his peak.

A few moments of silence engulfed them both, the only sound echoing through the air came from the heavy breaths spilling from his lips as he tried to calm himself.

As if he had heard her thoughts, he reached down, yanked her up by her biceps and turned (y/n) so that she could rest where he had been on the side of the car. His hungry lips grazed her neck, leaving wet trails on her skin as he snapped the hood of the car down with a forceful crash.

Wordlessly she positioned herself for him, ripping the boxers she had thrown on down her legs, exposing her glistening wetness to his wide eyes. She leaned back as he lifted her onto the car’s hood.

(Y/n) pledged to take him on a wild ride as she’d beg for her release.

Spencer took in every word, “let me taste you first. I bet you made quite a mess, didn’t you?”

Two fingers of his ran through her slit, spreading her slick on her folds, on her clit. She was addicted to his touch, completely at his mercy.

(Y/n) was putty in his hands, would do anything he’d asked of her if it meant that she could cum on his fingers. He enjoyed watching her moan for him - she was begging for more, so lost in the fantasy that her words became nonsense.

As he pushed his fingers into her, pumping them in and out of her tightness, her head fell back against the hood as she arched herself off the metal. She was so close, too close, plagued with the wish that this moment and feeling would last forever.

“Feels so good Spence’,” she cried, slurring his name, eyes squeezed shut, her breaths falling short.

Though just as she wanted to let go, he stopped, smirking at her with the special glint in his eyes. He was toying with her, using her body for his pleasure. Watching her beg for him turned him into a touch-starved, hungry man.

“I will fuck you so good, you won’t remember your own name,” Spencer moaned.

His words sounded more like a command than a promise, cock ready to rip her in half, to fuck her till she’d cry heavy tears of pleasure.

Her lips met his in a rather passionate way, tongues fighting, teasing one another, distracting her from the feeling of his cock pressed against her entrance. As their bodies connected in the most intimate way possible, she called out his name, pulling him close, holding onto him for dear life.

Spencer kept his gaze focused on her heat, watching his length split her in half, glistening with her arousal clinging to his skin. She was losing herself in waves of pleasures, slowly forgetting about the world outside, only caring about their love and the pleasure that ran through their bodies.

His pace was ruthless, bruising, keeping her lungs from letting any air flood through them. She was too distracted by the feeling of his cock buried deep inside of her. Sounds of praises left them both as they felt themselves climbing higher and higher, ready to reach their peaks.

“I’m so close.”

Her words didn’t get a reply. He was focused on making her cum, adding more pressure to the speed of his thrusts as her body moved against the hood. Sweat dripped down her skin, pooling on the small of (y/n)’s back. Their lips connected once again all while she tumbled over the edge, fingernails piercing into his shoulders, as she cried out his name.

The way she looked - sweaty, hair in tangles, makeup smudged - pushed him into the arms of his own orgasm. His release spilled out of him, painting her walls white, claiming (y/n) as his.

She laid her head down and let her body collapse onto the hood of the car as he bent himself over her to rest. Forehead to forehead, they gazed into each other’s eyes as they struggled to catch their breaths. They both shared sloppy, quick kisses and murmurs of “I love you’s” as they laughed breathlessly together in the afterglow.

Spencer pushed himself off the car and straightened his pants again before handing her the boxers she’d stolen. She hopped off the hood and redressed herself as they heard nearing footsteps.

”Hey, pretty boy,” Derek chanted, announcing himself before he walked through the wide open door of the garage.

(Y/n) covered her mouth to hide her wide smile, admired Spencer as he struggled to keep himself composed.

“Hey, Derek, thanks for coming,” Spencer answered, still struggling to breathe evenly.

“(Y/n), you can go back to bed and rest easy little girl,” Derek laughed. “I’m here now, I’ll take care of you.”

Derek’s taunt was entirely directed at the difficulties Spencer faced with fixing her car, but she couldn’t let the moment pass.

She smiled brightly in Derek’s direction as she walked past him on her way out of the garage, “Oh, Dr. Reid has already taken care of me, Derek. Don’t you worry.”

(Y/n) heard Spencer laugh as she sauntered off. She imagined the look on Derek’s face as the realization hit, but she didn’t look back to see it.

“Pretty boy!” Derek yelled in surprise.

She basked in the sound of Spencer’s laughter.

Criminal Minds Taglist: @huntheimpossible @23victoria @jensenackles512 @trickassmotherfucker @miraclesoflove @shrekboobies

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#spencer reid smut #Spencer Reid imagine #Spencer Reid x reader #Matthew Gray Gubler

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

By Your Doorstep (Part 7)

Summary: The reader spends her first Thanksgiving with Dean and his friends and she and Dean grow closer as a couple. But things change when a knock on the door happens one night...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 5,600ish

Warnings: language, bad parenting, past child abuse, violence, blackmail

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

_________

Reader’s POV

Two Days Later

“We’re here!” called Dean as you followed him inside of his friend’s Donna and Benny’s house. Sam helped Toast navigate the cluster of shoes by the door as Tessa stepped in.

“About time you Winchesters got here,” said a man poking his head out from down a hall. “Hey, somebody’s looking better.”

“Are you that firefighter?” asked Tessa.

“At your service,” he said as he walked over. “Benjamin Laffetite. My friends call me Benny.”

“Aw, he is like a big teddy bear, Dean,” you said. Benny gave Dean a side eye but smiled. “Nice to meet you in person. We missed you at the last party Dean had.”

“Likewise. Me and the missus were out of town. Come on ladies. Let these two handle the bags,” he said as Toast ran up and sniffed him. “Well aren’t you adorable? What’s your name?”

“Toast. He’s my service dog. Kinda,” said Tessa.

“We’ll save him a slice of turkey,” said Benny as he pet him. “Hey you single kid?”

“Benny,” said Dean with a sigh.

“Jack’s here,” said Benny before he turned the two of you. “He’s our buddy Cas’ little cousin. 18. Freshman at Elmdale. He’s got that whole sweetly naive innocent thing going on for him.”

“Benny!” said a young looking guy in a hoodie standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

“Speak of the devil. Hey, Jackie, come say hi to this chick out of your league. Give you some practice talking to girls,” said Benny with a smirk.

“Hi. He’s an ass,” said Jack before Toast wandered over to him. “This your dog?”

“Yeah,” she said as Toast started to lick him. “He likes you.”

She gave you a look and you waved for her to take off, Benny chuckling to himself.

“Always gotta harass the kids, don’t you, Benny,” said Dean. The boys exchanged quick hugs and Benny let out a big laugh.

“Well since Sammy got big enough to beat me up I had to pick easier targets,” said Benny. He gave you a smile and threw his arm over your shoulders. “I got this one boys.”

“Benny…” said Dean as Benny walked off with you. “Play nice.”

“Don’t I always?” he said. He showed you into a kitchen and stopped next to a blonde working over the stove. “Y/N this is my lovely gal, Donna. Deano set us up a few years back.”

“Oh you’re adorable,” she said, ditching a spoon in a pot before giving you a big hug.

“She’s a hugger,” said Benny as he took over the stove.

“We haven’t seen Dean in months. We were starting to think he fell off the face of the earth,” she said.

“Sorry. We uh, we’ve been busy with a lot lately,” you said, getting an eye roll from her.

“Don’t apologize. He is head over heels for you,” she said. “But I will fuck you up if you hurt him, okay?”

“Permission granted,” you said.

“Donna, she’s almost kicked ass for me before,” said Dean as he and Sam carried in two casserole dishes.

“Then she doesn’t have to worry, does she? So you a beer or wine kinda gal?” she asked.

“She likes bourbon,” said Cas as he walked in with a plate full of bugles held strangely close to his face.

“Why are you so weird buddy?” chuckled Dean, slapping Cas on the back. “Everybody else knows Y/N and Tessa for the most part.”

“I’ll take a beer for now,” you said. You followed Dean into the garage and grabbed a bottle from the cooler, a goofy smile crossing his face. “What?”

“I’m really happy you’re here is all,” he said. You set the beer down on the cooler and wrapped your arms over his shoulders, smiling back at him.

“I really like when you’re happy.” He blushed a little as your nose grazed his. His eyes kept lock with yours though and you smiled as you saw the creases near them from his own. “I think I might be falling for you or something Winchester.”

“Fancy that. I could say the exact same,” he said. “The deranged woman shouting toast in the neighborhood.”

“The man who fell on his ass on my front porch,” you said. He giggled and you immediately kissed him, Dean pulling you flush against himself. “That just might be the best sound I’ve ever heard in my life.”

He grinned and you both heard the door open, Tessa coming out and digging around in a cooler for a soda. She looked a little tired as you picked up your and Dean’s beers, Dean ruffling her head slightly. She shut her eyes and you both smiled.

“You’re still recovering. Take it easy if you need to,” he said.

“I know,” she hummed. She straightened up when Jack came out to get a drink, Tessa ducking back inside where it was warmer.

“Jack,” said Dean with a whistle. “Why don’t you and Tessa go sit down and watch some football? Something easy going.”

“She likes football?” he asked.

“She got sick a few days ago and needs some rest is all,” you said. “But you don’t have to-”

“No that’s totally cool,” he said with a smile.

“She is out of your league, Jack. Also in highschool,” said Dean. Jack held up his hands and Dean chuckled as he walked out. “Don’t worry about him. He’s the sweetest kid I’ve ever met.”

“Cas always brags about him. I figured he wouldn’t be like, an asshole,” you said. “So he’s like Cas’ nephew, right?”

“Technically, yes. Legally, he’s his kid. Cas’ whole family is full of nutjobs. Jack’s dad isn’t a great guy. Cas took custody of Jack about two years ago.”

“You ever talk to him about...taking charge before you’re ready?”

“Cas was twenty nine with a very good job and house and security and Jack was seventeen. They’re more like brothers I guess. Cas is one of my best friends but he doesn’t...get it. His parents help a lot. I know you know the difference.”

“I do,” you said. You gave him another kiss and slipped back inside with him, a woman you didn’t recognize giving you a smile as she popped into the garage. “You know her?”

“Must be a friend of Donna’s,” he said as he took your hand. “You’re all chilly. Let’s get you warmed up, sweetheart.”

“I’m officially stuffed,” said Dean that night back at home after his fifth slice of pie that day. He was in his onesie and you’d slipped into your gray one, Dean hopping over the back of the couch and pulling you into his side.

