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insufferablelust · 4 years ago

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Revelation (Spencer x Reader)

imagine thats Older!Spencer :)

Warnings : Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, heavy daddy kink, belting, shameless smut, a bit of size kink i suppose, pet names, degradastion by name calling, punishment, squirting, gagging, just a dirty dirty daddy Spencer smut, subspace and huge fluff! and reader is his goddess. :)

Masterlist Here.

All you could feel was exhaustion, exhaustion that lingered from the very tip of your skin to the rattling of your bones. The soft musk of Spencer’s scent filled the room so nicely, bringing you to an edge of calmness, you are home— with your love, your baby, your daddy.

You smiled as you tug your scarf down , placing it gently above the couch before you call out to the very man that owns your body and soul, “Spence?” the exhaustion was prominent in your voice, even though tried to brush it off.

“In here, kitten! wait a sec.” He yelled, jogging down from the kitchen to where you were sitting at the couch, He smiled tenderly with the kitchen towel perched on his shoulder, he looked so domestic, so much of the boyfriend-ness of him yet the way he holds himself is daddy, your daddy.

He immediately gathered you up on his arm, plopping down next to you and bring you to straddle his waist, “So pretty, so so pretty, i miss you, kitten.” He whispered, pressing a delicate kiss on your lips as his hand rest on your throat- the very side of your pulse.

You giggled a little, nipping his lower lip, pulling back only to whisper a tiny “i miss you..” kiss “daddy.” Heaven is what you are, he thinks. Because here he is, having the knowledge of everything, absolutely everything this word has to possibly offer yet.. nothing, nothing feel as complete as you. as having you perched on his lap, being good.. such a good little girl.

“Look at me.” His voice changed a little, it was deeper, huskier that it caused the sweet nectar flowing down south from the heat of your belly. God, your eyes snapped to his.. your socks covered feet tucked under his knees as he gently, just gently press his palm against your pulse, tightening his grasp— not enough to choke you yet enough to draw a pleasure filled gasp emitting from your sinful lips. “daddy—“

“Shush, been a good girl, haven’t you?” He cooed gently, his other hand slide itself around your waist to gently rub your back with calming warmth. “Uh huh.. The test went well today..” You murmured, eyes still focusing to his as you latched onto his strong arms.

You are 10 years his junior, you practically met when he was holding a lecture on the academy where you trained to be an agent.. an FBI agent just like him. The first gaze you laid upon each other, ignited the fire like no other, the desire and lust and.. gentle itching feeling of blossoming crush embedded deep inside both of your insides, practically screaming at yourselves to just.. get to know each other.

Getting to know each other, you did. It started off as a nervous filled dates, though he was a proper gentleman, bringing you on classic dates to libraries where you would borrow books you both haven’t read or something you just want to read and then reading it together on the window sill. Your first kiss was over a cup of coffee perched on the sill with Anna Karenina on your lap and Russian Literature on his, the kiss was magnificent that you were sure that if soulmates were real, he was— is your soulmate.

The first time you were intimate with each other was a rather cliche experience, cliche and romantic. After the 5th official date where he asked you to be his, you both went to his place which funnily was only a block away from where your apartment building sits. Rounds and rounds, you both savored the moment like you were made for each other; Ares & Aphrodite, Apollo & Calliope, Orpheus & Eurydice. The first one was gentle, desire filled love making against the bed, where he touched your skin like he touched your soul, where he kissed your lips like he kissed your fluttering heart, where he thrusts into you like a mad man, your mad man.

The next round varies, from the one where you were both on the edge of the bed when you accidentally slipped out the word “daddy.” which only made him thrust harder with an impossibly loud groans of “Call me that again—fuck!”. There was one where he choked you, fucking the soul out of you that you both ended up on the floor— not even bothering to stop by then. After the 4th round, you were both spent.. spent and absolutely basked in heavenly reality— reality that will always engulf you both.. Soulmates.

“You’ll nail it, i know you will, daddy knows best doesn’t he?” He chuckled, but his gaze darken, his grip tighten, and his head.. his head tilted in a mocking way, not mocking your ability of course but rather.. ‘Daddy Knows Best, Doesn’the?’ You knew then he found out, found your dirty dirty little secret that you tried to keep hidden (or at least for the most part)

You see, a week ago, Spencer left for a case— a pretty short one though you were desperate every time you separated from each other. You missed him so much, missed spencer but also.. you miss your daddy, your rock, your dominant. You missed his touch, missed his cock, missed his kisses, fuck you missed him so much that you were willing to break one of his most important rule. ‘No touching yourself without daddy’s sole permission, and no cumming without his permission too.’

You knew you could’ve asked, could’ve begged for him to make you cum over the phone but you couldn’t.. one part because you knew he was busy, and you had to wait at least until midnight to get him to call you.. but the other part of you, the nasty brat he calls it, was eager to be punished, to be settled back on its place. You craved the way his palm.. those genius palm slapped your ass and cunt raw until they sting so painfully that you knew you wouldnt be able to sit down tomorrow. You craved the way you were on the brink of consciousness as his hand choke your neck like he owns you.. and yeah.. he truly owns you.

So you did the most obvious, you touched yourself, you came without his permission, and you used the new vibrators he specifically asked you to not use it until he comes back. 3 rules broken and you were happy.. giddy about it. But know that he knew, you felt.. almost guilty, lust still covered you, the severe thrill still clouds you but you feel guilty, guilty that you have disappointed your daddy.

“Daddy, I—“

“Shh, Good girls gets to speak, Brats like you gets nothing.” He hissed, demeanor changed 180 as his grip tighten as much as he could and his palm goes from giving you calmness to slap your ass cheeks like you were his punching bag. You mewled and whined, before he hoist you up his arm, to move both of you to the bedroom.

“Gonna show you just what nasty desperate kittens like you get, gonna ruin you like a rag doll.” Thrown you into the bed like a rag doll is exactly what he did, you bounced a little before propping your body with your elbows to watch him sauntered over to the closer. “Was going to make you a nice dinner pet, romantic and shit, but you just had to be a slut.. for daddy huh?” He said from the closet, making you bit your lip in guilt.

“Please daddy, i’m sorry!”

“Told you to stay fucking quiet.” He rasped, pulling a few things from the closet, then making his way back to where you were laid, clothes already off. “But, i was just—“ He cuts you off by pinching your nipples hard as he placed a handcuff, a belt, and a gag— a ring gag to be exact.

“Since you can’t keep your filthy whore mouth shut, i’m going to place this—“ He grabbed the gag, carefully scurrying it around your head, “There you go, looking like a cute slutty brat that you are.” He pats your head, before securing the handcuffs around your wrist up above your head.

“Aw my baby drooling already? You’re practically begging to get your face fucked, princess.” He cooed, god he’s so different in private like this, he knows every one of your weak spots, every word that makes your heart leaps and your pussy clenched, every damn move and touches that have you begging for more, yearning for more, and being so needy over it. A man like Spencer, thrived in the feeling of having control over something for extensive amount of time, he doesn’t mind not being the typical alpha male on the streets, but here in his sheets every night— he’s the predator, and you my darling, is his frail prey.

The only thing you could let out is a pathetic mewl as he slapped the skin of your gorgeous breasts, his gaze hungry as he trailed them down your body, your gorgeous curves, it almost as if he’s worshipping every damn mark and inch of skin— silently thanking whoever made you possible for how your body just as it is.

“beautiful, could be eating you out right now, but you decided to be bad.” He tsk’d, causing you to whimper and buck your hips which he slapped your thigh for, “No buckin’ up on daddy. Be good.”

Be good,

Be good, Y/N.

Suddenly, suddenly your eyes droops just a little, you were still so still you held in your breath, your cheeks warmth as you feel yourself entering the very very fuzzy space where the only thing that exists is Y/N and Daddy. Be good, she has to be good for him because she has disappointed him again for being a— your thought were cut short as he cup your cheek, noticing how your body language changes, your daddy always knows after all.

“Shh, you’re good princess. hey are you with me? want me to stop? take the gag off, little one?” He cooed, as you momentarily shake your head with such eager, gesturing for him that no.. no you don’t want him to stop, you did a bad naughty thing and you need to be punished. Spencer has spent all his time studying your behavior, your every little detail— expression, body language, every damn thing to know just what it is you want, you need, you.. crave.

“Alright but if you feel any discomfort you’ll tap daddy with your legs okay? you can even kick him, daddy won’t mind..” He chuckled, which earned a strangled laugh from you— “Oh go and speak now angel, love watching you all messy and drooly.” He laughed, before flipping you so that you were laid face down with your ass up as your hips being propped up by a pillow.

Crack!

So sudden , it was so sudden, the loud impact sound of his belt against your skin echoed on the very walls of your room. Your head thrown back as your saliva steadily running down your chin, your eyes breaming with tears, and you let out a very very adorable strangled cries. “Fuck, thats it, take it, take your punishment and maybe, just maybe daddy’ll be a little lenient towards you tonight.”

Crack!

You didn’t count, you lost track of how many times the harsh leather has hit your skin, now burning with tremendous guilt and burning lustful desire. Your tears soaked the pillow case like a damn river, yet he didn’t relent not until he felt like you’ve learned your lesson.

and honestly.. you wouldn’t ask for anything else.

“Pretty girl, so so good for daddy shh, come here.” He wrapped you up in his arms as he remove the gag and handcuffs altogether, you were a panting drooly mess as he presses tiny loving kisses on your forehead— body completely engulfing you in his warmth. “D-daddy.. am i.. am i forgiven?” You hiccups, looking up at him to seek for comfort.. for his forgiveness, his his his.

“Oh sweetheart, i wasn’t mad at you, was just putting you back on your place. You’re so so good for me.” he cooed, gently easing you up his lap, trailing his fingers from your hair down to your arms, your tummy, and heading further south. “I love you daddy... thank you for correcting me.”

Spencer could drown, drown inside your pretty eyes, just get lost in it forever, until he suffocates and die a happy man. He would be the prisoner in your version of heaven no doubt, he was never a religious man, but if there’s a higher power— it’s you, a damn goddess— his true revelation.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Let me take care of you okay?” He whispered, positioning you properly, your back against his chest, your head adorably tucked under his chin, and your thighs spread with his knees below yours. You were a giggling mess, hazy in your space but so so drunk on pleasure, “Please please please!” You whimpered greedily, trying to grind down on his bare cock.

“Patience is virtue, angel. Let’s get you nice and ready hm? know you’re too tight to take all of me.” He whispered, which resulted in you yelling— cutting him off a little way too loudly.

“But i can! i can take it, daddy! please let me show you!” God you didn’t know what you did to him, what your damn gorgeous eyes did to his psyche, to his cock. Begging like that, making him wants to ruin you, making him wants to release the very very hungry beast inside of him— ruin ruin ruin you oh so beautifully.

“Alright, you asked for it. Don’t go blabbing about being too full, you brat.” He smacked your thigh before positioning his hard, thick hard long cock on your entrance, slowly pushing his impossible length up your tummy. “Oh! oh oh! daddy!” You cried, cried and mewled like a kitten.

His length was not even halfway in and yet you were filled so fully that your head spins. “Take it, just a lil more, doing so good.” He rasps, feeling your cunt impossibly tight around his cock, warm and snug. “Please daddy...” You whimpered, not even know what the pleading was for but you pleads for him— with him.

When he finally got all his length stuffed deep inside your weepy cunt, his mouth nip and bite at the skin of your neck, trying to hold back the grunts as he moves slowly, thrusting up to your tight cunt.

“Fuck so damn tight, kitten.” You shuddered as the tip of his cock hit your spot perfectly, he was in so deep that all the sound that dripped from your lip was ‘ah! ah ah! d-‘

“Take it, take it, take it.” Was all he chanted as he settled you so you seated up right on his lap, before bouncing you up and down his length. Spencer was deeper this way, way way deep inside your walls, massaging every pulsing need you’ve held for awhile.

“So big! so— oh! please daddy faster!” You moaned wantonly, bouncing yourself up and down his cock, gasping as he places his palm on your tummy where the imprint his cock nestled deep inside you was so prominent that he cried out loud. “Feel it huh? feel it deep inside your tummy?”

“Yes yes yes oh fuck! S-Spencer!” You knew just how much he loves it when you moaned his name, so even in your fuzzy space, you moaned it, because you love him and he was practically fucking the living soul outta you. “I love you— fuck me i love you, gonna cum hm?” He whispered, moving his hand down, down down down then pressing his thumb on your clit to rub it.

“Daddy no! no i-i’ll make a mess!” Of course he knows this, knows that the burn on your ass constantly slapping against his thigh turns you on like nothing else, knows that his cock was filling you up so good that you could practically feel him inside your throat, knows that the rubbing of his thumb will have you squirting on his cock in no time.

“But daddy— shit, daddy wants you to make a mess, go on little one.. make a big mess.” And so you did, you did hard— squirting on his cock like river was streaming down your cunt, your walls pulses around his cock like a vibrator and the grip was like vice, sending him to absolute bliss himself— cumming inside you shortly after as you shake and writhe above him.

“I love you Y/N fuck— fuck i love you so fucking much.” He fucked you through your and his orgasm like a mad man, burying his face on your neck as his cum was buried inside your cunt. You were panting so hard, body still shaking as he leave trail of kisses on the column of your throat before tilting your head to kiss your lips softly.

“D-Daddy?” You meekly whispered, lips trembling as you spoke after he hummed, “can you stay inside? want to keep you inside please..”

And who’s Spencer Reid to deny his goddess’s wishes

xx,d

#insufferableblurb #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #daddy!spencer #dom!spencer #dom!spencer x sub!reader #mgg smut #matthew gray gubler smut #smut #criminal minds smut

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erensangel444 · 4 years ago

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wedding bells

eren jaeger x reader x mikasa ackerman

modern!au

this shit.... is a dream come true!

this fic is eren + mikasa x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions, if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this fic has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

a/n: i saw someone(who is a wedding planner) describe an instance similar to this, on reddit, and i just had to write it.

i don’t care what anyone says, eremika is my otp. on the flip side, jean’s feelings for mikasa are so cute and it makes my heart do flips.

warnings: language(most of my fics do contain language), smut; degrading, threesome, unprotected sex w/ creampie, voyeurism, cuckolding in a way?? but not really cause the reader fucks both of em so 🤨, oral(male and fem!receiving), permission needed to orgasm, slapping(slightest bit, not a huge portion of the smut)

word count: 5.3k

summary: wedding planning is a chaotic affair. some couples were very demanding, leaving no room for friendliness, the professionalism somewhat overbearing. with this couple though, there’s room to get friendly.

your legs were propped up on your desk, the eraser end of a pencil in between your teeth. your eyes were trained on your computer screen, analyzing the june month of your calendar. a knock on your door interrupted your train of thought, your legs falling back to the floor at the sound. “mrs. y/l/n, it’s your 2 o’clock appointment,” your assistant’s voice sounding from behind the door.

“come in,” you replied, your voice accompanied by a soft lilt. your door swung open, your assistant standing beside a couple, a beautiful one at that. if you had lacked any sense of professionalism, drool might have dribbled out of the side of your mouth.

