#the back wheel and the front only touched down once i reached the opposite sidewalk

[mwagneto]

i really love kick scooters i've been using one to get around instead of walking whenever possible since i was like 10 and i'd like to say i'm fairly good at it but sometimes when i'm hurtling downhill at landscape blurring speeds it does occur to me that i'm gambling my life on 2 metal pipes and 2 wheels small enough to be tripped up by a pebble

[branded-witha-j]

This request started one way and then took a whole other turn that I'm going to blame on the pain meds they gave me. I hope you enjoy it, anon reader. 😘💚💚💚

♤♡◇♧☆

Something went horribly wrong. It wasn't expected and no one saw it coming despite weeks of planning. The coppers showed up as expected, but something fell through when someone didn't do their job. A post that should have been manned was left wide open and that's how the GCPD got the upperhand.

You were there, holding your own, the armored truck on its side and smoking. The bags you helped carry were heavy and you were distracted, not noticing the officer until he had you restrained. They didn't make a fuss, pulling you away from the scene as discreetly as possible, but it didn't take J long to notice your absence.

He wheeled in place, scanning the street, and that's when he saw them dragging you away, his rage palpable. They thought you were a hostage, surely a nice, rich girl like you forced to commit such heinous crimes. They had no idea that you were important to The Joker or that you were madly in love with your so-called captor.

You fought and clawed to get back to him, but the cops threw you into a police van, the back empty except for you. Now that they had you in their custody, they intended to get you away from the scene, your father waiting for the phone call that you were safe.

You were a Daddy's girl, growing up privileged and rich. Things were planned out for you, your father the puppeteer. It didn't take long for you to tire of his control, a new Daddy altogether pulling your attention and keeping you captivated.

The Joker was just as rich, but dangerous and unpredictable. The night you met him at the annual Gotham Gala was the best of your life and you never looked back.

The van shifted as it pulled away from the curb, a single police car following while the others stayed behind to deal with and round up J and his crew. At least that was their plan. But the cops would fair no better, The Joker's men creating such a scene that J managed to slip away in your pursuit.

He wasn't alone, a handful of goons tagging along, and they were the ones to open fire. The tailing cruiser caught the first wave of bullets, the back tires popping and sending it into an uncontrollable spin. A row of parked cars cushioned the wreck, but the car was inoperable and left behind as the van tried to race for the station.

You were in the back, unable to hang on as a curve was taken too fast, crying out as you were thrown against the bare, metal wall. You found yourself on the floor, clutching for the bench leg that was bolted down, using it to pull yourself under for coverage as bullets ricocheted outside. You could hear shouting from the front, returning fire sounding close and making you scream as a bullet tore through the metal above you.

You rolled yourself into a ball and braced, not seeing the collision coming, but safe as the van slammed to a stop. It was no longer moving, but the shouting continued, eventually two single gun shots marking the silence.

Nothing happened, the van whining as someone cranked the engine and finally got it to start. You stayed under the bench shaking, beams of light shining through the bullet holes as the van started to move again. Even as the ride continued on for what felt like an eternity, you stayed on the floor unable to move out of some fear that The Joker had been hurt, or even worse, killed.

Eventually the van came to a stop and you held your breath, hearing the front door open, and approaching footsteps. They crunched in what sounded like gravel and stopped at the back doors. Then there was unnerving silence. You continued to hold your breath, eyes closing as the screech of metal unlocked the doors and light flooded over you. It took you a moment to open your eyes, the sunlight blotting out the figure that peered inside. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, and a hand at your ankle made you lash out. You kicked hard, snarling in anger as they avoided your booted defense and dragged you closer.

Hands groped at you, pulling you upright, and that's when you were finally able to focus. The Joker leaned over you, a gash at his forehead sending a steady stream of blood down the side of his chiseled cheek. He was bleeding, but seemed unharmed and very much alive. With a gasp, you clutched for him, anchoring your hands at his face and kissing him hard.

His metal teeth hurt against your own, but you didn't care, deepening it until you felt certain you could drown. He was the one to break the kiss, eyes darting and taking inventory. You were unharmed, maybe a little bruised, but not hurt. The relief made him purr and he pushed forward, kneeling at the metal floor and hovering over you.

You let him lay you back and didn't protest as his hands slid over your body, making sure you weren't damaged or in pain. As his exploration continued, you reached for him, pulling him on top of you, your arms and legs trapping him. He grimaced, a single droplet of blood falling on your cheek, and you couldn't stop yourself from kissing him. He tasted like blood and gunpowder and you savored it.

In the distance, you could hear approaching sirens, your moment ending almost as quickly as it had started. Surely the van could be tracked and they would be here soon, both of your hearts racing as you fled the scene. You took back alleyways, hiding in the shadows, ducking into dark doorways as police cruisers rolled past.

It was in one of these doors that J cornered you, smiling in his mischievous way. You smiled back, head tilting as he leaned in for a kiss. It was slow and deep, ending with a purr.

"Are you my girl?" You nodded to his question, feeling his hands on you, fingertips digging into your hips. You let out a gasp of surprise as he slid a hand over, cupping you and pushing you harder against the door. It creaked with your weight but held as J frantically pulled at the waistband of your leggings. You joined in, flipping his belt loose, and popping the button to pull down his zipper.

A single slam against the door made you both groan, The Joker not stopping until he was buried deep. He burned and stretched you in the most delicious way, his face burying at your neck. Another thrust of his hips made you cry out, the sound echoing around the alley and building as his movement grew frantic.

Voices yelled out nearby, causing you to tense, and a shift of your hips sent you over a dangerous edge. Your cries of pleasure bounced off the walls, dissolving into the air and mixing with the sounds of the city. The Joker had reached his end, as well, and held you in place, nuzzling at your neck until he left a purple mark with his mouth.

For a long moment, nothing else existed, the sounds of the city fading away. You relished in his touch and taste, his crimson smeared lips leaving no doubt that you belonged to him. It was a bubble of happiness that you lived in precariously, not ready for it to pop so soon.

But pop it did, and you were both on the run again, dragging your pants up with laughs and tripping away. The cop that discovered you was close, but not enough to catch you, both of you sliding out onto the crowded sidewalk, people rushing out of your way as you ran.

You felt like Bonnie and The Joker was your Clyde, hands joining as you ran, more fits of laughter falling from your lips as you veered off the sidewalk and into traffic to avoid another cop.

You didn't see it coming, so lost in your delirious happiness that the delivery truck went unnoticed. Brakes squealed as the large vehicle tried to stop, but too much weight and speed kept it coming in your direction, both of you freezing on the spot.

There was a second where you realized you were about to die, turning towards J, but feeling yourself lifted and flung in the opposite direction. You waited for the pain, but it didn't come, instead air whipping past and making your hair swirl. And then your ride was abruptly over, Batman releasing you on the far sidewalk.

Stunned to see him this close up, it took a moment for you to wheel back in search of The Joker, horror making you cry out at his still form on the road. You pulled and screamed, tearing yourself away from your savior to run to your lover.

No one tried to stop you, everyone frozen and watching as you collapsed by his side, hands shaking and touching him. You were frantic, pulling at him, screaming his name, but getting no response. He was gone, his body broken and bleeding before you like a living nightmare.

You tried to revive him, performing CPR, pushing and thumping at his chest until Batman pulled you away. His arms locked around you like a vice and carried you from the horrible scene, your pleas falling on deaf ears.

Your eyes pinched shut, your cries turning into begging, everything fading until you jolted awake in a cell you couldn't remember. The pressure around you that had once been Batman's arms was a straitjacket keeping you secure. It was an embrace you could never escape, eyes heavy and sweeping the empty, dim room.

Who knows how long you had been here, time meaning nothing. Who knows if anything was real, the pain in your heart the only reminder that something had been taken from you.

The ground vibrated but you barely noticed it, the extinguished lights above you swaying and sending dust down upon you. Your neck was stiff as you slowly looked up, the hanging light swaying back and forth. Another much harder vibration caused it to pick up momentum and you were mesmerized by it, not hearing the screams in the hallway.

A fresh explosion buckled the door, leaving a gaping hole filled with smoke. You stared at it, unable to move even if you felt the desire, a single figure stepping through as a floating silhouette. They crossed the room, kneeling before you, and a tug at the helmet they wore revealed a shock of green hair and icy blue eyes.

He smiled at you, your own lips twitching and pulling until the corners lifted and mirrored him. His laugh came next, eerie and almost mournful, but your own joining in until it was deafening and terrifying to all that could hear it.

Again you felt yourself lifted, this time in the arms you wanted more than anything, The Joker carrying you from the cell and into the fiery hallway. Bodies lay before you, framing your escape route, and J didn't let you go until he reached the getaway vehicle, slowly placing you in the backseat. Leaning down, his lips ghosted over yours, a new scar across his cheek catching your eye. His kiss was brief, a peck at your lips, and then he spoke the words you had been dying to hear for so long.

"Let's go home."

[lovingumi]

happy || s.kiyoomi

⤷ i feel like sakusa would get a cat that would be really independent and just on their own. he’d probably like the thought of taking care of someone without having to do much. idk honestly it just popped up out of nowhere.

synopsis: just a lil story of how you can sakusa got a cat with some terrible flirting and teasing.

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader

warnings: becomes a bit suggestive in the end

+ note: kinda hate it, kinda love it. i’ll fix it sometime </3

if you had asked yourself where you’d be in seven years in your first year of high school, then it definitely would’ve had been like this. minus the male that was stretched out on the couch with his head on your lap; he was a pleasant surprise that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

his dark eyes were focused on the television that played the series the two of you had started together, soft breaths leaving his nose as your fingers went through his curly hair.

your eyes switched to the black cat that was curled in to his side, his long fingers softly stroking her sleek fur. you could just melt at the sight of them together; the two living beings you held closest to your heart along with your family.

sakusa and you had adopted her shortly after getting an apartment together. you had always wanted a cat, but your mom was allergic and you couldn’t think of taking care of an animal when you lived alone and was burdened with the tough college life.

but when you two had moved in together when you were four years together, you knew that the plan you had at the age of eighteen went in to working.

two year mark.

the two of you were walking home, holding hands as you set steps through the dark and empty street. you were craving ice cream and convinced Sakusa to go to the convenience store with you.

after buying your favourite ice cream and that of sakusa’s, the two of you were off to his place once again. you felt him tighten his grip slightly on your hand, the scrunching of the plastic bag with the two ice cream containers in his other hand filling up the silence in the night.

however, that silence was quickly disturbed by your voice. “ yoomi, look!” you whisper-screamed at him. he stared at where your finger pointed, looking at the black little kitten that was sitting under the light pole.

“we’re definitely getting one when we’ve been together for five years,” you said softly, your lips curved in to a bright smile.

he looked down on you with his usual blank face, trying to figure out how you would know if you would be even together until that time. however, he shook that thought off and responded with the answer you already expected from him.

“no.”

three year mark.

“yoomi?” you walked in to the college gym, seeing how it was almost empty besides a few guys and your boyfriend. you spotted him on the ground with his legs spread wide as he leaned forward and twisted his body slightly, doing his cool down stretches.

you walked towards him, crouching down while pulling your mask down as he pulled his body straight up so he was sitting normally. “hi, baby,” you whispered before pressing a kiss against his lips.

you dropped the bag that was filled with all the necessities for the sleepover at his on the floor and groaned at how the weight was finally off your shoulders.

he stood up and slung his towel over his shoulder. “how did you come here?” he asked, taking your hands that you reached out to him and pulled you up against his chest. You let out an ‘oof’ and grinned, getting ready for the lecture he was going to give you. “on foot.”

just as he was about to open his mouth to tell you not to walk alone at this time, he heard one of his teammates curse out loud.

the two of you turned your heads towards the scream, seeing the guy on the ground with his hands propped up behind himself. in front of him was a black cat that had ran in to the gym. however, another teammate had picked up the animal and carried it outside quickly. “you’re so dramatic,” you heard one of the guys wheeze, watching the male who was blushing profusely push himself up.

sakusa knew what you were thinking and closed his eyes, breathing out his nose and try to block out the words you were going to say. you looked up to him with a grin and wrapped your arms around his waist. “it’s a sign.”

“____, no.”

four year mark.

“happy fourth anniversary, baby.” your arms were lazily slung around his neck as you stood on your toes to reach him, forcing him to bend down slightly too. He smiled softly, pulling you closer to himself as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“happy anniversary, love.”

a few hours later the two of you were getting ready for the fancy date in the restaurant sakusa had chosen. as it was the first time in a long while the two of you had the chance to dress more on the elegant side, you had begged him to match your outfits in some way.

black and satin.

your outfit consisted of a black, backless satin dress that ended just above your knees and transparent heels. you kept your make-up simple, just enhancing your features lightly with the only bold thing being your burgundy lips.

you checked yourself one last time in the mirror of the bathroom, smiling brightly at the reflection of yourself before you walked to the living room with your heels in your hand.

once there, your eyes widened and your feet stopped moving. the sight before you truly was something you’d never, ever wanted to forget.

long legs wrapped in black jeans with a belt around his waist that you had gifted him some time ago and the black satin blouse tucked in to show the tiny waist he had.

you swallowed and cleared your throat, making him turn his head towards you. “hi.”

he smiled and raised a brow, thinking about how adorable you sounded, the complete opposite of how you looked.

his legs took him towards you, cradling your face in his big hands as he pressed a kiss against your cheek to not mess up your lipstick.

“you look stunning,” he whispered.

at this point, you were almost a hundred percent sure that your cheeks were the same colour as your lips.

“you look amazing.”

so, the two of you did your last checks and walked out the door to the car; everything was going as planned. the only thing that wasn’t planned was the black cat laying in front of the car.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” he sighed, staring at the animal who stared back with its head tilted to the side.

“i’ve told you since we were eighteen,” you laughed, cooing the cat away gently so the two of you could start your date.

he unlocked the car and got in at the same time as you, closing the door with a slam as he stared at the black cat who sat sweetly on the sidewalk.

he shook his head, turning the key as you laughed at his denial, clicking in your seatbelt.

“our fifth year is next year.”

he turned around, putting his arm around the headrest as he turned the wheel with one hand, going in reverse to get out of the parking lot.

“and we’re not getting a cat.”

five year mark.

“ i can’t believe we’re getting a cat.”

that was the first thing he said when you got out of the car in front of the animal shelter just minutes ago.

“yoomi, I can’t,” you cried as a few cats came up to you, rubbing themselves against your legs. you bit your lip to try and keep your excitement inside before you scared all the cats.

one white cat in particular had taken a liking towards you, soft purring coming from the animal as you scratched her head softly. “that’s yuki, she’s a four year old girl,” said the staff member at the animal shelter.

“and this one?” you turned your head towards sakusa who was petting a cat that laying down on top of the cat post.

“we don’t have a name for her yet, but we guess she’s around one year old.” you stood up and walked over to sakusa to see the animal for yourself.

“What happened to her?” you asked the staff member, turning around to face him since there were no eyes found on the animal.

“she just arrived a month ago, someone found her covered in fleas, matted hair and wounds on the streets.”

you listened carefully to the story the man was telling. “we assume that someone used her as a target and shot her with a bb gun since we found the little balls in her eyes and a few places over her body.”

you saw Sakusa shake his head at what he told you, not believing someone would do that to an animal. “we decided to take her eyes out since they were just rotting and had no chance of getting vision back.”

“poor baby,” you said softly, letting her smell your hand before touching her.

“does she need any speciale care?” sakusa asked, turning towards the staff member.

“you just need to let her know if you’re going to pick her up so you won’t startle her, make use of her other senses and don’t let her outside unsupervised.”

sakusa nodded and turned towards you, only to find you already staring at him with a smile.

the present.

you thought it was adorable that the cat you two ended up adopting was one he had chosen. mako was his little baby that he loved to pepper with attention.

your phone gallery was basically full of pictures of the two of them, whether they’re curled in to each other, or when he leaned down to pet her with a soft smile on his face or selfies he had send.

“____?” you hummed in response and looked down with a snap of you neck.

his dark eyes were already looking at you by the time you switched your gaze to him, making you cheeks fill with the pink colour.

“is something wrong?”

the opposite, really.

you were at your happiest right now and couldn’t even phantom the thought of being even happier; it simply seemed impossible.

“nope.”

you reached for his hand, waiting for him to lift it up to your reach. you laced your fingers through his and turned his hand towards you, kissing his knuckles softly as you knew that this was one of the things that would get his knees weak.

sakusa kiyoomi was never the one who smiled brightly or laughed loudly, but whenhe did, time always seemed to stop for a moment.

the stunning smile that graced his face showed off his pearly whites as his eyes were close to shutting. the crinkle right at the corner, the glassy look over his eyes, the faint blush, his soft skin and the two adorable moles had you falling in love with him all over again.

“oh my, what have i done in my previous life to deserve such a beautiful smile?” you laughed light heartedly, fumbling with his fingers. he rolled his eyes, not losing the smile he wore and pulled himself up, careful to not bother the sleeping cat.

he leaned back on the couch, glancing at you to see if your eyes were still on him or on the television. you however, took this as an invite to sit on his lap, which it was not, but there would never be a complaint coming from him.

“please keep smiling at me like that- ow! okay! i’m sorry!” you laughed loudly, rubbing the place on your head where he had finger-flicked you.

your laughter died down slowly as your fingers went from his chest slowly to his jawline, softly caressing the delicate skin that you loved pressing your lips on.

“you come here often?” you suddenly asked him with a giggle following quickly after, ignoring the sigh that left his mouth. however, he decided to play along with your little game and comfortably leaned back as his fingers drew figures on your hips. “do you got a better one? humour me.”

you blinked a few times and sat there quietly, not having expected this answer. normally sakusa would discard things like that, thinking about how those terrible lines weren’t even worth a response.

“just let yourself go,” he said continued, shaking his head tauntingly with squinted eyes. your eyes widened at the sentence, remembering what happened in the shower early in the morning. even though the sentence had a double meaning, you knew which one he indicated to.

this bastard.

so, you just mirrored the smirk on his face and slowly slid your hands around his neck, dragging your nails lightly over his skin to force out shiver from him. the grin on your face only became wider at the reaction as you leaned closer to him, tilting your head slightly to the side.

one thing you loved about sakusa was how blunt he was and didn’t hold back from showing how he felt. even though it had the blood pooling from under your nails sometimes because of some of the comments he made.

however, you decided to take over the bluntness from him and get straight to the point.

“let’s go upstairs?’’

the corners of his lips twitched as he gave you a nod.

“alright.”

[everybodyscupoftea]

a very merry christmas

college isaac x reader

cozy christmas with your boyfriend

happy holidays everyone!! i love you all

(warnings: cursing, wrote about half of this on my phone today)

Christmas Eve Eve

The original plan was that you were going home for Christmas with your family and Isaac was going home with Scott and Stiles to Beacon Hills where he was going to stay with Scott’s family. And then Isaac’s plans fell through, Chris and Allison decided to come into town and he didn’t want to intrude on Scott and Allison’s time and third wheel.

Scott fought with him about it, telling him he wouldn’t be and that he could hang out with Stiles since Noah was joining them. Isaac just sadly shook his head, reassuring them that he’d be fine alone.

When Stiles texted you about it, you immediately called your mom and changed your plans around. She was bummed, but she understood why you wanted to stay. Sad tone in her voice, she made you promise to FaceTime on Christmas day, and you agreed.

The next issue was going to be a way to pitch it to Isaac without him freaking out and insisting you go home. It was bound to happen either way, but you figured there was probably a way you could minimize the guilt he’d inevitably feel.

When you finally broke it to him, Isaac and you were walking to your normal date night restaurant, hands swinging between the two of you. It was quiet and you squeezed his hand to get his attention, “Hey, wanted to talk to you about something.”

He hummed, tilting his head to indicate that he was paying attention, and you bit your lip, trying to come up with the best phrasing.

“I was thinking,” you started.

“That’s dangerous,” he teased, cutting you off.

Rolling your eyes, you walked into him, mostly to get him to laugh, and continued, “I don’t really feel like traveling home this year. Plus they’re going to my grandparents’ house which is an additional four hour trip.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, finally looking over at you, “I thought you knew that was the plan all along?”

Kicking at the snow, you shrugged, “I mean kinda. But I didn’t realize how drained I’d feel after this semester. A seven hour flight just isn’t sounding fun.”

Isaac tugged you out of the middle of the sidewalk and stopped you from walking further, “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yeah. I mean I can FaceTime my family. Might even FaceTime you since you’ll be in Beacon Hills,” you played dumb.

With a sigh, he told you, “I won’t be in Beacon Hills. And I know you’re lying because I’m sure either Stiles or Scott told you as soon as I backed out.”

Which, true, but he didn’t need to know that. So, you denied it again, “I’m not lying, but if you’re going to be here, even more reason for me to not go! We can have a chill Christmas together!”