Tessa hummed as she skipped downstairs sporting a pink and white one, Sam sighing loudly as Toast trotted down the steps.

“Sammy, you look cute!” called Tessa. She sounded a little too pleased with herself and Dean gave her a fist bump just as Sam walked around the corner. His was black and he had the hood up, a pout on his face.

“Aw, he’s adorable,” you said.

“I hate you. All of you,” said Sam as he stretched out on the other end of the wrap around.

“Sam, share,” said Tessa. He smirked and flipped her as he pulled her down, Tessa yelping but letting out a few giggles. He sat back and she leaned back against him, leaving enough room for Toast to use his pillow on the floor to hop up onto the end.

“Alright, now that everyone’s settled, let’s watch some football,” said Dean.

About an hour later Tessa was passed out on top of Sam, Sam breathing softly as he slept as well. You looked at Dean to find he was watching them too, a silly look on his face.

“We should do onesies for Christmas Eve too,” you said.

“Definitely. This was the best thanksgiving I think Sammy and me have ever had.”

“Really?”

“I got my girl. I got my little sis and brother. Got my dog. Sammy really liked that Eileen girl he met today. This is definitely up there as one of the best days ever,” he said.

“You know how earlier I said I was falling for you?” you smirked.

“Oh yes. That was a highlight of the day,” he chuckled quietly.

“Looking over at those two, this is the first time she’s not cried on a holiday in years. She had a really good day and I don’t feel like I’m fucking this up as much as I was anymore and I know it’s because of you.”

“Oh I’m doing this all for entirely selfish reasons,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “Very selfish.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder with a smile.

“I’ve only ever let one person in, all that way down to the shit deep down there. I love my friends and I’d do anything for them. I’d give ‘em a kidney if they needed it. But it was only ever Sam my whole life that got all the way in. Lately though, there’s this girl and she’s making me rethink some things and for the first time in my life, I let somebody else in and it feels terrifying but I’m happy in a way I didn’t think I’d have. She’s making me a better person and I feel so good and I am going to keep being incredibly selfish about that.”

He tilted his head down as you leaned up, meeting him for a kiss. It was soft and lingered, Dean cupping your cheek. You moved and he went with it, slow and lazy, laying back and enjoying a playful game. Something swelled up inside of you and burst open, a moment of pause as you took a breath. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes and you tried to look away before Dean saw but he was still holding your face, big green eyes locking onto yours.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, wiping away the sticky droplets.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m happy. I’m so happy right now I don’t understand.”

“You let me in,” he said gently. “Way down you let me in just now, didn’t you.”

“I don’t understand why I’m crying,” you said.

“Because the last people you let in there, it broke your heart when you lost them,” he said. “Don’t be scared of losing me. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded and put your palm against his chest, Dean wiping off your face. His heart thumped along evenly, strong and steady. He nodded and he turned off the TV, carrying you up to bed. He sat you down and lay down beside you, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Not really,” you said. He propped himself up on his elbow and you rolled over to meet him.

“Sweetheart you can’t go around living scared of people dying on you. It’s-”

“It’s not that,” you said. “I just...can I ask an unaskable favor?”

“What?”

“If something happened to me, would you help take care of Tessa, until she’s ready to be on her own?” you asked.

“Why do you think something-”

“Dean could you just…” you said before he nodded.

“If anything ever happened, Tessa will always have us,” he said. “I swear.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for that,” he said. He stroked your cheek again and offered a soft smile. “Is there something you’re not telling me sweetheart?”

“The last boyfriend I had I was twenty three. I’d been with him for three years. I thought he was gonna be the one, you know?”

“What happened?” he asked quietly, still tracing over your skin.

“He moved away after school for a job. It was working until it wasn’t. It was amicable. I still...never quite got over him I suppose. After the accident, he reached out to make sure I was doing okay. I really wasn’t but he was coming into town to see his parents anyways so he stopped over. I thought he cared, maybe I could let the wall down a little and it’d be okay. But he was so rude to her. She was in a real bad place at first and he just...was a dick and I got over him like that for good. But you, and Sam, I feel like, you’re the kind of the people that...if I dropped dead this second you’d be over her house ten years from now helping her put up a shelf or you’d take her out for drinks or something and the fact that she has people she can depend on and I don’t have to worry about her as much...it just kinda hit me tonight, you know?”

“I do. You have people you can depend on too,” he said. You leaned over and kissed him, Dean sliding his hand to the back of your head. “It gets easier. I promise it does.”

“I know,” you said.

“Let’s have a little quiet day at home tomorrow. Maybe we can put up the tree,” he said. “That sound fun?”

“Sounds perfect Dean.”

Two Weeks Later

“Tessa,” you said as she zipped up her winter jacket in the foyer.

“Y/N. I’m going over Jack’s to play video games, I swear,” she said. “I’m pretty sure Cas and Kelly will be home anyways.”

“Your shirt’s on backwards, doofus,” teased Dean from the couch. She huffed and took off her jacket, fixing it as Sam jogged down the stairs in a suit.

“Hot date tonight, Sammy?” she teased.

“At least I know how to dress myself,” he shot back. “Ready to go?”

“Mhm,” she said. She put her jacket back on and hooked up Toast’s leash the two of them heading out.

“You think she’s actually going over to play video games or make out with him?” asked Dean.

“Both?” you laughed.

“Not bad plans if I say so myself,” he said, pulling you into his lap. The doorbell rang and he groaned. “Stay put. We have a makeout session to get to.”

He hopped up and went over to the door, immediately shutting it.

“Something wrong?” you asked as he walked back. He shook his head, the doorbell ringing again, you got up and went to the door, hearing Sam talking loudly outside with someone. You peeked the door open and saw a man on the front porch, Sam rolling his eyes and walking away from a woman. He got in the car and drove off with Tessa, the man giving you a look. “Can I help you?”

“We’d like to speak to Dean,” he said.

“Who are you?” you asked.

“His father,” he said, pushing the door open wide. “Who are you?”

“His girlfriend,” you said, stepping in front of him with crossed arms. “I don’t recall inviting you into my home.”

“Leave. Both of you,” said Dean as they both stepped into the foyer. “I said-”

“We want to speak to you. In private,” he said.

“I don’t think-” you got out before he got in your face and glared down at you. You swallowed. He was as big as Dean but there was something off to him.

“Dean. Private,” said his father.

“Y/N, go upstairs. Please,” said Dean. You sighed but went up, hanging around the balcony to try and overhear them in the family room below. “What the fuck are you two shitheads doing at my house?”

There was a thud and you froze, listening for more.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” said Dean, his voice slightly off.

“You know how this works.”

“Why don’t you get a job lazy ass? Oh wait. You get fired for being drunk at yours?” said Dean. There was another thud and you took out your phone, trying to record whatever was going on. “Oh punching. Very mature of…” said Dean before he gasped and made a whining sound.

“You know how this goes. She calls and you pay. Now pay or we’ll tell Sam the truth.”

“That you’re a sack of shit? He already-” said Dean before he went quiet.

“Have the money tomorrow by noon at the locker or else Sammy’s gonna drop you like the sack of shit you are, Dean. He’s gonna hate you for taking him from us and you know it.”

“I saved his-”

“No, no Dean. You were pathetic and couldn’t stand the thought of being alone so you took Sam. You pay us every few years. That’s the deal for us staying away. If you go back on your word now, we’ll go back on ours.”

“I’m done with you blackmailing me for-” said Dean before there was another thud.

“I’m done with you thinking you’re better than us. You’re nothing, understand boy?” he said. You went over to the hall closet and grabbed a baseball bat, walking downstairs to catch John staring down at the floor, Dean sat back against the wall holding his side.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” you said, gripping the bat tightly.

“Noon, Dean,” he said. He walked out with Mary on his tail. You quickly locked up and rushed over to Dean who had his eyes shut and was sporting a few bruises on his face.

“Jesus Dean,” you said. You moved his hand and saw a bruise on his ribs, Dean holding up a hand when you tried to move him.

“Give me a second,” he said. You picked up the bat and he caught your wrist, shaking his head. “He doesn’t have any problem hitting a woman, Y/N.”

“I should be calling the cops,” you said.

“Y/N,” he said when you tried to tug away. “Please don’t.”

You put down the bat and he dropped your hand. You cupped his cheeks and he winced.

“I need to take you to the hospital,” you said. He shook his head and you shook it right back. “Dean.”

“Help me over to the counter,” he said. You hooked an arm under his and got him up, walking him over to one of the stools. You sat him down, Dean inhaling sharply. You got out the first aid kit from the cabinet and set it down, taking a kitchen towel and wetting it before you dabbed it against this cheek. It soaked up a little blood and you frowned, Dean looking away.

“Dean I recorded the whole thing on my phone. It’s still going on the stairs. We gotta call-“

“Y/N. Just…don’t.” He started to grab the bag and stand when you scoffed. “I can handle this.”

He got up and started to walk, slowing down after a moment and holding his side again. He stopped by the back of the couch and dropped his head. You sighed and took the bag from him, throwing his arm over your shoulders and walking him upstairs, grabbing your phone along the way. You walked him into the bathroom and he sat up on the counter, leaning back against the wall with a wince.

You helped him out of his shirt and saw the bruise was darkening over his ribs, Dean shutting his eyes.

“Hand me your little mirror,” he said, pointing over to your vanity. You picked it up off the counter, Dean holding it up and looking at his face. “Alright. Can you get me-”

“Stop. I got this.” You used a washcloth and got it wet again, holding it against his cheek and around his eye. He tried looking down but kept moving his head and you settled on putting some more cold water on the towel, pressing it over his skin again. When it seemed like the bleeding had stopped you dug out some medication, dabbing it over the cuts. He was quiet, holding his side while you put a butterfly bandage over his cheek. You peeled his hand away and figured there wasn’t much you could do for his ribs.

You went downstairs and got some painkillers and an ice pack, returning to Dean right where you left him.

“Here,” you said, dropping the pills in his hand. He took them with a quick gulp of water, hissing as the cold touched his skin but he soon relaxed. You held the pack for him, Dean taking a deep breath. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Dean. Your dad just-”

“This is not the first time and it probably won’t be the last,” he said.

“Now I’m definitely calling the cops,” you said. You reached for your phone but he grabbed it first, holding it over his head. “Dean. He hurt you. He can’t just come into our house and do that.”