“have a seat,” you gestured towards the chairs on the opposite side of your desk, “thank you marylin,” you smiled at your assistant, turning your attention back to the couple in front of you.

now that they sat in front of you, you had a clearer look at their appearance. you noticed the way their hands were latched together, the image making you smile. “nice to meet you, i’m y/n, which you already knew i guess,” you laughed, the man and woman in front of you joining in.

already the room had an aura of comfort. they had told you their names, eren and mikasa, mikasa’s last name soon to be jaeger. eventually, the conversation had shifted into small talk as you nodded at the words falling from mikasa’s lips, a sign that you were listening intently.

you had asked how they met, a common question you asked to most of the couples who became your clients, but with them, you were actually interested in their answer. “a pastry shop,” eren smiled, turning to mikasa. “the owner, levi, is actually attending our wedding as the matchmaker, he convinced me to make a move,” he finished.

you couldn’t help but smile at the story, and smile at the couple in front of you. you could feel the happiness radiating off of them, their happiness rubbing off on you.

“do you guys have a theme that you’re thinking for the ceremony?”

the sun had slowly began it’s descent, the evening sun shining through the window behind you. discussion about the wedding had come to an end about an hour ago, the preliminary details sorted out. the professional conversation had died down, there was no reason for the appointment to continue, yet, a part of you didn’t want the couple to leave, and it didn’t seem like they were eager to go either.

mikasa’s laughter sounded throughout the room as you recalled a bridezilla that you had dealt with a couple of years ago. eren smiled at the sound of mikasa’s laughter, turning towards you, the smile remaining. “so, i’m scheduling another appointment for january, we’ll discuss invitation cards, catering, and we can look at venues if you don’t already have an idea for where you want the wedding to take place,” you smiled softly.

“thank you so much,” eren said, standing up and holding his hand out for you to shake. you stood from your chair also, shaking eren’s hand, walking towards the door. you held the door open for the couple, the subtle smile yet to leave your face.

“thank you again,” mikasa smiled at you. you felt your cheeks heat up at her appreciation. “of course, anytime, feel free to call if you need anything,” you said, waving at the couple as they walked down the hall. you were excited for this wedding, more so than any other one that you had planned.

fuck, you need a cold shower.

the meeting in january had happened a month ago. you had customized a design for the invitation based on mikasa and eren’s descriptions. they loved it, so the invitations were sent in the mail, the wedding set for the month of june.

like the previous one, the appointment had run over, spending an hour talking to the couple, laughter sounding throughout the room. now, a month later, you were rushing to a bridal store, a to-go coffee cup in your hand as you walked quickly.

mikasa had invited you to dress shopping, a couple of her bridesmaids tailing along as well. you opened the door to the store, your breath quick from rushing as you looked around the for mikasa. you smiled once meeting mikasa’s eyes. she returned your smile with her own as she waved you over.

she had introduced you to all of her bridesmaids, the group of you talking about your shared excitement for mikasa’s wedding. you talked with the group, though you felt like you were intruding, seeing as you hadn’t known mikasa as long as these women. you were the wedding planner though, so it wasn’t odd that you were here, right?

all those thoughts flushed from your head when mikasa stepped out from the dressing room, the store assistant following behind her. she looked beautiful, the canvas white color of the dress acting as a parallel against her skin, a veil casted over her face.

the women beside you cheered, yet you still stared in astonishment. realizing that you were the odd one out, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you quickly joined in, clapping along with the women beside you. mikasa did a little twirl as a joke, and you whistled in response, the playful banter making you smile.

mikasa’s eyes shifted over to you as she smiled, “you look amazing,” you said softly, your words drifiting into a fluttery sigh. “thank you,” mikasa said, her voice almost a whisper. “um, would you want to come with me after this? i have some more shopping to do, and all my friends have somewhere to be,” your heart shouldn’t have pulsated the way it did at her offer.

“of course,” you smiled, ushering her over to her friends who were eager to give their compliments to the soon-to-be-bride.

how you had ended up inside a victoria’s secret dressing room with mikasa, her hands tugging at the bottom of her shirt, was beyond you. all you could do now was attempt to avert your eyes as she lifted the shirt over her eyes.

she had gone to a couple shops before stopping in the lingerie store just for a ‘quick look’. a ‘quick look’ had somehow led to the pair of you venturing into the dressing room, mikasa’s hands full of bralettes covered in lace and different lingerie pieces.

“what do you think of this one,” her voice broke the silence. well, now you had to look up at her. you lifted your head from the floor, stopping your jaw from falling slack, forcing your expression to be rigid. in the moments between your eyes falling to the floor and now, mikasa’s jeans had come off too.

she now stood in a white lace bra, the dark areolas of her nipple visible through the fabric. a white lace thong accompanied the number on her upper half, sending you into an undeniable heat. your cheeks flushed as you licked your lips before responding, “i-it’s beautiful, i think eren will love it,”. you forced your eyes to remain on her face. “do you like it?” she asked, her voice having something hidden behind it.

“m-me?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. mikasa nodded, smiling at you. “i-i like it,” you stuttered through a sentence, your cheeks growing hotter, “i think it looks really good on you,” you whispered the last bit. mikasa grinned at that, her hands reaching for the clasp of the bra.

your eyes quickly fell back to the floor, mikasa grabbing another set that was sitting beside you on the bench in the dressing room. your eyes remained glued on the floor as you felt mikasa’s shoulder brush against yours. as quickly as you felt the brush of her skin against yours, it was gone, yet the feeling in your stomach had yet to subside.

it was now may, a month before the wedding and mikasa had asked you over for coffee, in desperate need of someone to expel the worries she had about the wedding. you had obviously obliged, putting mikasa’s address into the map on your phone.

after the day at victoria’s secret, you had seen eren and mikasa a few more times, mainly to discuss the wedding. they had invited you over for dinner as a thanks, their hospitality was heartwarming.

you found yourself parking your car in front of their home once again, walking towards the front door. you rang the doorbell, slightly shifting from the ball of your foot to the heel in anticipation. to your surprise, eren opened the front door, and before you could stop yourself a slight gasp fell from your lips.

“what? expecting someone different?” he joked, smiling at you. you laughed softly before speaking, “i have a date with your fiancé,” you joked, holding up the two coffees in your hand. eren stepped out of the doorway, motioning for you to go inside.

you had a general idea of the layout of their home from your previous visit, so you headed towards the kitchen, setting the coffee cups down on the table. “mikasa actually just had to leave,” eren said from behind you, “some emergency at work,” he sat down in a seat at the kitchen table. “oh,” you said, not knowing how to respond, standing awkwardly beside the table.

“i don’t mind if you stay though,” your eyebrows furrowed at his words, but the blush that rushed to your cheeks was easily distinguished, “until she comes back i mean,”. you nodded sheepishly, mentally hitting yourself for reading into eren’s words. you sat down, opposite from eren, pushing one of the coffees towards him.

“thanks,” he smiled, taking a sip from the paper cup. you sat in silence for a moment, before eren asked you a question. “are you dating someone?” you gulped your coffee at that, coughing soon after from the rush of liquid. “s-sorry! that was abrupt,” he yelped.

“n-no you’re okay,” you reassured him, setting your coffee cup on the table. “i’m not dating anyone, no,” you said, your left hand digging into your thigh. “that surprises me,” eren replied, his eyes boring into yours. ‘hmm?’ you hummed in question, attempting to retain a calm exterior, though it was hard to ignore the way your heart was beating.

“i mean with being a wedding planner and everything, i feel like you see love all the time and you’d want your own shot at it,” eren started, “i would bet you have people lining up too,”. you blushed profusely at his words, ignoring any deeper meaning behind them.

“i-i guess you’re right, i do see a lot of love, but that’s also why i’m not in a relationship. i get my full share of love, at work, you know? i’m always managing other people’s love lives, i don’t want to throw mine on top of that,” you rambled, letting out a deep breath at the end. eren nodded in understanding, smiling before talking.

“so more of a friends with benefit thing? hit it and quit it?” he laughed, the feeling in your stomach and the heat in your cheeks growing at his words before you spoke. “i manage pretty okay by myself,” you laughed softly, attempting to ease your nerves. “k-know how to take care of myself,”. as soon as the words fell from your lips, you instantly regretted them. you didn’t want him to think you were insinuating something lewd with your words.

eren just smirked at you, the sound of the front door opening startling you. mikasa made her way into the kitchen, smiling when she saw you. “eren leave my date alone,” she joked, leaning down to give him a kiss. what you thought would be a peck, was a passionate kiss. you caught glimpses of their tongues slipping into the other’s mouth before you had to look at the floor.

“let’s go sit out back,” mikasa said to you as she pulled away from eren’s lips, panting.

it was now june, and you found yourself in the countryside of italy, lying on your bed, reading a book. the wedding was to take place in two days, the happy couple renting out a villa for the guests to stay at. your window was open to cool down your room, the slight breeze brushing across your legs, the noise of crickets softly easing the silence of the night.

your peace was interrupted by a knock on your door. you huffed out a breath, swinging your legs off of the bed and onto the floor, making your way to the door. you looked through the peephole, sucking in a breath after looking through it. mikasa and eren stood outside your door, both in nightclothes. you felt anxious, worried that something was wrong, but opened your door nonetheless.

“hey, are you guys alright?” you spoke softly, both eren and mikasa nodding. “can we come in?” eren said, you nodded in response, still confused but holding the door open for the couple. “we want t-” eren started before mikasa cut him off with her hand. at mikasa’s interruption, eren went to shut your window with an explanation of “it’s so cold in here,”.

“i’m sorry about that,” she sighed, “eren thinks we should’ve done this months ago, so now he’s being overly blunt, but i think there’s a polite way to go about it,” her voice was low, but still had the same softness along with it. “we wanna fuck you,” eren blurted out, your jaw dropping at his words. “eren!” mikasa punched his bicep, eren grinning sheepishly.

“what? it’s true,” he rationalized. you were still reeling at his words and mikasa could tell. she made her way over to you, her hand rubbing at your shoulder as she spoke, “you’ve done so much to help us, and we’ve both wanted to from the start,” she looked at you intently, searching your expression. “jus’ wanna help you out,” eren joined in.

“do you want that?” mikasa said, pulling her hand away in fear of making you uncomfortable. you nodded meekly, unable to hold eye contact with either of them. “look at me and say it,” mikasa’s voice was more stern now. you looked up at her, meeting her eyes that had seemingly grown darker.

“yes, want it,” you were panting, yet you hadn’t done anything to run out of breath. “good,” eren sighed from beside you, his lips quickly finding purchase along your neck as he left kisses along the expanse of skin, suckling at different spots.

mikasa’s hand fell to your chin, lifting your face up before leaning in for a kiss. you fell stiff for a second, before melting into her lips. their lips were sending you into overdrive, mikasa’s hand falling to the back of your head to pull you in closer.

she pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips together, her eyes glossed over with desire. “arms up” eren commanded plainly as he moved away from your neck. you obliged quickly, mikasa’s hands grabbing at the bottom of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“fuck,” mikasa sighed, her eyes boring holes into your breasts. you were getting ready for bed so you hadn’t had a bra on, your nipples stiffening at the brush of cold air. “so pretty, isn’t she kasa’” eren sighed, turning towards his soon-to-be-wife.

mikasa simply nodded, licking her lips before her hand gravitated towards your breast, groping softly at the skin. you threw your head back at the slight contact, trying to calm your heartbeat and the thoughts rushing through your head. too consumed with the situation, you hadn’t notice eren’s lips on your nipple until you felt his tongue lick at the hardened pebble.

you whimpered softly at the feeling, eren laughing against your skin, taking your moans as encouragement. eventually, eren’s mouth was wrapped around one nipple, mikasa’s wrapped around the other. your hands fell to their hair, your mind reeling at the pleasure.

you couldn’t help but look down at them, the sight increasing your pleasure. your eyes shifted between the two of them, eren’s eyes twinkling with mischief, mikasa’s laced with desire.

“i think she deserves a treat, don’t you think so eren?” mikasa mumbled against your skin. eren simply nodded, his hands playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

you found yourself now, lying against eren’s chest, eren’s back up against the headboard, your shorts discarded along with your panties. eren’s hands traced patterns on the sides of your hips as mikasa ran a finger through your slit. she lifted her finger up in the light, your arousal evident on the digit.

“you’re excited, huh?” eren teased from behind you. you could feel his bulge pushing into your lower back, and you shifted to roll against it, eren letting out a soft sigh. one of eren’s hands drifted down towards your clit while mikasa placed kisses on your thigh, slowly inching towards your dripping center, but avoiding it to tease you further.

“make her wait a little, babe’”, mikasa looked up at eren, a smirk on her face. “she’s been good,” eren said, his voice soft. his thumb now rubbed soft circles into your clit, your head falling onto his shoulder. “w-want more,” you whimpered, attempting to thrust into eren’s thumb.

“see?” mikasa said from below you, staring right up at you, “give her a little and she starts begging like a whore,”. you whimpered at her words, desperate for some relief, desperate for an orgasm, desperate for something, anything.

“you want it?” she asked, slowly inserting one of her finger’s into your dripping hole. “yes! p-please,” you begged, desperate for mikasa’s mouth and fingers. she just chuckled, letting out a plain “fine,” before her lips wrapped around your clit sucking on the bundle of nerves.

“fuck!” you yelped, eren’s hand now groping at your breast as he littered kisses along your shoulder and neck. mikasa now had two fingers inside of you, their speed increasing as she placed kitten licks on your clit. you squirmed from the pleasure, the feeling overwhelming, your body telling you to get away, but you loved it. you wanted more, “more!” you whimpered.

mikasa’s mouth now met her fingers at your entrance, licking below your clit. eren’s hand drifted down towards the bundle of nerves, rubbing quick figure eights, your hips spasming at the feeling. “g-gonna cum!” you shouted, possibly a little too loud.

“yeah?” eren sighed, “gotta ask us first,”. you looked down a mikasa, her eyes the only thing you could see. “need permission to cum,” she mumbled into your pussy, the vibration sending shock waves through your body. it was hard to hold back, you needed to cum, but you couldn’t, not without permission.

“p-please! i’ll be so good, just need to cum, need it bad, need it please!” you moaned loudly, your hips bucking into mikasa’s mouth and eren’s hand. “think she deserves it?” mikasa asked, looking up at eren. she moved away from your dripping center, her fingers still plunging in and out of you as she waited for eren’s response.

“i think she’s been good,” eren answered, looking down at mikasa. he turned towards you, his lips tickling your ear, “you’ve been good right? good girls deserve to cum,” you moaned loudly at his words. you couldn’t hold back anymore, you needed it. “cum,” mikasa said plainly, her lips falling back to lick at your dripping hole.

at her permission, your mind fell blank, your hips short-circuiting, your orgasm building until you fell over the edge. it resonated throughout your body, sending a hum throughout your system. you had never felt this fucking good.

as you came down, mikasa slowly slid her fingers out. you were panting, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you met mikasa’s eyes, a smile on her face. she turned away from you, looking towards eren before speaking, “wanna taste her?”. you looked back to eren, still hazy from your orgasm to meet his enthusiastic nodding and the smirk on his face.

eren opened his mouth, mikasa slipping her fingers onto his tongue. he wrapped his lips around the digits, suckling. the image made your center throb, eren staring right at you as he licked your arousal off of mikasa’s fingers.