Isaac shook his head but didn’t comment further, just started walking again, headed to your favorite sushi place. It looked settled, you were going to stay, probably have him temporarily stay at your apartment for the rest of the break because it was bigger and cleaner than his place.

“So,” you said as he held the door of the restaurant open for you, “we can pick up some of your stuff and head over to my apartment.”

He finally looked at you again, soft smile on his face, “Sounds like a great plan.”

Dinner that night was going to be the last one before Christmas, you were set to board a plane early the next morning, but since you’d cancelled your flight, you suggested, “Why don’t we go see the Christmas display at the park and then the lights in that rich neighborhood on the edge of town. I’ve heard they have a bunch of houses with cool displays but haven’t been able to go myself.”

Isaac nodded, pulling the chair out for you before sitting down across from you, “Sounds great.”

The waitress brought out your drinks within a few minutes and asked, “The usual?”

With a smile, you nodded, “Please.”

It didn’t take long for her to bring the food out, and the two of you dug in, demolishing several rolls of sushi pretty quickly before starting on the edamame. Isaac’s foot was nudged in between yours under the table, and he looked up at you every few minutes to smile.

After paying, the two of you stood and joined hands again to leave the restaurant. The waitress waved at you, “See you guys next week!”

Isaac waved back and led you out the restaurant. Joining the foot traffic on the sidewalk, the two of you walked the opposite way from your car toward the park a few blocks away. The walk-through was free thankfully, and he dropped your hand to drape an arm over your shoulder.

Shivering slightly, you leaned into his side as you walked to the first display. It was a pole with ice around it labeled from the north pole and he reached out to touch the ice. Isaac made a face, “Wait, this feels strange.”

Curiously, you reached out too and felt it. The ice didn’t feel very frozen, and you jerked your hand away, wiping it on your pants to dry it off. “Weird,” you muttered.

The next display was animated, little elves making gifts in Santa’s Workshop. Your engineering brain kicked in, and you immediately wanted to figure out how it worked. Isaac smiled at you as you explained how you thought they did it, nodding at appropriate moments.

You did that for the rest of the displays. One with kids ice skating and skiing. One with Santa flying. Another with a ferris wheel and one with a one with a rural Christmas, cabin included. Isaac kept you pulled tightly into his side, giving your hands freedom to wave around while you talked.

“Gonna be honest,” he said when you took a breath, “all of that went straight over my head, but I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

Instead of answering, a hot chocolate stand caught your eye, and you slipped out from under his arm to drag him over to it. Stumbling, his other arm flailed out to keep him from falling, and he made a noise.

“Come on, bub,” you called over your shoulder as he caught his balance.

“Slow down, sweetheart. The hot chocolate isn’t going anywhere.”

And then when you got there they only had two cups left at the table. You gave him a look and he shrugged sheepishly, “I was wrong this once.”

You snorted and let him tuck you back under his arm as you walked away from the display. Something caught your eye, and you tugged his shirt, “Wait! There’s a bench for pictures, we should get someone to take one.”

He sighed, “Fine,” and handed his phone to a girl walking by, asking her to take a picture of the two of you. When you deemed it good, you left the park and headed back to the car. Isaac cranked it up and turned the heat on, rubbing his hands, “Where are we going?”

“Just to drive around, see some of the neighborhoods.”

He nodded and plugged his phone into the aux to start playing Christmas music softly. Both of your hot chocolates set in the cupholders as he pulled out onto the main road and drove toward the nicer side of town.

The first few streets were full of impressive houses but no decoration, and you pouted, leaning your forehead against the window, “When I get a house and get some money, I’m going to have the best decorations.”

Isaac chuckled, “I’m sure you will.”

“You’ll have to help me put them up.”

His thumb tapped against the steering wheel as he turned onto the next street, “Oh, this looks promising.”

The houses were smaller but had plenty of lights, and there were people pulled off to the side of the road. You looked around until you saw a sign that the lights were flickering in time to music, so you switched the radio and settled into your seat to watch.

Isaac reached over with his hand to hold your seat’s headrest, and leaned forward a bit to see better out your window. He was enthralled, you’d seen it before in your hometown, but his eyes were fixed on it.

You found yourself watching his face instead of the lights, and it was like he didn’t even notice. When he finally did look down at you, eyes sparkling, “This is awesome.”

Unable to stop yourself, you reached up to cup his chin and pull him in for a kiss. He was caught off guard at first, but eventually sank into it, kissing you back eagerly. When he pulled away, Isaac pressed a few kisses up your cheek to your forehead and stroked a finger over your cheekbone.

“What was that about?” he asked, a little breathlessly.

“Been wanting to do it all night,” you admitted with a shrug, “but it was really cute seeing you so excited.”

He blushed, “Well, it’s cool.”

The music had looped, and he put the car back in drive, heading toward his apartment for clothes.

You waited in his kitchen while he packed a few things he didn’t have at your apartment already. Looking at the fridge, you realized he’d probably want to cook Christmas dinner. Clearing your throat, you called out, “Isaac.”

He peeked his head out, “Yeah?”

“Did you want to cook Christmas dinner?”

Shrugging, he answered, “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”

“I mean I’m not the greatest chef,” you told him.

“Oh trust me, I know,” he responded with a laugh, “I’m willing to cook.”

“Grocery trip?” you asked, eagerly.

He sighed, walking out with a duffle bag, “I suppose, yes.”

There was a grocery store not even a block from your apartment, so Isaac drove the two of you back, and parked in front of your building. He glanced at his watch, “Damn, getting kind of late. When does the store close?”

“An hour. We shouldn’t need that long.”

“Do we even know what we want to eat?”

“I’m hoping inspiration strikes in the store.”

He snorted and shook his head, “Okay, can’t argue with that logic. Let’s’go.”

“Do you want to bring your stuff up first?”

Waving your words away, he answered, “It’ll be fine.”

When the two of you walked in and headed to the food section, inspiration did not strike like you hoped it would. You sighed, “What if we just buy a bunch of random shit and make whatever we can.”

“No.”

“Thought not,” you elbowed him in retaliation.

After a few laps through the aisles, you stopped, “What about pizza and wings?”

He cocked his head to the side, “Untraditional, but that’s kind of a vibe.”

“I just really want pizza and wings right now,” you admitted.

Isaac snorted and pulled out his phone, “Let me look through some recipes and I’ll get together a list of stuff we need. Do you know what you have in the fridge?”

You hummed, “Yes, I have nothing in the fridge.”

“How are you alive?” he muttered, glancing over at you briefly before looking back at his phone.

You leaned against the shelf to wait, idly playing with the corner of a bag of rice until the urge overtook you, and you slapped it. Isaac’s head shot up at the sudden noise and you laughed, “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You’re a menace,” he growled playfully, poking your side.

“Your menace.”

Locking his phone back, Isaac held his hand out for you to take, and he walked around, putting the stuff he needed into the basket you were carrying.

“I think we’re good,” he finally told you, turning to walk to the checkout lines. You paid, much to Isaac’s displeasure, and about 20 minutes before the store was supposed to close, the two of you were walking out.

“We’re cooking this on Christmas Day?” Isaac asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, think so. I just know the stores are going to be super hectic tomorrow and on Christmas Day.”

“Good call.”

Christmas Eve

Isaac woke up first with a jolt, waking you up in the process. He sat up, looking around wildly, before his eyes caught yours and he relaxed.

“You good?” you asked, not quite awake enough to come up with anything more eloquent.

“Yeah, think so.”

He didn’t move and still looked really disturbed by something. You cleared your throat, “Did you want to go for a run or something? Work some energy out.”

“Actually,” he paused, head tilted, “sounds good.”

Climbing out of bed with a groan, he put on a pair of the leggings you loved and a hoodie. Isaac looked at you expectedly and you pouted, “It’s so early.”

“It’s 11:00.”

“And I wasn’t planning on getting up until at least 1:00.”

Isaac chuckled, “It’s fine, I’ll just go.”

Before he could walk away, you grabbed his wrist, “Fine.”

He laughed, “Meet me in the kitchen. I’ll drive to the trail I know you like.”

You got dressed and walked out to find him filling up both your water bottles. Isaac smiled at you, “Figured we could go get lunch after.”

“Good with me.”

At the running trail, the two of you didn’t stay together. Each of you had separate routines when it came to stretching and different speeds when it came to running. He waved, having finished stretching before you, and ran off, his running playlist blasting in his headphones.

It wasn’t too long after him that you were off, your own music blasting loud enough that you didn’t have to feel your heavy breathing. You paced yourself, hoping to just not finish too far behind Isaac.

It was cold but you survived, wanting to die the last ten minutes or so. Isaac was leaning against the car, stretching out his calves, and he beamed when he looked up to see you, “How’d it go?”

“Not bad. Out of practice, but could’ve been worse. You?”

He hummed, “I feel better. Had a nightmare this morning. Or last night. Whenever.”

“Thought so, but I didn’t want to press.”

Pulling you into a hug, you felt his chest vibrate and his chin on your head when he said, “And I love you for that.”

“I hope so,” you teased, “now, I believe you said something about brunch.”

He chuckled, “I did.”

The two of you chugged some water in the car before Isaac pulled out of the otherwise abandoned trailhead parking lot and started driving to your favorite brunch place that was usually packed on weekends.

Sure enough, there were a bunch of people sitting outside and he let you out to put your names on the list. The hostess knew you and promised it wouldn’t be too long before a table for two was ready.

“Thanks so much,” you told her happily.

“Where’s Isaac?” she asked, looking over your shoulder before shaking her head, “Or did you bring someone else?”

“No,” you laughed, “he’s just parking.”

“Good,” she wiped imaginary sweat off her forehead, “wouldn’t want our favorite couple to be apart on a holiday.”

“Of course not!” you told her, moving over to the bench on the side to wait for Isaac.

Someone stepped in behind you to talk to her and Isaac was right after him, joining you on the bench. He put an arm around your shoulder, “What’s the damage?”

“That’s a big group, she said a table for two shouldn’t take too long.”

“Great,” he breathed out, relieved, “because I’m starving.”

The hostess, no longer talking to the other guy, called out, “Ah the worse half of my favorite couple has arrived.”

Isaac grinned playfully, “You hitting on my girlfriend?”

She laughed, “Absolutely.”

You pretended to swoon, “The only person I’d consider leaving Isaac for.”

Blowing you a kiss, she turned to the next family that walked in. Isaac chuckled, “Gonna miss this place when we graduate.”

“Me too.”

Your table was ready not too long after, a small booth, and Isaac again tucked his feet between yours, something he really liked. Throughout your relationship, you’d noticed he’d gotten more comfortable with initiating touch, and honestly you couldn’t ask for much better.

After ordering him a cup of tea and you a coffee with your food orders, you cleared your throat, “So I’ve been talking with one of my professors.”

Tilting his head, he took a sip of the water before asking, “What about?”

“Mostly about where I should go after graduation.”

“What’s their suggestion?”

“He told me about a company not far from here that hires a lot of graduates from our engineering programs and would pay for my schooling if I wanted a graduate degree.”

Isaac’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh yeah?”

“Yep. So I applied for the internship. I actually had the interview in November. They’re picking the two interns in the next few days, so I should be hearing back soon. If the interns fit in well, I have a really good shot at a full time job after the summer.”

He reached across the table and squeezed your hand, “That’s awesome! How do you feel about it?”

You sighed, “I think it went well, but I’ve been trying to not get my hopes up.”

“Understandable,” he responded, “Managing expectations is really hard though so I wouldn’t blame you for getting excited.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “I know. I’d just really love to stay here. And I know you love it here too.”

“I do.”

“I know we just had that discussion about post-grad plans. But I didn’t want you to have to make a huge sacrifice, you know.”

“I do remember you saying that. I’m confident it’ll work itself out and we’ll end up where we’re supposed to be. But I also know how good of a worker you are, and they’d be dumb not to hire you,” Isaac squeezed your hand.

Your cheeks heated up, “Well, you’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he hummed, “but it’s definitely justified. And who knows where we’ll end up, or what you’ll end up doing. Just have to have faith it’ll work itself out.”

“You’re right, per usual.”

He laughed, “Having faith in you and your abilities rarely fails me. Except when it comes to cooking and writing. Jesus Christ.”

Reaching across, you shoved his shoulder, “Rude! Who helped you pass chemistry? I carried our group in that class.”

“You did,” he placated, “but if memory serves me correctly, I carried you through English.”

You laughed, “Fair.”

Before anything else could be said, the waiter brought your food and other drinks. He set everything out, “Anything else I can get for you guys?”

“That’s it for now, thanks,” Isaac answered with a polite smile.

The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving the two of you, especially Isaac to dig into your food. Not much was said between the two of you, mostly focused on the food.

When he finished, Isaac handed the waiter his card to pay, and you pushed the last half of toast around your plate, offering it to him.

“Thanks,” he took it off your plate.

“Hey did you want to go for a walk after this?” you asked him.

Isaac nodded immediately, “Sounds great.”

The two of you left soon after, one last goodbye to the hostess, and walked down the sidewalk hand in hand. The park was a few blocks down, and when you got there, a children’s choir was singing Christmas carols.

You pulled Isaac to a stop, “I want to listen for a few minutes.”

He relented, listening to them sing O Holy Night, arms around your waist from behind, chin resting on your head.

After a few minutes, he mused, “They’re pretty good.”

“Carolers, it’s always better when they’re good.”

“That’s for sure,” Isaac agreed.

The two of you stayed a few more songs before continuing on your walk. Isaac kept it pretty short, going back to the car after about 20 minutes, which was fine with you, the cold was starting to catch up.

When he started the drive back to your apartment, he asked, “What did you want to do for the rest of the day?”

You thought for a few seconds, “I have some puzzles my mom sent.”

Isaac nodded almost immediately, “Absolutely. We can watch movies and do puzzles.”

“Elite plan.”

When you got back to the apartment, Isaac put Home Alone in the DVD player while you went to pull the puzzles out of your drawer.

“Easiest one first,” he requested, so you picked and dumped it out before propping the top to see what it was supposed to look like.

It was a chill afternoon, the two of you working in relative silence, just spending time together and soaking in each other’s company. You got through the first two Home Alone movies before starting Elf.

“Should we order dinner?” Isaac asked after the second puzzle was finished.

“Sure. We could get tacos.”

“Great idea.”

You pulled out your phone to open the delivery app and to him to let him pick what he wanted. Isaac picked fajitas before handing it back and you quickly selected tacos before placing the order.

“Should be about 30 minutes,” you informed him, “Do you want to start another puzzle?”

“Sure,” he answered, dumping out the third and final puzzle pieces.

“This one’s gonna be hard,” you muttered, biting your lip as you started fishing through the pieces for all the corners to start.

“Two nerds take on a Rudolph puzzle. Who will win?”

“We shall see.”

The two of you worked until there was a knock on the door and you went to grab the food from the delivery guy. You’d tipped on the app but handed him cash too before wishing him a good day.

Isaac had moved to the kitchen, fixing both of you something to drink before sitting at the dining room table, waiting on the food. You paused the movie before sitting down where he’d laid out your food.

“Thanks,” you told him quietly, and he smiled, nodding at you.

One of your favorite things about being with Isaac was that there was never a need to be talking. Sitting in silence with him was comfortable, just soaking in each other’s company. He was super expressive with facial expressions, you could always tell what he was thinking, so verbal communication just wasn’t necessary. Co-existing in the same space was enough.

After eating, the two of you went back to the puzzle. It took well past 2:00 a.m. to finish it and you took a shower, falling into bed after. You tried to wait on Isaac to get out of the shower, but fell asleep.

He did wake you up when he slid into bed and whispered, “Merry Christmas, lovely.”

Cracking your eyes open, still half asleep, you slurred out, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Goodnight, get some sleep.”

“Mhmm, you too.”

Christmas Day

You woke up first this time, blinking at the sunlight filtering through your blinds. Isaac was still breathing evenly, pressed against you.

Unable to stop yourself, you turned around in his arms and lightly started tracing his relaxed facial features with your fingertip. His lips were soft, and you got lost in tracing them.

When he shifted, you moved up his cheek to his nose, cheekbones, and brow bone. Eventually, when you’d done your fill, you started running your hand through his hair, combing it out with your fingers.

Isaac hummed, pressing into it as he started to wake up. You brushed a kiss across his cheek, and he opened his eyes, beaming sleepily.

“Morning,” he rasped.

“Morning,” you whispered back.

Isaac placed a light kiss on your lips, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

Inhaling sharply, he asked you, “Pizza and wings for dinner? Do you have something for breakfast?”

“Yeah, I think there’s a roll of store bought cinnamon rolls.”

“Excellent,” he beamed, “I’ll go start on those.”

Climbing out of bed he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth before heading to the kitchen. You heart the coffee maker start a few minutes later before the fridge opened.

It was nice. Not the first Christmas you’d spent with him, but the best one thus far. Just as you went to get out of bed, your phone started vibrating on the nightstand.

Eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway, “Hello?”

They asked your name and when you told them, the man said, “We reviewed your application and interview, and I wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to go in a different direction. When you graduate we’d love to talk to you again about a full time position.”

Your heart sank. A rejection call on Christmas Day. After a few stunned seconds, you managed, “Thanks for letting me know. Um, have a Merry Christmas.”

“Thanks ma’am. You as well.”

You sat in bed, phone still pressed to your ear, covers pooled over your lap as you tried to process what had just happened. Isaac walked in a few second later, mug of coffee in his hand.

He frowned at your face, “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t get the internship,” you whispered.

“Oh no, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he said, equally as quiet, and tilted your chin up to kiss your forehead.

“It’s okay. I knew there were a lot of candidates. But did he have to call me on Christmas Day.”

“I’m not sure. Did he say anything else?”

“He said to re-apply once I graduate.”

“That sounds promising, yeah?”

You hummed, “I guess. I think I want to check my emails.”

“Do you want to wait till after breakfast and coffee?” he asked, still looking concerned.

You thought for a bit, “No. If I feel sick I don’t want to ruin the food.”

“Okay. I’ll give you some space.”

Opening your laptop hesitantly, you pulled up your emails. There was one from the company, the official rejection letter, and one from your professor. He apologized, saying you were more than qualified and to not let it deter you.

You weren’t sure how he found out, but you sighed. The last paragraph was interesting though. He offered you a research position in his project and a TA job for one of his intro courses.

It wasn’t what you had intended, but there was an opportunity for experience and research. You drafted up a response, thanking him and accepting his offer. Right before closing your laptop, your email dinged and he’d responded.

I’m so glad to hear that! Meet me in my office the Monday before classes at noon and we’ll discuss the position further!

Revived, you hopped out of bed to tell Isaac. He cheered for you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I told you it would work out.”

~

days 20-25 of @obxmermaid’s holiday challenge: alone on christmas, christmas lights, cooking holiday dinner, christmas caroling, christmas eve, waking up christmas morning

[poptod]

The Ivory Haunting pt. 4 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: It’s getting a little harder to exist with your truth.

Notes: its such a struggle to find new gifs for stories these days (cause i fucking used all of them already). also quick note: this starts off kinda spooky and depressing but theres also some heavy petting shit going on WC: 2.3k

+

They come to you at any moment. Terrorizing your normal life. You hadn't considered this, hadn't even thought of it becoming reality, but it's true and clear enough to see by now.

It's ripping you apart, slowly. You're not really supposed to be here, but are you even yourself anymore? When had the change occurred when you were no longer familiar in the mirror, when you expected nails doused in Egyptian blue rather than the plain ones on your hands? Sometimes you don't respond to your name––ever since remembering the name you carried as a servant, it stuck in your head. Plaguing you. Tearing down the life you've made, duct-taping in its' place Ahk's life for you.

Memories can make you sick, and they often do, striking you anytime something remotely reminds you of something you used to know. Unlike the first time it happened, you can't seem to stay fully conscious. Now you're missing the feeling of blacking out – it's safer than when you collapse to the floor, waking up with bile in your mouth.

How dreadfully pathetic you've grown.

You barely sleep but can't seem to stay awake, desperate for rest but unable to reach it. Most food doesn't sit well in your stomach––for the past five days you've eaten three pieces of toast and drank your weight in water. Fortunately it doesn't physically show all that much, so it allows you an excuse as to why you still won't tell Ahk. He doesn't notice. He doesn't need to, and it's not important.

Your laugh is quiet, and rare these days, so it delights Ahk when you do. By now he's noticed your anxiety––he's horribly protective of you, but he understands what boundaries are. Just wants what will make you happy. So he spends time making sure there are more people in the room than just the two of you, moving the pressure of conversation off you. When he does want to speak to you alone, he takes you on these long walks.

It's cold as fuck.

Sleet lines the sidewalks, wet and slimy and full of dirt spiralling off car wheels. It can't even be called snow anymore––it's just a slush, but fortunately the actual sidewalks are still walkable. Like most evenings these days the streets are empty, barren of conversation and a social desert. That's what's safe, but it still puts you on edge. The only other movement ––cars included––is a man about a block in front of you, smoking something beside the only open store; a Tesco.