“What I need you to do is take my debit card, go to the ATM and take out five thousand from my savings and five thousand from checking. Hundreds is fine. Okay?” he said. “The PIN is-”

“I’m not doing anything other than putting you in bed,” you said. He glared and you gave it right back. You grabbed his arm and pushed him into the room and over to the bed, Dean laying back against the headboard reluctantly. “Why on earth do you-”

“It’s how I got Sam,” he said. “Custody of him when I was eighteen. We didn’t go to court. I paid them off. It was five grand at first and it tied them over for a bit but when he turned eighteen, they called and wanted more. Every three years they call. Last time it got bumped up to ten thousand. They called around the time I met you and I didn’t pay this year hence the ass kicking.”

“But why do you still pay them off?” you asked.

“Because Y/N,” he said. You crossed your arms and he slammed his fist against his pillow. “Because Sam was the favorite. He didn’t get the shit kicked…”

Dean trailed off and shut his mouth, looking away. You sat up next to him, holding his free hand and holding him as best you could.

“I got the worst of it but that’s not to say Sam didn’t get some. I knew, I knew that fucker would hurt him once I was gone and I couldn’t stay so Sam had to come with me. I tried looking up how to get custody and that sort of thing and they found out about it,” said Dean. He laughed and you ran your hand through his hair. “Tonight? That was nothing compared to what happened after they found out. But my drunk of a father, well, he owed money and I had some saved up from working for my Uncle Bobby. So I paid to get Sam the fuck out of there. They claimed it was because they were going to travel and wanted Sam to be able to stay in school and shit. It was all shit. Now...now they tried their best to make him hate me on the way out, make it seem like I was stealing him from them. Plant those little seeds. You can’t kill an idea once it’s in there. So I did what I had to and I keep doing what I have to and they stay away from us. It’s how it goes.”

“Do you...do you pay them not to hurt you?” you asked.

“No.”

“Then what’s it for?”

“He will hate me if he knows the truth.”

“Dean he won’t-”

“Our parents fucked us up. I literally bought custody of my baby brother. How is that not fucked up?”

“It’s a fucked up situation. You though, you are not fucked up,” you said as he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. Your father is...a monster and I don’t know what the fuck is up with your mom but you are good. Sam is good. You have the biggest fucking heart of anyone I’ve ever known. Sam would never hate you for getting him out of that situation. Never. But I don’t understand why you keep paying them money, Dean.”

“So they don’t tell him the truth.”

“The truth doesn’t sound all that bad though. He-”

“If he finds out I’ve lied to him for half of his life, he will not forgive me for that. We tell each other all our crap because we’re the only ones that can understand what went on in that house and I can’t risk losing him.”

“There’s more to it,” you said. Dean shut his eyes and nodded. “Dean, what is it?”

“I stole money,” he said. “When I was eighteen. We needed food and rich people don’t notice when twenty, fifty bucks goes missing out of a drawer. If you just take a little, they don’t notice. Well, my father found out about it and threatened to have me arrested if we didn’t come to some kind of payment plan. He was proof and I don’t deny I did it. We needed-”

“You stole from my dad,” you said.

“I did. Money out of his desk drawer at work. He caught me red handed and in one second I thought my life and Sam’s lives were over. I just...started crying and he shut the door and he gave me some money and he took the rest of the afternoon off and we got some stuff like clothes and toothpaste and food and he gave me a job as a paralegal intern. I had no fucking idea what I was doing and he helped me get into school and I worked there and made way more than I did in the mailroom and he’d have dinner with Sammy and me at our place once a month. You have no idea how badly I wanted him to my dad. But we knew he had a real family so we tried not to bother him. By the time I got into med school, Sam was going into his first year and we were on our feet. I’d gotten a good job at a medical place but he checked in every once in a while. I didn’t know he’d died until I met you. I always thought we’d take him out and repay him someday. If he wasn’t kind that day...I’d have nothing.”

“I’ll share my father with you and Sam any day.” He smiled and you kissed him, Dean starting to relax. “So your dad has proof of you stealing money? How much?”

“I wasn’t particularly great at it. Sam and I both had jobs. It was probably a hundred bucks,” he said.

“How’d he get proof?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“How would he have proof of you stealing from some random person?” you asked.

“He has photos,” he said. “He showed me.”

“Photos of…”

“Me with the money.”

“Outside of someone’s house?” you asked.

“I was in my car,” he said.

“Dean. Where was the car?”

“Outside...work,” he said, thinking to himself. “Your dad...he gave me money that day. There was never any proof. I just let him manipulate me again into doing what he wanted.”

“How much did you steal Dean. Altogether?”

“A few hundred bucks?”

“You donate some money to charity?” you asked as he nodded. “Your debt to society has been repaid, trust me. No more feeling guilty. Plus when my dad the lawyer lets you off the hook, it’s fine.”

“Sam still can’t know.”

“Sam’s been outside the door for most of this conversation,” he said. He turned around the corner, Tessa there with him. “Fuck, Dean. What happened to your face?”

“Are you okay?” Tessa asked, climbing up on the bed.

“I thought you had a hot date,” he said. “The both of you.”

“Jack’s just a friend,” she said.

“Eileen understands,” said Sam. “Besides, we both got a bad feeling after mom and dad showed up like that.”

“You really thought it was appropriate for an 18 year old to hear all that?” asked Dean.

“Considering all the shit I just learned about you at 18, I’d say I’m good,” said Tessa. She fidgeted a little and Dean sat up more.

“You can hug him. Carefully,” you said. She moved up to his other side and gave him a gentle one, Dean chuckling.

“I love you too, dork,” he said. He watched with a swallow as Sam stepped inside and moved the icepack from Dean’s body. Dean stared up and Sam sat on the edge of the bed, placing the pack back. “I’m-”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing,” said Sam. “You protected me and that’s all there was to it. Everytime she calls, talking to her tonight, I still get manipulated too. I don’t know why they hate us so much and it’s wrong but you aren’t. Not you.”

“Y/N’s offered up their parents if we’d like to take ‘em,” said Dean.

“Mr. Y/L/N was your guys dad?” said Sam as you and Tessa nodded. “You know I met you once Tessa. You must have been five. You were bragging about something to do with kindergarten.”

“How’d you remember that?” she asked.

“Cause I was so fucking jealous of you. You were so happy,” he said. She looked down but Sam laughed. “It worked out how it was supposed to.”

“You’re a lawyer, can’t you like, do something?” she said, glancing at Dean.

“Tessa, this isn’t that simple,” said Dean.

“Yeah, it is,” she said. He nodded and she relaxed some. “I don’t think you should pay anything. He should pay you while he’s at it.”

“Yeah,” he said, ruffling her head and wrapping his arm around her. He looked at Sam and then you before you nodded. He wouldn’t say anything about his father. Sam was grown and bigger than himself yet Dean still kept paying. With you and Tessa around, there was no way he was risking a thing.

“Sam,” you said. You both got up, Dean pouting when he realized he wasn’t getting up without some help. You walked down to Sam’s room and he shut the door, crossing his arms. “We can’t let him keep paying off your father. Tessa has a point. You’re a lawyer. What are our options?”

“There’s not blackmail evidence and our parents would claim it was a gift. The only things I can think of that we’d have a shot would be the incident tonight which he’d be out on bail like that anyways and...stuff that happened when we were kids.”

“Sam he came to our house.”

“I know,” he said, rubbing your arms. “Dean always gets quiet for a few days after something like this happens. Nobody is paying anything. I’ll make sure Dean doesn’t leave the house tomorrow morning.”

“What do you think John would do? Will do?”

“I don’t know. He’s an abusive dick, not a psychopath.”

“Did you ever tell my dad about this stuff?”

“Dean did a bit I think.”

“Good,” you said as you left the room.

“Why good?”

“Because if I know my dad, he made a note of it and put it on record with a judge,” you said as you headed downstairs.

“Y/N,” said Dean from the end of the hall, leaning on Tessa. “Where are you going?”

“To see if dad ever reported John. Or at least kept a file on him. We still know the partners at his old firm. I’ll be back in an hour,” you said. “Two tops.”

“Sam go with her,” said Dean. “Please.”

“Tessa, put him back in bed and get him a fresh icepack in fifteen minutes. Get some food too, okay?” you said, tugging on your winter coat. “Oh and take Toast-”

“I got it,” she said.

“We’ll be back soon,” said Sam. “Hopefully with some good news.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 8 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #doctor!dean #au!dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #dean #winchester #dean spn #doctor!dean x reader

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years ago

Text

Hold Me Up

Prompt 42. Group of friends. Economic disaster, no jobs; eventually in desperation someone in the group suggests making a porno for $, the idea takes off, as they work on a script and put out ideas, a lot becomes clear, like who has kinks, who has tried a lot, and that one is an inexperienced virgin. Does the writing experience have consequences to the group dynamic, will they actually film and sell it, will they stay friends? Are any couples or siblings part of the group? Are secrets revealed through brainstorming?

Submitted by @567inpanem

Author: JLaLa

Rated M

Summary: “What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

Strapped for cash, a group of friends—plus two strangers—decide to go all out.

Multiple pairings, and of course, Everlark.

“Hold me up in the palm of your hand Lying to you is a river of sin Your metaphors, your silent calls Your feelings are too real…”

-Live

Hold Me Up

Part One

Katniss closed her eyes as the rush of hot water hit her face. It had been a hell of a day.

Her boss cut her hours at the record store due to the lack of sales. She had done everything short of offering to blow the man—wouldn’t have worked, he was gay—to get as many hours as possible. However, everyone was suffering due to Panem’s economic disaster and Heavensbee’s hands were tied.

All she wanted to do tonight was eat the leftover Chinese in the fridge, binge watch Bridgerton for the hundredth time and use her vibrator until she climaxed to the image of Simon Basset eating her out—

“Katniss!” There was a quick knock before the door opened. “Sorry, but I have to piss like a racehorse—”

She pulled back the shower curtain to the sight of her roommate and friend, Peeta, unzipping his jeans.

“Seriously, couldn’t you do that somewhere else? Like, maybe get a plastic cup or do it in the sink?”

“Last time I did, Gale totally flipped out on me,” her friend replied. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my dick before. You’ve seen it plenty of times, most of the time it was erect.”

The peril of living with two boys was that you always seemed surrounded by morning wood…any kind of wood really.

“Fine.” Katniss closed the curtain. “Try not to be loud about it though.”