“what? something wrong?” mikasa teased as she removed her fingers from eren’s lips, your mouth wide open at what you had just witnessed. “w-wanna watch, wanna see you both, together,” you said shyly. eren and mikasa just smiled at you before turning back to one another, and leaning in for a kiss.

their lips locked with a moan, the image before you reminding you of that day in their kitchen. only now, they were doing it because you wanted them to, because you wanted to watch. “fuck,” you sighed, crossing your legs in hope of friction, in hope of some relief.

the sensitivity from your orgasm had worn off, eren and mikasa kissing in front of you causing a spike in your libido. “want you both to suck my cock,” eren said breathlessly, pulling away from mikasa. you looked over at mikasa for reassurance, and she nodded with a soft smile. you looked back to eren, settling yourself next to mikasa, in between his legs.

at some point he had gotten rid of his pants, the only thing separating you from his cock being his boxers. mikasa palmed at his erection through the fabric as you watched her movements before looking back up at eren timidly. his hand drifted down to your hair, rubbing at your head in appraisal.

you gave him a soft smile before reaching for the waistband of his boxers. with mikasa’s help, you pulled the cloth from off of his body, being met with his hard cock. the tip was an angry red and leaking precum, and you could’ve sworn it twitched slightly. how long had he been like this?

no matter, you were going to help him now, you were gonna take good care of him. you wanted to help him and mikasa, wanted them to take care of you. you licked a stripe up his cock, mikasa acting as a parallel on the other side.

you heard a low groan from above you, taking it as encouragement as you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock before lightly sucking. you licked at the underside of his cock, and in the corner of your eyes you could see mikasa licking at the base of his cock, her hand fondling with his balls.

“fuck,” eren sighed from above you. you wanted to hear him moan more, so you took him deeper down your throat, mikasa licking at what you didn’t reach. eren let out more sighs and whimpers, throwing his head back at the feeling. you pulled off of his cock, spit covering his length as you switched spots with mikasa.

she took his whole length down her throat, deepthroating him, a slight gag sounding throughout the room. you couldn’t help but whimper at the sight before you, wanting to do the same as mikasa, wanting to take him as good as her.

“wanna try?” she panted, pulling away from eren’s cock as she looked at you. you nodded, afraid to respond verbally, fearing that your words would do you an injustice. she wrapped one hand in your hair, pushing you towards his cock. before you could wrap your lips around his tip she spoke, “if you wanna pull off, tap eren’s thigh twice, okay?” she announced, looking at you for reassurance. you muttered out an ‘i will,’ wrapping your lips around eren’s cock.

“take him nice and slow,” mikasa said from behind you, her hand still in your hair. you could hear eren’s fluttery sighs, the sounds increasing the arousal collecting at your dripping hole. “t-take your time, pretty,” eren groaned from above you. you looked up at him and as you met his eyes, eren let out a moan, throwing his head back.

“if you look at me like that, i’m gonna blow,” he teased, the light laugh at the end of his sentence turning into a moan. “ready to take him all the way?” mikasa asked, and you nodded as best you could with your mouth full of his cock.

mikasa slowly but surely pushed your head further down his cock, your throat filling with his length. you gagged slightly right before bottoming out, eren verbally reeling at the feeling. as you reached the base of his cock, you gagged once more, your eyes watering at the pressure. you could feel your jaw becoming sore, your nose taking in harsh breaths, but you reveled in the feeling.

you wanted eren’s cock deep down your throat, wanted to be good for him. mikasa pulled you off his length, a line of saliva in between your lips and the tip of his cock. “did so good,” mikasa assured you, pulling you in for a kiss. you relished in the feel of her lips on yours. she pulled away from you, leaning up towards eren and kissing him. “so hot,” you sighed absentmindedly, eren and mikasa laughing into the kiss.

“yeah?” eren teased, “i think you’ve yet to give me a kiss,” intense eye contact being shared between you two. you leaned up next to mikasa, hovering your lips over eren’s before closing your eyes and kissing him. his kiss was different from mikasa’s but similar in the pleasure you felt from it. you pulled away with a blush flushing across your cheeks.

“c-can i watch first?” you asked, looking between both eren and mikasa before looking down at your hands. mikasa’s hand grabbed at your chin, lifting your head up to look at her. “wanna watch him fuck me first?” you nodded enthusiastically.

eventually you situated yourself against the headboard, eren and mikasa next to you. he had her in doggystyle, his hands grabbing at her backside before he positioned the tip of his cok at her entrance. eren pushed in, both of their faces contorting in pleasure. your hand drifted down to your clit, rubbing soft circles onto your clit as you witnessed the scene unfall in front of you.

as eren began to thrust faster inside of her, mikasa’s head fell into the pillow, her moans slightly muffled by the mattress. your pace on your clit increased as the pace of eren’s thrust increased. his hand barreled down onto her ass, the smack sounding throughout the room. mikasa let out a yelp at the feeling, your bottom lip now situated between your teeth in response to the couple before you.

eren had grabbed at mikasa’s hair, pulling her back to rest against his chest. “cum on my cock,” he commanded, thrusting into her harshly. mikasa obliged with a moan that was close to a shout. eren let go of her hair, mikasa falling back into the pillow as eren’s thrusts slowed.

eren pulled out of mikasa, giving her a light tap on the ass before rubbing at the small of her back. “did so good,” he muttered out softly, his eyes falling onto you. “want you to ride my cock,” he said plainly, smiling at you. “do you want a condom, o-or do we need to get one because i kno-” you rambled, “are you safe?” eren asked softly. you nodded, assuring him that you got tested a month ago and hadn’t hooked up with anyone else in between now and then.

“are you on the pill,” you nodded once again, no verbal response this time. “well then i think it’s alright if i leave you with a big load, deep inside of you, huh? would you like that?” you nodded, unable to respond, your cheeks heating up. “ do you think that would be nice, mikasa?” eren asked his fiance, who now leaned up against the headboard.

“i think she wants it real bad, think you should give it to her,” she taunted, staring at you. “think you’re right,” eren said as he laid down on the bed, his head on the pillow. “want you on my face, kasa’, and you on my cock, angel,” you whimpered softly, situating your legs on the outside of eren’s thighs. you held the tip of his cock at your entrance, pushing it inside of you as you slowly slid down his length.

“f-fuck,” you sighed as you bottomed out, eren’s cock brushing up against that spot against you. mikasa was rocking her hips against eren’s mouth, her fluttery moans sounding throughout the room. you began to slowly bounce on eren’s cock, your hands placed on his toned stomach for support. as his cock pushed in and out of you, reaching deep inside of you, mikasa pulled you in for a kiss, moaning into your lips.

she pulled away with a smirk, her face contorting in pleasure soon after. “fuck! do you like it?” she moaned, flicking her hips against eren’s tongue more eagerly. “like him deep inside of you?” she continued, to which you nodded, unable to verbalize your pleasure, grinding against eren’s cock.

it all happened in an instance, you felt a sting on your face, your eyes tearing up slightly from the pleasure and the unanticipated pain. “i expect an answer when i ask you something,” mikasa said, her voice airy but the seriousness behind her tone still evident. she had slapped you. god, you wanted more. “y-yes i’ll answer!” you moaned, bouncing on eren’s cock with earnest.

“f-fuck gonna cum!” mikasa yelped, her hips stuttering. eren’s hand fell on her hips, rocking her against his tongue, licking at her pussy until she fell apart on his face. after reaching her peak she swung her leg over, resting on the bed beside you and eren’s figures. “f-fuck angel,” eren groaned, “ride my cock just like that,”. you bounced more eagerly now, desperate for orgasm. you were so close.

“cum on my cock, come on wanna see you cum all over me,” eren’s words were the final push, your walls clenching around eren’s cock as you came. “fuck!” eren all but yelled, his hands grabbing at your hips. “g-gonna, gonna” he moaned before he came, his hot load released deep inside of you. “s-so warm,” you sighed, falling further into that hazy space.

eren lifted you off his cock slightly as you winced at the stretch. after pulling you off his cock, he laid you to the opposite side of him, pulling both you and mikasa into his figure. he left a kiss on your forehead before softly speaking, “did so good for us,”. mikasa hummed in agreement before her soft voice sounded throughout the room, “so good,”.

the wedding had taken place and it was beautiful. the ceremony was stunning, and you found yourself crying at their vows, the love they shared so evident in the way the looked at one another.

they drove off from the villa in a silver 1954 corvette, just married reading as the license plate. the wedding invitees waved them off, whistles sounding off into the distance. you had spent a couple more days in italy after the wedding, spending your time at a hotel, adventuring, and trying out restaurants.

before you were set to leave for home, your phone pinged with a message, the contact name reading ‘eren jaeger & mikasa jaeger’. reading the text left a smile on your face and a feeling of anticipation to thrum throughout your system.

‘the honeymoon is amazing!! we wanted to thank you again for all your help. we’ll be back in the states in a week. hopefully you’ll find time to fit us in your schedule, there’s so much to discuss. we need your expertise on a wide variety of matters, so many more weddings for us to plan and all that;)’

fin

HEY! thank you so much for reading :D this fic is legit a dream fantasy, new nightime scenario :/// in all seriousness, i loved writing this so it means a lot that you’re reading it.

love u love u love u love u

take care of yourself <3

259 notes · View notes

junova · 4 years ago

Text

↬ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

abstract: the one where steve finds your love letters.

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader

word count: 3K+

warnings: cussing, fluff, angst, crying, slight self-deprecation.

[author’s note]: hey guys! i’m really new to the writing scene so kind words are appreciated! srsly just testing my writing style out and wanted to just post something to motivate me to keep writing. hope u like it. <3

also thank u ari for the inspo and that bomb ass album that saved twenty-twenty. now we just need biden to get elected.

ps. don’t forget to vote! <3

Stevie,

First and foremost, I want you to know how proud of you I am. You have become the man you’ve said you become, the one I always knew you would. You have finally seen what the rest of us see.

A good man.

The soul you carry within you shines brighter than I’ve ever seen. Just for that only, I’m thankful for the time we’ve spent together. Maybe one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell you this without hiding behind the comfort of this notebook. She won’t spill my secrets, fortunate for me.

Some days you have no idea how badly I want to tell you. I think it’s on the days I discover a new fleck of green in your eyes or maybe when you show up to class with a cup of coffee for me without request.

More. More. More.

It’s selfish of me, that much I know. More days than not, I would say you give too much of yourself away. Always wanting to appease everyone, you, Steven Rogers, the bridge to making the people around you happier than they walked in. Even when Bucky drags you into his nonsense bullshit, you say yes without hesitation.

I’ve got not a a clue on how you continue on, how you still remain you when you tend to spread yourself so thin. Who watches out for you? Who cares for you? Who loves the almighty, selfless Rogers?

For me, it’s much easier to pretend you carry too much on your plate than to deal with the rejection I would receive from you. You’re just too good, more than I deserve. More than I would be willing to take. I know I couldn’t possibly give you what you deserve but, I hope that one day you might see me differently. You would see me more than the light I’ve painted myself in.

Even though the shade is lovely, I want to be deeper. Deeper into you on a level which only seems unattainable at this point.

A forever friend. To be in your life, just as a friend, is an reward in itself.

But someday I hope you would love me in the same way I do. It’s all a love struck girl could do. Hope for the best, bet be prepared for the downfall.

With much love, your forever friend.

Tearing the page away from the binding of the overfilled notebook, dispensing it in the first empty drawer you could find, you abandoned the feelings as soon as the pen’s ink bleed out dry.

“You know it would just be easier to tell him how you feel.” You peaked up at the sound of her voice, before realizing she was looming over you, watching your write the letter.

Your supposed, secret letter.

“Nat, please. No.” Opening the drawer, she grabbed the letter but was surprised with just how many she found.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve written about him multiple times?” You sank in the soft, plush material of your seat hoping that just maybe it would begin to swallow you whole. Hopefully, fast enough were you wouldn’t have to endure the rest of the conversation. One you had been trying to avoid, for the past three years.

“It’s nothing Nat, just forget it.” Just like a Romanov, she couldn’t leave it alone. Even if she tried it was laced in her blood to see any little thing through.

“You really shouldn’t wait so long. A window might close for you, much sooner than you think.” With a curious eyebrow lifted, you felt your breath leave you.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Steve certainly deserved the best and you knew it was only time for him to figure out you would never be enough for him.

“Peggy Carter.” Peggy.

The one girl of a sea of many who had been enamored by Steve. He never really seemed to spend anytime with the women who vied for his attention, but Peggy was surely different than the rest.

Even if Steve was oblivious when it came to the advances everyone would make on him, he saw Peggy. Considering she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, she intimidated you. God, did she ever.

On numerous occasions she and Steve had gone out, and even though he assured you they were just friends you were starting to believe he was only trying to protect your feelings. As a friend.

He had never cancelled on you once for her and he would tell you if he had started to date someone, just like he had before.

Even though the entire three years you’d known him he only had one serious girlfriend and after eight months, the pair broke up and even now he still didn’t budge on why they broke up.

“Steve can do whatever he wants with her. He’s a single man. He’s gone out with her before and he’ll probably go with her again.” Then Sam was the next to speak up, dismissing the total bullshit spouting from your mouth.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to? The damn man follows you around like a goddamn puppy.” Okay, when did he even come in here?

“God, fuck, no he doesn’t. He would have said something by now, he’s had three years and it’s been nothing but radio silence.” With an all knowing smirk, Sam proposed a new concept into question.

“It has been three years. So, have you ever said anything to him?”

Shit. Fuck you, Wilson.

“W-Well, not exactly.” Sam didn’t have to say anything in response. You knew he was right and you hated it.

Your unwillingness still stood for you, there was just no way he actually would reciprocate your feelings.

“Listen, I think it would be really good for the both of you to air everything out. Peggy is sinking her claws in him and it isn’t too long before they get stuck. Just talk to him.” You nodded silently, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever have the courage to.

—

Emptiness.

It’s all you seemed to feel today. Following you around was a dark cloud, looming over you. Wishing you could be anywhere but your own body. Nothing in particular happened to make you deserve the feeling you were granted with. It just so happened to be one of those days.

From the moment you got out of bed — or rather stayed in bed until four in the afternoon, you felt like anything you would have done just didn’t feel enough. The feeling was fleeting, never staying for more than a day or so, but it made the day drag on. Never ending.

Your muscles sore, body aching from the lack of activity your presumed. Or maybe you had built it in your head too.

Thankfully for you, Nat was busy helping Bucky move into his new place the entire day. She asked if you wanted to help, but mentally you didn’t feel you would be useful for anyone. Simply, telling her you would hang back, claiming you had another an essay to write.

Which you did, you weren’t completely lying, but there was more than your sour mood to blame for your dismissal of social interaction.

You hated to be that girl, the one who needed the presence of men. Specifically, the company of one very beautiful, blue eyed one.

His absence in your life the past few weeks felt heavier on you than you thought it would. You knew from Sam’s intel he had been hanging out with Peggy more and more. He said the two of them were getting close, mercifully sparing you the details.