"Whoof," Ahk says as you get closer, his hand sneaking up around your waist to pull you closer. You don't trust that guy either. "That.. is very strong."

"What is?" You ask softly, looking up at him.

"That smell. I think it's what he's smoking. Can you not smell it?"

"No," you say, though you don't particularly mind. Tobacco isn't an all-too pleasant smell.

"You'll see soon, we'll have to pass him anyway," he mumbles, rubbing circles into your side with his thumb when he feels your shoulders tense.

You step slightly into Ahk's side as you pass the smoker, your mask already on from the moment you saw him. Ahk doesn't wear one––which is fair, since he's already dead and can't get sick––but this man doesn't seem like he cares whether or not you have a mask. You avert your eyes as you pass him. He does the exact opposite; stares at you, blowing a hefty cloud of smoke into your face.

That's not tobacco. Not at all. You can't even tell what it is, but it makes your vision spot out, head swirling in your skull as you lose your balance. Your eyes shut the moment you try to blink.

"Don't pay attention to him," he whispers against your temple, barely having to move with you pressed against his side.

What little sunlight gets through the tented room is turned a vibrant red, casted onto the carpet with swirling designs. They reflect from the tapestries hung on the ceilings, drooping just slightly and lined with knotted fringes. The doorway is made of the same thin cloth, a tiny crack between the two flaps letting pure sun seep in, illuminating the smoke dancing just below the ceiling.

The whole room is shaped in a circle, allowing a ring of seats, all of which are taken up by people you don't know. The prince knows them––or he says he knows them––but that in no way comforts you. Just because he's nice doesn't mean the people he knows are. They certainly don't seem nice, eyeing you up and gauging your thoughts, sizing you down to what they can get away with. It's a look you're familiar with; you got a lot of them when you were on sale, sat outside in the boiling sun all day till your skin cracked.

And suddenly you're property again. Time with Ahk sort of... made you forget about that. You're not sure if that's a good or a bad thing.

While some of the smoke in the small, humid room is coming from burning incense, the majority of it is coming from a strange glass and metal mechanism the men are handing back and forth. The smoke isn't all that thick like the incense, but the smell is pungent––unlike anything you've smelled before, which is strange, since according to Ahk it's a plant he gave you once.

He hasn't told you what it is he's smoking, giving you that single hint before falling quiet with a sly, mischievous smile. When the mechanism is handed to him he doesn't hesitate––sets his lips upon the mouthpiece and intakes a deep breath. He fiddles with something on the side that you can't see before letting go, a long breath tainted with heavy smoke leaving his chest. It spins in the air, curls in the rays of sunlight, dancing in a way that shouldn't be beautiful but mystifies you.

Their eyes are still on you. Your chest constricts, mind telling you that you mustn't move, too terrified of making the wrong one. Even breathing is suspect as the eyes drag back up to your face, demanding you look to them.

You don't.

The soft conversation in the room isn't enough to steady your nerves, and to your immense relief the prince notices. He leans away from you, towards the man that owns the smoking den, muttering something in his ear that gets him to stand. You don't miss the bag of coin Ahk slips him, either. Though the man's eyes do fall to you for a moment he doesn't linger, calling the rest of those gathered to leave the tent.

When the last person steps out your shoulders instantly release their tension, your breathing once more returning to you.

"Better?" He asks you.

You nod. He's had his arm around the back of your seat the entire time, but without outside stimulus, it's now all you can feel. His skin is always warm, always soft, but you never give into it first. He has to initiate it. So as much as you want to lean into him and rest your head against him, you don't.

"Have you ever smoked?" He asks, reaching forward to put the glass contraption back in his lap.

"No," you say. "What is it?"

"It's... a mix of things. Won't do much but calm you down," he assures you, and though you know that's probably not the whole truth, you allow him to hand it to you anyway.

It's a little heavy––the weight is unbalanced, but Ahk helps balance it in your lap, instructing you with his hands in how to use it. When you take in the smoke––or is it vapor?––it slides hot down your throat, drying you out and swelling in your lungs. A long sigh allows the smoke to leave you, plumes of it coming from your lips and drifting up into the low ceiling. You don't cough but you do need water.

"See?" He says. "That was a very smooth draw. I'm impressed."

You blush a bright red at the compliment, visible even in the dim of the room, and he doesn't even give you the courtesy of hiding his reaction. He chuckles softly, leans over and presses a kiss to your temple before taking in more smoke.

Two more draws and you're feeling it heavy on your skull. There's pressure around your chest, like you're being squeezed, but it's a pleasant sensation. A bit like being hugged. Everything else is just warm––dry on your tongue, hot on your cheeks and down between your thighs. You shift in your seat, hoping to relieve some of the pressure without giving anything away. How inappropriately your body reacts to something simple in the presence of the Prince.

"You're very quiet company," he notes softly, and you can feel his eyes on the top of your head. Slowly you turn, meeting his almost concerned gaze. "Do you ever have anything on your mind? You can speak freely around me."

Now he has to ask you what you're thinking about? Now of all times? Couldn't have done it when the two of you were staring at the stars, or when he took you by the riverside––it has to be now, when all you can think about is the places on you he hasn't touched, places that burn with desperation to be touched for once, away from the hunger affection's absence has given you.

Now.

"My mind is... a little... not alive right now," you say in slow, enunciated words that shake on your lips.

"Ah, yes," he says as though he understands, and considering how familiar he was with smoking, you're sure he does. But he lets out a soft sigh as he speaks, leaning into you as you press your back against a wall of cushions, allowing him to rest his head upon your chest. "I understand perfectly well. Blue lotus can do that. Mmm..."

He drifts off, words falling flat as he moves against you. Not once does he stop––just keeps shifting till he's wedged gently between your legs, lips on your collar. It isn't quite fear that courses through you, though it is familiar in a way that should be frightening. Just the touch is familiar, and with each grace you can feel echoes in your mind of other times you were touched in such ways. Times where you didn't have a choice. His fingers run down your back, and now he feels the marks of whips.

He's felt them before. When he feels them again, his kisses are softer, sweeter on your skin than anyone before ever cared to do. Your heart beats out of its' chest but you know you can make him stop. You find you don't especially want to––that heat between your legs couples nicely with the feel of his hips on yours, pushing and grinding against you until a moan falls unwillingly from your mouth.

Too good––your body shakes at simple stimulation, too sensitive just from his hand climbing lower against your waist. You breathe in sharply each time his fingertips brush your skin. It's then that he rests his palm on your knee, climbing upwards on the skin of your thighs. You know he can feel your nerves––it practically burns you, but he chuckles, rumbles warm against your chest as he just climbs higher. The tip of his thumb reaches your heat and you jump, shocked at the sudden gentle touch.

"Breathe, my love," he murmurs right in your ear, low and sweet and oh so assuring. "Breathe."

Your eyes flutter shut, darkness encompassing you as his touch turns cold.

"(Y/N)? Breathe, please," he pants out, hands unable to choose which part of you to hold; your face, your hands, your waist. You open your eyes and the stars are above you, muted by a bright streetlight.

"Ahk?" You mumble, half-slurred in your half-conscious state. There’s a piercing freeze around you.

"There you are," he says, relief staining his eyes with tears when he pulls you into a tight hug, practically ripping you away from the cold ground and into his touch. You melt into him––of course you do.

"Shit, I'm sorry man," says a strange voice, rough and soft-spoken. You turn away from Ahk, finding the smoking man above you, his cigarette put out on the ground a few feet away. "Didn't know you had asthma. You should probably get that checked out, could'a died without an inhaler."

"Why.. didn't I, then?" You ask quietly, still unable to fully keep your balance.

"I had an inhaler," another voice says. Over Ahk's shoulder there's yet another stranger, but this one has a mask. "Don't worry about the germs, I disinfected it before we used it," he assures you.

"Thank you," you mutter.

You sway even in your seated position, counting on Ahk to catch you, which he does. Your head lolls onto his shoulder as he moves to his feet. Before leaving he thanks both strangers––even the one who caused it, since he's nice––and keeps you close as the two of you head back to the museum.

"You didn't tell me you have asthma," Ahk says, one arm still set protectively around you.

"I don't," you answer hoarsely.

"Oh. Then what do you think caused it?"

"Maybe it's the scent," you say, as nothing rings clearer in your mind than the scent of burning blue lotus.

"Makes sense. The man––he told me he was smoking blue lotus. Have you ever been around that before?"

There’s your trigger right there, then.

"... no," you say. It's technically true; you, as yourself, in this body, have never been around it.

"I'll make sure to keep it away from you, now that we know. Alright?"

"Yeah, um.. yes. Thank you," you mumble, leaning into him with eyes that can't seem to stay open.

"Of course, my love."

[miss-noo-na]

Protected (Wonho fluff/smut)

Title: Protected

Featuring: Wonho (Monsta x) x Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: You’ve acquired a stoic bodyguard who is cramping your style, but you may be able to get him to open up.

Note: I’m sorry this took longer than expected! Between the flu and the global pandemic I’ve been a little stressed, to say the least. This was a commission, and you can get your own commission from me if you’d like! Check my sidebar for more info under “requests”

You sat at the vanity putting the final touches to your lips, eyes concentrating on the rogue you applied with a brush but drifting now and then to the space behind you. In the mirror you could see Wonho by the door, diligent as ever.

When your father had first proposed the idea of giving you a personal bodyguard you laughed, convinced he was joking, but his stern tone said otherwise. Your father was an important business man, whose money funneled directly into politics, and thus made him a saint of some and an enemy of others. You were often regarded as nothing more than a socialite, an heiress to his fortune. You weren’t the typical fundie kid, though, you preferred your privacy.

It didn’t keep you from being a target of scrutiny, but you hardly thought that warranted your own secret service. It was an election year and your father was rubbing elbows with the elites, which he said was the perfect time to “acquire” someone for you.

You had expected someone from the movies, a big bald guy in sunglasses with a sneer, not the babyfaced boy who showed up. You almost laughed when you saw him, until he stood up and you took in his stature and the apparent strength hidden under his suit.

He was quiet, for the most part, concentrating on his task. You had tried to talk to him, it was a nervous habit of yours to speak out loud to whoever was in the room, but he never said much back. It had been months now and you had barely learned a thing about him, but he apparently knew enough about you.

“You can relax, Brutus,” You joked as you waited for him to look at you, and he did. He peered over at you through the glass and you smiled, but he simply turned back to looking ahead.

You were in NYC for the duration of the summer, attending events with your father. You could have stayed home or gone somewhere else, you were an adult of course, but he insisted you come along because it “looked good” to have a family in toe at these things. You hated it, it meant being cooped up in hotel rooms and only going to places he designated.

You dropped your brush and stood up, smoothing your hands down your skirt to flatten any wrinkles.”How do I look?” You asked, turning toward him. He only glanced at you.

“Fine.”

“Gee, you sure know how to compliment a girl.”

You snatched up your purse, indicating you were ready to go, and Wonho led you out into the hall and down into the lobby for your ride. You were having brunch with your father before his afternoon meetings.

He accompanied you to the restaurant in the back of the limo, and when you entered the building he remained near the front. You went ahead without him, meeting your father on the patio and ordering a mimosa as you sat.

“Don’t you think it’s a little early, dear.” Your father said without looking up from his menu.

“This drink is the only fun I’m going to be having here.”

“That’s nonsense, the gala is coming up.”

You sighed, because he didn’t get it. You wanted to go galavanting, to explore, to hang out in the village or walk the Brooklyn bridge, something other than the boring events you had been dragged to your entire life.

“Where is Mr. Lee?” He asked then, and it took a moment to register.

“Oh, by the door I think. Hey, you couldn’t hire someone less uptight?” You asked, sipping from your flute.

“Uptight? He’s a bodyguard, not your friend.” Your father responded with an annoyed look. He never cared much for your free-wheeling attitude and had tried in vain for many years to set you on the straight and narrow.

“I’m just saying, if he has to be around me all the time, he could at least be a little more talkative.”

Your father sighed. “Just pretend he isn’t there.”

The rest of brunch went about as expected, your father going on and on about campaigns and business jargon you didn’t care about, and you pretending to be interested. Every now and then he’d make a fussy remark about where you were going in life and you would say something sarcastic and he would move on. You loved your father, but you didn’t love being under his thumb all the time.

“I want you to go straight back to the hotel.” He insisted as he pulled out his credit card to pay once you were finished.

“What was the point of bringing me here if I wasn’t going to have any fun?”

“I told you, you’ll have fun a-”

“At the gala, got it.” You huffed as you both stood, giving him a peck on the cheek before you made your way back into the restaurant. You could see Wonho just outside the front of the entrance and paused in your steps, glancing back at where your father was and to the front once more. A devious thought came over you as you eyed the exit near the bar, and changed the trajectory of your steps without seeming suspicious.

You exited out onto the sidewalk and smiled triumphantly, thwarting both your father and your bodyguard. You walked down the sidewalk with a hop in your step, wondering where you would spend the rest of the afternoon, pulling out your phone to see what was around. As you walked toward a main street, you were engulfed at the list of shops on your device and didn’t see the hand reaching up from behind you.

You gasped as someone grasped you by the arm, making you drop your phone, and you swung yourself around ready to fight a would-be mugger, only to see it was Wonho, who did not look happy.

You forcibly removed your arm from his grasp and glared at him. “Thanks, asshole.” You said as you knelt down to pick up your phone, wiping it of debris and relieved it wasn’t cracked.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked in a loud, firm tone that reminded you way too much of your father.

“Wherever the hell I want to.”

“Not according to your father and my direct orders.”

You sighed and let your eyes roll toward the sky. “You do know I’m an adult, right?”

“Do you think I want to chase after you? I’m just doing my job.”

You could feel frustration welling up inside you, pressing to the brim of what you had been dealing with lately under the stress of the year. Wonho’s face relaxed as he looked at you, noticing that you were tearing up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

You waved a hand and tried to look away. “It’s not you. I’m sorry I’m being a handful, I just-” You let out a heaved breath as you tried to catch a stray tear with your fingertips.

Wonho hung there awkwardly, glancing around to make sure there were no on-lookers. He glanced down the street and spotted a coffee shop on the corner.

“Come on,” He nudged your elbow gently and gestured with his head to follow him.

A few minutes later you sat by the window staring into a cappuccino with a swirly design in the foam. He drank something black and iced, sitting opposite you in a strangely comforting silence, save for the busy sounds of the cafe.

“He doesn’t seem to get that I’m a fully formed person, he just sees me as this weird accessory he can take around to parties.”

Wonho nodded sagely, watching you in a way that made it feel like he was really listening, something you weren’t accustomed to.

“I used to have a little more freedom, but the more his life changes the more he tries to change mine and I hate it.”

“I can’t say I understand,” He paused to sip his drink. “But I can see how it would be frustrating. Have you tried talking to him?”

You sighed and let out a humorless chuckle. “Doesn’t matter, it’s all in one ear and out the other with him, unless it's about money.”

“I feel a bit weird giving you advice on this since he’s the one that hired me to do what you don’t want me to do.” Wonho laughed and you were surprised at how different his face looked when he smiled. For someone so intimidating on the outside, there was a softness in the way he spoke.

“I don’t blame you, I get that it's your job. Also, I’ve never heard you speak this much.”

“I try to keep some distance from clients.”

“You’re not doing a very good job.” You smiled at him and he laughed back, eyes creasing as they locked with yours and you felt a twitch in your chest.

“We should go back to the hotel,” You said solemnly. And Wonho was quiet for a moment.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you wanted to look around for a little bit.” He said, faintly almost as if to himself.

“What? Really?” You asked, eyes widening.

“Yeah I mean, I’ll be with you, so you’ll be perfectly safe.” He shrugged.

It was risky, but you were going to do it anyway, so what better time than with him accompanying you? You finished your drinks and made your way toward the shops you had spotted before. Though he still kept his distance, he walked a little closer than before, taking in the surroundings of each store and trailing you as you browsed around. Every now and then you spoke to him, showing him something silly you found or making comments, and to your surprise he actually answered this time, and you were delighted at being able to draw a chuckle out of him now and again. The longer you explored, the closer he got and the more you chatted, until it felt like you were just two friends on a lunch date.

“I’m not much for earrings,” You told the sales woman at a shop, leaning over the jewelry counter as she tried to hard-sell you on some items.

“Ah, but these would look precious on you, just ask your boyfriend,” the woman smiled and gestured to Wonho, who hadn’t been paying attention and looked up at the mention of “boyfriend”.

“Oh, I’m not-” He started to say, but you interrupted him.

“What, you wouldn’t like me in these, sweetie?” You asked him, holding the earrings up to your ears and smiling innocently. You saw a blush creep across his cheeks.

“They’re...fine.” He said as he swallowed. You were surprised at how easy it was to work him up, but now that you knew you decided to have fun with it.

You placed the earnings down before reaching out and locking your arm around his, pulling him over to the counter and hugging into his side. “What do you like?”

He looked down at you trying to convey his serious business face, but he looked embarrassed instead.

“Silver is nice.” He offered with a shrug.

You peered down into the case and scanned the trinkets until you laid eyes on a silver locket.

“That one.”

The woman produced the locket from the case, a heavy heart with intricate details that you quite liked. You lifted the locket in your hands and turned to Wonho.

“Help me put it on,” You smiled, handing it over to him and pushing your hair up as you turned around. You could tell he was fumbling, but eventually he got it around your neck and closed the clasp. You did a twirl back in his direction.

“How does it look?” You asked, looking down at how it fell perfectly on your chest. When you looked up, Wonho was staring at it intently, cheeks still warm.

“It's really nice.” He said with a nod, and you noted the sincerity in his voice which made a funny tingle sweep up your neck and ears hearing it.

“Great,” You said, turning back toward the woman, “I’ll take it.”

You paid and wore the necklace out of the store, and noticed Wonho dragging behind. You stopped and reached out to playfully poke his arm.

“I didn’t make you too uncomfortable, did I?”

“Only a little.” He half-smiled. “I’m just worried about someone seeing us.”

“Who could possibly see us?” You said.

“You never know, I can only imagine how your father would react.”

“Well he’s not here, and let's keep it that way.” You said, trying to keep the annoyance out of your tone just by the mention of him. Wonho seemed to notice and the subject was dropped as you carried on for the rest of the afternoon, staying out later than either of you intended, but you were actually having fun for the first time in ages and you didn’t want it to end.

“It’s almost dinner time.” You mentioned, glancing at the time on your phone.

“Are you meeting with your father?” Wonho asked, gauging what to do next.

“Was supposed to, thinking of just telling him I’m staying in.” You grumbled, not in the mood to eat with his boring lawyer friends and get condescended to.

“Hey, why don’t we just grab some food and you come up to my room and watch a movie with me.” You said then, knowing it was a bit of a bold statement, but you were tired of being alone all the time, and if he had to be around you, you might as well make it fun.

“I’m not supposed to be in your room after 6pm.” Wonho said with a surprised look on his face, and you wanted to laugh.

“Who is gonna know? We’re not doing anything wrong, I just want someone to hang out with and you’re surprisingly fun when you’re not being the terminator.”

“Gee, thanks,” He responded, but was humored by it, and took a moment to consider your offer.

“One movie, that’s it.”

You happily texted your father to let him know you were tired and you’d be ordering room service tonight, and he let it go without a thought, assuring you Wonho would be nearby if you needed anything. He just didn’t know exactly how close by he really was.

You acquired your take out and a few snacks for the road and headed upstairs. The suite had a living room set up which made it perfect for having company. Wonho made sure he stayed as far to one side of the couch as possible, commenting that it would be unseemly if he got too close. You admired his diligence to his job and his dedication to being a gentleman.

Once the action flick you selected had started and you were consumed in your feast, he seemed to ease up, relaxing and becoming more talkative. You found you shared a similar sense of humor and you liked making him laugh, it was pleasant to your ears, and you couldn’t fight the warm feeling in your chest that stirred up from your stomach the more he opened up.

“You’re actually pretty funny, I’m surprised.” You teased him after the movie had ended, and he feigned offense.

“Even if it doesn’t seem like it, I do have a life and a personality outside of this job.” He assured you.

“Oh? Wife and kids? boyfriend? Cat?” You asked, placing your chin on your fist.

“None of the above,”

“Not even a friend with benefits?”

Wonho turned red in response. “My work doesn’t really allow for th- I mean I can’t really-” He fumbled over his words.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, I get it.”  You nodded, “Sounds lonely, though.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’d know about that.” He said faintly, then his eyes went wide. “I didn’t mean that to come off rude, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right. I’ve been locked inside a lot of ivory towers in my day.”

“You’re an adult, why don’t you just leave?” He asked honestly.

“He would find a way to make my life hell, in the name of it being “for my own good,” You did air-quotes. “Truthfully, I want to start college next year, and I can’t afford it without him, so I’m playing as nice as I can now so I can book it out of here as soon as possible.”