“How am I loud while I pee?”

“‘Oooh fuck, finally…I’ve been holding that in all day!’ Katniss mimicked mockingly. “You’d think that you were doing something else instead of emptying your bladder.”

“Honestly, sometimes a good pee is better than sex,” Peeta retorted. “I don’t think that I’ll be able to stop it once it starts so just sing something really loud or you’ll be hearing me hitting the porcelain pretty hard.”

Katniss walked under the shower to rinse her hair and belted out the first song that came to her.

“I got a new life

You would hardly recognize me

I’m so glad

How could a person like me care for you?

Why, why do I bother

When you’re not the one for me

Is enough enough?”

“I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes…” Peeta sang along and Katniss giggled hearing his melodic baritone. “I saw the sign…life is demanding without understanding—”

“We should start a group,” she offered as she turned the nozzle and the water stopped. “Especially since I’ll likely be laid off soon.”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry, Katniss.” A hand peeked through the curtain, holding a towel and she took it, quickly wrapping it around herself. “We’re all taking it up the butt, aren’t we?”

She pulled back the curtain and stepped out. “What do you mean?”

“Haymitch and Effie will probably have to close down with everything happening,” he informed her. “The rent for the bakery space is just too much for them. I mean, we still have our regulars, but they’re not making enough to pay me to make a dozen danishes and scones.”

“That sucks.” Peeta was still wearing his apron around his waist, a red bandana covering his blond locks, along with his usual baking uniform of a fitted white tee and jeans. “I know how much you love that job. Not to mention, Haymitch and Effie are pretty kickass.”

“Well, at least we have Gale,” her friend replied as he opened the door, letting her step out first before putting a companionable arm around her waist. “Old reliable Gale—”

There was a cough and they found Gale sitting on their couch lighting up their emergency joint.

This was bad.

++++++

“My whole department was pretty much eliminated,” Gale explained once he stepped out of his daze. “They led us in, one by one, into that small office and gave us the whole spiel about making cutbacks before handing us our severance checks. This will hold me for about six months of my piece of the rent—”

“This is probably the worst time to tell you,” Katniss started. “But Heavensbee reduced my hours at the store and I’ll probably be getting the boot soon.”

“Effie and Haymitch can’t afford to keep me at the bakery,” Peeta told him. “They’re also likely to lose the business, too.”

Gale nodded, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. “Well, we’re fucked.”

“Now there’s that positive attitude that we know and love,” a sharp feminine voice said.

The three looked up to find the rest of their friends stepping into the apartment led by Johanna, who lived across the hall from them. Madge, her roommate, followed in with a pizza box and the group was finished out with Finnick, who lived downstairs and was—until today—Gale’s teammate.

“Well, we’re fucked!” Gale repeated, his voice hitching up at the end. He looked to Johanna. “Good enough?”

“We’re all getting it,” Madge said, sitting next to him calmly. “The Forever 21 I’m working at is closing. So, I’m screwed, and I won’t even have severance like you and Finnick.”

“I have thousands of dollars in debt over the camera equipment I just bought,” Finnick told her. “I’m supposed to be working on my documentary.” Their friend was a budding director. “Now, I’ll be using the rest of my severance to pay it off.”

Johanna plopped down in their lone seat, putting her feet on the table.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but I’ve been out of a job for months, so your sob stories mean nothing to me,” she said. Grabbing the joint, their friend took a long inhale and breathe out in relief. “The job market is non-existent at this point.”

“God, maybe I should’ve pushed on blowing Heavensbee,” Katniss muttered.

Finnick snorted. “What?”

“He’s gay, but probably not getting any,” she replied, next to Peeta. “If you close your eyes, it feels the same.”

“You might have something there,” Johanna suddenly said, her oak eyes contemplative.

Peeta glared at her. “Not funny. You really want Katniss turning tricks for rent?”

“Hardly,” their friend replied. “No offense—” Johanna looked to Katniss. “—you alone have no sex appeal, and this is coming from a full-fledged lesbian.” She turned to Madge. “She would—with the pouty lips and the big titties. Not to mention those golden locks. Put a little red hood on her and you’ll have those Fairy Tale freaks begging to see what’s underneath.”

Katniss crossed her arms. “Well, thank you for telling me that I’m undesirable.”

“I didn’t say that.” Johanna looked between Katniss and Peeta. “I said you alone would have no sex appeal but put you with him—” She nodded at Peeta. “—or her.” A hand waved over at Madge. “People will pay big money to see that. A nice little ying and yang.”

“What the hell are you suggesting?” Gale asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” the woman next to him said. “I’m suggesting we make a porno.”

++++++

Several beers in, the idea started to make sense.

“Babe, if this thing took off, we could pay off the camera equipment,” Annie, Finnick’s fiancée, said. She had joined them a little after the major freak out over Johanna’s idea. “Also, you could get some experience in handling the equipment and I could get experience with the boom mic.”

“That is true,” Finnick mused.

“Guys, do you know how many different types of porn there is out there? How would we make one that people would be interested in?” Gale asked. His voice had taken on a rough slur, five bottles in, as he leaned against a drunken Madge.

“Simple,” Johanna smirked. “We do our research. This neighborhood is full of not-so-reputable places; it’s why rent used to be freakishly low. We can ask what men and women would like to see. Also, we’re all decent looking.”

“What about the fact that you’re talking about us having sex with each other?” Peeta asked, eyes bloodshot. Katniss laid on his lap, singing along to the music on her phone. “No offense, but I don’t want to have sex with you. You scare me a little.”

“Well, who would you want to have sex with?” Madge asked with a buzzed grin.

“Easy.” Peeta looked at the giggling woman on his lap. “Katniss.”

“Really now?” Finnick leaned forward in interest. “Why her?”

“I’m comfortable with her,” he explained. “We were each other’s first kiss, granted we were only five—but also, she’s seen my dick plenty of times.”

Katniss drunkenly waved her finger at him. “I’m not scared of it…”

“Dude, why aren’t you together?” Annie asked.

Peeta shrugged. “Seemed better to stay friends.”

“Those two are such chickens,” Gale called out. “They just tiptoe…and tiptoe…and it’s all like ‘I think Katniss is beautiful’…or ‘I want to have Peeta’s babies’…and I’m just like why don’t you just fuck already?”

“Fine.” Katniss slid onto the floor and held her hand out, palm down. “We’ll do this. I get to fuck Peeta because everyone is so invested…but we all have to be in this.” She looked at the rest of the group, her eyes landing on Peeta. “Do we agree?”

Johanna placed her hand over Katniss’. “I’m in.”

Madge followed immediately. “Me, too.”

“Fine,” Gale muttered before his hand landed on the pile.

“We’re down,” Finnick said, adding his hand.

“But only as the filmmakers,” Annie added before placing her hand on top of her fiancé’s.

Katniss looked to Peeta; nervousness laced in her grey eyes. “And you?”

He examined her, almost losing himself in her gaze before placing his hand down to seal the pact.

“Let’s do this.”

++++++

“Do you like oral?” Katniss asked the scantily-clad waitress. “Giving? Getting?”

“Yes, to both,” the pretty blonde answered.

Johanna and Gale had gotten to work quickly, both making up the questionnaire that they were using for research. While that was happening, Annie and Finnick put up an ad looking for available actors and actresses to add to their production.

Two days ago, their questionnaire had revealed that threesomes, double penetration, and girl-on-girl were high on the list. Unfortunately, they didn’t know who would be doing what except for Katniss and Peeta.

“And anal?” Katniss continued as Peeta joined her at the table.

“Sure,” the woman answered. “I’m pretty open. Me and my ex used to film ourselves all the time.” She looked at the two. “You two looking for tips?”

“Maybe,” Katniss replied. She turned to Peeta. “Did you want anything?”

“Coke, please,” he told the woman. “I’m still recovering from the past few days.”

“Coke for him and a Lagavulin for me,” Katniss told the waitress.

“You like the good stuff.” She gave Katniss a saucy wink. “I’ll be right back with your drinks. I’m Delly, by the way.”

“Katniss.” Katniss gestured over at Peeta, who gave Delly a light wave. “Peeta.”

She nodded. “Nice meeting you.”

As soon as Delly walked away, Katniss turned to her friend. “What do you think?”

“Decent rack, sweet face, and she has experience apparently,” Peeta replied. “Thoughts on having her on the team?”

“Well, she seems friendly,” Katniss replied. She eyed him. “Would you do her?”

“If I had to…sure,” her friend replied. “How about you?”

“Me and Delly?” Katniss looked to the woman at the bar, awaiting their drinks. She was pretty with wavy, shoulder-length hair and wide eyes. Not to mention, her body was banging—the bejeweled bustier made her breasts look incredible—and her personality was easy. “Sure. Why not? I mean it will make me more…desirable.”

“Are you still pissed off that?” Peeta asked. “Johanna loves to rile you up.”

“I hate that she can.” Katniss sighed. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Haven’t you ever been curious?” Peeta’s gaze fell warmly on her. “How it might feel like between me and you?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “We kissed that one time, but nothing came of it. I thought maybe you didn’t like it…or me.”

“I do like you. I love you.” Peeta reached for her, pulling her onto his lap. “I guess we were just both too scared to explore what kind of love we could’ve had.”

Her arms wove around his neck as Katniss pressed her forehead to his. “I love you and I like you, too.”

“Your drinks, lovebirds.” Delly approached them, a bright smile on her face. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Actually.” Katniss stood up, pulling out the business card with Johanna’s number on it. “I have a proposition for you.”

++++++

“What are your special skills?” Johanna asked as she looked over Delly’s resume.

Delly gave the group a bright smile, her eyes landing on Katniss with a wink.

The group gathered the following day for auditions for the two additional actors at Finnick and Annie’s place.

Currently, Annie and Peeta were reviewing resumes and headshots in the hallway while the rest of them assessed the auditions.

The group had agreed to hold them at Finnick and Annie’s since it looked the most professional. The couple’s apartment was stylishly decorated thanks to Annie’s chic but budget-friendly taste—most of their furnishings from Target and IKEA.

“Can you look into the camera?” Finnick asked from where he stood in the center of the living room.

“Sure.” Delly looked straight into the camera, smiling into it. “Well…I can do a handstand and suck dick at the same time.”

“Can we see?” Madge asked from where she stood next to Finnick.

“The sucking dick part or the headstand?”

“How about we just see how it looks?” Finnick suggested. “Have Annie bring the next male audition in.”