You hated it’s you’d become. A girl so damn struck over a boy who was giving his attention elsewhere. Upset you were though. Before even if he was busy between classes and his internship at the gallery, he would still text to check up on you.

Now, it was nothing but radio silence letting you draw conclusions on your own. Very, very dangerous territory for you to travel to.

Steve and you are just friends. Get. Over. It.

You thought you’d be alone the rest of the Saturday, especially since it was nearly midnight. Figuring Nat was staying over at Bucky’s and Wanda leaving earlier in early hours of the morning to see her boyfriend for the entire weekend.

Then, an incredibly drunk Steve stumbled into your quaint apartment, the thoughtfully sweetness in him blubbering out with the alcohol flooding through his system. It was like he was on overdrive. More than ready to crash at any given moment.

You had enough when Steve started shamelessly raiding your kitchen, but you remained on the couch attempting to maintain some distance between the two of you. He had a history of being incredibly handsy whenever he had bit too much to drink.

Stumbling his way over to you, almost tripping on the rug, until he was basically cuddling up to your side. His arms latched tightly around you, pulling you into him. Not spared a choice, not that you’d want one.

The security of being wrapped up to him wasn’t something you ever grew tired of. You don’t think there would ever be a time you would ever be capable of turning him away.

“I’ve missed you. It’s been too long.” His soft tone, penetrating the tiny resistance you held towards him. “Me too. I was starting to think you disappeared on me, bubba.”

“Never.” His iron grip holding so tight like he was afraid you’d slip right through.

“Is everything alright?” Trying to pull from him, but Steve seemed unable to let you go. You whispered in his ear, caressing his back.

“I think so.”

“Here, let me grab you cup of joe and some water. Okay? I’ll be right back.” Leaving him a kiss on the cheek, before heading him into the kitchen.

If you had been around him recently, perhaps you would be more in tune with how he was feeling. Then the guilt sept in.

“Sweetheart, do you know where the phone charger is? It’s not by the recliner.” You heard him shout, trying to stop your heart from hammering into your stomach.

Just make him some coffee, sober him up, until he crashes.

Steve always seemed to be a lightweight and somehow whenever he did decide to drink he always found himself routing his way into your home. You thought it was simply for accident alone. The bar he frequented at was only a few block from you.

The past few times he would just stumble into your bedroom, immediately passing out in your soft, silky sheet. Now, he seemed to have more pressing matters at hand.

“Check the drawers, Stevie. I think there’s one you left around here somewhere.” You grabbed the filters and the grounds out, brewing the coffee. Soon, with a black cup of coffee and a water bottle in hand you took note of just how quite he was being.

He was never this silent and it was freaking you out.

“Are you sure you’re o-”

Just like that.

Fuck.

Hunched over, practically on his knees, he read over the endless letters you wrote about him. Confessions never meant to be seen by him. You lost track of how many you had written over the past few years once realized how irrevocably in love with him you are.

He didn’t realize you had found him and you were suddenly paralyzed. Unaware of your presence he continued to read through them and his expression was unrecognizable. One you’d never seen from him before, and you didn’t quite know how to react.

No. He wasn’t grimacing nor did he seem to be elated either. He just stood there just like you, afraid what would happen next.

What did this mean for the two of you? Your entire relationship was purely riding on whatever happened next.

Softly, with a gentle hand, he sifted through them all like he was looking for something specifically. Steve let them fall to the hardwood floors as your shaking hands could no longer support the weight of the dainty coffee cup he had actually sculpted himself.

The glass shattering everywhere, several pieces making their way towards him, thankfully not fiercely enough to penetrate his skin.

Truly, you had never been more sorry than when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. Threatening to spill over. Because of you.

You didn’t have to be told, you already knew.

Carefully, Steve stood up making his way over to you around the shattered mug. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Simply just watching him until he was right in front of you — more silent than you’d ever seen him before.

“Those were about me. Weren’t they?” You nodded having no reason to lie other than to protect yourself from a rejection you been hoping to spare yourself from.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. Or at all really.” Your resolve dropping instantly when Steve took a step further gripping by your hips, pulling you closer.

“Why not?” He questioned you, again. Almost like he needed a verbal affirmation of every secret he had just read.

Unintentionally, stealing your soul served for him on a silver platter.

“I know how you’d feel about me, Steve. It’s not how I want it to be and it’s okay.” You remove yourself from him, traveling to the other side of the living room. Suddenly, the apartment seemed suffocating with him in it. “I’m fine, Steve.”

Hearing him sigh in frustration only furthered your immense feeling of being a burden to him.

You’re just one more obstacle he has to deal with.

“One of them dated back for over two years ago. Two fucking years.” His harsh tone, piercing through you like a knife.

“I know. I should have told you.” You whispered, wishing you could disappear into any abyss that would take you. Deeply wishing you just didn’t have to endure for the rest of this conversation. Wishing you could have stopped him from opening that stupid drawer. “I tell you everything, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak about this. Look at how you’re reacting? How could you blame me when every fear I have about this is justified?”

You really should have kept those elsewhere, not your open, public living room.

“Because it’s us. I’m always here for you.” He was still crying through broken words and you didn’t know why. Almost like you had shattered his resolve and his control leaving with it.

“Not lately. You’ve been otherwise occupied.” Suddenly find the plant in the corner of the room. It certainly weren’t trying to distract yourself from the insatiable cerulean eyes.

The breathtaking british woman wasn’t even here and as soon as she was brought up — there was a wall. Seperating, you from whatever was between the two of you.

“This isn’t my fault. You never said anything. How was I supposed to know you feel that way about me?” He tried to make his way towards you but you just stalked off in the other direction. Circling around the living room like a coward.

“It didn’t matter though, did it? You found someone perfect for you regardless of how you feel.” God, you wish he would just leave so you could let the dam break.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Since the moment I met you I only had eyes for you, but you never seemed like you were interested. So, I dropped it. Okay? You never left me a crumb to think you would ever want to be more than just friends.”

“You were my best friend. You still are. No matter how I felt, it could never outweigh the need I have for you to be in my life.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Trying to figure out what was next for the both of you. Steve always had to initiate and this time was no different.

“Peggy told me tonight she wants to be exclusive.” His confession washing over you like a ton of bricks. Crushing you.

You really couldn’t have any ill feeling towards her, she was just doing what you lacked the courage and the tenacity to do.

“But I didn’t really know what to do.” He took quiet steps towards you, not wanting to spook you. He voice not no longer held the a warmth of teddy bear, but a man on a mission rather took over.

Steve kept quiet until he had you backed up into a corner, no escape route in vision for you.

“’Cause there’s this other beautiful woman, absolutely breathtaking — and I just I really needed to know how she felt. If I had known before, I never would have gone anywhere else.” His hand caressing your soft, plump lips. Pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb, sending you into a frenzy.

“Then, I just wanted to forget about everything until Sam called me. Three beers deep, when he told me of a drawer filled with letters I should take a look at.” You could feel his breath on you, temple pressed against yours.

“I just need to hear you say it. Just once.” Taking it a step forward, intertwining your finger with his own.

“I love you.” It was all he needed as he sealed his own affirmation with a sweet kiss, inking your lips with all of his love.

#for the love of god let these tags work :/#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #college!steve rogers #au #mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction

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dontshootmespence · 4 years ago

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Through It All

Part 14

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,966

Warnings: Lactation kink, fingering, nipping.

A/N: My next entry for @cm-kinkbingo run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt. This fulfills my lactation kink square.

In the warm sunlight streaming through your window, you can feel Spencer’s arm fitting snugly around your waist, holding you close. As you begin to stir, you realize he’s already awake too. Since it’s a weekend day, you have no plans, aside from taking care of the adorable time-vampire that is Charlotte Magnolia Reid. “So what are we doing today, handsome?” You mumble, the words barely decipherable to your own ears.

Spencer kisses the back of your hair before nuzzling his nose into the side of your neck. It tickles and sends you into a fit of laughter that ends up with you laying on top of him. “We aren’t doing anything,” he says with a glint in his eyes. “But you are.”

“What?”

Is it mom brain fog? Have you forgotten something you had planned?

When Spencer clocks your quizzical look, he laughs. “I have a surprise for you. You have to be ready by 11 AM.”

Spencer playfully smacks your ass when you get up before following you to the bathroom, where you get in one of your rare shower quickies. And Charlotte hasn’t woken up yet! Rejoice! She’s not sleeping through the night just yet, but she’s down to only waking up once or occasionally twice.

While you dry your hair, Spencer gets Charlotte, who finally begins to stir. They pass the bathroom and you sneak a kiss to your baby’s cheek. “I’ll be right there for feeding!” You cry out from the tiled walls.

“There’s a bottle left in the refrigerator, I got it!”

Since you have no idea where you’ll be going, you put on minimal makeup and then walk outside to where Spencer’s feeding Charlotte on the couch, talking to her about the people passing by on the street below - making up stories about them. “Babe, I don’t know where I’m going so what do I wear?”

“Wear one of my graphic tees and your most comfortable pair of leggings.”

With your instructions, you slip into your bedroom and get dressed. Spencer’s shirt is a tad too tight considering the girls are still big, but it’s good enough and the next few hours pass without any major incidents aside from a bit of spit up on Spencer’s pajama shirt.

As you’re rocking Charlotte to a mid-morning nap, there’s a knock at the door. “I’ve got it,” Spencer replies when he sees you go to get up.

Emily, Tara, Penelope and JJ are plowing inside in a matter of seconds, cooing over ‘little baby genius Reid.’ “Good god,” Tara says softly. “She’s so beautiful. How do you two not stare at her every second of every day?”

Sometimes it’s difficult, with her soft brown hair like her father’s and big beautiful eyes the same color as yours. “Well, some days, we do exactly that, and other days she doesn’t want to sleep or she’s sick and driving me crazy, so then I normally see the inside of the pillow into which I’m screaming,” you say quickly, flashing them a cheesy grin.

JJ snorts. It’s been a while, but she remembers the feeling well. “Did Spence tell you what we’re doing today?”

Shaking your head, you glance toward where Spencer’s standing in the kitchen, gathering ingredients together that seem to be for tonight’s dinner. “Paint and wine class,” he says proudly. “After I saw you painting Charlotte’s nursery, I knew it had to be done eventually.”

“Aww, you’re so romantic, I love you.” You swoon and run to kiss him, blushing as the girls ooh and ahh over Spencer’s sweet gesture. He’s your everything in every way. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Spencer takes her from your arms and looks down to talk to her, shaking her little hand with his fingers. “We’ll be okay, right? You won’t kill me?”

Laughing, you grab your purse off the counter and give him another kiss before leaving with the girls. It’s been ages.

Thankfully, Dr. Obel cleared you a while ago for the occasional cup of coffee or glass of wine, despite still breastfeeding, so you nurse the hell out of a glass of red at the painting party. Besides you, Emily, Tara, JJ and Penelope, there are four other women there that know each other and are much less animated. In other circumstances, you might feel bad about being so loud and laughing like a maniac, but you haven’t had a girls’ day out in months, so fuck it.

At these classes, they always have someone teaching and a specific painting is chosen ahead of time. After a while of listening to the instructor, you paint what she’s painting, but at your speed and adding little flourishes here and there. While most of the ladies have basic paintings (because admittedly they’d rather be drinking than painting), you end up with something you’re really happy with.

Shadowed pine trees sit on a moonlit lake, stars, trees and the moon alike mirrored in the lake’s surface in a myriad of colors. Bob Ross is one of your biggest influences when it comes to painting, and by the end, it feels like you’ve done him proud. “Damn, Y/N!” Emily says, taking the last sip of her third (and last) glass of wine. “Spencer said you could paint, but that’s fucking spectacular!”

All the ladies, and even the instructor, praise your work. At first, you deny it and tell them it’s not all that, but eventually you allow yourself the praise. Something you’re working on. “Ladies, this was amazing. Can we make this like an every other month thing? Every third month?”

“Hell, yea,” Penelope says, quickly picking up one of the hors d'oeuvres and shoving it into her mouth. “Man, thith iz gud.”

“Sewiously, I ‘eed the recipe,” Tara replies with her mouth equally full.

The subway ride back to your apartment is filled with random girl talk and lots of baby talk. Everyone wants to know Charlotte’s milestones and to see every single picture you’ve ever taken, which is already a lot given she’s less than a year.

Upstairs, you all walk in just as Charlotte needs a diaper change. When Emily and Tara offer to take dirty diaper detail, you just smile and sink into the couch. You’re not about to argue with just a little extra time off mom duty.

“Well, this was amazing,” JJ says, running her finger down Charlotte’s cheek. “You guys need anything? All set on food and stuff?”

“Yea, JJ,” Spencer replies. “We’re all good. For now.”

Once the ladies leave, you gather Charlotte close to your chest and lift your shirt. The time away refueled your batteries and you sigh happily when she begins to eat.

“Have a good time?” Spencer asks. You point back to the painting which is propped against the wall near the door. “That’s beautiful!”

“Thanks, babe. And thanks for the surprise. It was really nice to have a girls’ day.”

Spencer’s hand sits around your shoulder, his fingers slipping delicately into your hair. “I’m glad you had a good time. I have my girls right here.”

“Did you two fare okay?”

He nods and you both sit in silence for a moment. You lean into him, content and relaxed. The peaceful atmosphere allows your mind to wander and when you mind wanders, it tends to walk into dirty territory; today is no different. “Hey, Spence, I have what might seem like a weird question.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever thought about you know, maybe doing that wonderful thing you do with your hands while getting a firsthand taste of breast milk?”

Immediately, his pants tighten. “I hate the fact that it has been a consistent thought since your boobs grew, yea. Definitely thought about it. Like I don’t wanna sit here and have you feed me or anything, but like...a little taste? Yea.”

“Wanna maybe give it a go later?”

A smile is all the answer you need.

---

Later that night, once Charlotte is finally asleep, you and Spencer practically trip into your bedroom, peeling off clothing like you’re in a nudist colony.

Spencer groans appreciatively when you jump into his arms and peel off your shirt and bra. He carries you toward the bed and plops you down onto the mattress unceremoniously, laughing as he wriggles you out of your leggings.

When he descends upon you, eyes hungry and hands frenzied, your smile fades into a lust-filled gaze that has Spencer nipping at your neck and chin and lips. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he mumbles against you, honeyed voice running deliciously up your spine. For a moment you get in your head; you don’t feel gorgeous as of late, still a ways away from your pre-baby body, but Spencer snuffs that thought out of your head. “Stop thinking and feel.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slithers his way down your body and licks a stripe up your slit with a flattened tongue, moaning at your taste before slipping two fingers into your sodden pussy. “So wet for me already?”

“Always for you, Sir.”

Spreading your legs with his hands, he crawls back up, nipping and biting and sucking at any and every patch of skin that pleases him. And all you have to do is lay back and enjoy it and he calls you his good girl.

When he latches onto your nipple, the tug on your breast is similar but the feeling is altogether different. The way he rolls his tongue over your nipple causes you to arch into him, gathering his hair in your hand and pushing him closer. Every time he nips at your nipples, bringing them to taut peaks, it shoots straight to your core and you buck into his hand. “So wet, Sir.”

“Does this get you off, love?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Excuse you,” he says, immediately stilling his fingers.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels wrong. Taboo.”