“I don’t fault you for that.”

“Thanks, sometimes I feel like a spoiled brat and tell myself to just shut up and stop complaining, but it doesn’t help the way I feel.”

“No one wants to be lonely.”

There was silence and you both stared at nothing, letting it sink in. You were more alike than you had thought.

“I should be going,” He stood then, and you saw him to the door.

“Thanks for putting up with me today.” You said, referring to the entire time you’d had from brunch til now. “You’re not getting paid to hang out with me, but I’m glad you did anyway.”

“Believe it or not, I had fun, too.” He smiled before he pulled the door open, telling you goodnight before making sure the coast was clear and leaving for his room.

Once he was gone and you were left to the empty suite, you felt a strange mix of emotions. Elated at having had such a wonderful time with him, but a little sad he was gone and maybe a little silly for feeling that way, too. You couldn’t deny there was something developing, some nagging little feelings in the pit of your stomach, but it wouldn’t be wise to let them grow.

You figured it might go back to business as usual after that, and for the most part around others it did, but when you were alone you could chat like good friends, joke around, and overall make the situation better for the both of you. You didn’t feel as stifled around him now, and he was more lenient when the timing called for it, allowing you to stop for coffee or check out a nearby store between meetings and luncheons with your father.

It was also to your surprise that he didn’t stop coming to your room to watch TV and hang out, sometimes you would get to talking and the next thing you knew it was 3AM, and he would have to be careful lest someone notice him and think something unsavory was going on. It never was, though. He was always kind and friendly and though many men could have taken advantage of the situation, he didn’t, even though sometimes you wished he would.

There was no denying your full-blown crush on him now, and sometimes you wondered if it was because he was the only man around your age you got to be in contact with. But when you saw that smile and learned more and more about him, you realized you were doomed either way.

The night of the gala came and though you liked getting dressed up, you knew you were in for a snoozefest. Wonho would be there, but he would be delegated to the sidelines to do his job. You wished you were back in the hotel, watching a movie together and hearing him laugh.

“Dear, this is Steven.” Your father interrupted your thoughts to introduce you to yet another partner’s son. They were all the same, recently graduated, “working their way up”, and interested in getting to know you. You couldn’t care less.

But you smiled and shook his hand like all the others and when your father left the two of you alone, you silently prayed he would get bored quickly and leave.

“Your father is a great man.”

They always thought kissing up to you about your dad was a great strategy, but truly it wasn’t. You could spot an ass-kissing from a mile away.

“I suppose so.”

“I’m headed over to the bar, do you need anything?”

“A gin and tonic.” You said, as you might as well get something out of this exchange.

You turned and made eye contact with Wonho across the room and mimic’d hanging yourself, which made him laugh but he quickly pulled his lips together to try and suppress it, shaking his head at you.

Steven returned with your drink and you thanked him, and then he started to talk. This was always the spiel portion of the exchange, where he rambled on about his dad’s company or place in politics and thought it would impress you.

“I never knew he had a daughter.” He said, coming back to the subject of your father.

“Papa doesn’t let me out of the attic often.” You nodded as you sipped your drink. Steven stared at you and seemed to fight to find his words.

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh, of course. Funny, too, the whole package.”

The way he smiled at you made your skin crawl and you were getting some decidedly “off” vibes from this dude, and it didn’t seem he would be leaving anytime soon. He started to follow you around the gala, chatting incessantly, and you tried your best to give little in response, without being rude. As uncomfortable as this was, you would never hear the end of it from your father if you blew this guy off.

“I need to make a trip to the facilities.” You interrupted him, downing the rest of your drink before hurrying away to the bathroom. You mostly stood in front of the mirror, re-applying lipstick and checking your phone, trying to give it enough time for Steven to give up and find someone else to bother. When you exited, you hadn’t expected him to be there in the hall.

“Just making sure you made it back okay.” He grinned.

“Yep, I’m fine.” You said attempting to move past him, but you were surprised when he positioned himself to stop you.

“Hey, I know these parties are a drag, trust me my dad insists I come to them all the time. We could always go somewhere else?”

You didn’t like the way he leaned into you, his breath hot and heavy with alcohol.

“I should probably stay.” You said, trying to slowly wedge yourself on his side to slip away. He was more bold this time as he closed the gap, his body almost against yours.

“Aw c’mon, there are definitely some more exciting places we could go.” He drawled, one hand raising so he could caress your bare arm from the shoulder down. A cringe went through you to the bone and you stepped back, scowling, ready to tear him a new one, but before you could even open your mouth there was a voice from down the hall.

“Everything okay over here?”

You looked over Steven’s shoulder and saw Wonho, and instantly felt relief. Steven glanced over his shoulder but he was still blocking your path.

“We’re fine, buddy.” He called out to the unknown source, but when he got closer Steven could see how much bigger he was than him and straightened up. This gave you the opportunity to slide past him and over to Wonho.

“Are you okay?” Wonho leaned in and said quietly, and you gently shook your head. Wonho looked up and glared at Steven, just as he circled your waist and laid a protective hand on your lower back, steering you away.

“Listen, we were just fine until-”

“Until what?” Wonho asked, inviting him to dare come up with an excuse as to why he was stalking a girl into a dark hallway. This wasn’t an invitation for him to continue, but a warning from Wonho to keep quiet.

“Nothing, man.” Steven mumbled and shambled past the both of you, saying something under his breath as he scurried off.

“Thank God, that dude was giving me the creeps.” You shuddered.

“Did he touch you?” Wonho asked, looking down at you, and only then did you really realize he was still holding you, but you felt warm and safe so you didn’t move out of it.

“He got a creepy little feel on my arm, but you could tell he wanted to do more than that.”

You were surprised at the look on his face with your words. Of course he would be concerned, it was his job, but it almost seemed like he was taking it personally.

Just then, he too realized where his hand was and quickly dropped it away, taking a step back. “Would you like to go back to the party?”

“Actually I’m going to tell my father I’m headed back to the hotel, I’ve had enough for one night.”

Wonho nodded, following you out of the hall and waiting as you said goodbye, turning down invitations to stay longer. Back at the hotel, you wondered if it was too late to have a night in.

“You wanna watch a movie?”

Wonho looked at his watch, “It’s a little late.”

“And everyone is at the gala, but if you’re too tired…”

“No, I’m fine, let me go change.”

You felt an excited flip in your stomach, agreeing to see him in a few minutes and going to remove your dress and makeup to change into something more comfortable. You really felt at ease around Wonho, no matter how you looked or what you were doing.

He returned dressed down as well, and you popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave as he perused the movie channels, settling on a recent comedy.

Once the two of you were settled in, and halfway through the mostly boring flick, you wanted to mention something to him.

“Thanks for earlier, I really appreciated it.”

“Just doing my job” He shrugged, “I noticed you were gone after talking to that guy. I didn’t want to assume anything, but you didn’t seem like you were having the greatest time talking to him.”

“Your instinct would be correct, I don’t enjoy talking to any of the guys at those events.” You explained.

“Not your type, I guess?”

You laughed, “Not at all. You really think I would want to date some stuffy politician or daddys boy? I could never.”

“Yeah, I can’t see you going after that, either.” He chuckled at the mere thought. “Who do you usually go for?”

You were taken aback by the question, not expecting him to really care. The way he waited for your response made you nervous in an excited way, maybe he asked because he was interested?

“Smart, strong, kind.” You listed, not at all unaware that these were the exact words you would use to describe him.

“I can’t imagine it's easy to date with how things are.”

“I could say the same for you.”

He had always been hushhush about those things. Even on your late night talks, he had talked about everything from his childhood to his work, but he never mentioned anything about current, past, or potential partners.

“I bet you’d be a real protective boyfriend,” You smiled. “That’s why you take these kinds of jobs, it's not just work, you really care about your clients. I mean, at least that's what it seems like.”

“No, you’re right.” He nodded, and the sincerity in his voice struck you. “I have to admit when I first got assigned to you, I thought you were just some pain in the ass rich girl.”

“Thanks,” You laughed.

“I don’t mean that now! You definitely proved me wrong.”

You looked at each other for a moment too long and had to turn away when the heat building up in your face was too much.

“I’m glad we’ve gotten to know each other, but I kind of regret it, too.” He said honestly.

“Why is that?”

“Ah, I shouldn’t say.”

He avoided eye contact now, too. You could almost say he looked bashful. “I already said too much.”

You found yourself scooting across the couch closer to him. “Tell me.”

He glanced up at you and his smile fell away from his face as he swallowed, taking a second to really consider whether or not he should say it.

“I’ve just gotten a little more protective over you, that’s all. Maybe more than I would over just a client I’m getting paid to watch over.”

You weren’t sure what he was saying, but you had an idea. The prospect excited you, but you didn’t want to think too much into it, so you waited for him to say more.

“I care about you.”

He said it so quiet it was almost a whisper, and his eyes darted around the room again.

“Like, as a friend?” You asked, silently begging for clarification before you made a fool of yourself.

“As a friend and also more than a friend.”

Now all your insides were up in knots, anticipating this moment but also unsure of what to do next.

“I kind of thought you were just a big dumb jock when you came here, but I was also wrong.” You offered, before continuing, “And I care about you a lot, too.”

Wonho looked relieved at your response, his body relaxing as he let out a breath. Yet, there was silence now, as your confessions hung in the air not knowing where to go with it.

You thought you were going to have to be the brave one, but Wonho beat you to it, reaching out to stroke the side of your face. You leaned into it, rubbing your cheek into his palm, comparing it for a moment to how it felt to be touched earlier in the night by Steven and how it contrasted with Wonho now. In fact, it had been a long time since you’d been touched affectionately at all, always alone in your hotel rooms, and you felt the warmth from his skin expand throughout your body, inside and out.

He pulled you toward him, gentle and firm at the same time, bringing his mouth down on yours. Your eyes drifted shut and you came closer to him, your body pressing into his as you surrendered to the feeling.

A need started to build up, you both felt it, all the unspoken tension of being in this room together, so close and so far apart. You wondered for how long he felt this way, if he’d been pining for you like you had for him. The way he deepened your kiss and became hungry for your skin, you believed it had been awhile now.

You were bold when you slinked your way into his lap, and he welcomed you there, one hand on your hip as the other found its way from your face to your hair, gently gripping it and kissing you harder. You held onto his shoulders and loved the way you could wrap yourself around him, unyielding underneath you yet still soft somehow.

He was breathless when he finally came away from your mouth, his eyes alight as he peered up into your face. He kissed you a few more times before they traveled away, down your neck and into the crook of your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around his head and cradled him into you, pressing your chest against his.

When his hands started to roam around, pulling and pushing at fabric, you realized things were going fast, but you didn’t want to stop and neither did he. You questioned only for a brief moment if this was too much too soon, but when you felt his hand glide under your shirt against your stomach, you forcefully silenced the nagging voice, knowing you wanted nothing else in the world.

You pressed your hips down on him, feeling him grow hard against you and smiling against his skin when he let out a little groan. You slowly rocked your hips into him as he ravaged your neck in nips and pecks, pausing briefly at your ear.

“Tell me now if you want me to stop, because I don’t want to stop.” He said through a ragged breath.

“Don’t stop,” You cooed, kissing his jawline.

He let out a satisfied hum as his hands went back to work, this time stripping the clothing, getting them off faster than you had ever even gotten them off yourself, and you giggled at his insistence. He kissed the center of your chest once it was bare to him, and you let out a surprised yelp when he leaned forward and stood up, hoisting you with him as he brought you to the bed.

You plopped down ungracefully, your laughter getting lost when he kissed you again, hovering over you. He paused only to strip his shirt off so you matched, and you took in the sight of him. You could tell a lot through clothing, but apparently not everything. You couldn’t help but caress your fingertips down the curves of his arms, shoulders, and finally to his chest. While you took your time admiring and feeling him, he made work of tugging your sweats down.

“You’re really okay with this?” He asked, and you laughed.

“I’m more than okay, obviously.”

“I just want to be sure, because you n-”

You silenced him with a kiss, one hand trailing from his stomach to the hem of his pants. You fidgeted with the waistband before sliding your hand past both layers to circle his length and he let out a strained sound against your mouth. It may have seemed like you were always locked away from the world, but truthfully you had had your fair share of trysts and not much more.

It was different with Wonho, though. This wasn’t a boy at boarding school you were sneaking away with to an empty classroom, or a rich man’s son you had spent the weekend with in Rome only to never see him again. This was someone you had gotten to know, laughed with, shared feelings with, and when he touched you it was more than physical, and a small part of that scared you.

But you tried to abandon the worry and focus on the here and now, particularly enjoying the effect you were having on him, His eyes had fallen shut and he bowed forward into your touch.You let him go so that you could use both hands to push away the last of the barriers between you.

He took a moment to admire you in your underwear, his hands feeling down your thighs before coming back up to bring the silky garment down with it. You thought he might get to it, but instead his fingers moved deftly between your legs, finding your center and caressing through your folds. You mewled when he found the perfect spot and stroked you there, working you up until he was able to slide a finger inside you, curling it up and working you from inside. Your eyes were threatening to drift shut and you couldn’t help the sounds you made, all the while Wonho staring down at you with want, but also making sure you were an absolute mess before he gave in.

When he got you where he wanted you, gripping the sheets and head falling back, he removed his hand to replace it with his cock, pressing your legs open and taking his time sliding inside. You fell flat on the bed before you arched up from your spine just as he settled himself to the hilt, and rested there to get you used to the girth.

Your hands came to his arms for something to hold onto as he drew out and pressed back in, slow and steady, gradually building up into a rhythm. Soon, his thrusts struck the back of your thighs and you almost couldn’t take it, feeling so full and dazed, all the wanting and wondering about him peaking in this moment.

“Don’t stop,” You reiterated,, not wanting him to do anything other than this, not wanting this feeling to end, almost disappointed that you were already almost there. Your nails dug into his biceps and you yelped when one hand found your center again, his thumb pressing into you in the right way to aid in your release.

“Dont-ah. Don’t stop, please.” You begged, clawing his skin.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me.” He growled, pounding into you just a little bit harder to drive the point home. Before you knew it, you were tumbling over your orgasm and it radiated from the top of your head to your toes, arching back and up against his hand, the force almost driving him out of you.  Wonho was prepared, and he bared down on you, pressing himself deep and letting you ride the waves of pleasure against him.

You had barely recovered when he started to move again, now both his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you against him, sweat beading on the side of his brow as he watched your body writhe under his control.

“Please, please, give it to me.” You whined, holding his forearms and meeting his thrusts with your hips. He let out an elated “ah” before he fell forward, pulsing his release inside you, panting and moaning against your neck.

You waited a long while for your heart rates to decline before he peeled himself off you and fell slack next to you, but were surprised when he pulled you into his chest. You were so used to things ending abruptly and being sent on your way, you had never laid in your post-poitus like this, not caring that he was sweaty as he held you tight and kissed your temple.

You found yourself strangely emotional, wanting to bury yourself in his skin somehow. You nuzzled him with your nose and he hummed happily.

“I’ve never done this before.” You said before you clarified, “the cuddling part.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked as he started to draw away, and you hugged him back.

“No, I like it.”

“Good, so do I.”

You laid in a comfortable silence together, held tight in his arms as he occasionally kissed parts of your face, from between your eyes to your nose and finally your lips.

“What do we do now?” You asked, not wanting to open your eyes just yet.

“For now? I’m going to keep looking after you.” He said with a squeeze, and you were content with that.

[alittleprincehwa]

since childhood ──── ₊˚.𓂸 park seonghwa

pairing ─ ₊˚.𓂸 park seonghwa x gender neutral reader

genre ─ ₊˚.𓂸 angst, fluff

synopsis ─ ₊˚.𓂸 you never believed the saying " never fall for your best friend. " until now.

tags ─ ₊˚.𓂸 childhood best friend seonghwa |

words ─ ₊˚.𓂸 5k+

alexa play ─ ₊˚.𓂸 click here

You walk along the empty neighborhood. The same place you grew up in. Only the reminiscence of your youth remains intact. The lights were the only thing keeping it from complete darkness. Your feet kicked the small rocks and pebbles along your way. It was already midnight, but the caffeine you consumed early morning made you restless.

The wind rushing through you gave you shivers down your spine. Your different layers of clothing kept you from the cold of early winter. When you pass a rather familiar house, you let out a shaky breath that condensates through the chilly air. Despite your heavy clothing, you could still feel the cool winter. You recently arrived back at your hometown due to your school's yearly winter break. You couldn't pass up the opportunity.

You continued strolling through the quiet road. You often remember the pieces of childhood memory to your highschool years. You had many childhood friends since your mom was quite a social butterfly, so she insisted that you had to be friends with the neighbors.

You yourself were completely distinct from your mother. You were a shy child. You couldn't make much friends. Your worries got the best of you, making you distance yourself even further. Well that was until you met him. Park Seonghwa. Two houses away from yours. You first met him when you were playing on the community playground. There weren't much kids so it was perfect for you.

You saw a certain toy that appealed to you. You were too fascinated by the toy to see that another kid also had a plan to play with it. You ran and pick up the plaything. But before you could, another hand reached for it. You look to where the hand was from and saw a boy staring at it with sparkling eyes. He was too engulfed with the thought of the piece of plastic to play with to notice you. You could clearly remember what he wore. A plain white shirt accompanied with a pair of black pants. He had a bucket hat that fit his head perfectly.

When he did, he let out a sound that somehow embodied a growl. You were also a competitive child. You wanted to play with it, and you were definitely not letting a boy just take it. Your other hand reach out and pull the toy to your direction. The boy that was slightly taller than you, grabbed it aswell. It quickly escalated, you were both pulling for the thing and the idea of picking another one didn't seem to come to your mind.

After minutes of grunting and struggling, the other kid managed to get the toy out of your hands. What he didn't know was that he hit you on the head when he attempted to take the toy you desperately wanted. For a moment he was celebrating in victory. But paused when he heard a sniffle. You did what any child would do if they get hit, cry. Your cries going louder and louder as you felt the pain.

The boy stopped his victorious moment and looked at you. He himself didn't know what to do. He dropped the toy and scrambled to you. He teared up at seeing such a cute girl cry. He started to regret what he did. Soon his cries were mixed with yours. Both of your mother's heard the sobs of their children and rushed to help you. Your mother picked you up from the ground and checked your head. It turned out it wasn't that bad, you only needed to wear a patch on your forehead.

The other boy was even more sad than you. He felt bad for hitting you. He wanted to apologize but didn't know you. So instead, he asked his mom. He waddles to her side and nudges her leg. He begged his mom to take him to your place. His mom gave in and helped his crying son.

As your mom answered the door, you peak from the other room. You saw the same lad that whacked you awhile back. After a few exchange of words between the adults, your heard your mom call out to you. " Y/n-ah! The boy earlier came here to apologize! " She said. You pout as you walked like a penguin to the front door. You kept looking at the floor, too scared to look at him.

Your mom gestured you to wave at the fellow infront of you. You finally look up and wave at him. Your face brightened up when you saw him carrying a tub of ice cream and a poorly written apology card. You and your mom invited them in. You both settled in the living room couch. Eating the ice cream as he apologizes. " I'm sorry... I'm seonghwa by the way. Wanna be friends? " He reached out his hand as he flashed a smile You accepted the apology and shook his hand while a movie played in the back. And in that moment, you both clicked and became inseparable.

Highschool rolled around and you two were still glued together. Being caught doing the most stupid of things together. Eventually you started feeling weird around him. It was the little things he did that made him so attractive. The things you two would do together. He would walk you home everyday, not missing a single day. You two would get smoothies in a nearby convenience store, playing with the different flavors. The small things such as loosening the first few buttons of his school uniform. How he looked as he runs his hand through his hair.

You kept these weird feelings to yourself. You soon regret hiding them when he started dating. It was a sight to behold everytime he would sling his arm around another girl's waist or shoulder. You were lying if you said you weren't jealous. You supported him through his relationships that mostly didn't last long. You always comforted him during every breakup. He didn't know how envious you were inside.

He then also felt an unusual sensation in the pit of his stomach whenever you two would come in contact. It continued like that for a few weeks or so. The tension grew heavier in every moment you two would be in the same room. You couldn't speak without feeling hesitation. He couldn't touch you before his heart would beat faster. Anything the both of you did made the other fall in love even more.

It was the spring of your school year, school coming to an end soon. Most students joyful of taking a break. Others sad that they couldn't see their friends. You were one of the happy ones. Seonghwa was one of the only people you knew. Seonghwa mustered up all his courage and asked you out to watch a movie. You agreed to it as it reminded you of one of the first things you two did when you were little.

You blushed at the idea of being on a date with with seonghwa. You dressed yourself in the prettiest clothes you had and made sure you combed your hair well. You happily skip to the theater that wasn't too far away. To your surprise you saw seonghwa with another girl by his side. You were disappointed and upset. But were you surprised? No. You realized he invited you just so you could third wheel. A frown appears on your face the whole time.