Gale stood from his seat. “I’m on it.” He quickly came back, followed by a tall, dark-skinned man who flashed them all a handsome smile. “Everyone, this is Thresh. Thresh, why don’t you join Delly in front of the camera?”

“Sure,” he said easily and walked over to Delly, holding out his hand. “I’m Thresh.”

Delly shook it, her mouth widening in a grin. “Delly.”

“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” Johanna told the two.

Nodding, Delly bent over, pressing her palms to the floor. Then as she steadied, the woman easily lifted her hips…then her legs…before straightening them, her toes pointing in the air.

“Amazing,” Madge whispered.

Next to her, Gale nodded in agreement.

Katniss stood from her seat, going to Finnick, and looked at the camera’s viewfinder.

Delly and Thresh made a strikingly good couple on camera. They were at ease, chatting as if Delly wasn’t in front of the man’s crotch and at a perfect angle to go at his junk.

“Thresh, any special skills?” Gale asked, handing Johanna the man’s resume.

“I can get an erection on command,” Thresh told them.

“Okay, we all need to see this,” Johanna said. “Someone get Peeta and Annie in here.”

“Delly, you can get off your hands now,” Katniss said.

“Let me help—” Thresh held her hips as Delly eased down. As she did, the crotch of her leggings met his groin, and she wrapped her legs around his to steady herself.

“The perfect standing wheelbarrow,” Finnick remarked from behind the camera. “Bravo!”

Peeta and Annie stepped inside as Thresh helped Delly onto her feet. She smiled gratefully, kissing his cheek before dashing over to where the rest of the group was gathered.

“Even if you don’t hire me, I need to see this,” she told them.

Peeta joined Katniss’ side. “What are we looking at?”

Finnick signaled Thresh. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The man simply undid the top button of his jeans, unzipped, and holding the sides of his jeans lowered them down.

Taking a deep breath, the man closed his eyes, as the group watched his cock—a rather thick one—go from half-mast to full in less than a minute.

“Well, that deserves some applause,” Peeta told everyone and began to clap.

The group quickly joined in, but not before hiring both Delly and Thresh.

++++++

“Okay, two things,” Gale announced, going to the easel and whiteboard that he had set up in their living room. He wrote out ‘Location’ and ‘Plot’. “First, location. Any thoughts?”

“We can’t just do it in one of our apartments?” Finnick asked.

“Would you want to sit on your living room couch thinking that Johanna ate Delly out on it?” Gale asked him. “Or Katniss and Peeta on your kitchen counter—”

“True,” Annie said. “Let’s not shit where we eat.”

“Maybe we can rent out space for very cheap,” Thresh said. “I might know some club places where I work security that might be in our price range.”

They learned that Thresh was a part-time security guard and a returning student at the local community college. He was trying to get his Business degree and planned to open a gym after he graduated.

“Great idea,” Gale wrote down, ‘Thresh-club spaces’. Anyone else?”

“That bar I work at might be willing,” Delly told them. “I might have to give the owner a boost—”

“No way,” Peeta interrupted. “We don’t want you doing those kinds of favors just to get us a workspace.”

“Definitely,” Katniss agreed, smiling at the girl. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay, what about a plot?” Johanna went to the board. “Every porn needs one to entice an audience. Why don’t we do a round robin and everyone says one thing that turns them on? I’ll start.” She turned around and wrote on the board—‘A clean bush’.

“Doesn’t everyone like it to be clean down there?” Finnick remarked before looking to Annie. “I mean you keep it pristine—”

“No need to tell everyone about my cat, love,” his fiancée retorted.

“I mean, I don’t mind it being wild down there,’ Gale told the group. He took the marker from Johanna and scribbled, ‘Bossiness’. “I like a dominating woman.”

“Definitely a good BDSM storyline,” Madge remarked as she walked up to the board, writing ‘Rough play’. “I like manhandling and being manhandled. I worked with this guy and we use to hook up all over the office. Once after everyone left, we were going at it and he takes me and lifted me—” She mimicked her lover with her hands. “—onto the copy machine before pounding the living daylight out of me.”

Everyone stared in shock at the seemingly sweet blonde twirling a tendril of her hair.

“Come Monday, everyone was trying to figure why there were a hundred copies of someone’s bare pussy on the copy machine tray,” she said in a daze.

“Damn—” Gale swallowed harshly. “—thank you for your contribution.” His gaze went to the person sitting next to Madge. “Katniss?”

“I…I…” Katniss bowed her head. She wasn’t thrilled with everyone knowing just what got her going. However, at some point, they were all going to be seeing her being thoroughly fucked by Peeta. “I like…dirty talk.” She shifted in her seat, aware that next to her sat her soon-to-be co-star. “I don’t have any experience, but when I’m…masturbating, the voice in my head is usually whispering very depraved things in my ear.”

“Care to expand, sweetheart?” Thresh asked from where he sat across.

“Well—” Katniss folded her hands in her lap. “The voice will tell me how much he loves feeling his fingers being squeezed by my cunt, how drenched I am around his dick, how he wants to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs…sometimes he talks about fucking me in both holes…his dick in my pussy and his thumb in my asshole—”

Peeta suddenly jumped from his spot. “I’m going to grab some water from the fridge. Anyone?”

He quickly disappeared into the next room before anyone could even answer.

“You just gave Peeta a boner,” Delly cackled from her seat on the carpet. “Why aren’t you dating?”

“Because—” Katniss searched for a reason, finding herself unable to answer. “—let me check on him.”

She found him bent in front of the fridge.

He pulled back sans water and turned just as she stepped in.

“We ran out of water.” Peeta met her eyes fully, watching as she approached. “I didn’t mean to run off—”

“Peeta, what turns you on?” she found herself asking.

Katniss stopped in front of him and her gaze took her friend in—swept-back blond waves, a firm jaw, and blue eyes…hazed with arousal. They never really talked about the fact that they had admitted to their friends that they were curious about fucking one another.

To be entirely truthful, the voice in her ear, the one that spoke such deliciously sinful things—was Peeta’s voice.

She didn’t know when the mystery man had morphed into her best friend, but sometimes the image of him—in his usual uniform of a pair of jeans, a tee, and an apron—would cause a heat that threatened to burn her to the very core.

However, this precipice between friendship and whatever it was, scared her.

So, Katniss held back.

Peeta shook his head. “It’s kind of stupid.”

“I just told everyone that a mystery voice gets me wet with talk of double penetration.”

He laughed roughly. “That is true.”

Meeting her eyes, Peeta leaned back against the door of the fridge.

“I like sex in different places…the element of danger…of being caught.” His golden complexion tinged with pink. “It’s a major turn-on.”

She nodded, toeing in closer to him. “Have you ever—"

“No, just fantasies,” Peeta said. “Compared to the rest of our friends, I’m pretty daisy fresh.”

“Tell me the last place that you’ve fantasized having sex in,” Katniss said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching to cup her cheek.

His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth and she resisted the urge to take it into her mouth to taste.

“The bakery.” His gaze fell to her lips. “Specifically, against one of the ovens as it’s warming up and y—whoever and I just get so caught up in the smell of sugar…of rye…and one another that we don’t know where the heat is rising from—”

Katniss suddenly straightened. “Ohmigod…the bakery.”

“What?”

“The bakery,” she repeated.

His eyes widened in realization. “The bakery.”

END OF PART ONE

This will be multiple parts, not sure how many though.

Yes, before you ask, this is loosely based on Zack and Miri Make a Porno which I think is a hilarious movie with some great music.

Speaking of music, the title comes from Live’s ‘Hold Me Up’, which was used in the soundtrack of Zack and Miri. It also plays during a pivotal scene.

Other music used: ‘The Sign’-Ace of Base

I hope you’re enjoying it so far—as if now, I have just completed the second part.

Thanks for reading!

-JLaLa

#jlalafics #567inpanem #prompt 42 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Note

Oooh, I just saw the big about prompts!

“Blessings of rot and petrichor, my prince. May you have a home in the dark, and may the distant stars you reach for never fade.”

(Can be inspiration or an actual quote; do what ya want! :P)

The world ended on a Saturday, and it wasn’t Danny’s fault. Even if that Saturday happened to be his sixteenth birthday.

Okay, maybe that was a bit overdramatic. But, honestly, neither he nor anyone else he’d ever spoken to knew why or how things had turned out this way. Just that, one morning, reality shook, shuddered, and took a few steps to the left.

Humanity woke to green-streaked skies, a rainbow sun, and a lot more universe than they were used to. So did ghosts.

This was a problem. It might even be deemed the problem. Humans and ghosts didn’t exactly get along, and even when neither the ghosts nor the humans involved particularly wanted to fight, the new laws of nature and the few who did want to fight tended to ruin things for everyone else. (Cough, GIW, cough, Walker, cough.)

Hence the end of the world. Or, at least, most large-scale governments.

It could have been worse.

Amity Park stopped being a city that day, fragmented with Ghost Zone wilderness, landscape and spatial dimensions shattered in a spiderweb centered on Fentonworks, the portal a wellspring of wild power and unpredictable translocations. Danny had worried that the portal had been the cause of the whole thing, but Amity Park was far from the only place with similar issues (look at New York), and Danny eventually was able to accept that not every bad ghost-related thing that happened was on him.

(Probably.)

Honestly, once everything calmed down a bit, the new world was much more comfortable, physically and mentally, for Danny to live in. Which was weird, but made sense. The new world was split between human and ghost, just like him. It was everyone else who was uncomfortable, now.

Which, again, he felt guilty about, but, yeah. He couldn’t do anything about that, so feeling guilty was counterintuitive. Thank you, tiny Jazz in his head.

It was Saturday again. Time for the market fair.

“Mom and Dad are already out?” asked Danny, leaning over the banister.

“Yeah,” said Jazz, not looking up from her work transcribing an old ghost text into something more palatable to human eyes. She adjusted her green lenses to sit closer to her eyes. “An hour or two ago. Some guys from Chicago came in last night, apparently, and they wanted to get a head start.”

“Okay,” said Danny. “I’m going, too. You want anything?”

“Nope. I’d be going myself if I did,” said Jazz.

“You sure? Nothing for dinner?”

“Nope, I’m all set.”

“Cool,” said Danny, padding towards the door. He pulled his nice, dark coat, the one he’d gotten from Dora, off the hook, and shrugged into it, pulling up the hood.