“And that gets you off?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“My dirty girl.”

Switching from nipple to nipple, never leaving one untouched for too long, his fingers stroke at that sensitive spot inside you. You buck down into his hand and reach between you, slipping your hands into his pants to stroke softly at his hardening cock. “Come for me, Y/N,” he breathes, his palm sitting heavily on your clit. “I want you to come for me.”

His words ignite a fire inside you, white hot light bursting before your eyes as he latches onto your nipple one last time. “Fuck, Sir,” you laugh shakily, stroking his cock harder and faster. “Now, come for me. I need to see you.”

Spencer bites down on your lower lip and pulls away, hissing through clenched teeth as his orgasm starts to roll over him. “That’s it, baby. Harder. Keep going.”

All you can hear over the sound of your movements, wet and slick and rough, is the rolling growl that leaves Spencer’s mouth when he comes in your hand and over both your stomachs. “Shit.”

“Have fun?”

“Yes,” he laughs, exhaustedly collapsing at your side. “You feeling okay? You were getting in your head for a second. I could feel it.”

“Yea, still having body issues. But I’m working on it.”

“I have an exercise for you to do. Not physical,” he says quickly. “A self love one. Every morning when we get up, I want you to look in the mirror and say one thing you like about yourself. You can start with things that aren’t physical and then work up to physical.”

A sleepy, content smile spreads across your face. This is the dynamic you always wanted - someone you could rely on in every single way. Even at your lowest, your craziest, your most overwhelmed, Spencer is there for you, telling you how beautiful you are as you drift off in his arms.

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1 @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid @lazynoodledragon @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97 @grace-superpowers @softestlavender @ssa-dr-ladylock @drprettyboy @patricks-fabulous-face @tearosaria @shxdowofdarkness @marvels-gurl

#through it all #the most natural thing in the world #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #dontshootmespence

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our-smooty · 5 years ago

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Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 10

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags: Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

“All I meant was that maybe we should think about how we’d like to decorate the nursery!” Aziraphale said, wringing his hand as Crowley paced back and forth across their living room. “It’s not meant to be a thing as the kid say nowadays.”

Crowley threw his hands up in the air, frustrated beyond belief. “But it is a thing angle. What colour do we paint the room? How should we lay it all out? Oh Somebody, do you know how hard it is to find baby furniture that’s not on recall?”

He’d been storming around the hour for the better part of an hour, shooting down all the angel’s suggestions. It had all started when Aziraphale asked if Crowley had any ideas for the nursery. Did the angel have any idea how difficult it was to get all the necessary bits and bobs for a newborn? It wasn’t something you just did on a Sunday afternoon!

“Well why don’t we start with something small, like what colour you were thinking for the walls?” Crowley huffed, feeling sufficiently patronized. The fluttering in his lower belly had only gotten stronger these last few weeks, and he hadn’t gotten more than three hours sleep at a time because it felt so strange.

“And I suppose you have ideas?” he snarked, coming to a standstill in front of the angel. “Tartan, or maybe paisley?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Crowley couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Aziraphale was acting like he was the one being ridiculous. “Do you think--and I mean this is the most loving way possible you must know that--but do you think maybe you might be experiencing a uh, a mood swing? Only you’re so very upset about this when not five minutes ago you were on the verge of falling asleep.”

“Mood swings?” Crowley hissed, resuming his pacing. “Oh that’s rich. Mood swings my arse! You just don’t have any idea how much thought has to go into planning these sorts of things! There’s a reason I was the nanny, angel. Warlock probably wouldn’t have made it to his sixth birthday if you'd’ve had the job!” Crowley whirled around to face Aziraphale again ready to go into the finer details of purchasing baby gear and the nightmare that was car seats when he noticed the distinct wobbling of the angel’s bottom lip. Thinking back to the last thing he’d said, Crowley realized the line he’d crossed.

“I know--” Aziraphale started, having to cut himself off and clear his throat heavily. “I know I’m not very good at this Crowley, but you don’t have to be such a-a-an arse about it!” He was beginning to choke up, most likely from the fact that Crowley had been inadvertently raising his voice louder and louder.

“Angel I didn’t mean--”

“No I think you did.” Crowley stood motionless, all his earlier frustrations bleeding out. Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, he felt his eyes begin to water. Maybe Aziraphale had been onto something with the whole mood swings thing. “I just thought it might be fun, picking things out together, setting things up perfectly. We c-could go to the store and get a crib and t-talk about what it’ll be like when they arrive…”

Crowley unfroze long enough to amble over to the couch where Aziraphale had been reading and sit down. The tea he’d been drinking before they started arguing sat on the coffee table was cold and unpleasant. He miracled it to a better temperature, along with Aziraphale’s own cup, and held it in his hands.

“It’ll probably be pretty hectic. Newborns are pretty needy,” Crowley added, gesturing for the angel to take his cup. “You might have been right. About the uh, the mood swing. S’a thing that happens to pregnant humans yeah?”

Aziraphale bobbed his head. “I only know what dear Anathema has told me, and from a few books over the years but, yes.” His voice was light, lighter than his normal tone which usually indicated something was wrong. “Of course it’s not your fault. Your corporation is causing you to behave in certain ways and you aren’t used to it. I’d be a fool to be insulted by anything so natural, just a minor side effect of one of Her greatest gifts.”

As was usual when he was really upset, Aziraphale began to slip back into old habits. Praising Her, deferring back to how he thought an angel should behave. It always made Crowley’s blood boil that even after ten years of freedom Heaven still have such a hold on his angel. It made him even angrier that it was his own fault for bringing this on again.

“No, no. You should be mad angel. My body might be making things difficult but I’m still me. I should know better than to let it get out of hand. You didn’t do anything wrong, you couldn’t.”

Crowley set aside the tea again and lifted his arm in invitation. Aziraphale ducked forward, his own tea still forgotten, and burrowed into the side of his jacket. “I’m sorry Aziraphale. You’re gonna be--you’ll do fine when they get here. We can work together? Sort of a new Arrangement, I guess.”

“I don’t like sleeping all that much, as you know. I wouldn’t mind taking the night shift, as long as you show me what to do,” Aziraphale answered, his voice muffled by the fabric. Crowley took a deep, settling breath, and then did something he’d been avoiding. It was obvious Aziraphale wanted and needed to talk about what was going to happen when the baby came and as much as thinking about that still made Crowley extremely nervous, it wasn’t fair for him to deny the angel continually.

“Good plan. And I--well we could go out and look at a few things. S’not like we couldn’t miracle it safe if it isn’t already…” It was true and Crowley was kind of embarrassed he hadn’t thought about it before. He could probably make just about anything safe for the kid if he tried hard enough. Just like he had with Annabella and Charlotte (it turns out, having small children running around a house full of historical artifacts, some of which were made with hazardous materials, wasn’t ideal). There had been no reason for him to fly off the handle like that and he’d have to try and be more--uhg--mindful. “You’re really worried about doing a good job when they come, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer right away. He was snuggling even closer and Crowley decided to help him along, getting an arm under the angel’s knees and hosting them over his lap. Then he squeezed tight, giving Aziraphale something to latch on to while he was feeling so discombobulated. It seemed to help, because after five minutes of quiet the angel finally answered.

“I don’t have the experience you do. I'm not good at dealing with the girls like you are, and I never know what to do when I see children crying or lost in the street like you do. It just doesn’t come naturally to me and I’m worried… I’m worried that I won’t be good at it at all and they won’t like me,” he said in a rush. Crowley let him finish because it was obvious that those five minutes of silence had been spent formulating his response and to interrupt would be to derail the angel again. When he was sure Aziraphale wasn’t going to say anymore, Crowley responded.

“S’OK if you’re not great at it at first, happens to humans all the time. You think the first time I had to take care of a baby I knew what I was doing?” Crowley thought back to the very early days, watching over Cain and Abel--attempting to turn humanity to Hell’s side early-on--and nearly weeping with joy when Eve had come back to collect her children. “Besides angel, there’s no way they won’t absolutely adore you. You’re you.”

“I think you might be biased Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, but he didn’t fully deny it. “I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. I tried using The Web, and it suggested trying to connect by, well, getting excited about the birth. So I thought we could do the nursery.”

Crowley felt like an even bigger arsehole after hearing Aziraphale’s reasoning. Of course, decorating the nursery was supposed to be something fun they could share together. Crowley hadn’t really thought about how Aziraphale might feel like a bit of an outsider, especially since the demon wasn’t big on talking about every little event.

“No you're right. I uh, you know I don’t really know how to talk about this stuff. And now apparently I’m acting like a hormonal human, which is just marvellous,” he drawled the last word in a way that he knew would make Aziraphale roll his eyes. “We can start the nursery if it’s gonna help you. Maybe just a few things though yeah?”

That made Aziraphale’s head pop up, a slight sparkle in his eye. “Would you-could we maybe pick a colour for the walls? I seems like the best way to start, unless you have any other ideas?”

Crowley did in fact have lots of ideas. He may have started bookmarking links on his laptop the day after he broke down and bought that blanket. But he’d also been intending to surprise Aziraphale with a few of his purchases, and he hadn’t picked out paint yet, so Crowley decided it couldn’t hurt. Besides, he owed it to the angel for how much of a complete tosser he’d just been.

“OK, yeah, I think that’s fine. I mean, not much we can screw up with a little paint, right?” Maybe a hundred years ago they might have had to worry, but humans were so much more clever about not putting toxic chemicals in their household conveniences now. Most of the time.

“My thoughts exactly. It’ll be easy. We can just pop off to the hardware store pick out a colour, and paint! Surely you’ve painted a room before?” Aziraphale had begun wiggling again, is fingers winding and unwinding around the thin tie Crowley liked to wear. “I’ve dabbled a few times but you know I’ve never been very good with arts-and-crafts.”

“S’not arts-and-crafts angel, it’s slapping some goop on a wall and letting it dry,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. Aziraphale straightened his back so he could give Crowley a quick peck. Crowley tried to deepen it and follow after the angel’s lips but Aziraphale didn’t let him.

“Oh good, shall we get ready to go then?”

“Now?” Crowley asked. Not ten minutes ago they’d both been on the edge of tears, and Aziraphale wanted to go out?

“Well maybe just a few more minutes here. I do so like being close to you like this. Close to both of you.” Crowley made a slightly disgusted noise. “Don’t be like that, I’m allowed to enjoy your company and the company of our baby, Crowley.”

“You’re such a sap.” But Crowley was enjoying it as well. While they’d been arguing the baby had been kicking up a fuss, fluttering about and making him feel like he was riding a rollercoaster. Now they they’d settled down, almost like Aziraphale’s touch had a calming effect.

Speaking of which, the angel stopped pulling on Crowley’s tie and started rubbing slow circles over his barely-there bump. His skin prickled pleasantly even if it also made him want to hide his face in the sofa cushions. Never in 6000 years had Crowley allowed himself to think he could have something so domestic as sitting around on a Sunday afternoon, discussing paint colours for their nursery. As imaginative as he was, this was completely out of his range, which made it all the better that it was their reality. Whatever he’d done to deserve this, it was worth the millennia of waiting.

Eventually they managed to disengage from their comfortable cuddling and drive to the town hardware store. It was a little family-owned place, the kind where all the sale signs were hand-written and there was a little box with home-made fudge by the till. The little old woman stocking the shelves was thrilled to show them their paint section and to offer all sorts of advice and options. It was sickeningly sweet and by the time she left them to their own devices Crowley’s face was glowing and hot.

“So, do you have any preferences? I was thinking something in the world of green, to match that blanket you picked out? Not that everything has to be matching of course, but having a little bit of a theme couldn’t hurt. And there’s something to be said for the classic blue and pink, even if they are a little overdone--” Crowley grabbed a random paint swatch and began pretending to inspect it closely while Aziraphale babbled on. The paint swatch in his hand was a depressing taupe, completely unsuitable, so he tossed it aside and grabbed another.

“--and it can’t be anything too bright, don’t want the little one to be overstimulated. But I also want it to be homey. Oh there are so many options to choose from, how does anyone decide?” Crowley discarded the second swatch as well--a strangely cool purple--and shrugged.

“Think humans mostly just go for the classics depending on the gender and call it a day,” he answered, possibly the first thine he’d said since they’d entered the shop. “Green sounds nice though.”

Aziraphale beamed at him and then took his arm so they could walk over to the wide variety of green paint options together. “I’m so glad you agree my dear, but just look at this! There must be one-hundred different shades of green!”

“Well,” Crowley said, narrowing his eyes at the display. Some of the darker and brighter shades began to rearrange themselves to the edges of the section, leaving a more appropriate pallet all clustered in the middle. “There, that better angel?”

“Yes thank you,” Aziraphale answered, giving Crowley a quick peck on the cheek. “We should have brought the blanket to compare colours…”

“It’s alright if it doesn’t match,” Crowley assured him, picking three swatches that stood out to him and holding them up. “If we do all sorts of shades of green it’ll kind of be it’s own thing, you know?”

Aziraphale picked three of his own and held them up against Crowley’s choices. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if they had your hair? All this green with the red, very pretty.” It did paint a pretty picture in his mind, though he’d been hoping their child took after Aziraphale more than himself. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if they got his eyes, or his other snakey features.

“Ngk.” Crowley snatched the paint chips from the angel and held all six in a row. “Pick three or four, any more than that’s gonna look messy.”

He let Aziraphale hum and haw over the colours, though eventually his arms got tired and he had to set them down on a nearby table. As the angel decided, Crowley scanned the selection for a suitable accent colour. Since the blanket had cream base colour, and they seemed to be using it as inspiration, he picked something similar and brought it back to Aziraphale. There were still six options spread out in front of him and it was obvious Aziraphale was struggling to make a final decision.

“Crowley which do you like? Because I think they’re all perfect and I can’t pick just three!” the angel lamented, wringing his hands and visibly deflating when Crowley added the cream swatch.

“That’s just for an accent colour angel, don’t worry.” He arranged the paint swatches evenly over the table and gave them an appraising once-over. “I don’t like the middle two, they’re too similar. And that one’s too yellow, compared to the others. Do you agree?”

Aziraphale studied the three swatches Crowley removed and the demon let him. As was evident in almost everything Aziraphale did, change was not something to be rushed with the angel. Even something as simple as picking out paint colours could take days if he was left to his own devices. If Crowley wanted to help, he had to do so carefully as to not disrupt whatever system Aziraphale had mentally created for solving the issue.

“I do, very good choices dear. Should we go ask that nice woman to mix these up for us?” Aziraphale gathered up the remaining swatches, shuffling them like cards. “How do we know how much we need of each colour. We should have measured the room!”

Aziraphale constant fretting was starting to give Crowley a headache (or maybe it was just another pregnancy thing because Crowley never got headaches), and he hoped this could be wrapped up fast. “Dunno, let's just get a bunch of each and go from there.”

The women was more than happy to help them, though it turned out her husband was the one who knew how to use the paint mixer. He was a grumpy looking fellow, old and wrinkled and curled forward like a willow tree. Crowley braced himself for a tiring, cranky encounter.

“Harold, these two boys need some paint mixed up,” The woman said loudly enough for her husband to hear at the front of the shop. Slightly quieter, but not so quiet Crowley and Aziraphale couldn’t hear she added, “They’re the two who bought that old cottage out on the edge of town!”