You grew even more furious as a minute passes. You couldn't mute the sounds you could hear from beside you. Your blood boiled when you heard kissing sounds. You had to sit there for another hour and a half. You tried to endure the anger that was oozing out of you. You sat there beside the two. You focused your eyes on the big screen with glossy eyes.

The movie finally ended and you three, including his hook up of the week, and walk towards the exit. You fastened your pace, not wanting to be caught between them again. Seonghwa was too invested in the conversation he had to notice you were already ahead of the crowd. You storm out of the theater and walk down the sidewalk with a single tear escaping your eye.

Seonghwa said his goodbyes and jogged to meet up you. He was about to talk to you, but that was until he saw your face. He stopped, " Was the movie that sad? Why are you crying? " He asked. You scoffed at his question and continued pacing. He asked once more, hoping to get an answer this time. " Come on y/n tell me! " He urged you. You bit your tongue, trying not to explode on the spot.

You failed to stay quiet and finally say " I can't believe you had the audacity to invite me just to third wheel! " You ruffled your hair with your hand, massaging your scalp. " Third wheel? No you don't understand that was my fr- " You couldn't listen to his excuses anymore. You were fuming at this point. Steam almost came out your ears. " Bull shit! Do you think I'm deaf? I can actually hear you two making out beside me! " You yell.

You were glad nobody was there besides you and seonghwa. Nothing to be heard but your voice. Lustrous tears race down your skin. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You two stood inaudible rather than in tranquility. Not able to say anything due to the inking of peer pressure. With much silence, you finally spoke “ Don’t you get it? I like you seonghwa. “ You whisper. " I had to watch you everyday make out with a girl infront of me. But what did I do? I supported you. I just wanted you to be happy. ". You didn’t expect him to reply. You just wanted to get it off your chest. You felt relief, but pain was still lingering.

Just like when he was little, seonghwa was baffled. He didn’t know what to do. You turn your heel to lash out. But couldn’t when a hand caught your wrist. It was intuition that made him reach out for your hand. Speechless, the only thing he could do was look at you. Your eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. He couldn't help but withstand the guilt. " Why didn't you tell me...? " He let out with a low tone. You look down, avoiding his sharp gaze. Your driblets of tears meet the pavement under you. " What difference does it make? " You pushed him off you. You glance at him one more time before running.

He stepped back to avoid falling. You pace the opposite direction, back to your house. You wanted to scream at him, take out all your anger. But you couldn't find the courage to do so. You could only walk farther. The distance between you both widens. You didn't believe in the saying " Never fall for your best friend. " until now. You could hardly walk, too occupied in crying your heart out. Dreading everything that happened today.

For days, weeks, you hadn't spoken a single word to seonghwa. As childish as it sounds, you didn't want to see him. You endlessly cried. An indescribable feeling lingers in your heart. He didn't mean it right? You wished all your thoughts could disappear for a day. They wouldn't leave you alone, constantly reminding you of him. You thought avoiding him would bring you peace, it only ended in chaos. You couldn't get up, you barely ate, nothing gave you the motivation to continue on. Stuck in your bed, nothing but your thoughts accompanying you.

Your mother grew worried. She'd constantly check on you and ask you if you were okay. But all she got was silence. Today perhaps was different. Somehow, you grew tired of lazing on your bed and crying. You wanted to get some fresh air. You wanted to get over him. You didn't realize it was early morning. Three o'clock to be exact. You changed out of your clothes and into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black hoodie.

You quietly tiptoed your way out of the house, careful not to wake up your sleeping mother. You let out a sigh of relief once you close the front door. You take a step as you inhale the outside air you greatly missed. You place your hands in the sewn pocket of your worn hoodie. You walk down the quiet and still vicinity. You kept your eyes on the dull grey road.

You walk yourself to the playground. Since you knew the directions, it wasn't too hard. It was from when seonghwa would knock on your house and invite you to play. You halt once you finally arrive. The walk felt like forever, your thoughts distracting you. You hum a song along the way. You look up and see the familiar place. Just looking at the playground itself brings back many memories. Your dry lips form a small smile. You walk across the sandbox and near the swing set.

You silently sit on the swings, kicking the sand to push yourself. Soon enough, you started swinging slowly. You kept a slow pace. You sigh once more while you look around. Scanning your surroundings while the sound of trees swaying could be heard. Everything resembles him. Everywhere you look, you could see flashbacks. The slides, the seesaw, and the monkey bars.

You suddenly heard footsteps. You snap back to reality. Your hooded head darts to the sound. The swing you were on also halted, your hands gripping the chain harder. Upon locking eyes, your breath hitched when you saw the familiar eyes. Your lips parted, eyes glossy. ' What great timing! " You thought. It stayed like that for a minute. Neither of you believing the other was feet away. You felt terrible. The seconds of just staring at each other. But did you look away? No, you couldn't. You felt happy to see him, by part of you wished this wasn't happening.

The head of black hair, the usual clothes he wears. His tall slim figure. Semi broad shoulders- you knew too much about him.

His black orbs contrast with yours. He couldn't take his eyes off you. His eyes were glued to your figure. You were definitely not in the best state. Your puffy eyes, runny nose, red cheeks made it obvious. Your usual cheery smile was replaced by the opposite. Your staring continues for a minute. Guilt still filled seonghwa's heart, and the look on your face made it worse. It felt as though time slowed down.

He then walks towards you, his footsteps the only audible thing you could hear. The closer he got, your eyes looked elsewhere. The swing next to you move. Still, you avoided his eyes. The heavy tension was clearly present. It took a while before either of you spoke up. Each of you had too many emotions. The sound of metal creaking, mixed with the tension you both had.

" Don't you remember? " He quietly mutters. " When we were both just little kids. " He continues. You slightly smile, it felt as if it were yesterday. Oh, how you wished you could go back to that time. Where you didn't have to worry about anything. You were just happy with him.

You let out a chuckle, a dry one. You couldn't form any words. Nothing to say. Nothing came out of your mouth. Seonghwa took this as an opportunity. There have been things on his mind that he wished to bring up to you. But he couldn't just simply talk to you. Not after what he did. He was at loss, why was he so ignorant? Why didn't he pick up on the small signs you did, like tidying your self every time you see him, how your cheeks turn a shade of pink every time the two you were approximately close to one another, and how your eyes would turn dark whenever he touches another girl in front of you. It was the little things that were important. It was the little things he missed. He couldn't fathom how much he regrets it. He berated himself. What else could he do?

He turned his head to see you. He didn't expect to see a smile on your face. He could see the hurt in it. He could feel all the pain you had to endure. He couldn't take the amount of guilt he felt. He broke down. He buried his head in his slender hands. His arms rested on his lap. Tears spilled out. As he quietly sobs before you.

Your eyes widen when you look at him. You didn't expect him to be the one crying. Concern and pity took over you. Never once in your life did you see seonghwa crying. You get off the swing and walk to his side. You kneel in front of him. You extend your arms to his face. You place your petite hands against his large ones. You could feel the warmth you've been longing for the past weeks. Your thumbs graze over his knuckles. You observe how drops stained his hoodie. " I know what you did wasn't intentional... " You spoke, breaking the silence.

You push away his hands that were covering his face. His cheeks and nose were stained with his running tears. " Hey, it's alright, it's not your fault. " You push his bangs away. Then you got to see his eyes, his eyes a bit red, his plump lips parted. " Don't cry seonghwa, it's not that big of a de- " Before you could finish speaking, seonghwa engulfed you in his arms.

He lunged towards you, wrapping his arms against you as one holds your head. You were too shocked to do anything. You both felt the impact when you fell in the sandbox. You didn't know what to do with your arms. " I'm sorry y/n. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so fucking sorry. " He cried against your covered chest. You grip the sleeves of his hoodie as you felt yourself tear up as well. Your bottled up feelings were too much. The bottle was too small. You inhale before close your eyes to feel your tears run down.

" I'm sorry. For catching feelings... " You sob. You were both crying at this point. With nobody around. Nothing to be heard but your cries. You ruffle his hair while you felt your jawline being stained with tears. Your clothing was starting to stain from the tears of the male before you. " Why am I so stupid y/n...? " His voice deep.

You lift his head. Caressing his cheek, you say " It's my fault for falling for you. ". You pull his face towards yours. Crashing your lips on his. Temptation got the best of you. Seonghwa's eyes went wide. Seonghwa didn't think twice before kissing you back. Butterflies appeared in both your stomach. This wasn't anything you two ever encountered. This didn't feel the same when he kissed other girls. Your lips moved in sync, rubbing against one another. His hands trail up and grip your waist.

From an outsider's perspective, it was just a bunch of adolescents having their first kiss. But for you and seonghwa, you didn't care. You wanted nothing but him. Him and him only.

You pull away for a breath before going back in. Each other's tongue moves against the others. The kiss was soft and passionate. It felt like your lips we're made to fit his. Coincidentally, you two open your eyes at the same time. You deeply looked into his. His look had a hold of you. Your eyes made him weak. You both pull away. Breathing heavily. You quickly hug him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. He sits himself and you up. Careful to you. Treating you like glass.

This was the most endearing part for seonghwa. He had no choice but to tell you. He took a sigh before speaking. " Y/n-ah... ". You hum in response. You were curious about what he had to say. Anxiety slowly eating you up. Was the kiss bad? Were you a bad kisser? But what he said shocked you. Left you speechless. You hadn't expected this.

" I'm going to Seoul. " He says.

You furrow your brows in confusion. " Wh-why? Seoul? What will you do there? " You look at him, puzzled. He took your hand in his before speaking again. " I passed y/n. I made the audition. " He said. Then it hit you. The audition. The one he took a month ago. He always dreamed of being an idol. From middle school, he'd endlessly talk to you about all the idols he listened to. You had to witness him singing. You completely forgot about it. " O-oh. " You replied. He saw your expression change. You look down. Not sure how you should respond.

" Well...congrats! " You look up and beam. You put on a smile. You were happy for him. But not entirely. Just when you were ready to forgive him. It felt like a pang. You were holding in more tears. You were happy he couldn't see through you this time. " I'm gonna miss you so much. " You hug him tighter. He takes in your scent. He takes note of how your trembling. Shaking because of the cold wind. But also because you were scared. Scared of losing him. Your one and only friend. The one you've been with since childhood. You knew you had to let go of him. But it's easier said than done. Will the distance worsen your relationship with him?

He pulls back and takes off his jacket. Revealing a white shirt underneath. He puts the warm clothing over your head and arms. You gleam inside at the scent of him. He takes you in his embrace once more. Inside his arms, you felt so comfortable. With him is where you belong. The sand particles getting in your hair. You knew you couldn't do anything and decided to cherish this moment.

And so the day arrived. The day where you had to bid goodbye to seonghwa. The ride to the airport was worse than you anticipated. You two looked comfortable, but there was definitely a bit of uncertainty. Specifically, because of the unspoken kiss, you two had shared. You and seonghwa pretended as if it never happened. Your parents drove you both. The long ride making you drowsy. You had a long way to go and your eyes were getting droopy. You had no clue you were leaning on his shoulder. By the time he realizes, you were already in deep slumber.

Seonghwa glanced at you, only to notice you were quietly snoozing. He tucked away a strand of hair behind your ear. He feels blood surge to his cheeks. And his mom seemed to notice. " Seonghwa? Are you alright? You seem red. " She asks, concerned. " N-no I'm fine! " He smiles. He instantly looks away and stares out the car window.

He secretly took glances of you throughout the entire car ride. Observing your perfect features. He knew he would greatly miss you. He'd wake up starting tomorrow knowing you're nowhere near him. He couldn't just walk up to your house again. He was gonna be alone.

You jolt awake when you felt the car stop. Your eyes were still half-closed. You look to your side and see seonghwa gathering his things. He turns to you to wake you up. But you already did that yourself. He smiles when he sees your awakened self. He extends his arm and fixes your messy hair. After that, you both just look at each other. This bittersweet moment all to yourselves. He continued caressing your hair. " I'm gonna miss you y/n. " He pouts. " Not as much as I will " You laugh. He smiles, at least you laughed before he left. He pulls you to a hug. He sneaked in a kiss on the cheek while doing so.

When you two parted ways, it wasn't a happy moment. Sure you wanted him to achieve his dreams, but part of you didn't want him to go. But all you could do was smile and wave. And so your feelings continued to latch on. You often thought about him. If his life was better there, did he find friends? For the first few months, you two often talked. But as more days progressed you and seonghwa grew busier. No time for one another. You two hadn't contacted each other in months. You could catch yourself frequently thinking if he ever forgot about you.

Five long years passed. Every day you waited for a call, at least a text. It continued like that for months. You were still hoping. Hoping he'd contact you once. That hope eventually died out. You figured he was too occupied to even talk to you. You'd be lying if you said you weren't sad.

Now it's the present.

You continued walking. Breath shaky due to the temperature. Your boots made a sound that echoes through the street. Your hometown brought back many memories. Both happy and sad. You had nothing to do, so walking around seemed to be your only option. Your surroundings were dark, but it didn't scare you.

You settled down by a nearby bench. The trees swayed with one another. You took a deep breath, your hand slips through your pockets, and grip your earphones. You connect the wire to your phone, playing your recently made playlist. The shuffle landed on a song you quite loved. You hum to the beat of the song, tucking away a thread of hair the same way he did. He may have not known, but you were awake the whole time. Trying to fall asleep but couldn't.

You chuckle at the faint memory. It may be years later but you still could recall it. Despite your best attempts of forgetting it, it popped up at the most random of times. Why Park Seonghwa? When can you stop haunting me?

You sigh and thought of something else. You didn't notice a figure moving until you felt your right earphone being pulled. Your reflexes acted up and threw a punch to whoever grabbed it. You wanted to scream, but before you could you heard a groan. You looked down and saw a coated boy with dyes hair, holding his cheek from the impact. The adrenaline wears out. You panic, you just punched someone. " Oh my god, I am so- seonghwa?! " Your eyes wide the moment he turned his head to you. He faintly smiled back, still recovering from your assault.

" What are you doing here...? You raise both your brows. " Nothing much...just wondering around. " He admits. You stood up, brushing off the dust on your jacket. " Aren't you supposed to be in Seoul? " You asked with a hint of bitterness. You roll your eyes. Seonghwa too stood up. You wanted to walk away but he ended up walking with you. " What's wrong with visiting my hometown? " He shrugged. How could he just talk to you casually after years? " It's been five years seonghwa. " You stop in your tracks and look at him. His expression quickly shifted from joyful to shameful.

" You can't just waltz back to my life and pretend that you didn't talk to me for five whole years! " You spoke. " L-look I- " You interrupted him. " And I'm not done! Yes, I get that your busy but you couldn't at least text me once? Can you imagine what I felt? I stared at my phone endlessly waiting for a text from you! " You pause, taking a deep breath. " It's late. You should get going. " You mumble. " No, listen to me. " His fingers clutch your wrist. You had no option but to listen to him. So you stood there, both ears open.

" I was also waiting. At one point I thought you got over me. I thought you found someone else... " He explains. You took a few seconds to process it. " Tch. " You grinned. Then unexpectedly you pulled the tall male into a hug. " You know I would never forget about you right? " He mumbles against his chest. He smirks just before snuggling you back. " God I missed you so much " He places a kiss on the top of your head. You felt yourself blush. When did he become so flirty? What did Seoul do to him?

" I missed you too... " You shyly say. You only hug him tighter, finding consolation in his warmth. All of a sudden you felt one of his fingers lift your chin up. You felt the world around you stop as he leaned in slowly. You didn't get a chance to pull back. But the thing is, you didn't want to. You stood still, waiting for when your lips would meet his. You both close your eyes when you felt each other's lips. He backed you up. Eventually, your back met the wall. You were trapped in between him and the wall behind you. This felt like what happened years ago. Your breathing steady as the kiss progressed. Over the years he too developed feelings for you. And your feelings for him never went away. The entire time you two shared the kiss, he was sweet and gentle with you. " You don't know how much I missed you " He seductively said before pulling you into another kiss.

You felt his tongue lick your bottom lip, conceivably asking for permission. You did as so and gave him entrance. It hastily escalated from a sincere kiss to a makeout session. You pull back, somewhat worried. " Seonghwa we can't do this here! We'll get caught! " You whisper-yelled. He wipes off the smudged lip balm with his thumb. He grins before stepping back. He laces his fingers with yours. He pulls you by his side, sauntering with him towards the path of your house. Your small figure beside his was an adorable contrast.

" Does this mean we're official...? " You ask, slightly embarrassed. You both continued walking. " Of course, love. " He leans down to peck you on the lips, " I've loved you since childhood. ".

[tansypoisoning]

Preview 3 (/4?)

I’m still trying to figure out a lot of the things for the plot of (Un)Conditional (can you tell I almost never plan out a series before I start it?) so I’m working two disparate parts at the same time. I’m not sure if I’ll have any Thanksgiving Dinners in the story because I’m afraid they’ll be boring/unecessary and I’m kind of worried about writing a time-skip.

I appreciate any advices on writing Mr.Blanc’s dialogue too :)

Warnings: Daddy kink

You hadn’t been to many dinner parties, so perhaps your frame of reference wasn’t the best, but you could say with confidence that the bash at Harlan Thrombey’s mansion was the absolute worst one you’d been invited to.

The interrogation continued at the dining table: they wanted to know about what College you’d graduated from, where did you live before moving to Massachusetts, what did your parents do, if you had any siblings. Being questioned this thoroughly was never fun, but it was made even worse by the fact that one of your favorite authors was right there and you couldn’t seem to find a chance to ask him anything about his books.

Worse than being asked those questions was not being asked anything. When you were silent the room was either silent save for the sound of people chewing or taken over by the rest of the Thrombey’s. It was better when it was just your disgusting collective mouth noises. You learned that Joni owned a business that sold mainly t-shirts with inspirational clothes, crystals, and snake oil and that she had some troubling views on vaccines. You learned that Linda owned a real estate business that seemed to be the most important thing in her life right now, and that her husband had done something to really piss her off, her fingers dancing dangerously close to the carving knife whenever he would speak. You learned that Walt’s family was racist, and given some of their comments, you concluded they were racists of the “extremely” variety.

Aside from a few token eye-rolls and jabs here and there, everyone was acting like this was all normal, like they were just poking fun at each other’s favorite football teams. Was this normal for most other families and you had just lucked out with yours? No, there was no way this was normal. What the fuck were those people doing?

Or rather, what the fuck were you doing? You were still taking part in this farce, weren’t you?

You got to meet Ransom’s great-grandmother at least, although you weren’t sure she even realized you existed. You didn’t mention Harlan looked good for his age. The opportunity didn’t present itself, and even if it had you probably wouldn't have said anything.

The night ended with Jodi drunkenly swaying in front of the fireplace to Nina Simone’s rendition of “Born Under a Bad Sign” while balancing a wine glass and trying to get a sour-faced Donna to join her, Walt and Linda moving to the porch to smoke, Harlan sitting in a corner talking animatedly with Marta, while in the opposite end of the room Ransom and Jacob leaned against a wall having a hushed conversation, and with you stuck on a couch in between Richard and Wanetta. You were sure the three of you looked the picture of depression. Fran was, wisely, nowhere to be found.

It was hard to hide how ecstatic you felt when Ransom announced you two would be leaving. You said goodbye to all of them, and most were satisfied just nodding in response or at most shaking hands. Joni, however, hugged you when you announced your departure.

You and Ransom got into his car in silence. It was only when Harlan’s house was out of sight that you let out a sigh of relief.

That got his attention. “Were they everything you were hoping for?”

“I thought you were being hyperbolic when you said your family was a mess.”

“Hyperbolic? Me?” He snickered.

“Are they always this bad?”

The humor vanished from his face. For a moment you thought he was going to go off on you for criticizing his family.

“They’re not so bad...” He said, and you turned to him in disbelief. “There’s enough material for twenty comedy of manners novels, at least.”

You couldn't help but smile. This would all be so much easier if Ransom was just some dumb hot guy.

“Like I have the time to write anything. Maybe you should give it a go. Become this century’s Jane Austen.”

“Like I have the patience to write anything,” he retorted. The smile on his face was more endearing than it had any right to be “But I’m willing to pay you to ghostwrite for me.”

“If you can pay me more than my actual job I’ll take it.” You covered your face with your hands as you chuckled. He hadn’t earned that chuckle; you wouldn't show it to him.

The conversation died down organically, and maybe you should’ve just left it that way, enjoyed the comfortable silence. You probably should have, because you didn’t.

“Marta said they were good people.”

He scoffed. “Marta’s fucking a moron.”

“She’s hot.”

“She’s gotta be something.”

When you went too long without answering, Ransom turned to you with a shameless grin “Are you jealous?”