“No shoes today?” asked Jazz, who had finally looked up.

“Eh,” said Danny. “I guess not. Doesn’t really feel like a shoe kind of day.” He flexed his toes.

“Well, avoid blackberries, then,” said Jazz.

“They should avoid me,” joked Danny. “Good luck with that book!”

“Thanks,” said Jazz, waving as Danny left.

Fentonworks was the same tall, brick-and-UFO building as it had always been, but now it stood alone on top of a small hill rising from a distinctly purple forest. The dark grass waved back and forth like the tentacles of a sea anemone. Bright green portal streaks, cracks in reality, stood out against the foliage, along with a few other buildings that had once belonged to the Fentons’ neighborhood. The sun was blue today, but Danny predicted it would be green by nightfall.

Danny walked down the path, the dirt on it declining to adhere to Danny’s feet. He hummed, quietly, a tune he half-remembered from before the apocalypse. He would not be walking all the way to the market fair, it was too far. His parents had taken the Speeder.

Danny, on the other hand, had a shortcut.

He reached one of the portal-fractures and passed through to a part of the forest where the trees whispered to one another. He took a moment to reorient himself, and continued to the next portal fracture.

As far as he knew, he was the only person who could reliably travel like this. He could have flown, but the market fair was busy, and he preferred to maintain his peaceful life. Phantom was still a celebrity in Amity Park. Even more so now, than before, as ghosts were no longer shot on sight.

Some ghosts even came to Amity Park’s market fair.

He walked through a wider-than-usual fracture which deposited him just outside the main fragment of Amity Park, near the erstwhile mall. The mall and its attached parking lot being the place the market fair took place.

It was busy. There were trucks stamped with the seal of Illinois parked on the edges, presumably belonging to the delegation from Chicago. There seemed to be more ghosts than usual as well, enough of them to make Danny shiver. Had they come from Chicago, or was it just a coincidence? If they had, that would be nice. Chicago had a lot of local influence, and was one of the places that was still trying to hold together something like a national government. If they accepted ghosts, others would follow more readily.

Peace between the two worlds in places other than Amity Park would be very nice.

Danny wandered down the paths of the market fair, not in any particular hurry to get to his parents’ booth. He was always more interested in the other things at the fair. Even if he rarely bought anything.

People seemed to be mostly moving in one direction. No, they were being drawn in one direction, with people tugging their companions onward. Danny, not having anything better to do, went with the flow.

Which led back to where the Chicago delegation was set up. Several people were standing in front of the trucks, arguing.

“How can you lose an entire bevy of ghosts?” demanded the man who appeared to be in charge.

The target of his ire merely shrugged.

“Can’t lose people like that, bub!” shouted someone from the crowd. There was a titter of laughter.

“Didn’t you have a big, fancy announcement, fed?”

More laughter.

“Yeah, what did you want to say?” This voice had an echo to it, and the the man looked extremely aggrieved.

Nevertheless, he took a deep breath. “We were led to believe,” he said, cheek jumping, “by certain ghosts, that there was a way to negotiate with the ghosts and... reverse this nonsense.”

Wow. So, Chicago got scammed. That could have repercussions. Danny hoped Amity Park wouldn’t see too much of the fallout.

“Wouldn’t you jump on any chance to stop this?” demanded the man in response to the jeers, gesturing at the sky and its pulsing bands of light.

“Tell us a better story!” shouted Ember, who had struck up a much more cordial relationship with Amity Park after the apocalypse. “One that we’ll remember!”

The man turned away, throwing his hands in the air. “Go find them!” he shouted, presumably to his subordinates.

The crowd broke up.

Danny was curious. It was one of his defining characteristics, both as a human and as a ghost. He followed one of the Chicagoans as they walked into the market turning this way and that.

“So,” he said, “what story was your boss fed?”

The woman jumped and looked down at him, disconcerted. (Yes, he was short. That wasn’t his fault. Except that it probably was, via the portal accident.)

The woman sighed. “Why not, it’ll be out before too long. We were told that the rightful king of ghosts was in hiding here, or something stupid like that. I don’t think they ever said he could fix the world, even. Only that he could be negotiated with.” She kicked the ground. “This is so stupid. There’s no ghost king. This is never going to get fixed.”

“It’s not so bad, is it?” asked Danny.

“How old even were you when it happened. Ten?” asked the woman.

“Excuse me, I was sixteen,” said Danny, crossing his arms.

“That’s cute,” said the woman, dragging her hand down her face. “You’re like thirteen, tops. Not nineteen. Jesus. Go bother someone else, kid.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Well, you aren’t wrong that there’s no ghost king. Last guy who called himself that got beaten up and locked in a sarcophagus forever.”

Then, just to mess with her, because she’d been rude, Danny turned invisible and left before she turned around.

Now... He should probably try to warn people about the scam artist ghosts. Or would they know from the other people watching?

Danny flicked back into visibility and continued perusing the various stalls, making small talk with the owners, bringing up the Chicagoans when it was appropriate.

He was passing by the covered entrance of the mall, one of the most crowded spots in the market fair, when his ghost sense went off, indicating an unfamiliar ghost was nearby. He scanned the crowd for the ghost. He didn’t have to look very hard. Strange ghosts tended to draw eyes, even in Amity Park.

Especially ones that looked like this. Inhumanly tall, cloaked, and moving smoothly. Glimpses under their hoods showed faces riddled with decay- or at least the appearance of decay. The three of them held instruments. Flute, drum, and summoning bell.

Danny stood to the side to let them pass. After all, they weren’t doing anything bad as far as he could see.

They did not. Instead, they stopped in front of Danny. Typical.

Then they started playing their instruments. And kneeling.

Aaaand the crowd was getting bigger. There was the person from Chicago, too. Could he escape without turning invisible with all this attention on him?

Probably not without showcasing his ghost powers. There were people who knew him in this crowd. Like Paulina. And Star.

“Um,” said Danny. “Hi?”

The leading ghost looked up as the sun’s light turned emerald green.

“Blessings of rot and petrichor, my prince. May you have a home in the dark, and may the distant stars you reach for never fade.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw the Chicagoan’s jaw drop.

“I think you might have the wrong guy,” said Danny. “I’m not anyone’s prince.”

The ghost grinned, sharp and white. “We came to give our blessings, my prince. You do not need to accept them for them to exist. We offer, also, our service and our hope in this new world that you are so suited for.”

Yeah. This was going to be a problem.

#danny phantom #ask #answer #prompt #prompt fill

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consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

Text

Not a Saint or a Hero

Summary: To civilians, Ladybug is a hero. In the eyes of the law, Ladybug is a vigilante at best, and a villain at worst.

______________________________________________________

Conquering the Parisian underworld is child’s play for Ladybug and her partner, Chat Noir. The ex-boss of the Parisian underworld, code name Hawkmoth, may have been good at pushing drugs and ruining people’s lives, but he was woefully incompetent at... basically everything else. Which meant that other than Hawkmoth and his direct underlings, there really wasn’t much of a structure at all that Ladybug had to be worried about. No cohesive unit, fighting as one, just easy pickings and an even easier way to convince the drug dealers, homeless, illegal fight rings, and various other under the radar activities to band together to topple Hawkmoth’s empire.

Ladybug, after all, had experience with overthrowing established mafiosos. She did it once in Wenzhou at her mother’s side, another time in Beijing because somebody made the mistake of trying to push her into prostitution, and twice in Italy with her grandmother, code name Befana.

“Do you really have to leave, m’lady?”

Ladybug shrugs. “I trust you and the team to keep things up and running. We had a good run, but there’s a good structure in place now and Befana wants me to go with her to another country.”

Nobody says no to Befana, not unless they’re bullet proof. Ladybug may have high quality Kevlar sewn into every outfit she wears, but even she isn’t the biggest fan of the impact of a bullet. Depending on the gun, broken ribs are a kindness.

“I know you don’t get along with Queen Bee, and almost everyone else is out of the country, but you’re not going to say goodbye to Rena or Carapace?”

“It’s not like I’m going to be gone forever. Just a few months. A year at most.”

“Promise me you’ll come back, m’lady?”

Ladybug puts a hand on her partner's shoulder. “You know I can’t make promises like that.”

Chat pauses, dull thud of the rave music filling in their silence.

He swirls the whiskey in his glass. “Stay safe, Bug. Play it smart.”

“I always do.”

It comes as no surprise that Befana dumps her in the middle of one of the most crime infested cities world wide without a backwards glance. Her granddaughter is grown up now, after all.

“Have fun, darling. Black Mask is particularly nasty, make sure to watch out for his assistant, she’s very sharp.” Befana pulls away from the nonexistent curb— nonexistent because there’s no sidewalks in the slums of Gotham, at least, not many of them in good enough conditions to have curbs or whole piece of cement to walk on— and leaves Marinette all on her lonesome with a backpack, a key to a cheap apartment.

Marinette eyes the broken bottles leading to the entryway of her new building and the boarded up windows. Across the street, there’s two women smoking and conversing in hushed tones.

“Well,” Marinette mutters underneath her breath, shifting the straps of her only worldly possessions. “It’s definitely quieter than I expected.”

“Hey, new girl,” one of the women in the group calls out to her. “What’re you in for?”

“School. This is the cheapest apartment I could find.”

The woman exchanges a glance with one of her friends.

“You’re better off finding a more expensive apartment elsewhere. This isn’t a place for someone like you.”

An excellent line for Marinette to begin to fish for information. “What do you mean by that?”

“This is disputed territory, now. If you can’t afford to stay somewhere else, you better stay with whoever just dropped you off.”

Marinette fidgets. Gina is long gone. Grandmother or not, even though Gina is undoubtedly loyal and will never hurt her, she believes that the best way to inspire growth is through adversity. Like now. The only information she got out of Befana was that she had to figure out a way to keep Gotham in line… whatever that meant. “She’s not going to come back. I guess I’ll just have to try my luck.”

“You really got nowhere else to go?”

“No. I’m from abroad.”

“That explains the accent,” says the one holding a beer bottle. “Then listen up, girlie. If you wanna survive, there’s three rules you’ve gotta learn. One. Don’t cross the Black Mask. Two. Don’t cross Red Hood. Three. Don’t sell to children.”

“Sell to children?”

“Well, I don’t suppose you’d be doing it anyways, given the whole,” she motions to Marinette’s body with a cigarette, “but Hood goes after anyone who sells drugs to kids real bad. Worse than if you fuck him over with anything the Black Mask’s doing, anyways.”