“Oh are they now? Tore out all that lilac, replaced it with that tropical-looking shite?” Crowley bristled instinctually--his garden was possibly tied with the Bently for the second-most important thing in his life. But the older gentleman just laughed and clapped a friendly hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “Good on you, place was a mess. And I’m all for lilac being good for the bees, but our Lizzie got stung after least ten times walking past to the park a few summers back.”

“Well, uh,” Crowley stammered, completely unprepared in the face of such outright friendliness. People were almost always nice to Aziraphale upon meeting him, probably something to do with his angelic nature and general air of kindness. Conversely, people usually avoided talking to Crowley at all. He gave off some kind of aura that said don’t talk to me, if you do something bads gonna happen and he was usually happy with that. But the older gentleman seemed honestly interested and a little thankful even; it threw him off. “They’d all grown crooked too, so they had to go.”

The older man nodded sagely. “And the yard, the grass was a right travesty since the last owner move out, nobody had been around to trim it for months!” Crowley scowled in agreement and from the corner of his eye he could see Aziraphale and the man’s wife smiling. In the last decade since the Apocalypse, he’d managed to remain rather singular outside of their small circle of acquaintances. Aziraphale was probably going to make a big deal out of this later, telling the demon how happy he was that Crowley was ‘making friends’.

“You’ve been doing good work up there these past few years, strange we haven’t met before!” the woman chimed in, passing their chosen paint samples over to her husband. “Though I’ve seen you around together at most of the local cafes and restaurants.”

“Terribly sorry we haven’t been by before, turns out the cottage was in miraculously good shape and didn’t need any repairs,” Aziraphale explained as they all watched the husband begin to mix together the paint.

“But you’re doing some renovations now?” she asked, plying for more information. Crowley could see the makings of a town gossip in her, though he could sense her prying was more out of interest than malice.

“Yes, we’re, hmm,” Aziraphale trailed off, turning to Crowley. He realized they hadn’t exactly discussed if or how they were going to discuss the baby with strangers. Behind dark glasses he blinked slowly, then gave a subtle nod. Aziraphale took one of his hands and squeezed, his love almost palpable even to the demon. “Well we’re expecting a baby, i-in around five months' time. We thought we’d get a head start on the nursery.”

The old man nodded, more concerned with the paint, but his wife lit up like a Christmas tree. Her eyes flickered over them both, then to Crowley’s stomach where his hand had once again subconsciously come to rest over the small bump. “Oh that’s lovely! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale answered, practically glowing. Crowley blushed and mumbled something similar. “We only just decided on a colour, you have quite the selection here.” It was an effective way to take the focus off of Crowley, which the demon was extremely thankful for.

“Well you’ve picked a lovely shade of green, whatever inspired you?” Aziraphale began telling her about their newly born nephew and the trip to the baby store. Crowley pretended to listen for a little while before turning to watch the paint being mixed. The old man, Harold his wife had called him, was puttering away and had already finished with one of the four cans. The set up was made so customers could see over the counter and watch the way he swirled the paint before putting it into the mixer.

“This your first?” the man asked. Crowley hadn’t taken him for the nosey type, but he supposed it made sense considering how his wife was. “We had three, but they’re all moved out with their own families. Lizze, the one I mentioned before? She’s the oldest grandchild, gonna be starting middle school next year.”

“Yikes,” Crowley cringed. Middle school had been one of his in the beginning (cliques had been too good to pass up), but the humans had taken it out of control. “And uh, yeah. I mean, yes, it's our first.”

The old man nodded. “She’s a strong kid, lost of friends. And we raised her mum right I like to think, and she comes to visit us on weekends.” He set the second can into the mixing machine as he chattered. “S’a little different than the others, the first one. Hope you two enjoy it while you can.”

He thought back to all the throwing up and the fainting and the general discomfort with a scowl. Then he remembered cuddling with Aziraphale and the girls on their bed, feeling the baby move for the first time, and picking out clothes together and it slipped off his face in seconds. Harold chuckled and once again clapped Crowley on the shoulder good-naturedly. After that, Crowley didn’t feel quite so uncomfortable and began to grill the man on his appreciation of plants.

Soon all the paint was mixed and they began to check out. They both thanked the older couple, and Aziraphale even purchased a quarter of their fudge stock. Promises to stop by next time the two ageless beings were in town were made before they made it back out to the Bentley. Crowley insisted the paint cans go in the boot, where they had zero chance of staining the upholstery.

“D’you wanna grab lunch while we’re here?” he asked the angel as he pulled away from the curb. The paint cans in the back didn’t make a sound, because they knew better than to misbehave. “Could go somewhere new, if we can find anywhere you aren’t already a regular.”

Aziraphale wiggled thoughtfully as he snacked on a square of fudge. “Well, I am a bit peckish, but I think the fudge will do to tide me over. I must admit, I’m a bit exhausted.”

“Fine by me. Could do with a lie-down, my back’s starting to twinge like anything.” That settled, they drove back to the cottage, the ride going rather quickly as Aziraphale chattered about how best to paint the nursery. Crowley made a few points here and there, mostly just to be ornery about the details and watch the angel fluster, but otherwise preoccupied himself with driving home. When they pulled in the sun was just dipping below the roof of the cottage, painting the lawn in a golden glow.

Aziraphale was out of the car first, scurrying to the boot and unloading the paint. Crowley would have done the same except when he’d tried to help load them the first time Aziraphale had refused to let him so much as lift a paint can. ‘Bad for the baby’ he’d said, and though Crowley wanted to get his knickers in a twist about being fussed over, he also really didn’t fancy hauling cans of paint in with how achy his back had been for the past two or three hours.

“I’ll get the tea?” he offered, breezing past Aziraphale to the front door. The angle shook his head and made a shooing motion, coupled with a frown.

“No, no, I’ll get it. You get right into bed, I’ll be with you in a minute.” Again Crowley wanted to be mad, but he thought about how heavy those cans might be, and decided that it’d be fine, just this once, to let Aziraphale be overprotective. With a shrug, the demon made his way inside and trudged up the stairs. HE smirked to himself, already planning how he’d seduce the angle into bed when he brought the tea. It might not even be that hard, though he hoped it took at least a little coaxing.

#fanfic #good omens #gomens #aziraphale/crowley #azirapahel #crowley #crowziraphale #ineffable husbands #tw mpreg

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rebel-band · 4 years ago

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Track 2. Here on the Starting Line

At 7.38 in the morning a train woke Yoo-mi up from a rather jittery and watchful sleep.

It was always going to be rough first nights, he knew, as he adjusted to the sounds of the new surroundings. But all things considered, he felt good. Laying in the futon he reached to his phone to see an unread message from yesterday written all caps.

"LET ME KNOW WHEB YOU GET THE RE."

He smirked. That old man will never learn to use the phone.

"I'm here. She's nice," he sent a text in reply, and tossing the phone to the side, looked at the stack of papers Mika handed him yesterday. He still had some time to have a look.

It was the first tenancy agreement he'd ever had in his hands but from what he'd learned, googling all things that seemed unclear, it was pretty standard. Minus maybe one thing -- Mika didn't include the rent payable. Instead of the monthly sum, a simple "n/a" occupied the row.

Yoo-mi frowned at the sight. She had better had made a mistake here. He's been on charity long enough, this was supposed to be different.

It was a contract for an indefinite time but at least the notice period was only two weeks. Long enough to plan a getaway, not long enough for someone to make him change his mind.

Toothbrush in hand, he rummaged through the kitchen cabinet taking mental inventory of the items at hand. Two pots with lids, a frying pan and a small square one for tamagoyaki, a matching set of two coffee mugs and a bunch of mismatched Muji and Ikea plates, bowls, and cutlery were more than enough. It would be nice to have a rice cooker for once, he smiled at the thought, but all in all it wasn't necessary for when he stayed.

If he stayed, Yoo-mi reminded himself.

He pulled a basic t-shirt on, jeans, and a black hoodie on top, specifically to have a place to keep his hands.

He skipped the onigiri for breakfast, this time going for a katsu and yakisoba sandwich. It wasn't the best, he liked the ones from 7eleven better, but the carb on carb combo at least would keep him sated until he finished the walk he had planned to get to know the hood today.

Quarter to nine, he decided there's no point stalling anymore. Since he'd heard the shutters pull up outside already, with two boxes from the kitchen heavy in his hands and the envelope with documents rolled into the pocket of his parka, he slowly braved the staircase. The cold morning wind rustled his hair.

It was warm in the coffee house, and he was greeted with the smell of ground beans as he maneuvered in with the boxes. The cafe seemed bigger again today in the light coming through the giant front window, and felt fresh and modern with the whitewashed brick and black steel details around.

The grinder was working so Mika didn't notice him from behind the counter at first. She also seemed occupied with doing something close to the floor, occasionally disappearing low behind the bar.

"A, good morning. You didn't have to yourself," she gestured in embarrassment at the boxes as she finally turned to face him.

"It's fine. Where to?" he asked, looking around.

"Just here by the counter. Kotarō is in the car."

He placed the boxes by the wall between the counter and one of the tables.

"Hi."

Out of the employee door a toddler ran up to Yoo-mi and looked at him leaning from behind the boxes, as if playing hide and seek. She was barely sticking out from behind the cardboard hideout, curiously watching his reaction.

"Hi yourself," he answered, a bit surprised. "What's your name?"

"Mei," she said, a row of pearly baby teeth exposed in a grin. "Are you a big brother?"

Mika chuckled. "This is our daughter. Sorry, we're teaching her about family. She asks everyone around now."

Yoo-mi waved his hand. He didn't mind, it was cute.

"Yea, I can be," he said, still crouching on her level, a small smile curling on his lips. "I'm Yoo-mi."

"Yumi nii-chan," she laughed pointing a finger out towards him. "Mama, it's Yumi nii-chan."

Mika tried to contain a squee but didn't quite manage to, and Yoo-mi rolled eyes at her. Mei ran away giggling for no reason as toddlers do, and her steps were accompanied by the sound of a toy tambourine she was carrying.

As Yoo-mi straightened up, Yamaguchi entered the cafe also carrying in a box of what smelled like baked goods. He placed it on the counter, and Mika started unpacking the various croissants, sandwiches, and pies to a patisserie display case to the side.

"Ko-kun," the man nodded good morning to Yoo-mi, taking off his coat. He had a black polo on this time and was currently putting on an apron.

"Yamaguchi-san," Yoo-mi answered and, shit, it came out just so faltering, with his voice almost timid at the sight of the tattoo again, there was no way the man wouldn't notice.

"Problem with the name, kid?" he crossed his arms over the chest.

Yoo-mi shook his head, and nervously turned to the coat rack to take off the parka and escape his gaze, bumping into a chair by the table in the process. He swore silently at the noise he made.

"This doesn't help," Mika slapped her husband over the shoulder with a dishcloth, and he relaxed the posture ever so slightly. And when Mei ran back from the stage room and tugged his leg to be carried up, he relaxed completely. With a heartwarming smile he placed her on the barstool. Mika handed the girl a croissant.

"Do you want anything? We have them from a local bakery down the block," she addressed Yoo-mi.

"Sorry, no wallet. I had breakfa--," he didn't get to finish when a croissant and a mug of coffee landed on the counter for him to grab, Mika rolling her eyes at the mention of money.

"Eat up. You're skin and bones."

That wasn't true, and he wasn't particularly up for anything sweet for breakfast in general but her tone didn't leave much room for negotiation.

The croissant was still warm, sweet and flaky, simply melting in his mouth. The coffee tasted different than yesterday, almost silky this time.

As he finished his plate, and handed it back to Mika to the dishwasher, the door to the café swung open again.

"Good timing, got you a coffee ready," Mika beamed at the woman going in, and almost jumped through the latch door to the common space.

"Sorry, my car didn't want to start. Had to wait for Satoshi to get back from his shift," the woman said with a slight accent.

They hugged and Mika coaxed her to the table by the window, where she placed a cup of the same coffee she poured Yoo-mi before. The woman took off her coat and steadied a grey felt hat on the coat rack, then faced him with a smile.

"Ko-kun, I'd like you to meet my colleague," Mika addressed him.

"Hikaru Shǎnyào, nice to meet you."

She was rather petite, with hair white as snow not really matching her age, cascading down the sides of her face. Her eyes framed in a pair of rose gold glasses were watery blue. Dressed in a grey sweater dress and black overknee boots, she looked stylish yet approachable.

Yoo-mi caught himself staring at her with mouth wide open.

"Nice to meet you. Ko Yoo-mi. Sorry...I didn't mean to stare," he mumbled upon reflection and blushed slightly.

"That's alright. It's not always you get to meet someone with albinism, hm?" she answered with ease, as if she had a tried and tested reply ready at hand for such an occasion.

"Hikaru-san is a counsellor. We work together at the Promise House."

Yoo-mi gave Mika a questioning look.

"It's a foundation. We help kids off the streets, and those coming into adulthood from institutions. You know, things like shelter, crisis intervention, legal."

"Sounds better when you don't say I'm simply a lawyer," Hikaru laughed, then addressed Yoo-mi, "What I do is give advice and deal with legal matters that are too hard to untangle for someone in your situation. I think you might have a thing or two I could help with."

Yoo-mi put hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

"I can't pay," he said, eyes fixed on the white haired woman.

"We're non-profit. You don't have to."

That was a first, he thought, a lawyer not wanting to get paid.

"Since you're still a minor, you're gonna need the help with the legal stuff," Mika encouraged, seeing his uptight expression.

And he knew it, alright, tried to figure out what to do on his own, but without a parent or guardian he wasn't gonna have, there was only so much he could do legal wise.

He tapped his foot, sending a nervous glance at Yamaguchi, and the man finally caught his gaze.

"Come on, rock star, time to play," he picked Mei, with her croissant and tambourine, and piggybacked her to the stage room. In a minute or so you could hear the banging of drums and a toddler laughing with the sound.

Hands still in pockets, Yoo-mi sat down at the table with Hikaru's coffee mug already waiting. Only then she joined him down, and Mika grabbed another chair to sit as well.

"I'd like to know anything that helps us manage your situation," Hikaru reached to her expensive looking bag and came up with a set of documents and a mini notebook. It flashed a green LED light as she opened the lid.

"Usually, I help with residency, ward office, getting a hanko, a social number, and a bank account."

Yup, he needed all of them.

"But first, I need you to agree to set me up as your proxy."

The form she handed him wasn't long, it already had her name written down in it.

"Did you do it?" he addressed Mika, scanning her face for a lie.

"Had a representative?" she asked surprised. "No, not really. Kobayashi is after all family."

Right. He forgot. There was no resemblance between them whatsoever.

He shifted in the chair trying to get more comfortable, to no use.

"I'm just here to face the officials," Hikaru added. "Won't do anything without your consent but I'll spare you the boring details and waiting times."

Pen tapping the paper, he finally decided to write down his name but didn't move to the dotted line to sign anything.

The lawyer made a small sound seeing katakana and Hangul instead of the kanji in his name.

"You're Korean then?" to Yoo-mi's surprise, she switched to the language with ease.

"No. I'm a half," he answered in Japanese, voice flat.