“What would be the point in being jealous? This is an open thing.”

“You are jealous,” He snickered, then was silent for a moment. He drummed his fingers against the wheel and sighed before speaking again “I’m not interested in her, trust me.”

Maybe he was being honest, but asking you to trust him was too much.

“Wouldn’t matter if you were.” You made a point to shrug. He gave no indication he had even heard you.

Ransom turned the radio on at some point, and the music helped to alleviate the tension permeating the air. For the rest of the trip, the only soundtrack was the rumble of the engine and the droning of the top 40.

Ransom parked on the street off to the side of your blocky apartment building and you got out. You were slamming the door shut when you noticed he had climbed off the car as well. No words were spoken as he followed you through the sidewalk and across the minuscule lawn, just a patch of grass with a few topiary bushes sprinkled here and there. You couldn't really feel his breath on your neck, but you imagined you could, and all the hairs in your body stood at attention.

You took the stairs up. It was a deliberate decision; you only lived on the third floor and the elevator would ruin the mood. As you climbed the steps, you wondered if Ransom was looking at your ass. You didn’t know that he was, but you also didn’t know that he wasn’t, and that had a torrent of blood rushing to your head.

Reality was a little foggy when you reached your door. You unlocked it, let yourself and Ransom in, and he was on you as soon as you had closed it again.

Ransom held your head in both hands, effectively keeping you from looking away. You could’ve closed your eyes, but you didn’t.

“You’ve been so good today.” His voice was slow and sweet like molasses as he spoke against your mouth. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him if only he’d let you “I think you deserve a reward.”

You nodded dumbly, loving the way his soft lips felt as your brushed against them. He slapped one of your cheeks just hard enough to rouse you from your trance.

“Yeah?” He asked “Then you better ask nicely.”

A whine slipped past your lips. You weren’t complaining – no, this was foreplay.

“Please,” you begged “Please, can I have my reward, daddy?”

He answered with a cocky smile that was all Ransom, then parted from you.

“Strip,” he commanded as he appraised your body, now a few steps away.

You pulled your shirt above your head, then moved to your slacks, stepping out of them in a way that you hoped was alluring. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but his gaze was zeroed in on you and you took that as a good sign. He also wasn’t complaining, and he wasn’t too polite to be gentle in his feedback.

Next were your bra and panties, and then you were bared to him. Ransom examined you with the same clinical look for a while longer. He really had a gift for affecting your self-image.

“Hands behind your back, shoulders against the door,” he said “And keep your hands there. If I see them move you’re not cumming.”

You knew he meant it; once you’d neglected his instructions and he’d edged you all night long, then tied your hands on the bed post and went to sleep while you writhed on your bed and rubbed your thighs together trying to get off. By the time the sun rose, you were begging him for an orgasm.

You did as he said and waited. The waiting was part of the game, and it always meant he wanted more than to just get off. You preferred him like this, even though it meant you couldn't touch yourself without his explicit permission.

Ransom stalked in your direction, shoulders pushed back, and you felt even smaller. The cheap plywood door vibrated with your own tremors and made a loud rickety noise. He had such long legs; he should’ve gotten to you in no time, yet it was an eternity before his feet landed in front of you.

He held your jaw with one hand, tilted your head up. He observed you so closely you could smell his toothpaste. Mint. Your apartment was cold, but with him hovering so close, you felt warm. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against your cheek and his nose on your temple.

“You’ve had a long day today, didn’t you? Work and then having to meet those awful people.” His voice was patronizing, almost like baby talk. You could only whisper a yes “Let me take your mind off it, baby girl. Let me fuck your brains out.”

You fought the urge to try and hold onto something and answered with a ‘uh huh’.

Still holding your jaw, Ransom pulled his body from yours. It was so cold, so sudden. “You know how this goes. Use your words.”

“Please, Daddy – I want you to fuck my brains out.”

Ransom smiled his heart-stopping smile, and his hand slid to your throat. He felt down your body with his thumb, first to the hollow spot in your neck, then your nipple. His other hand found your lower back just before you slid down to the ground.

His fingers trailed down your stomach with deliberate slowness. A tremor ran up your body when he reached your vulva, and you gasped as he parted your lips with his ring and index finger, using the middle digit to touch you just where you wanted most. You gasped as he found your clit.

When you took the phone call you’d expected to be met with the voice of one of your company’s client, so you didn’t even look at the caller ID as you picked it up.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Asked Ransom’s voice on the other end of the line. He’d called at the worst possible time too, while you were carrying a cardboard cup holder with your drink and a poorly balanced bagel, navigating a crowded coffee shop.

“Can you not? You know I have a nine to five job.”

“Aren’t you supposed to get a lunch break?” He sounded grossed out by the expression. It was just as likely he thought the idea that having a single, predetermined hour for lunch was offensive as he found the idea of free time for the working class ridiculous.

“I am on my lunch break, but I have to keep my phone free. You know, for clients?”

“I’m spending Thanksgiving at Harlan’s,” he ignored you “come over, I could use a plus one.”

“I can’t,” you said “I always spend Thanksgiving with my family.”

“Just ditch them.”

“No,” you said. You had always had trouble denying him, but not this time. This was the one childhood tradition you still upheld, and it meant a lot to your parents “I always spend Thanksgiving with my family. I’m not convincing them to reschedule for your convenience.”

He was silent for a moment “Great. Guess I’ll die of boredom.”

“I’m sure you’ll find ways to keep entertained.” You smiled; you wished you could kick yourself.

“Where do your parents live?”

You shook your head as if he could see you “We’re staying at my brother’s. He and his wife live in Albany.”

“That’s not far.”

Oh, no. You knew that tone.

“No. Why does it matter?” You asked, sure he would’ve heard the doubt in your voice.

“You could still make it to both parties.”

You wished you had a free hand to rub your temple; you could sense a headache coming. You were making your way to the entrance, but you had to stop to lean on one of the bar tables stacked with sugar packets and disposable spoons because his plan was literally too stupid to stand. “Ransom, I’m not going to go to your grandfather’s house then drive in the middle of night to fucking Albany.”

He sighed. “You’re going to start showing at some point. I’d like to squeeze in a few more meetings with my family before breaking the news.”

That was fair, you supposed. It still wasn’t like you were going to try making it for two dinners in different states in a single night.

“Well… I can’t make it to Thanksgiving.” Now recovered, you gathered your things and started making your way to the entrance again “If I gotta meet your family to keep up appearances, don’t you think it would be fair if you did the same for me?”

“Oh?” He was grinning, you could tell “What’s in it for me?”

Seriously, this jackass...

You held the phone in between your shoulders and cheek to reach for the door handle. ���Ransom, you’re not-” your words ended in a yelp when someone bumped into you. It wasn’t just any bump – no, no, that would’ve been too lucky. The stranger practically barreled into you, sending your lunch and phone hurling into the air. Some of your drink conveniently landed on your white shirt before spilling on the ground.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry, miss!” Said the man who had rammed into you as he bent over to pick up your phone.  “I am more distracted than a hound dog in a perfumery! Oh- Drat!”

He rose and you were met with strikingly blue eyes.

“Your phone’s screen didn’t happen to be already cracked, did it?” He said, extending your cellphone back to you. His southern drawl was so melodious it took you a moment to catch onto his implication.

“Not really.” You said as you took your device from him. Just as he’d said, the screen was cracked.

“Oh, lord-” He brought a hand to his graying hair. “Again, I am so sorry-” he then signaled to the barista that had come over to clean up the mess “Excuse me – I’ve knocked this poor woman’s lunch on accident. Would it be possible to get her another drink?”

The worker seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I gotta ask my manager...”

“Oh, no, please, don’t bother” The man waved his hand by the side of his head “If it’s a matter of money, I’ll pay for it. I’m sorry again, miss – what did you have?”

You found yourself blurting out your order before you could think too hard about it.

“Yes – and please, throw in a muffin in with the order; please can keep the change.” The man produced a wallet from his coat and pulled a fifty dollar note from it, handing it to the barista, who accepted the money with some confusion. “Thank you very much.”

You were still unsure of what to do, so you remained rooted in place while the man ran up to the counter, got you several napkins and ran back to hand them to you. You considered the possibility that he was trying to flirt with you, but if it were the case he at least wasn’t using the opportunity to dab at your wet shirt with paper towels.

[iammultifandomaf]

Chapter 4 - Italy

BROTHERHOOD

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12211562/4/

Finally, Stiles and Lydia were about to fly away on their little trip to Italy. It was quite exhausting for both of them, mainly because Lydia had to repack their suitcases in order to fit into the prescribed weight that the airline had for their planes, and their flight was early in the morning. Stiles made them several sandwiches the day before for breakfast and for later at the airport which was very useful when the time came.

Their flight took around long nine hours which were filled with talking, reading, movie watching and of course, sleeping. Lydia brought a special book with her by Barbusse with the childish stubborness that she can also read such a book as John. After several chapters, she understood why the bearded man said what he said. It wasn't a relaxing book, indeed.

When they finally arrived to the airport, found their luggage and bought a Starbucks coffee, they exited the huge building into the chilly weather outside. The couple didn't have a precise plan on how to get to their hotel, so they kept standing at the sidewalk for a while, looking around at the unknown surroundings.

Stiles noticed a taxi at the corner and nodded to it. "So, let's take that," he suggested but Lydia didn't answer. She was staring in the opposite direction, not listening to whatever Stiles had said. She suddenly turned her head to her impatient boyfriend and asked with a chuckle: "What?"

"I was just asking if-"

Lydia understood at once what he meant and cut him off: "Don't you wanna rent a car? I could drive if your bottom is too lazy."

"What? I'm not lazy, I don't know what you're talking about."

"So, let's rent a car, huh?"

And so they rented a Škoda Octavia, silver color. Lydia quickly hopped into the drivers seat whilst Stiles put their suitcases into the trunk. He sat down next to his girlfriend who was already impatiently drumming her fingers on the leathered wheel. Stiles withdrew a small map from his jacket pocket and laid it open in front of him. Lydia stared at him in disbelief while he was studying the map through.

"You are kidding, right?" Lydia chuckled at Stiles who raised his gaze from the cartography lying on his knees.

"Did I say something funny?" Stiles said with feigned bewilderment.

"We are living in the information age, you know that right?" she asked and reached for the map to confiscate it but was tenderly struck by his fingers.

"Don't you touch my map, missy. I know what I'm doing. I'll just look at the map for a bit and then I'll know the way for sure. I had lived here anyways. Or did you let this tasty detail of my past slip your mind already?"

"Well, no. But-"

"So gimme a sec, sweetie," he said with a smirk and returned to his careful map-reading. In several minutes, he swiftly packed his map into his pocket, again, and began instructing the slightly impatient driver.

Lydia was quite surprised by Stiles' good memory because he seemed to remember a lot of places, streets, shops and even the round abouts, even though he had been living elsewhere for such a long time.

After a half an hour full of detailed directions, they arrived to the Hotel Pfösl. Lydia pulled up in front of the building, letting Stiles to get out of the car and fetch their luggage from the trunk. Whilst he carried the baggage into the lobby, Lydia found a nice spot to park in.

When Lydia finally came to the lobby, Stiles had already prepared all their documents needed for the check in. The process of checking-in was rather smooth and fast and the couple landed in their room with the number 1936 which made Stiles for some reason snort in amusement. Lydia arched her eyebrow at him but he simply ignored her and entered their room.

Being the time for dinner, they decided to visit the village where the hotel was located in and find a nice-looking restaurant. After a few minutes of walking, white cold snowflakes began to fall down at their heads, so they run into the first pub they had encountered.

As they sat down, a grumpy waitress approached them and asked for their order which was way too fast for the couple and Lydia just pointed to the table across the room and confidently said: "We'll have what they're having."

The woman with the roman-shaped nose rose her eyebrow and looked behind her shoulder to see whom Lydia meant. She shrugged, visibly exchanging the position of her chewing gum in her mouth, and left. Stiles watched her go and then returned his focus on his redhead in front of him.

"She was nice," he said with a smile which made Lydia giggle a bit.

"The nicest of them all," Lydia agreed and glanced over the bar where the waitress stood at the beer pipes, watching back at their table. Lydia abruptly looked away and said with a whisper: "I think she's checking you out. I guess she sensed out your italian origins."

An entertained smile grew on Stiles' face as he continued to play this game. "Then you ought to be extra careful that she doesn't lure me away."

"No way she's doing that!" Lydia said and let her fist hit the table in an appropriate volume.

The evening passed quickly and their food was eaten with admirable speed. The couple ended up drinking their alcoholic beverages. Lydia was swallowing down her beer whilst Stiles studied his fourth glass of wine with his hazels.

"She really stares a lot," Lydia commented the impolite behavior of the grumpy waitress.

"Some people tend to stare," Stiles said, not giving the woman much of a thought.

"Is it possible that she knows you?" Lydia asked, creating a small fictional image of small Stiles with missy grumpy together in her mind. Stiles turned his head around to look at the personnel behind the bar and then shook his head: "Nah... Would have remembered such a glamorous person."

Lydia paused for a while, recounting the amount of wine Stiles had had and blurted out a question:"Are you still in contact with somebody from here?"

"Hm, not anymore," Stiles said, appearing a little sad even.

"But you were...?"

"Um, yeah. Of course."

"What happened?"

"We went different paths I'd say. More like he chose to leave but I guess he didn't have a choice. I don't even know anymore."

"Why did he leave?"

"Uh, my life situation changed and suddenly it wasn't quite suited for... um, his way of life? Not sure how to explain it. So he left."

"Were you close?"

"Very."

"What a dick."

"Come again?" Stiles' eyes widened in surprise, not expecting this reaction.

"You just don't leave when it gets tough. That's so coward-ish. Like what the hell? Whoever it was, he left you when you went through a change or whatever. He was supposed to stay and support you. Gosh. I hate these selfish kind of people."

"Hm," he hummed and looked down at his glass. Lydia decided not to dig into his friendship which had fallen apart and changed the topic to more joyful things which created the usual smile on Stiles' face.

After they finished their drinks, the couple headed to their hotel through the dark of night. Lydia clung to Stiles' forearm and giggled at his monologue he was having about how he loathes today's technology.

At once, Stiles grunted with pain as something hit the back of his head and he fell on Lydia who tried to support his weight with all her strength whilst she looked around for the attacker. Behind them was a man with a baseball bat and a woman with a revolver in her hand, directed at Stiles. Lydia tried to stand up but was stopped by the woman: "You stay down, redhead. Let go of him."

Lydia ignored the command she was given and squeezed Stiles even tighter. Stiles' vision came back to him and he started to move as well but he only got struck, again, which was the last thing he was conscious of.

"What the fuck?!" Lydia yelled at them, scanning the way for any potential help but there was not one living soul. The man began grabbing Stiles by his torso which made Lydia jump at her boyfriend, protecting him with her whole body.

"Stop!" Lydia cried.

"Get of off him, or I will shoot you," the woman threatened, cocking the barrel at Lydia.

"God, kill me but don't take him!" Lydia begged, her eyes filling up with tears.

"We're not interested in you," the man said and pulled Stiles' limp body from under Lydia. The redhead rose to her feet and marched to the man who swinged his bat, hitting Lydia and knocking her out.

Everything went black and Lydia felt how she fell on the cold solid ground.

When she regained consciousness again, she was alone. No Stiles. No attackers.

[wildeheathen-blog]

Grave Robbing - Chapter One

Warnings: None for this particular chapter. Perhaps brief mentions of having a gun in ones face?

Summary: Reader gets in over her head when taking a midnight drive for ice cream.

Pairing: Sam | Plus Sized Reader

Word Count: 2,741

Chapter: 1/??

“Call 1-800-SLI-MNOW to try a thirty-day free trial of EVER SLIM Tea!” 

“Ugh…” Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the remote from your bedside table and hit the power button, the screen fading to black and the babbling of the infomercial going silent. Late-night television was always a mixed bag of bad soft-core porn, diet ads and infomercials for erectile dysfunction. You had been watching reruns of Law and Order SVU but after those had ended you’d gone down a rabbit hole of bad TV. It was nearly eleven pm now and most of the ‘day time’ television channels had been replaced with order-by-phone ads. You were surprised they were still around, honestly. On a night like tonight, when even the TV was reminding you of how ‘big’ you were, you had decided that enough was enough. You were either going to commit a crime or pig out on ice cream and it didn’t take long for you to decide which.

Rolling off of your bed, you hiked the penguin printed leggings you wore up over your hips with a shimmy, huffing under your breath as a result of the action displaced one of your boobs from the too-big tank top that you wore.  “Girl just can’t win, can she?” Your words were muttered under your breath as you pulled your top off and grabbed a sports bra off of the top of your hamper of clothes that were clean -- and had been for almost a week if you were being honest with yourself. Picking the shirt you’d been wearing back up, you sniffed it and then shrugged. You’d showered that morning and it wasn’t like you’d done any strenuous exercise unless you counted running across the lawn after your cat who had wormed its way out the front door earlier that afternoon. 

“I’m just going to get ice cream, I’m not even getting out of the car.” You reassured yourself and pull the tank top back over your head, your car keys snatched off of your dresser and a quick check done in the mirror to adjust the messy bun that sat atop your head. It’d been a few days since you’d brushed your hair, but if you were being honest, the lion’s mane had a mind of its own, even with the best of discipline. “There and back. No getting out of the car. It’ll be fine!” You muttered the words once more as if to scold your anxiety into submission. You’d never liked going places on your own, especially this late at night but something had you craving ice cream from the twenty-four-hour drive through that was five miles down the road. 

Bending to give your cat a kiss on its head, you cringed as it sneezed, painting your features with saliva and cat snot. “Gee… thanks a whole lot, Gouda, I appreciate it.” 

The ten-year-old cat that was a few pounds overweight (much like yourself) simply rolled over and exposed its belly with a languid stretch. A certain trap, to be sure. Still, you took the bait and ruffled his fur, the mainecoon in him giving him enough hair that by the time you were done it looked as if he’d been electrocuted. 

“Alright, be good! Don’t be going into Olivia’s room and bothering those ferrets! You know she’s allergic to you!” You whisper-scolded your cat and gave him another pat for good measure before standing up and leaving your bedroom, a hoodie grabbed from one of the hooks on your wall on your way out. 

Making your way down the stairs of the shared townhome, your roommate (who was your exact opposite in both looks and habits) peered at you from the kitchen. She was up late meal prepping and often offered to teach you, though you would rather watch paint dry than plan any meal that involved eating kale willingly. “(Y/N)? Where are you going? It’s almost eleven-thirty. Don’t tell me you’re going to that skeevy drive through again.” Olivia’s voice was worried, and while she had always looked like she had walked out of a fitness magazine she never once judged you for your habits or your appearance. She had been your friend since middle school and while she had grown into her body, you had simply grown into your ‘baby fat’. 

“I’ll be back in like… thirty minutes tops! Promise!” You called from the entryway of the small home, your eyes scanning the various ‘live laugh love’ messages that dotted the walls. It wasn’t your idea of decor but you didn’t own the place so who were you to judge? Hearing a heavy sigh from the kitchen, you groaned and leaned against the wall. You were waiting for her to scold you about your late-night drives. Counting down in your head, you reached ‘one’ right as she appeared from the kitchen, her arms crossed over her slender chest.

“(Y/N) you’ve been going out a lot recently. I don’t really care what you do with your time as you pay all of your bills on time and keep yourself safe but it’s late out, and there was that story on the news about that girl who--”

Holding up your hand, you smiled when she paused. “Livvie, I promise, I don’t exactly fit the profile for being kidnapped. My thigh is bigger than your waist, those creeps would have a hell of a time getting me into the back of a van, especially considering my social anxiety. Puppies or candy aside, they’re not going to fool me. Besides, I’ve got my mace. Like I said, twenty minutes tops.” You knew you had won the argument when she sighed and waved a hand. 

“Fine, but if you get snatched up--”

“If I get snatched up, I promise I’ll ask the bad guys to let you know so that you can bore them to death with your top ten favorite avocado recipes, alright?” You offered her a smile when she rolled her eyes. You always had been sarcastic and now wasn’t any different. 

“Alright, alright, go, just… keep in touch if you’re going to be gone longer, alright? Cute leggings, by the way.” 

Nodding and mumbling something that sounded indicative of confirmation and ‘thanks’ combined into one word, you opened the front door and took a deep breath. Sweet freedom. You loved Olivia but you would have been lying if her health-conscious mannerisms didn’t weigh on your patience occasionally. 

Making sure the door was closed tight behind you, you jogged down the stairs and onto the cracked sidewalk that stretched out between a small, but neatly managed yard. There were garden beds to either side, raised and lush with different herbs and flowers. On either side of the chain-link gate were lawn flamingos, atop which were garden gnomes holding cats. They had been your idea and after much pestering, Olivia had relented. 