“Red Hood doesn’t sound like that bad of a guy, then.” Maybe she’ll look into a collaboration with him.

The woman with the beer bottle laughed. “Oh honey, you’re a saint. Don’t go fostering any dreams. You just stay away, hear?”

“I hear you,” Marinette says.

But they got something wrong.

Marinette isn’t a saint, and never has been.

The walls of her crappy one bedroom apartment are thin enough to hear the baby upstairs scream at ungodly hours. If it’s not the baby waking her up, her neighbors in the apartment to her right are fucking very, very loudly. The apartment below her blasts rock music at all hours, the apartment to her right is likely selling drugs, given that she sees at least fifteen different people come in and out each day, and they always have a vaguely dazed look in their eye. She hasn’t heard anything from the apartment across, but she’s sure they’ll start up some noisy activity that Marinette doesn’t particularly want to hear soon enough.

She really got pampered in Paris, didn’t she?

Marinette lived a life of relative luxury whenever she stayed with her parents, instead of Gina. While in Beijing and Chongqing with Tom and Sabine, Maman did all of the heavy lifting for her. Well, Beijing had ended rather disastrously, and they had to make a quick getaway, but at least in Chongqing, Sabine managed to get rid of the prostitution ring.

Back in Wenzhou, Catania, and Bologna, Gina took the reins, and it always turned out to be a sink or swim sort of situation. First off was her mother’s birth place, which had an astonishingly high crime rate and definitely explained why Sabine Cheng was so adept at self defense, and once they were there, of course they had to reform the fight rings. In Catania and Bologna, Gina practically threw her at two of the lowest rank mafia groups and told her to use them to bring order to the warring mafias. During those years, Gina didn’t make a front like Sabine and Tom did, purchasing a bakery and running a business to aid their more behind the scenes work. No, with Gina, it was either war of peace, and there was nowhere in between.

Which, of course, meant that Marinette rarely got to stay in nice rooms or pursue hobbies like sewing or drawing or anything, really.

Now that she is of age, Marinette could potentially try to wrest herself out of Befana’s influence, but that’s almost a laughable thought. Befana has eyes and ears everywhere. If she wants to escape the rat race of reformation, Marinette needs to gather power.

The best thing she can do for now is try to figure out the situation in Gotham. If it’s not particularly bad, maybe she’ll have an easy time of it, and figure out how to disappear herself. She’s not totally opposed to the whole making-criminals-act-within-the-bounds-of-morality thing, but it’s gotten pretty tiring. Not repetitive, necessarily, but after experiencing an almost normal life in Paris, Marinette does want to have the privilege of not having to worry about her life every hour. Maybe she can even start up a little boutique.

Marinette dumps most of the contents out of her bag, only leaving her wallet, a knife, and her trademark yo-yos.

“Maybe I can go back to Paris, eventually.” She has become very fond of the city; the first place where she took fate into her own hands, where her mother and grandmother didn’t push her to reform the underworld. The first place where she chose to change the world around her. The first place where she saw things through from start to finish. The first place she formed her own team.

The power of change is both incredibly addicting and terrifying. She sort of gets why Befana roams the world, looking for the next place she wants to shake things up in. But Marinette can’t get addicted. This is going to be her last city, then she’s going to return to Paris and settle down. She’ll leave city beautification to the so-called vigilantes that almost every city has acquired, save Paris.

Oh wait, she supposes that Ladybug and Chat Noir were-- and Chat still is-- a type of vigilante back home. But as it stands now, it will be more correct to refer to them as heads of the Parisian underworld; they definitely don’t work on the side of the law, but she and Chat made sure that drug deals were more… regulated. That deaths and the induction of children into such a dark world were curbed. That if people really wanted to get out, they could.

All of that doesn’t matter. Not in the eyes of the law at least. Parisian citizens love the duo for helping keep crimes off the streets and for banning the particularly strong strain of drug that Gabriel called AKUMA off the market, but the Parisian police? She and Chat both have targets on their head. Their whole team does.

She eyes the apartment across from her. There’s blood on the door handle. It’s a good thing that Sabine and Tom never tried to instill those odd customs of ‘house warming’ and ‘getting to know her neighbors’ that most other people teach their children. In good neighborhoods, it’s important to have a cordial relationship with whoever’s living next door. In neighborhoods like these? It’s even more important.

But rule number one of pissing people off?

Coming over uninvited.

Marinette doesn’t bother locking the door behind her.

“New to the neighborhood?”

Apparently, it really is bizarre for her to have moved into this apartment complex. She’s come across a grand total of five people during her week here, and every single one of them stopped whatever they were doing in order to take a closer look.

Marinette knows that this is a disputed area. She looked into the two women’s words the day she arrived. But, for a disputed area, everything is remarkably quiet. No fights, nobody on the streets, most people keep indoors, unless they’re out for a smoke, to throw out the trash, or are going to or coming back from various activities outside of the block.

What’s even more odd is that all of her neighbors seem to know each other intimately. Or at least, intimately enough to know that she doesn’t belong there.

“Yeah,” Marinette says, ready to leave this conversation behind. She doesn’t bother getting information out of the people who are in her apartment complex or on this block. To be more accurate, she tried with one of the first people she came across, but it was apparent that someone encouraged them to be tight lipped with information.

Given the current information she has, she thinks it’s more likely that the one who gave that order is Red Hood, rather than Black Mask.

“Been here a week.” The guy lights his joint and breathes out. “Not so new anymore.”

Over the years, she’s gotten used to the smell of marijuana, though she can’t say she likes the scent. She’ll take cigarettes over weed any day.

“You could say that.”

“Don’t suppose anybody’s laid out the rules for you yet, have they?”

Maybe this will make things easier for her. Mostly, she’s just settled into her apartment over the past seven days. There's no need for her to immediately get to work, and she does enjoy comfort. Taking down criminals is hard work. She wants to come back to an apartment that doesn’t look awful and lets her relax. So what if she spent most of her money on an expensive mattress and a coffee machine? She’s an adult now. Nobody can tell her what to do. (Except for Befana.) “No, not really.”

“Tina and Audrey give you a crash course?”

“Mostly just warned me not to sell to children.”

The man barks, smoke spitting into the stale air. “Some of the best advice around. Let me tell you, Black Mask might have more manpower, but Red Hood has rage. Cross Black Mask by gypping him, he’ll send a lackey after you. Fuck with children, Red Hood himself will come for you.”

He pauses, evaluating her appearance.

“Though you look like a child yourself. Mighty pretty too. lucky girl. Hood will protect you if you stay around these parts, but if you go south on the diagonal, you’ll be in bad territory. Plenty of prostitution rings around there.”

“Thought this was disputed territory.”

“Not really. Anywhere Hood has claimed is said to be disputed because Mask hates his guts and keeps sending goons to these areas. But anyone who’s dealing under Mask aint gonna take the risk of their lives just to branch out to these spots.”

“Sounds like Red Hood is pretty well liked around these parts, then.”

Perhaps she’ll look into working with him. From what she’s heard of the guy and what she’s found trawling the dark web, his morals seem to align with her own. A little bit more temperamental than she’d like, a little too quick to kill, rather than apprehend, but Gotham prisons seem to have jailbreaks every other week, so she can understand why it may be easier just to make every encounter a one and done.

“Liked?” Blunt finished, he flicks the stub into the dirt, crushing the embers under foot. He wipes his mouth with the scarf around his neck. “Like isn't the question in Gotham, Frenchie.”

Marinette inwardly cringes. She’s tried to minimize her accent because it makes natives distrust her, or think they can take her for a loop. Most people she’s come across accept her as one of their own, but apparently she hasn’t been doing as well as she thought she was. Maybe this is why people seemed a little more reluctant with any information.

“When it comes down to it, liking means nothing. It’s who you trust to watch your back.” He fumbles in his pockets, pulling out another blunt. Marinette notices that his fingers are fairly heavily bandaged and that the man is shaking slightly. Medicinal marijuana, maybe. “Wouldn’t trust that Mask farther than I can throw him. And he used to be a wrestler, so he’s a fat bastard. At least you can trust Hood not to cross you as long as you don’t cross him first.”

Lighting the tip, his eyes sharpen. “You seem like the trustworthy sort. Active, too. I’ll leave you with one more piece of advice. If you ever run into Hood? Don’t mention two things: the Joker, and Batman.”

“I doubt I’ll ever run into him,” Marinette lies.

The man laughs. “I’m a Gotham native, Frenchie. I can tell what kind of person you are. You’ll be meeting him soon, I know. Hood needs someone to watch his back, and you? You need someone to keep your head above water.”

He flicks the ash off the blunt and turns his back on her, and Marinette can’t tell whether he’s showing her respect or belittling her.

Two weeks into her stay in Gotham and Marinette has finally collected enough information about her surroundings to feel confident about going out as Ladybug.

Guns are infinitely more available here in America than they were back in France, which means she needed more than one costume, and an upgrade to her current one. High quality kevlar is good and all, but it’s heavy, and not everyone in Gotham is high off their minds using AKUMA. Replacing kevlar with polythene, now that it’s available to her, is only a natural decision. She has to be more careful here in Gotham. Not only does she have no support network, she’s also highly inexperienced with the terrain. She’s at a disadvantage here.

With a combo polythene and kevlar bodysuit, a crop top with her signature ladybug embroidery on the backside, an all black domino mask, and a utility belt with two yo-yos , knife, and emergency medical supplies, she’s as ready as she ever will be to witness the nightlife first hand.

And just like in Paris, Wenzhou, Beijing, Chongqing, Catania and Bologna, she doesn’t have to go far to find the trouble.

Befana has told her multiple times that Marinette is like a lucky charm for problems. Judging by the amount of time she’s gotten herself into sticky situations unintentionally, she’s inclined to agree, though she’d call herself more of an unlucky charm.

She doesn’t bother speaking, instead hurling one yo-yo at the guy who’s trying to tie up a girl half her age and the other yo-yo at the wheels of his car, to make sure he can’t make a quick getaway.

Ladybug may not use guns, but she never said that her weaponry wasn’t tricked out; yo-yo knocks the guy up the head, sending him down for the count, and yo-yo two slashes through the rubber tire. The man waiting in the car rolls down the window to shoot. Ladybug rolls her eyes. Dumb and dumber. She’s not sure whether he’s trying to preserve his windows or doesn’t realize that rolling down his window leaves him open for her own attacks.