She gave him a knowing glance and typed down "Father unknown?" in her own notes but knew better than to push him to explain further. "Nothing to worry about. We're all kinds of different here. I know from Mika you were in the Amagasaki Children's Home."

Yoo-mi clenched fists at the name and straightened up as if by reflex. "Long time ago."

"Sorry, gramps sent me the information so that we can try to sort out your papers," Mika apologized after seeing his reaction. He just sent her a quick glance.

"Was it because of family issues?" the lawyer asked.

He half smirked and looked straight into her eyes. "It was because my mom died."

He wanted to make her uncomfortable with the deadpan tone but she didn't really look fazed.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," she replied instead, compassion in her voice. Then typed away at her notebook again.

It was Yoo-mi who felt suddenly uncomfortable. When did he hear someone say it? His brain raced through memory and came out with nothing.

"Any living relatives?"

The question kind of took him by surprise and just for a second he thought he wanted to mention Yoo-ki. "No."

"Were you ever in foster care?"

He hesitated for a minute. "With one couple, they didn't really like me much," he settled on saying finally.

"So you left?" Hikaru asked, no judgement in her voice.

Yoo-mi looked away. Was it okay to say he had run off?

"Don't worry. I'm not here to pry. I know there's usually a reason behind it, and a good one. Do you remember their name?"

He shook his head.

"When was that?"

"First grade middle school."

"And after that?"

"Pretty much on my own." It wasn't a complete lie.

"Regarding the ward office, we'll need to deregister you from your previous address and register you in Tokyo. Where did you live?"

Yoo-mi squinted at her. It felt like a conversation he already had years ago, and he didn't really like it.

"You're gonna kill me, but I messed it up a bit already," Mika made a pained sound, addressing Hikaru, not letting Yoo-mi speak. The lawyer shot her a questioning look.

"He needed this address for the school. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to take the exams," she sighed.

"So you signed yourself as sponsor but didn't really register him officially," Hikaru narrowed her eyes. Mika made a face and shook her head.

"Never one to play by the rules," the lawyer sighed. "We'll fix it, no worries," she said and Mika mouthed "Thanks" in reply.

"We still need the old address," she looked into the form in front of her, and finally took a sip of the coffee.

"How about Kobayashi's place?" Mika suggested to her.

"I wasn't registered there officially too," Yoo-mi said, not even trying to hide the irritation in his voice at them talking over his head.

"Sorry," Mika replied. "Didn't want you to feel left out. So his place is no good?"

"No."

He didn't want Kobayashi's address recorded anywhere in his paperwork anyway, just in case.

"What about Osaka? Do you remember?" Mika asked. Yoo-mi felt his stomach tighten.

That one he could hardly forget. But the address in Nishinari was out of the question. He stared blankly at the white sheet, face growing pale as well.

"You have to give us something to work with. Even if it's just the ward with the school district you attended," Hikaru coaxed him, handing over the form.

After careful consideration, he wrote down the address for Mama Han's. It would match his school paperwork, if anyone would ever check, though Yoo-mi doubted there was an official record of him staying anywhere near Sung-hee's place.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, after handing Hikaru the form. This was all kinds of wrong, he thought.

"Nothing's wrong with you," Mika leaned in to him, voice steady and soothing. "It's the system that's flawed. Doesn't seem to be very friendly to those who have different circumstances," she made sure to avoid saying special. "Like the both of us.

"My records were a mess too when I moved to Onjuku. But things got sorted out. And now, look at me go," she shot him a smug smile. "It's just bureaucracy, nothing you can't handle."

"If anything, its inefficiency gives us leeway. You just have to know your way around," the lawyer's blue eyes gleamed with a flicker of excitement.

Mei's cry for a drink snapped Yoo-mi out of thinking. Mika stood up to the counter, while the girl tugged at Yoo-Mi's sleeve.

"Pick me, nii-chan," she demanded, scrambling into his lap. He obliged with a sigh, and she pressed her face against the glass.

"Look. Kit cat," she pointed out the window. Yoo-mi spotted a black stray crossing the street.

"Mika already mentioned school," Hikaru stared at him holding the girl with a smile. "Thoughts on that?"

"I know you promised gramps to try," Mika set down a paper cup with water and a slice of lemon for Mei and shot him a challenging look.

"Can you--," he gestured to the envelope sticking out of the parka on the coat rack. Mika stood up and took the documents. "It's inside," he said, hands busy securing Mei from falling as she was standing up on his legs.

"You didn't sign the agreement," Mika gave him a sharp look going over the papers.

Yoo-mi made a face. "You forgot the rent."

"No I didn't," she shrugged. "I know how starting from scratch feels. Believe me, it's a lot easier if you don't have to worry about things like money. Then you can focus on the important bits," she seemed to ignore his objection completely, and just shoved the agreement in front of him with a pen on top.

She then looked at his report card taken out of the envelope and whistled.

"That's quite a lot of absences," she said and Yoo-mi frowned again and looked away.

Mei giggled at her mom whistling and tried to copy. Then she jumped off Yoo-mi's lap and followed Yamaguchi behind the counter as he entered to grab himself a coffee.

"But considering all that time off, your GPA is the more so impressive," she winked at him and Yoo-mi straightened up in the chair. He felt almost a blush crawl up his ears.

"There's a school nearby I thought I'd try," he addressed Hikaru.

"Yes there is, and quite a good one," she smiled.

"The exams are mid Feb. I don't even know if I can attend," he shot Mika a pained look.

"I'll follow up on it. But I sent the paperwork on time so I don't see a reason why you shouldn't."

"What if you don't get in?" the lawyer asked, taking another sip of the coffee.

He startled at the sound of the grinder shattering the coffee beans.

"I'm gonna get a job," he shrugged. "I think I'm gonna have to get one anyway, part time, if I get to school."

"Sorry to butt in, but that reminds me," Yamaguchi raised a hand and ducked down the counter for a moment.

"What's that--?" Yoo-mi asked cautiously as the man handed him an envelope.

Inside was money, almost 5,000 yen.

His mouth went dry and his heartbeat pounded loud into his ears.

"Your wages from yesterday. You've worked your honest hours so there you go," the man smiled. "I also have a contract for you, if you'd like."

"Contract?" Yoo-mi repeated, brows pulling in. He was beginning to feel a headache.

"Yea, a job," the man eyed him with amusement. "But since he's a minor," he addressed Hikaru, "I didn't really know if it's appropriate."

"Let me see." She took the papers and scanned them. "There's nothing here he can't do. It's a good deal," she smiled and handed Yoo-mi another set of documents.

Yoo-mi leaned away from the mountain of papers in front of him with an uncomfortable swallow. He somehow felt like he was going to be crushed by the stack any second now.

Instinctively his eyes darted towards the glass door. He counted to three.

Hands no longer in pockets he rolled them into fists on his knees, whole body tense like a string on a fingerboard.

"I'm sorry but I can't sign these," he said, voice insistent.

Mika and Yamaguchi opened their eyes wide. Hikaru just gave him an attentive look.

"It all sounds promising. But the truth is, you don't know me, and I don't know you," he gave them a look one by one, stopping at Yamaguchi.

"For all I know, this might be a scheme. For all I know, you might be a..."

"I swear, if he says 'gangster', I'm gonna change this fucking name today!" the man erupted angry, addressing his wife.

Yoo-mi paused mid sentence. That was exactly what he was meaning to say.

"Kotarō, language," Mika laughed, trying to diffuse his anger, pointing at their daughter running around, while he addressed Yoo-mi with a tone of someone who is tired of explaining things over and over.

"Kid, have you ever seen a yakuza run a hipster café?"

Café, bar, club, same thing, different name, Yoo-mi thought but didn't say it out loud.

"Scratch that, have you ever seen a yakuza at all? Gangsters don't run around in broad daylight scamming people."

"Unless in Osaka," Yoo-mi smirked, his eyes serious all the same.

"Well this is Tokyo. We may be Yamaguchi but we're not the Yamaguchi," Mika replied matter of factly.

"It's the 14th most common name in Japan. Do we even look like we'd be trying to scam you?" he added raising his hands in disbelief.

Yoo-mi narrowed his eyes at the man's tattooed arm.

"And before you answer, kid, for the sake of clarity, this is all her doing," he replied defensively, pointing first to the tattoo and then to Mika who nodded with an amused grin.

"Yeah, I made him get it when we met. To prove he's serious about me," she laughed. "Never thought the idiot was so in love to actually get that tattoo. Kurōta, you know, like the blackbird, was my maiden name," she explained with a smile.

Yoo-mi swallowed and shot them both a look again. He shifted on the chair, tension in his muscles letting down a bit.

"I thought the café is a Beatles reference," he noted, clearing his throat.

"It's both," Kotarō exhaled, his anger already gone. "But mostly a tribute to her family. This place is her house turned into my dream."

Mika sent him a blow kiss.

Yoo-mi crossed his arms, and furrowed his brows.

"It's not that I think you're gonna scam me," he started carefully, looking for the right way to put it. "It's just...too good to be all true.

"I mean, first the flat, then free legal advice. Now the job. Things in life aren't free. There's always a catch."

He felt suddenly tired and disillusioned, the seventeen years of his life feeling more like seventy.

Quickly, he checked himself and straightened up, defiant, under Mika's worried gaze. He didn't want her to think he was hurt or weak, or he needed anyone's compassion, like maybe some other kids she'd worked with before.

"Would it help if the rent at least wasn't free?" she asked.

He looked at her surprised.

Seeing how he didn't reply, she dug out the sheet from the pile in front of him, and scribbled a monthly sum on the tenancy agreement, then handed it to Yoo-mi.

"But that's like -- barely 100 yen a day, it's nothing," he protested after a quick calculation.

"Is it? Oh you know, I'm not very good with math and accounting and all that market economy crap," she made an exaggerated, confused face.

Of course he knew she was lying, she was running a business after all.

"Well, I think I'll have to raise the rent at some point," she added in a carefree manner. "Just gotta do some research first. I mean, it's a good neighbourhood and there's demand, and I don't know..."

"Okay, fine. I get it," he rolled his eyes.

He inhaled, exhaled. Loudly. Twice. Then he cracked the tiniest smile.

Now that looks much better on you, Mika thought. "Yumi-kun," she addressed him quite casually by the Japanese first name.

Though surprised at first, he let her go with it.

"It may be hard to believe but people are generally not trying to screw you over all the time," she added with a reassuring smile.

Yoo-mi looked around at the group of people he was surrounded by. The lawyer, the wife and husband, the little girl who wouldn't stop calling him big brother. No ill intentions, no hidden motives. Happy to have him there, meaning to help.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly again.

He knew there was no way all his insecurities would disappear in a day or two here, and that he'd be able to simply discard all the safety measures, emotional or otherwise, that kept him alive for the last year.

But if he was going to really start things over, again, now was as perfect a time as any.

The dotted line on the paperwork felt almost like a starting point to what he, yes, hoped to be a new kind of long distance run in his life.

Holding a pen in hand and a heart on his sleeve, he couldn't keep still on the edge of the seat.

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[HR] [SF] Spence

Been out here at my shack for quite a while. Bout 20 miles outta town, off on my own little dirt road. Close enough so it ain’t so bad to get supplies, and far enough out soz no one bothers much, and the sky is open at night. Not much on bein’ social. Just me and Spence.

Lemme tell ya about Spence.

In town, pickin’ up supplies. Always make a point to get a chicken salad sammich, a to-go coffee, and a bottle of water. Damn good chicken salad, and nice to have someone else make the coffee ever now and again.

So, haulin’ the bags out to the truck, had to set the drinks and the sammich bag on the rear bumper to stow things.

Got that done, grabbed the sammich bag, and got in the cab. Took half the sammich, took a bite, and reached for my drink. Dammit. Still on the bumper. Gettin’ old and forgetful.

Parked the sammich on the seat, and, leaving the door open, got out to retrieve the drinks. Came back to see that sammich tore open, and a skinny orange and white tabby cat goin’ to town on the chicken.

Not a kitten, but not full-grown. Like I said, kinda skinny. Right ear was a little ragged like it had been chewed on, and had not healed up clean.

There were a few strays running around town, but they usually hauled ass away from people. I know that feeling.

‘That is some pretty good chicken. He’p ya-self there, bud’

He stopped eatin’ then. And sat back and looked at me. He wasn’t scared. Just kinda cocked that torn ear to the side and looked.

‘That chicken salad always makes me thirsty. Hang on a sec.’

I dumped the coffee, rinsed it from the water bottle, tore the cup sides down some and poured water in. Slowly set that down and slid it over.

The cat had been watchin’, not scared at all. None of that raised-fur, laid-back ear, hissy shit at all. Just kinda lickin’ his chops, cleaning up chicken.

He sniffed at the water, and went at it like a drowning man at a life-saver.

‘Ha! Yeah, buddy. I am the same way.‘

I eased myself in the cab and carefully closed the door. He had finished the water, and was doin’ that cocked head stare again. Sizin’ me up.

‘Well I’m headin’ back to the shack. You’re more than welcome to ride along’

Looked like he was thinkin’ it over for a bit, then he started his post-dinner washup.

‘Ima take that as yes then, bud’

Once we got rollin’, he was all washed up. He sized me up again, and then kinda curled up next to me. I careful-like reached down and scratched his head. He kept his eyes closed, but moved to get the attention on that bum ear, and purred like an outboard motor.

Yeah. That’s Spence.

FELIS PROJECT LOG:

Entry 2018-09346

Failure again! The procedures are technically perfect. There is no fault in them, but still no success. I believe the issue is with the raw organic materials. More study required.

—-

He settled right in at the shack. Made sure to explore ever’thing. Actually disappeared for a while (yep, even in my tiny shack).

Got supplies put up, and grabbed a cold beer, and went to my chair. Had ‘Bad Day at Black Rock’ cued up.

Cat walked out from his inspection, and sat down in front of my chair, giving me that cocked head look.

‘Well sir, if we gonna be roomies, Ima not gonna call you Cat. Howz about Spencer ... Spence for short?’

That seemed to meet his approval. He jumped up in the chair, licked at the water on the outside of the bottle, and curled up and went to sleep, so I started the movie.

FELIS PROJECT LOG:

Entry 2018-10249

The laboratory raised organics were indeed the issue. While they do have the desired feline instincts, the lack of human bonding leads to undesirable behavior, and lack of response to training and commands. Must acquire organics that are human bonded, to take advantage of those characteristics

—-

Had to make a ‘cat-flap’ for Spence. Set it up high by the door, to keep crawly varmints out, and latched it shut when he was in. He would take off, sometimes for hours. Always came back after doin’ his ‘cat business’.

He filled out real well. Big kinda like those Maine Coon types, but shorter hair.

Sit out on the little porch out front in the mornings. Have my coffee, Spence in my lap, gettin’ that ear rubbed. Purrin’ away, lazy tail thumpin’ my leg. He’s good company.

FELIS PROJECT LOG

Entry 2018-13286

I have assigned some personnel to acquire the human bonded organics. They have specific instructions on what is needed, and to avoid detection. ‘Pets’ being lost/running away is not an unusual occurrence. I am quite hopeful that once acquired, the results will be success!