Pulling the gate shut behind you as you exited, you hit the button on the fob for your car, sighing disdainfully when the red light blipped but did nothing. The damn thing had been broken for years and yet every time you left the house you still tried to make magic happen. Manually unlocking the door to the 2001 banana yellow Toyota Celica you pulled open the door and dropped into the front seat. Fall was just around the corner and it had the nights a little frostier than usual, which meant when your ass hit the seat, you hissed and shivered.

“Dammit, Larry…” The name slipped between your teeth and you grinned, remembering where the nickname had come from. Your ex had called the car hideous and had abhorred the fact that you had named it. After your breakup, you’d gotten a custom license plate that said L30N4RD so that every time he saw you in town he’d be forced to remember you. It was spiteful, sure, but he’d cheated on you with your ex-best friend and you’d walked in on it; karma was a bitch though, and he’d ended up getting an STI from the girl he’d done the dirty with. 

Shoving the key into the ignition, you said a silent prayer and hit the gas as you started the car, a sigh of relief as the engine sputtered to life. “Thank you, Larry, for once you do something right the first time.” Backing out of the driveway you were careful to avoid Olivia’s Prius, the yellow headlights from your car basking the quiet suburban street in a dim glow. 

***

Ten minutes later you and Larry were putting down the road, the drive-through was at the other end of the small town you had lived in for the past five years and it was the only thing open this late. While the town was quiet, it was boring and it had made ‘McKreevey’s Drive-Thru” the only place worth going. Tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you tried to ignore the way Larry clanked and whirred as you drove. A few more miles and you would be there and ordering your favorite sundae -- you just had to drive passed Saint Christian’s Cemetery in and you’d be home free. Ever since you had lived there the place had given you the creeps and tonight was no different. 

Turning up the radio as you drove by, you hummed and bopped your head, doing your best to ignore the way the street lights had disappeared, leaving you in the dark save for the soft glow of your car’s headlights. Another clank, followed by a shattering pop and finally a whir as your car sputtered to a stop and died on the side of the road. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now…” 

Your voice was a quiet murmur as you looked out of the windshield to see smoke rising from beneath Larry’s hood, a groan leaving your throat. “Great, this is fucking perfect. I just wanted some god damned ice cream. Pulling out your phone, you squinted as the screen lit up and then rolled your eyes as the single bar of service flipped over to roaming. 

“Really? Goddess above I hate this fucking city.” 

Pushing open the door, you shoved the seatbelt away from you and slid of your car, the flashlight on your phone illuminating the ground at your feet and showing off a thick, sticky puddle of fluid that trickled out from under Larry’s beat and battered frame. 

“I have no idea what that is Leonard, but you should be ashamed of yourself! That is disgusting!” You scolded your car as if it might suddenly become sentient and realize the mess it left you in. Instead, you were left to look around for any sign of life. On the right, there were fields upon fields of corn that swayed in the breeze. To the left, the cemetery. 

“Great. I feel like I’m in a horror movie. I’ll bet I’m about to get murdered by some hobgoblin hiding in that damned corn. Walking around the front of your car, you quickly decided on the graveyard with the reasoning that you might be able to find a live-in groundskeeper or something to at least let you borrow a phone for a cab. Using the flashlight on your phone to light the way, you stopped halfway across the sprawling plot when an orange glow of light caught your distance. 

“Oh! Maybe there is someone. Digging a grave I’ll bet. Jeez, what a shitty job. Shittier for the person going in it, I suppose.” You snorted as you caught yourself talking to yourself. It happened frequently and most of the time it was someone else that caught you, the look on their faces often worth the awkward silence. Creeping slowly closer, you were maybe ten yards away when a figure jumped out of one of the graves, his toned frame tossing a shove to the ground. 

“Figure they’d at least use a backhoe or somethin’.” You whispered under your breath and leaned against the tree. Maybe it was best to wait until they were done, as they seemed to almost be. Squinting and killing the flashlight on your phone, you watched as a second figure stepped out of the shadows, a canister of something in his hand. 

“What the…?” 

Watching as the taller figure poured something into the hole followed by the smaller one (the one who had jumped out of the hole in the first place) squirting some sort of liquid, you watched as one of them struck a match and dropped it into the grave. 

“Okay what the-- OH MY GOD!” 

Your voice rose three octaves as a plume of fire shot from the hole in the ground, followed by what could only be described as a wraith from some b-horror movie that screeched louder than any cheerleader at a pep rally who’d just seen her friends ever could, it’s spectral body engulfed in flames before disappearing into the night sky. 

“Whatthefuck?! Oh god, what the fuck… shit… fuckity shit!” 

At this point, you had forgotten all about the people by the grave and had instead focused on what had just come out of the grave. 

***

“Well, at least that’s done. It’s nice to have something nice and easy for once. Can we get out of here now? It’s cold.” Sam shivered and rubbed his hands over his bare arms. He hadn’t thought to bring a jacket. Beside him, Dean shoved the lighter fluid and salt back into the duffel bag, picking it up and slinging it over his shoulder a few moments later. 

“Sammy you’re the size of a literal moose and you’re bitching because it’s cold out? Bring a jacket next-- wait, shhh.” Dean lifted a hand to his mouth when something in the distance cracked, followed by a high pitched wheezing. Looking to his brother, who shrugged, Dean pulled his gun out and stalked forward, having passed the duffel off to Sam who followed close behind. 

***

Wheezing quietly, you cursed the fact that you’d decided to get ice cream. All you wanted was something sweet and now here you were, stuck in a creepy ass cemetery with grave robbers that had just lit a corpse on fire for the fun of it! You weren’t sure what had come out of the grave afterward but you were willing to convince yourself that you were seeing things for the sake of your sanity. 

“Oh cheese on a tortilla, Gods of the gobstoppers and Nephilim of nerds ropes I swear I will never leave the house again if-- click”

Freezing solid when a very familiar sound clicked behind your ear, you slowly stood from behind the three you’d hidden behind and turned; only to come face to face with the muzzle of a handgun held by a man that looked about as happy as a hare in a field of copperheads. Swallowing thickly, you screamed as loud as you could -- a technique taught to you by Olivia. When the scream did nothing but make the male furrowed his brow deeper, you struck out with your chuck covered foot and nailed him between his legs, a fist following shortly after to meet his face with a crunch. 

“Hey Woah! Woah, miss!” The taller male behind the gun-toting one lifted his hands in mock defense as the first crumpled to the ground with a groan and a barely audible ‘sonofabitch’ that was choked from between gritted teeth. Lifting both of your hands, you prepared yourself to try and take on the colossus that had come up behind the smaller one, your (Y/E/C) eyes darting to and fro and your heart slamming against your chest. 

“I’ll kick your dick all the way to Fort Worth you creep sonuvabitch! Don’t try me! I’ll… I’ll do it… you burnt a thing and… I…. I think I’m gonna--” 

Your fear and anxiety got the best of you a moment later and you collapsed to the ground with a dull thud, your body having looked none too graceful in your penguin pants and messy bun (now complete with mud stains and leaves stuck into it, respectfully). You had seen plenty of crime shows, but never once had you seen anything about grave robbing, screaming corpses, or being an accomplice to a heinous crime. And to think, all you had wanted was some god damned ice cream.

[snarky-badger]

Hello, i love your work! so may i resquest a prompt with a badass/sarcastic girlfriend for eddie, like Something happen to us and eddie and venom to protect her but she kick some ass too and their shook because they want to protect her but she protect them from someone i dunno i hope that give you a better idea than mine !

This… didn’t come out the way I wanted. I rewrote it twice. Still not totally happy with it, but I’m worried I’ll ruin it if I tweak it any more.

Since Youtube doesn’t like links, copy/paste this into your browser to hear the music that inspired the fight scene: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ac4J9344s2s (It’s ‘I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight’ by Hidden Citizens)

You grinned as you stepped out of your office building and spotted Eddie leaning against a street light. He jerked as it poked, his gaze rising from his phone, a warm smile spreading over his lips when he spotted you.

Smiling, you wove through the mass of people, heels clacking on the pavement as you made your way over to him. “Hey, you! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Steel blue eyes flickered a little as a white shadow flit across them before Eddie’s smile stretched into a grin. “Thought we’d pick you up for an early supper,” he said, reaching out to take your messenger bag from your shoulder.

“Aw, you’re sweet.” You rose up on your tiptoes to kiss him, slipping a hand in under his jacket to touch his ribs, chuckling when you felt a symbiote tendril curl around your fingers and squeeze. “Lemme guess, someone’s hungry?”

“When is he not hungry?” Eddie chuckled. You snickered at the thin black tendril that rose up from his jacket collar to flick at his left ear. “Vee - not in public!”

A soft laugh left you as you pulled away. “Hi Venom. Steak or Sushi?”

“Steak,” growled out of Eddie’s throat, the man coughing a little once the alien had relinquished control of his voice.

“Steak it is,” you chuckled, smiling again when Eddie hefted your bag onto his shoulder before taking your left hand in his, lacing his fingers with yours. “So, what’d you do all day? Eat anyone interesting?”

A laugh left him. “Nothing nearly that exciting. Just lots of research for the next article the editor tossed at me. A pharmaceutical group recently upped the price of some cancer drugs by a thousand percent.”

“Ugh. Gross.”

“Yeah. Assholes. And you?”

“Oh, yes, because I lead a glamorous life as a Human Resources lackey,” you snarked, rolling your eyes. “The new program they installed is shit, to be honest. It keeps crashing and causing problems.”

“So they fixed it until it broke?”

“Yup. And it’s breaking in an fantastic way. Half of the people I talked to today haven’t been paid in three months, others got seven times their bi-weekly pay in one lump sum, and three had funds taken out of their accounts… which, technically, should be impossible, but the new program is apparently a ‘huge success’.”

“Bureaucracy at it’s finest,” he muttered with a roll of his eyes, and you chuckled as you nodded your agreement. “Well, we’re here to distract you! Good food and then a quick wardrobe change at the apartment and we’ll head down to the fair that just got set up.”

“Oooh, yay! Dibs on the shooting games! I need to shoot something.”

Eddie laughed at your enthusiasm, hand releasing yours so he could relocate his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his body for a hug. “Deal.”

“Target acquired!”

“Wha–”

You and Eddie both turned towards the shout. You caught a glimpse of a trio of heavily armed people standing in the middle of the intersection before the one on the left rose their arms, silver gauntlets on their wrists glowing a little before noise, a shrieking, screaming, wall of sound hit you.

You dropped with a cry, hands clamping over your ears. The sound, horrible, high pitched, making your bones vibrate uncomfortably as it cut through your skull. People all around you clutched at their heads, some falling, some crawling for safety - though there was none to be found.

All the windows around shattered. Cars, buildings, store fronts, all exploded, sending glass flying everywhere, pelting everyone on the street and sidewalks with shrapnel.

Eddie howled in pain next to you, dropping to the ground, writhing. Blackness boiled around him as Venom uncoiled, the symbiote convulsing as the high pitched sound cut through it. Venom’s own scream, feral, raw, rose in counterpoint to Eddie’s and you could only watch, tears streaming down your face, as the ones you cared about thrashed in agony on the pavement.

The silence that followed that sonic barrage was complete and still, and you spent a moment trying to remember how to move, muscles still vibrating from the blast. Finally, you managed to shakily crawl over to Eddie, who was breathing shallowly, Venom a weakly twitching puddle beneath him.

“E-Eddie?” You saw the three start to approach out of the corner of your eye and shook your boyfriend, voice sounding distant and tinny to your no doubt damaged hearing. “Eddie!”

All around, people were scattering, running, a group nearly stampeding over you as they bolted from the trio that were slowly walking down the street, bits of broken glass crunching under their boots as they approached.

Hands shaking, you stumbled to your feet, one shoe missing. You kicked off the other pump, glass easily cutting through your pantyhose covered feet as you grabbed Eddie under the shoulders and started dragging him under an parked SUV and out of sight

The panicking group of people around you helped to hide your motions, enough that the attackers paused when they reached the spot where Eddie had fallen. You were shaking, laying flat on the dirty street under the SUV, Eddie on his back next to you, half-conscious.

“Can’t have gotten far,” one of the attackers growled, and you watched armored boots move around the side of the SUV you were hiding under. “Alien should be out of commission from that blast.”

“Thought you said it’d take him out with one blast! Where’d he go?”

“Look, I don’t know everything okay? Just what was in the portfolio. Weakness to sound and fire, that’s all it said.”

“Shouldn’t have taken this job, Mark. It stinks.”

A new voice growled out: “Fuck that. For five million dollars I’d take out my own grandmother.”

“That’s cuz you’re batshit insane, Jonah.”

You chewed on your lip, eyeing Eddie where he lay beside you as the obsidian puddle that was Venom slowly reformed around him. He moaned, eyelids fluttering, and you slapped a hand over his mouth to silence him, attention going back to watching the three sets of boots mill around as they started searching the street.

It wouldn’t be long before they spotted you. You frowned, your free hand curling into a fist, hating the lack of options.

Eddie suddenly jerked awake next to you, and you shifted your hand from his mouth to his chest, pushing him back down.

“Shh,” you hissed, meeting his gaze before glancing to the nearest set of armored boots.

He tensed, but stayed silent, tilting his head back to watch as the man stomped past the SUV, moving to investigate an alley. “When we say ‘run’,” Eddie rumbled into your ear, his voice a low growl of mixed human and alien. “Run.”

You nodded, mutely. Watched as blackness rose to cover him, Venom’s face forming close to yours, pale, opal sheened, eyes and a mouth with too many fangs settling into place.

“READY MORSEL?”

“Yeah.”

“GO.”

You scrambled out from under the SUV at the same time that Venom lifted it off it’s wheels, bolting for the shelter of a parked bus on the other side of the street. There was an unearthly roar of anger, followed by yells and screams from ‘Mark’ and ‘Jonah’, and a crunch of a car being thrown.

Glass sunk into the soles of your feet as you jumped and slid across the hood of a car in the middle of the street, the vehicle abandoned by it’s owners. You landed on the opposite side, hunkering down. Blew a loose strand of your hair out of your eyes as you peeked over the hood, watching as Venom closed a taloned hand around one of the attacker’s throats and lifted him off his feet.

A roar of pain left him seconds later as a flash grenade detonated at his feet, bits of the symbiote flaring away a little before reforming. Venom turned, and threw the man in his grasp at the one who had thrown the grenade, the two males crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Fire filled the street as the third attacker ran into the thick of things, and you winced at Venom’s shriek as flames licked at his body, bits of his symbiote form flaking off, like ashes. He leapt out range, used a tendril to rip a newspaper box off it’s moorings, then threw it.

When things started to get too close for comfort, you sucked in a breath and darted away from the car, ignoring the sharp pains cutting into your feet as you ran for the safety of an alleyway a block away.

Took cover behind a dumpster, crouching there, closing your eyes when another blast of sound made the fillings in your teeth vibrate.

You hoped Venom could handle himself. Technically, you could have done something, but fear of reprisal held you back. You didn’t think the repercussions would come from Eddie or Venom. No, you were worried about bigger things - like your life.

When you’d turned thirteen, you’d developed the ability to move things with a thought. Your parents had been horrified. Had instilled in you the knowledge that if you ever let anyone know what you could do, that you’d be taken away. That you couldn’t under any circumstances, use your powers, no matter what. So you’d kept what you could do a secret throughout high school, and then college, and then your adult life.

Now, with the Mutant Registration Act in full swing, you feared for your life. You knew what humans did to mutants: had seen far too many beatings and anti-mutant protests and hatred. The ‘Friends of Humanity’ patrolled the streets like a wave of physical hatred.

Fear kept you from trusting anyone. Fear kept you restrained.

So, you huddled, hiding, as the sounds of the battle got louder. People screamed and sobbed as Venom and the Trio fought, stragglers darting around, some stupidly taking photos with their phones while others right ran for their lives.

With every scream of the sonics, with every whoosh of fire and loud explosion of grenades, with every roar and scream of pain from Venom, you jerked as if physically hit. Guilt knawed at you, and you clenched your eyes shut, the heels of your hands pressing into your temple.

Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the ground, sending you to your knees in the grime. Bits of buildings, bricks and mortar, clattered to around you, and you curled over, hands rising to protect your head as another series of booms and bangs rattled everything. It sounded like the end of the world, like a nuclear bomb going off.

People screamed again, cars lifting off their tires, some flipping onto their sides. More sound shook the air, drowning out your own shriek of fear as everything went to hell around you. The ground rose, then slammed back down, and you cried out again as you landed hard on your chest, the breath whooshing out of you.

Distantly, as silence and stillness finally returned, you heard the sounds of triumphant whooping.

“HAH! Got ‘im! Told you land-mining the street ahead of time was worth it!”

Panting, shaking, you pushed yourself to your hands and knees, palms bloodied from scraping on the concrete. Your pant were torn at the knees, covered in grime, and you stiffly shucked out of your blazer, loosening the top three buttons of your blouse as you tried to level out your panicked breathing.

Numb, ears ringing, you stumbled to your feet, then staggered towards the street, side stepping around bits of debris. The street was decimated. Huge holes lined either side of the road, bits of concrete and asphalt peppered the ground, along with more glass. Some stores looked like they’d imploded, others were missing completely. A building across the way was missing the whole front of it - it had simply caved in. Some cars had been flattened by debris, one was one fire, and a few were blaring their alarms.

Shivering, you braced yourself against a still standing wall, and peered around it. The trio were standing in around a figure on the ground, and your heart sank when you realized that it was Eddie, his left leg broken, his right arm bent at an unnatural angle. Venom was pooled under him, trembling, and you growled when one of the thugs aimed a flamethrower at the leading edge of the symbiote and literally burnt it off with a burst of fire.

Your life, or the life of the man (and symbiote) that you loved?

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails cutting into your palms as your knuckles went white.

You didn’t have the luxury of fear anymore.

Eddie groaned, pain, sharp and white hot, bombarding him. One leg was definitely fucked up, and one of his arms was just a blur of agony. Things weren’t too good with his head either, he had trouble focusing his eyes, and his thoughts seemed decidedly… slippery.

The place where Venom usually lived in his brain was frighteningly quiet, and he frowned, tasting blood as he licked his lips, voice croaking out. “V-Venom?”

A voice snorted laughter at him. “Sorry, asshole. Your alien buddy is down for the count.”

Another chuckled. “Easiest five mil I ever made.”

He groaned again, trying to sit up, good arm shaking as he tried to heft himself up, only to cry out when the butt of a gun smacked into his forehead. Stars and blackness exploded across his vision, consciousness wavering, and Eddie felt hands grab him, felt new pain as he was dragged down the street. His still working hand slid through a familiar viscous mass, and he curled his fingers into the symbiote, slurring Venom’s name again.

“Wait. What the fuck is that?”

“What the fuck is what?”

Dimly, Eddie felt it. The ground, vibrating, like an earthquake, but more drawn out. As if a train was rumbling by. He rolled his head on his shoulders, blinking through the blood in his eyes, and joined his three attackers in trying to figure out what was going on.

He caught sight of you before they did. Blinked again, trying to focus, as you kept walking towards them, slowly, steadily. Your business outfit was torn, blood, dust, dirt and grime marring your clothes, feet bloodied from walking on bits of glass and debris.

“Who’s that?”

“Who the fuck cares? She’s a witness. Fry her.”

Eddie thrashed, trying to get loose. Howled when the one on the left returned the attempt with a kick to his head. His skull rebounded against some debris, vision going black, and he groaned, curling into himself, good hand rising to cover the bleeding gash he’d just gained.

“Hey there, sweet thing,” the one with the flamethrower leered as he stepped forward. “You look a little hot!”

“No!” Eddie screamed as fire exploded from the odd gun the thug was holding, washing forward like a tsunami. Saw it engulf you, the flames hot enough to made the paint on nearby cars turn black from the heat and start to peel. He fought, screaming obscenities, lashing out with his good leg and making contact.

The goon with the sonic gauntlets went down with a curse when his knee was kicked in, landing on Eddie with the intention of beating him senseless. Rage took over as Eddie fought back, grappling, beating on the other man with his good fist, until one of the others still standing kicked his broken leg right where it had snapped in half.

His vision went black from pain. Heaving, Eddie curled into himself, receiving a knee to the ribs as the thug he’d kicked gave him a final hit before staggering to his feet again.

He heard a curse of surprise, heard more footsteps. Managed to crack an eye open in time to see the trio start to back away. Frowning, he tilted his head back as far as he could, blinking through his swollen eyes in shock.

You were standing in the center of a circular unburnt patch, the only signs that fire had been involved the chaos around you, burnt cars, smouldering asphalt that was partially melted from the heat.

Eyes narrowed, you stepped forward, ignoring the sizzling stench of your skin burning as you walked across hot concrete. Everything vibrated around you as your powers uncurled from you in waves, making bits of debris rattle on the ground.