Reeling back in yo-yo one. She hurtles it through the window, presses a button, then ducks. The head of the yo-yo detached and shocks the driver.

“Need help getting home?” Ladybug asks the girl who’s currently edging away from her.

“Who are you? Why did you help me?”

Ladybug shrugs. She’s never been particularly good at explaining herself; Chat took care of most of the conversions within Hawkmoths retinue. She’s good at making the occasionally public statement and making sure people she’s close to don’t stray, but strangers? Most people back in Paris just trusted her blindly, and she never had to think about how to present her reasoning.

She takes two sets of zip ties out of her pack, then restrains her first victim. After she slaps a patch on the tire-- if she is going to take this girl home, she certainly doesn’t want to walk her back in this neighborhood, and judging by the size of the van, there are probably a few people in the back she’ll need to free as well. Ladybug moves on to tie up the guy in the car, back towards the girl. “If you don’t want my help, that’s fine too.”

As soon as she turns, there’s a sharp intake of breath. “You’re with Hood, then.”

Not yet. “M not, actually. Never met the guy. What makes you say that?”

A bout of nervous, high pitched laughter. “The red, maybe. Or, I don’t know, the fact that he’s here and not knocking you out?”

Ladybug whirls, trying to see where the infamous vigilante is. True to the girls word, he is just a little ways down the alleyway they’re currently in, looking, for all intents and purposes, not about to kill her. How pleasant. Better than she was expecting; his temper precedes him, and she was expecting to have to fight with the guy before even dreaming about having a civil discussion with him.

He doesn’t have his hands on his guns, which she takes as a good sign. Taking a good look at him she’s almost surprised that he’s calming himself the Red Hood instead of the Red Helmet, but she supposes the former sounds better.

“Let me finish tying that one up,” Ladybug says.

Red Hood grunts in response.

“So you are working together,” the girl concludes.

Ladybug shrugs again, tapping another button to reattach the head of her yo-yo and grabbing the keys and phone from the driver’s pocket. She pops the back of the van. There are three girls tied up in the back.

Her knife makes quick work of the bonds that restrain them. The girls take the duct tape off their mouths themselves; she feels a deep disgust of the men that are currently knocked unconscious. Not only are they traffickers, but they’re new traffickers. Inexperienced. Duct tape isn’t used most times because it damages the goods. Either that, or they’re organ dealers, because people don’t need the bodies to look pretty when they just want the innards. Judging by the fact that all of the people in the back are girls, she’ll put money on the first one.

“You going to let me drive these girls back before we have our talk?”

“Fine,” Red Hood bites out, moving to sit shotgun. “You move one finger out of line, and I’ll shoot.”

Ladybug tosses the unconscious body out of the driver’s seat.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

#lowkey wanna write the precursor to this where lb and cn take down hm but im lazy #jasonette july #jasonette #jason todd #marinette dupain cheng #villain au #miraculous ladybug #dcu #bamf marinette #original content #maribat #someone save me im drowning in aus #don't know why writing anything after ch 1 seems so hard #i need someone to keep me on track

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years ago

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Hello dear!! For the one-shot thing, could you write something with Wake Me Up by Ed Sheeran + Don Malarkey & and a female character called Parker + Slow burn love? Thank you so muuch!! This is such a great idea!! 💕

Why of course angel! I hope this is what you wanted it to be <3 thank you for the request!!

Malarkey struggled when he came back from the war. He felt restless, discontented. He felt as if he was suffocating at home surrounded by so many familiar things that now felt uncomfortably foreign.

 A few weeks, and many restless nights after returning to Oregon he began taking walks. At first, he would simply walk around his neighborhood or downtown to get the daily paper and some coffee. But each day his walks became longer and longer until he began to run out of road. So Malarkey drove to the ocean where there were endless stretches of rocky, gray beach free of people and distractions. It was irrational, he knew that, but he felt the further he walked the more distance he could put between him and the memories of exploding trees and shattering bodies that haunted him.

Malarkey stepped out of his truck, his heavy boots landing on the damp ground. It was cold in Oregon that time of year. The sand squelched with water under his heavy steps. A version of him, years ago, would have taken his shoes off and made a beeline for the sea. But it was too cold and he was too old for that now.

Malarkey put his head down and walked towards the beach. He hardly made it 50 yards before he ran into something hard. He nearly toppled over but quickly regained his balance. It wasn't something hard he ran into, but someone.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to - I didn’t see you there.” Don felt embarrassed that he had nearly tripped over a young woman who was sat on a woven blanket.

“No worries,” she smiled up at him as she brushed the sand off of her coat. She was bundled up with mittens and a hat. Clutched on her lap was an open book. “No harm done,” she assured him.

Don smiled tightly and nodded, “thanks.” He continued down the beach, leaving the woman to read her book.

The next day Don noticed her sitting there before he exited his truck. He nodded and gave a little smile as he quickly passed her, ready to start his walk.

“Hey!” she called after him, “what’s your name?”

He paused out of politeness, “Donald Malarkey,” he said.

“I’m Parker,” she said with a smile. He nodded his acknowledgment then turned back down the beach.

The next morning when Don returned she was there too.

“Hi Parker, how are you?” Don walked past her with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

“Good,” she called back from a rock where she was perched with her book.

Malarkey smiled, he walked a few paces before turning to look at her over his shoulder. How was she not cold just sitting there?

The next day it was a particularly frigid day on the beach. But now Don had his ritual; the weather wasn’t about to stop him. He stepped out of his truck onto the sand and bowed his head against the wind. He wondered if Parker was there too. Sure enough, she was sitting a little further up the beach on among a little gathering of rocks.

“Hi Parker,” he said as he passed.

She stood up, “hey would you mind if I walked with you today?” she asked.

“Uh, I-,” Malarkey wracked his brain for an excuse, “I walk pretty far.”

“That’s okay, I can turn around when I get tired,” she shrugged.

He didn’t respond. “It’s pretty chilly today,” she said with an apprehensive smile. "I don't think I'm going to get much reading done but I came all the way out here." Don looked her up and down. Strands of her hair whipped around her face in the wind, held down only by the knitted hat she wore. “Look, I’m going to walk either way,” she said, “so, I can either walk with you or awkwardly a few paces behind you.”

Malarkey relented, “okay sure, I’d be happy to have you join me.”

She snorted, “happy? I don’t think so, but thanks for pretending.”

Despite the cold, Malarkey blushed. He was just trying to be nice but clearly, she wasn’t fooled. They walked in silence for a while. Before the war, Malarkey would be talking her ear off. But these days he struggled to form meaningful thoughts. He wracked his brain for something to say to her. He spotted the book tucked under her arm, “what’re you reading?” he asked.

She pulled the book out, “1984.”

“Is it any good?”

Parker handed him the book, “eh, it feels relevant.”

“That doesn’t sound very exciting,” Malarkey said surveying the cover.

Her laugh took him by surprise. It was genuine, raw, and unlike anything he had heard in a while. “No,” she giggled, “I guess not.” Malarkey handed her book back.

“So, where’d you fight Donald Malarkey?” Parker kicked at the rocky shoreline as they walked.

He looked at her in shock, she looked up from the rocks with an innocent look. He swallowed, “how’d you know I fought?”

“Aside from your age… you have that look about you,” Parker smiled at him sadly.

“Oh,” he said.

Parker swallowed hard, “my brother ya know, he- he has the same look about him.” Malarkey looked into her eyes and saw the sadness there. The cold shoreline made her irises appear gray, but there was a tint of green to them.

“Europe,” he said, then immediately cleared his throat.

She nodded and said nothing more. Malarkey was glad she didn’t. He didn’t have the words to explain any further.

Parker began walking with him most days. She convinced him that he was a welcome distraction from her boring book. He suggested she find a new one, but she insisted that she had to finish it.

“Want to get some coffee?” she suggested one day when they returned to his truck. It had begun to sprinkle.

“You’re just trying to bum a ride home,” Don teased with the slightest of smiles. He had been giving her rides home the past couple of days so there was no real need for her to ask.

“Maybe,” she grinned, “maybe not.”

“Sure,” he said without even thinking about it. Upon reflection, it felt like a big move for him. He had been stuck in such a funk for months; getting coffee with a pretty girl had not been on the table.

The coffee date became a regular thing and eventually, they began to string themselves out to different parts of town. They visited different restaurants and popped into different shops. Parker had a book store she wanted to show him even though Malarkey insisted he preferred records to books.

But he followed her into the cozy store anyways and watched as she navigated them through shelves, dragging her finger along book spines. He walked a few steps behind her, admiring the way her hair fell loosely down her back.

“Oh my gosh, I love this book!” Malarkey nearly ran into her when she stopped abruptly in front of a shelf. She pulled the worn book, bound in green leather, from the shelf. It fell open in her hands and the smell of ink and parchment wafted up under Malarkey’s nose.

He recognized the title of one of the books he’d seen her reading on the beach. “Haven’t you read that before?”

“Yes, but I love it.” She smiled down at the cover as if seeing an old friend. How could someone look so beautiful, Don thought.

“What?” she jerked her eyes up to his. Malarkey blushed as if he had been caught doing something naughty.

“Nothing,” he blurted out.

“You should read it,” she shoved the book into his hands and began walking down the aisle again.

Malarkey flipped the book over in his hands, Robin Hood.

“How much is it?” he called after Parker.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, “I’ve got credits you can use.”

Malarkey wasn’t much for reading but he didn’t mind it so much when he was next to her. In fact, it became a new habit for him to pull a book off of the table beside his bed on nights he couldn't sleep. He would flip through the pages as he traced his fingertips up and down Parker's bare spine. He loved watching her sleep. Her dark eyelashes would flutter with dreams and Malarkey would wonder just what exactly was going through her mind. Was it a fantasy as good as what he was reading? Probably better. Everything she touched was better. In only a matter of months of knowing her, Malarkey had gotten better.

Parker stirred beside him, “what’re you looking at?” she muttered into her pillow, her eyes still closed.

“You,” Malarkey said.

“You woke me up,” she complained half-heartedly.

“Sorry,” he rubbed his hand up and down her back comfortingly. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“Will you turn the light off when you’re done?” 

“Sure.”

#donald malarkey #band of brothers #one shot #fanfic #fanfics #fluff and angst #request game

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