—-

Spence and me would truck into town for supplies, always splitting a chicken sammich, of course. He’d wait outside in the truck, windows part-way down. I like to think he was enjoying the high-life, but still saying howdy to his street friends.

I come out the store, and the passenger window was bust. That pebbled safety glass all over, shining in the sun.

Dropped my bags, and ran over. Nothing missing, except Spence.

FELIS PROJECT LOG

Entry 2018-15671

Success! The fifth time is the charm, as they say! The fifth acquired organic was an outstanding specimen. I suspected that this one’s unusually large size would make the transfer easier, and was pleased that this worked out so well. Now the conditioning begins.

—-

I picked up the bags, threw them in the truck bed, cleared the pebbles of glass from the window, and the cab, then drove the short bit to the sheriff’s office, filed a report on the broken window.

I was numb.

Once I was back at the shack, it was gettin’ dark. I had driven slow-like, keepin’ an eye out for Spence. He was a tough fella. Hell, he dragged me back a rattler one time. Minus the head.

I sat out in the yard, crying some, cursing some, but mostly waiting.

FELIS PROJECT LOG

Entry 2018-16384

The prototype has escaped. I have dispatched personnel to recover. The hardware is traceable, and they have orders to not damage the prototype, and to notify me when they locate.

—-

I finally dozed off sitting there, out front of the shack. Had a dream. Spence was back. We were sitting in the morning sun, me with my coffee, and him, gettin’ that ear rubbed, thumpin’ his tail.

But, in the dream, something was off. Spence’s motorboat purr wasn’t there. This started to bother me, and like you do sometimes in a dream, it bothered me enough to wake me up.

FELIS PROJECT LOG

Entry 2018-16390

The recovery team has isolated the prototype’s location. It is in a secluded area, and there appears to be only one person at this location. I have advised the team to secure the prototype and the resident, monitor and keep me updated. I am going to mobile, and will arrive there shortly.

—-

Something was not right. There was a dark SUV coming down the dirt road from the highway. Who the hell would come out here this time of night? Wasn’t the sheriff. They drive in light colored Jeeps.

I got up and walked over to the truck. I keep a sawed-off in there for varmints and such.

The SUV pulled in just as I got to the truck. A spotlight from the driver’s side popped on, aimed at the passenger side of my truck, and three fellas got out.

They were dressed like a SWAT team, or special forces, and each had an evil looking, stubby automatic weapon of some high-end sort. The details of the business end were real clear, as they was all pointed at me.

‘OK fellas, Can I help you with somethin’?’

‘Get down on your belly, slow and easy, and put your hands out in front of you’

One of them had like a cell-phone or small tablet device, and was moving it slowly around, kinda like he was searching for a signal.

‘Fellas, there really isn’t a good signal back this far from the main road’

‘Get down on the ground now!’

Another vehicle was coming down my road. It pulled in by the SUV, and the driver got out. He was obviously not one of the heavies. He was wearing green hospital scrubs, which looked stained some. Hard to tell at night, but as he moved closer to the light, it looked like blood.

Then I heard ... something ... from in my truck. Like something metallic and sharp, popping like it was tearing into the seat ...

Like ... like a cat sharpening its claws.

Things happened real fast after that, and ima do my best to tell ya, but it was just so damn fast.

I turned to look in the cab. I saw something metallic, chrome-like. Just a quick glance, and it was out the empty passenger window frame.

The heavies opened up at it. I dropped behind my truck, opened the door, and grabbed my scatter-gun. I could hear the rounds hitting the truck, and spanging off something else.

I popped up, and fired. The spotlight blew like a firework, and went out.

Was hard to see now. I heard heavy, wet thumps, and tearing, and screams.

I could see vague shapes on the ground, about where they had been standing when the shit started.

I dug under my seat, reloaded, and grabbed my flashlight.

Turned it on and saw the three heavies, obviously dead, torn to shreds. Saw the hospital looking fella. He wasn’t tore up, but was sitting with his back at the rear driver’s side wheel, not moving at all.

In front of him was ... well ... it looked kinda like a cheetah, if the cheetah was made of chrome, and had steel razors for teeth and claws, and was scary as fuck.

I swallowed the bile in my throat, and walked slowly over that way. Not sure what good this sawed-off will do, but it has been a pretty shit day so far, so what the hell.

I was about half way over there, and I could hear a sound. You know that sound a cat makes when it sees a bird? That chittery thing they do? It was like that, but ... metal.

I stopped dead. The cheetah thing stopped making that sound, and turned its head towards me. I brought up my scattergun, and the cheetah-thing cocked its head to the right, and just looked at me.

‘Awwwww no ... Spence?’

The cheetah-thing thumped its tail lightly in the dirt.

Time froze. That’s Spence! What the fuck is going on? My arms dropped to my sides. I fell to my knees.

This next part was again really quick, but I will remember it until I die.

The hospital fella lunged to grab something from one of the dead heavies’ belts. He came up with what looked like some kind of grenade. The Spence thing tore that fella’s hand clean off. It dropped, still holding that grenade. He started to scream, but that changed to a wet gurgle, and then silence.

‘S-s-spence? Is that you?’

The tail thumped again.

I knew it was him. He grabbed that dead hospital fella in his teeth, and dragged him over to me. Just like that rattler.

Then he sat there, just in front of me, head cocked, sizin’ me up like he does.

I reached out careful-like, and put my hand on his head, where that bum ear was. He pushed his head into my hand, and I could hear a metal-like purr.

—-

Well, I cleaned that shit up. Lots of places to hide things out there in the back-country. Got a new truck. Told the few folks who asked I sold it for junk after the engine blew. Ain’t too worried about anyone looking them up. Checking through their things, I got the idea they were not folks that anyone would miss. I did keep their weapons.

And I still have my buddy Spence.

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reginaldbelchhuggins-blog · 7 years ago

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Mens et Manus

Chapter 1. Starman

Rating: T Warnings for this chapter: Self-harm; reference character death; referenced violence; past violence; mental health issues Chapters: 1, [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], [7] Ao3: [x] Summary:

Stan looks at himself in the mirror; Richie talks to his mom; Mike starts listening; Ben finds a new hobby; Eddie moves out of his mom's house; Beverly starts dating; and Bill writes his first book.

a.k.a a series of short stories based on the prompt "Tell the story of a scar"

A/N: The chapters are as listed above. This is Stan’s chapter:

Stan Uris was exactly 21 days past his 13th birthday as he woke up just after midnight, screaming. For the 12th night in a row, Rabbi Donald Uris would come into his son's room and calm him down by holding him. The first two times Stan had woken in such a startling manner, Andrea had tried, thinking a motherly figure was what he needed. She couldn't have been more wrong. The sight of her in the doorway had brought Stan to hysterical tears.

He knew it hurt her, but he couldn't stand being held in her arms when that woman was so fresh in his mind. Holding him down, latching her rows and rows of teeth into his head, her tongue leaving thick spittle as it explored his face.

He'd tell his friends in college that his first kiss left him shaking, and smile dryly, all the while remembering the feeling of It eating parts of him -- drawing his fear to the surface to slurp it up, and leave holes in his soul.

22 holes, to be precise. In two crooked rows, circling his face.

Though Stan hated lying to them, especially as his lies became more obvious, saying he fell in the bramble was still the most logical explanation for the wounds. So he was going to say it again. He was going to say it until he forgot it wasn't the truth.

After 5 minutes, Stan did not hear the bedroom door open down the hall. He did not hear his father's heavy footsteps (8-10 of them from door to door), nor his parents whispering. Asking each other if they should call a psychiatrist. There was only silence.

He burst into tears as it donned on him that his parents weren't coming that night. Or any other night again. They'd had their fill of him. He pulled his blankets up to his chest and rolled over to his side. The moon peering through the window looked far too much like dead lights in the back of a monstrous throat -- the stars resembling rows and rows of sharp little teeth -- so he flipped over and stared at the bedroom closet. Stan cried for 13 minutes exactly, and then, after his face was stinging and his eyes could produce no more tears, he stilled. It took him 11 minutes to fall back to sleep.

The next morning, at 7am sharp, Stan looked in the mirror, and saw what his father must see: not a man, not a boy, but something that could barely be considered human. All the lies he'd told over the years plain as every scar, turning his face ugly.

I ate your candy, not Richie.

I wasn't looking at your magazine.

School was great.

I made a lot of friends today.

I fell.

I'm happy.

I do believe in God.

I'm practicing my reading every day.

It's not real.

I hate you.

I'm not afraid.

I fell in the bramble.

I'm not lying.

I'm okay.

He touched each tooth mark, and recited his lies in a quiet whisper. He went right to left, up to down to up again, and when he was done, he saw his face. Not man, not boy, but teenager. With brown eyes, dirty blonde curls, and a small, pleasant smile. He tried to hold that smile long enough to get to the breakfast table, but it fell away the minute he passed the window in the hall and saw his father's black Oldsmobile sitting in the driveway.

For Donald Uris to not already be on the road to the synagogue, he was either sick or something else was going on. Stan prepared himself, somehow knowing it wasn't going to be a very pleasant breakfast.

The table was quiet, though they were both sitting there with empty plates. Donald in his pants and button up shirt, and Andrea in jeans and a tee. They looked like they'd been up all night. His mother nursed a cup of coffee with bags under her eyes, and his father had aged twenty years in 12 hours. Stan felt a pang of guilt.

You did that. You and your false truths.

There were eggs and toast, so Stan filled his plate (3 scoops of eggs, 2 pieces of toast) and tried to go into the living room to eat. Donald cleared his throat, and Stan hesitated before dutifully sitting down across from his father, his stomach turning flips as he did so. He poked at his eggs, not sure he was hungry anymore.

"So, they found the Bowers boy last night, " Donald said. He and Andrea both looked hard at Stan, so he tried not to react. He wasn't surprised to hear Henry's body had finally popped up. The well led to the sewers, which eventually would carry him to the Barrens, or the canal. It was only a matter of time. "Officer Nell informed me that he confessed to the murders right away. Butch, the Criss boy, the Huggins boy... the others." Stan wasn't hungry at all. He set his fork down, and looked at his parents. He couldn't keep the shock of hearing Henry was alive from his face, nor the thoughts from entering his mind.

How did Henry survive for 2 weeks in the sewers? What did he eat? What did he drink? Stan felt bad for him. Even if he was trying to murder Mike, Stan had seen into the dead lights, and somehow understood that Henry was just a puppet. A tool. A fool. A dancing clown, one could say, if they wanted to be punched in the throat.

"That's sad news," Stan said. It felt like he was speaking through cotton. There was something in their faces that concerned him. Suspicion. Knowledge.

They were seeing his lies unravel, but the truth inside was muddled and muddied. Still, he thrust his fists against the post, and insisted he saw no ghost. Bill be damned.

"You know they say he skinned the Huggins' boy face," Andrea said, her tone pointed. Stan swallowed a sip of water. He knew where she was going. It was wrong. Clever, but wrong. He still thought about caving in and taking the easy out, though; just agreeing with her clever little concoction. It was another lie, but one that would satisfy his parents growing unease that Stan had been accosted by more than foliage. "With that little knife of his."

Her eyes were measuring the scars, mentally comparing them to a switchblade. Stan felt them burning in her gaze, but dared not pick at them. Instead, he went for his cuticles, using his fingernails to press them down and tear them off.

"Seems to have had an obsession with faces," Donald said. His eyes bore into Stan, as if trying to see beneath the layers of his flesh and into his thoughts. "I remember when he attacked you that one winter. What was it, when you were 8? Rubbed snow in your face until--"

"Henry didn't attack me this time," Stan said. His voice was steady, even as his head buzzed with panic. "I fell and--"

"Got so scared you're still having nightmares about it? Stanley," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "That doesn't make sense."

"Honey, we're just concerned is all," Andrea said, forcing a smile. "Butch wasn't a nice man. He did bad things to Henry. And if Henry, in turn, did bad things to you -- if he hurt you in any way -- you can tell us. You're safe here."

Stan looked away. "I'm sorry, but no. He didn't. Even if you wish he did so you could pretend you're still being persecuted." He stood up after 27 seconds of silence. Were they really letting him finish his outburst? "I remember how much fun it was when I was 8 and getting to listen to you tell people about how you were being tested. I'm sure you'd love that again, but I'm not playing along. I fell, alright? I was doing something stupid, and yes, it frightened me, because it hurt.!" His parents exchanged a glance. If Stan wanted to, he could decipher their silent conversation. But he didn't want to. He'd given them a lot to unpack, and their first thoughts were always going to be defensive, or accusatory. Let them think what they wanted, and say what they wanted. They were going to do that regardless. "I'm going to be late for school."

"Let me drive you," the Rabbi said. But Stan was already leaving. He grabbed his backpack from beside the door, his bike from the porch, and was gone before his father could protest. It took him 25 minutes to get to school, and he passed five florescent lights on the way to the bathroom, where he threw up what little remained of last night's ravioli. There were 8 and a half tiles between the stall and the sink. He counted his scars, and recited his lies, and...

Stan's brow furrowed. He leaned in, tilting his head so he could see the one, specific tooth mark. 22 scars, in 2 crooked rows, and one by itself near his temple. Small, almost unnoticeable. Unmatched. He tilted his head to the other side and confirmed there was no twin.

He leaned away from the mirror. He washed his hands. He turned to leave the bathroom. And then tiltled his head in the mirror, looking at that one scar. How could a creature that changed appearance at will overlook such a detail? How could he, Stan, have missed it all this time? In every examination of them?

Maybe it's new.

That couldn't be. Yet, he had counted them before and after the wrappings were removed. 22 scars. In two crooked rows. Not 23 with one little orphan. Where did it come from?

He ran his finger along it, feeling the rough scab that had formed over it. He scratched that off, not surprised to see puckered scar tissue underneath.

He couldn't just leave it like that for everyone to see. They'd notice it, too. The one that fell out of pattern. They'd notice and stare. He didn't want them staring anymore.

Taking his thumb nail, he tried pressing into the other side of his face, but he couldn't pierce the skin. He wound up with one vividly red scar, and the other, faded and white. Drumming his fingers on the side of the sink, he made a decision. He dug through his backpack until he found his school compass.

This is fucking crazy, he thought. Then, using the sharp point, he began digging in. Making a series of small, connected dots, Stan traced the shape and angle of the rogue tooth above his other temple. Each dot brought a bead of blood, which began leaking down his face, and into the sink. By the time he was done, Stan's hands were shaking. He cleaned the wound and his face, and then checked out his work. He was feeling better, until his realized that those two didn't match the others, who sat with a pair in two crooked rows.

This is fine. They both have one little straggler. Like a captain leading his troops.

Biting his tongue, Stan got back to work. He had just finished the final faux-tooth mark when he heard a scream from behind him. Little Edgar Booth was running out of the bathroom, his shriek loud and shrill. Stan looked at himself, covered in blood, and slowly put his compass to the old scars. He could already hear his parents in his head.

You did that to yourself? Maybe you did all of them yourself. Maybe you like all this attention.

He began to pick them open, one by one. They might not be able to tell any of them were new if they were all bleeding.

#stephen king #it #it 2017 #it prompts #stanley uris #the losers club #self-harm #character study #writing #fanfic

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