Eddie blinked up at you as you reached him, pausing to look down at him with glowing eyes. “B-Babe?” he croaked, shivering when the glow faded a little, as you gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile before raising your gaze back to the Trio, breathing deep as you stepped in front of Eddie’s crumpled form.

The Trio didn’t bother with any quips or conversation. Merely opened fire, flames and the scream of sonics filling the air.

Eddie grimaced, bracing himself for more pain, eyes widening when you rose a hand to the side, fingers curling a little. A heavily damaged car rose off it’s tires and flew between you and the oncoming attacks. Metal groaned, the frame buckling inwards, as it acted like a barrier, absorbing fire and the sonic barrage. 

You waited for a lull in the attacks before making a shoving motion, sending the car flying forwards. It cartwheeled through the street, sending the Trio diving for cover. You sent an SUV and a pickup truck after it, aiming to crush the opposition outright, eyes narrowing as you reached down, into the ground.

More concrete buckled, ripping free, chunks rising into the air as you took hold of them. Another thought had slivers of glass gathering together into sharpened spikes, your makeshift weapons floating in the air around you, held aloft by your thoughts alone.

Only two of the attackers rose out from the destruction from the vehicles, and Eddie propped himself up on his good arm as you took aim, sending a chunk of concrete after the one with the flamethrower and three spikes after the one with the sonic gauntlets.

Fire was useless against rock. The concrete flew through the wave of flames aimed at it and hit the man right in the chest. He died seconds later when a razor sharp spike of glass sunk into his face.

The other man had thrown himself to the side, rolling out of the way of the spikes you’d sent after him, and Eddie watched as you made a gesture, one of the other chunks of concrete floating nearby shooting forward. It forced the thug to abandon his hiding spot as the heavy chunk flattened the small Mazda he’d been hunkering behind.

He darted across the street, arms raised, more sonics screaming out from those odd gauntlets he wore. You mentally wrenched a nearby car door off it’s hinges, seeing the metal buckle as you used it as a shield. The second the sound stopped, you sent half a dozen spikes at him; five at chest level, one at his feet.

He deflected five, but not the sixth that sunk into his right foot, pinning him to the ground. Finally still long enough for you to focus on him, you mentally reached out and snapped his neck, his head spinning all the way around before he dropped, dead, to the ground.

“That’s quite enough of that.”

Eddie grimaced as he jerked his head to the side, following your startled gaze as the two of you stared at the third goon, and you grit your teeth when the man rose his arms, the pair of sonic gauntlets he wore glinting in the light before he activated them.

Being hit point blank was like having a bomb go off in your head. You screamed, dropping to the ground, your telekinetic hold on the concrete chunks and shards of glass failing as the shriek of sound cut through your brain. Eddie convulsed next to you, the symbiote boiling and undulating in agony.

Panic took over, and you lashed out.

Everything exploded.

The thug died on impact as the blast picked him up and sent him flying across the street to impact with a building wall with bone breaking force. Recurrent waves of power rolled off of you, over and over, concrete buckling, cars being sent flying, buildings cracking on their foundations. Garbage and debris swirled around, forming an impassable barrier.

Eddie groaned, reaching out, fingers touching your arm before curling around your wrist. Everything beyond a ten foot radius around the two of you was falling apart under a constant barrage of unfocused power, the ground cracking and splitting under the stress. “Babe. Babe, s’okay. S’over! Babe!”

The shout, along with the grip on your wrist, jolted you, eyes snapping open, blinking a few times before you focused on Eddie’s bloodied face.

As soon as your mind calmed, everything settled. Cars slammed to the ground, debris dropping all around you like rain. You gasped, breath hitching in your throat as tears gathered in your eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I didn’t– I lost control–”

“It’s okay,” Eddie rasped, forcing a smile when you crawled over to him and leaned down to press your forehead to his. “You kick some serious ass when you’re pissed.”

A watery laugh left you, and you kissed him, gently. “You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit, too.” A grunt left him as he forced himself to sit up, and you frowned as you helped him, your gaze landing on the mass of black, viscous, symbiote under him. “Ahhh shit. Ribs.”

“Venom– I-Is he?”

“No clue. Can’t feel him.” He reached down into the obsidian puddle under him, frowning as he sank his fingers into the mass. Felt it vibrate a little against his skin, and look up at you with a crooked smile when the symbiote slowly, painfully slowly, sunk into his skin. “Down but not out.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

Sirens caught both of your attentions, and you frowned as police, fire trucks and ambulances appeared at the intersection. People appeared from everywhere, sticking their heads out of stores and alleys and doorways before mobbing the response teams.

You looked away and refocused on Eddie, who was pale under the patina of dirt and blood. Sighing, you dropped down to sit next to him, leaning your head against his when he slumped against you. “Don’t think Vee’s going to appreciate hospital food though.”

He managed a tired, weak, huff of laughter. “That’s because it’s not real food.”

A smile tugged at your lips for a moment before fading. “Think I’ll get arrested?”

“Don’t know. Though if anyone connects me with Venom, I might be joining you.”

“Shit.”

“Yup.”

“I’m sorry… for not telling you,” you murmured as the throng of police and EMTs neared the two of you. “I should have. You trusted me, and I was too much of a coward to reciprocate.”

His good hand sought out yours and you shivered when his fingers curled around yours tightly. “S’okay. Promise. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Overruled.”

A tired laugh left you. “You’ve been watching too many court dramas again.”

“Vee’s fault.”

“Of course it is.”

[stusbunker]

Known: Angels are Assholes

A Supernatural DARK Fan-fiction

Summary: Chloe faces what was following her in the woods. Dean gets a monologue, before going darkside and all knifey on some angels. Crowley toys with our reader. Cas squints in confusion. Somebody wakes up and somebody doesn’t until they’re gone.

Warnings: Suggested child rape (past, unfounded), blood, feelings, mind-fuckery, revelations, character death. This chapter is super long.

Series Masterlist

The clouds rolled in behind her as CC came to a stop in her usual spot, kitty-corner from the porch. Her bike had been miraculously refueled once she found her way back to it. The fog of the subconscious haven thinning as she put her boots on the ground and faced the figures looming in the shadows. She opened her mouth to call out but thought better of shouting at bits of her past. They’d find her anyway.

She stepped through the trees, letting the path unwind itself as she faced what she needed to know. Now that she was focused and no longer running the opposite direction, it all started to come together. Her granddad kneeled along the bank of a dusty river, strong hands timidly comforting a young girl, who was visibly shaking in her sparkling new school clothes.

“It’s alright, my Falling Star,” his voice was low, but CC recognized the nickname he had given her mother. The child whimpered and shook her head, an infant’s cry broke through the forest’s peace.

“I didn’t mean it now,” was all she heard her mother say.

As Chloe turned to look for the baby, she found a weathered neighborhood sidewalk, houses in need of paint jobs and new shutters stretching before her in every direction. A long sedan with police lights on the roof parked in front of a yellow Cape Cod with wooden siding. A woman with oversized glasses held a file in her arms as she talked to CC’s granddad, her mother and her watching them from the front porch. She hadn’t remembered her mother ever being that young, small and nearly fragile.

“Mr. Longfellow, we understand that the original complaint is unfounded, given the child’s other genetic markers, but there has still been a crime committed. Please, let us put the bastard away.”

“I know you mean well, ma’am. But my Candace is fine and we came here for a job, we won’t be staying long enough for any investigation. Thank you for your time.”

“Sir, if you’re protecting someone—,” the officer spoke for the first time. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, and he visibly flinched when her granddad’s eyes fell on him.

“The only ones I am protecting is those girls, now get. We’re done here.”

CC stepped forward, wanting to ask what the social worker was talking about and possibly glimpse the blood tests that must have been among her paperwork. But her mind held her in place until the memory faded and she found herself on another street, sleet-slick and freezing. She saw the old station wagon fish tail and the driver try to over-correct, completely losing control and wrapping the car around an old oak tree.

“Chloe!” Her mother screamed against the static of falling ice crystals.

“Mama?” Chloe was frozen watching her mother limp around the hood of the car to get to her.

“It’s okay, doll-baby, it’s okay,” Constance reached her hand in through the shattered passenger side window, to touch CC’s forehead. “You’re going to be fine.”

But she lost consciousness, the blood flowing through her hair as her mother continued muttering in Tsėhésenėstsestȯtse. Then she saw it, the blue magic flow from her mother and coat her in a golden light.

“You can’t die. You can’t die. You can’t die. You’re going to be fine.” Constance inhaled and then fell against the untouched edge of the tree’s trunk, her strength leaving her as she joined her daughter in unconsciousness. The sirens came an hour later, the back roads impassible, but miraculously the woman and the young girl were found in stable condition. CC didn’t even know they had ever been in an accident.

The darkness followed her to the small back bedroom in Montana as she saw her barely teenaged self staring at the ceiling. The argument wafted through the walls like a television left on.

“You’re just going to leave her? Clean up your own mess,” her granddad spat.

“That’s not fair. She’s safer with you, you know that. There are things that I need to do, that only I can do.”

“Yeah, you do too much of that and they’ll find you. They aren’t stupid, Constance. You shine like a beacon and they will follow you home,” his voice was desperate, Chloe couldn’t remember ever hearing him sound so worried.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t come back.”

There was an agonizing pause.

“Maybe not.”

Chloe didn’t realize it, but both versions of her wiped at the same tears of betrayal with the heels of her hands.

“It’s okay, child, just relax now,” Missouri’s voice was soothing, despite her own skepticism. CC opened her eyes, she was in the memory this time, not looking at it from the outside. “Well, this is a new one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” CC heard herself say it but had more pressing questions at the moment. She began to speak over herself, “What’s happening Ms. Mosley?”

“Girl, you’re going to have to slow down, I can’t hear all of you at once.”

“All of us?” CC remembered eyeing the corners of the room as if this woman was seeing things.

“I’m not the one asking if she’s crazy, so don’t you go thinking ill of those helping you, Chloe Cathleen,” Missouri snipped.

“Yes, ma’am,” CC said in unison with her past self, Missouri always had a natural command of respect and if she wasn’t shown it, she demanded it.

“Now, you’re gonna come back here, in a good long while, but I hope what I say now makes sense to you,” her dark eyes lingered, a burden near pity overtook the psychic’s soft features. “You are a miracle, made unique and uniquely made, but that also means you need to be careful. It’s like you have a glowing vacancy sign on the front door, next to the one screaming there’s nothing to see here. It gets confusing. But know this, you need to fortify your own house, because certain guests are welcome, but most are not.”

“Thanks?” CC’s past self said through squinted eyes, but her current-self locked onto Missouri’s weighted stare, certain she had sensed her the entire time.

A voice sounded behind her and Chloe suddenly remembered who had told her about Missouri in the first place.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” John’s easy grin turned sour when he saw the confusion on CC’s face. “Hey, everything okay kiddo?”

CC nodded, the grief of seeing Dean’s father again brought up the events that had led her to Missouri’s front door. Her granddad’s death and knowing she would have to face her mother again after years apart. “Yeah, or, it will be, in a good long while,” CC parroted Missouri.

“Somethings are like that,” John patted her back and walked her to his massive truck. “Where to? Dean’s got something in Illinois this weekend, but we could probably salt and burn things faster without him, what’d’ya say?”

CC smiled at the offer, but thought better of tagging along with the Winchesters, especially without Sam. “Just take me to Bobby’s, or close enough for me to hitch there,” CC corrected, seeing the tension roll in as John’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Thanks, though.”

*^*

May 13, 2014

The Bunker

Dean stalked down the hallway passed his room, ignoring Sam who lingered in front of his own bedroom door. The infirmary was the only place that made sense to keep CC, so that’s where he headed as soon as they got home. Dean hadn’t wanted to put her back in her old room, not after he gutted it. They had her on a simple cot, jacket set on the back of a chair and an old quilt from her truck tucked around her chest. Her gun and her knife rested easily on small bedside table. She never moved, still in a state close to sleep, her heart beat and her lungs expanded, but she never woke.

Dean watched her and chewed over the spreading numbness inside him. Between the two of them, they were a butchered collage of folk stories, each broken parts of different tales, cursed and waiting to be saved or charging the castle and any monsters that stood in his way. He was on a narrow path, one down, two boss fights to go in the grand saga of the Mark of Cain. Dean was alight, focused, up until he tried to start talking.

“Hey, Cease,” Dean’s voice caught in his throat. “I, uh, well, I ganked Abaddon. It was pretty unreal, actually, but yeah, put her down for the count this time.”

Dean had done his fair share of talking to the unconscious, especially if one counted the time spent praying to Cas, listening to his own voice wasn’t as uncomfortable as it should have been. He settled on to the empty cot next to CC and balanced his elbows on his knees.

“You know I had a feeling, about you, about that thing inside you. And I know it was there longer than that day at Magnus’s. But I didn’t say anything, because, hell, who am I to judge, right? But it was worse than I thought, I thought it was just a chip on your shoulder after that case in North Carolina, but I was wrong, and for that, oversight, I apologize.” He shifted and he cleared his throat, “But, I don’t know why I’m sorry. Am I sorry because I missed the obvious? And never tested you? Or because I let you in and got hurt? What exactly is my fault here because I’m used to taking it all on and I can’t really feel it. Any of it. I’m just pissed and the only thing I want to do is the job. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He stood up, energy gnawing at him once more. His voice grew angrier, no waver to his jaw and no moisture in his stern eyes.

“So that’s what I’m going to do. Because I owe you that much, even if it’s not going to bring you back. I am going to gut that black-eyed bitch.”

The certainty hummed along his veins like a tuning fork, vibrating in the key of Cain and the decided fates of his enemies. Blood and destruction his new anthem. Gone was the righteousness and purpose that had carried him this far. Inside, his soul flickered.

He continued to watch CC on the cot, thoughts and memories warring with the need to move. Luckily, Cas called, giving him the excuse he needed, allowing him to walk away.

*^*

The Bunker

Tail end of Stairway to Heaven

“Cas, you just gave up an entire army for one guy,” Dean explained across the table. “No, there’s no way you blew those people away.”

Castiel didn’t realize how much he needed to hear Dean say that, to know that his friend believed in him once again. “Do you really think that we three will be enough?”

Dean gave Cas a company smile. “We always have been.”

Cas cautiously watched Dean as footsteps approached from seemingly out of nowhere.

“Guys!”

“I’m not here to fight,” Gadreel announced with his hands up. Dean locked on to the fugitive angel, his sights set, and his senses primed. Gadreel spoke pointedly to Cas as Sam challenged his honor, but Dean wasn’t listening, he was busy keeping the Mark in check. Then it happened, an olive branch, an opening to add to their numbers. To strengthen and inform their dwindling resolve. Dean reached forward with his lesser hand, extending hope, if a tenuous partnership. The moment their palms touched and their eyes locked, Dean knew. He didn’t hesitate, he swung, blade teeth up, slicing Gadreel hip to collar bone, a broad seam of grace gaping in his chest.

Sam dove for him, but it was already done. Dean pushed on, the Mark craved more, it demanded death. Both Cas and Sam had to hold him as bestial grunts escaped his lips, he wouldn’t be stopped, not yet.

They listened to him, but still left him in the fortified space behind the storage in 7B, the dungeon. There was that other thing they needed Cas’s help with and after Gadreel had escaped, however bloodied, they took the five minutes and headed deeper into the Bunker.

“I can’t believe she was possessed this whole time,” Cas muttered, hand drifting inches above Chloe’s body.

“What? You knew? How long?” Sam spat as he loomed overhead, head tipped, watching every motion of the angel’s fingers.

“Since Nebraska, since the fall, Sam. She, the demon, almost ran me over with her truck,” Castiel explained, huffing against the flickering grace inside him.

“And you didn’t think to tell us?!”

“Dean wasn’t exactly willing to lend me an ear, I suspect it had to do with hiding, who he thought to be Ezekiel, from the other angels, who were hunting me.”

Sam settled back on his heels, processing what that meant for his brother and CC and their, situation. “It’s been a rough year, I’m sorry. But, is she going to wake up?”

“I don’t know, probably. But there are layers to her mind that I can’t get through. She isn’t just dreaming, and she’s not an empty vessel. I don’t think... I don’t think she’s human, Sam.”

Sam froze, “Well, what the hell is she then?”

“Nothing I have ever seen before.”

“Any idea?”

“Some sort of hybrid, when I search her mind it literally tells me she is human, nothing extraordinary.” Cas’s brows pitched up, hoping Sam understood.

“Someone put that there to hide her.”

“More than one person did this.”

“Do you think she knows?”

“No, if she did, she wouldn’t have been possessed in the first place. She probably has no idea who or what she is.” Cas stood up, eyes still on the sleeping woman before them. “Or what she can do.”

*^*

A Demonic Massage Parlor, The Tropics

“You see, Y/N, there are perks to working with the throne,” Crowley muttered into the towel that held his face. The demon working him over was wearing an unnaturally beautiful vessel, every detail coiffed for seduction. Which she used to her advantage as she whispered poorly veiled taunts of demonic unrest.

Graciously, your vessel had died from cardiac arrest shortly after you walked him away from harassing the woman at the bus stop. You couldn’t have bothered letting him live much longer anyway, his mind was two parts alcohol, one-part abuse and a few too many pinches of misogyny. But he had means, even after his license had been revoked, so you kept on his identity and found your way back to being Crowley’s gofer.

The male demon who had been assigned your massage was too busy lusting over the one trying to get in good with the King. You kept having to move his hands as he worked. He was not utilizing his vessel’s muscle memory, at all. The entire scenario wasn’t much of a perk, it was more of one more thing to endure in order to stay on Crowley’s good side. You hummed in agreement, the deep voice still uncomfortable in your throat.

The walls began to shake, and you rolled your eyes at the bimbo’s obvious statement.

“Sir, I believe you’re being summoned.”

The next thing from her lips sent a pitfall through your gut.

“It’s a Winchester.”

You had no idea how she knew who was on the other end of the spell, perhaps it was an acquired skill or an enchantment to the room placed for her own protection. Either way, you remained quiet as Crowley waved the help off and dressed himself.

“Sir?”

“What? You want me to give your regards?”

“I’d rather you didn’t mention me at all.”

Crowley watched you with a slight distaste, “Fine, just don’t let Tarisette clock out, just yet.”

You nodded, rolling over as the man’s large gut shifted uncomfortably to the side. You really needed a new vessel and a plan.

*^*

She hadn’t seen her in eleven years, hadn’t even spoken in five, but her mother was just as beautiful and menacing as she had ever been. She remembered this conversation because it was the one that changed her life.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Words that were the perfect greeting for someone like Constance Collins to her estranged daughter, Chloe forced a chuckle. Playing tough, her past-self spoke, but she now watched her mother’s wandering eyes, the telltale fear and alarm of a trapped animal. She was scared of her, not just what else could find her. Find them.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on out there?!”

“No, Mama,” both of her replied, the past defiantly, the present sadly.

The edge wore off, maybe it was reliving it, but Chloe had let go of her anger with her mother somewhere between there and now.

“The angels are everywhere, you need to be careful,” Constance mumbled, stepping closer to her daughter, her hand coming up to brush away a strand of hair mindlessly. As if they were familiar enough for such intimacies.

“Is Gram’s angel back?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t heard that name, but we need to be careful. They will find you if they need to.”

“What about you?”

“Me? Me, they’ll kill on sight.” The fear resurfaced in those chilling words, nearly apologetically.

 Chloe turned and faced the bright and unnervingly blue eyes of a weaselly business man.

“Chloe is it?” The man’s voice was nasally but pressing.

“Maybe, depends on who’s asking.” She wasn’t in her body, but this memory wasn’t that old, she had seemed to have travelled sequentially thus far.  The missing memory set the hairs on the back of her neck on end. She watched herself talk to the weird man, confusion burning through her.

“Someone who knows your family, on your grandmother’s side.” He lost all pretense as two more angels stepped behind her past self.

“What do you want from me?”

“Relax, we just need to run a few tests, you won’t remember a thing.”

The scene changed, but she still hadn’t returned to her part in the memory.

“Sir?”

“Yes.”

“The Contingency?”

“What about her?”

“She’s waking up.”

“Well, knock her back out. She isn’t going to tweak herself.”

Chloe couldn’t see most of her body, only a strip of arm behind the angels surrounding her. The room felt like a surgical bay, pure white with lots of metal. A spare bed and what looked like dental equipment remained untouched on a side table. The metal rods looked long enough to pierce both ears, simultaneously. As soon as she arrived, she returned to the street with the presumptuous man.

“You can call me Zachariah. Do me a favor? Reach out as soon as you hear from those Winchesters again.”

“Uh, sure thing,” Chloe pocketed the business card, and before she turned to go the guy vanished. Figured, good thing she never intended to help the creeper in the first place. She crossed her arms over her chest recalling how she hadn’t been able to shake the sense of Déjà vu for a week.

There were ridges along the ground that rose and fell with each new memory, the woods cracking open and rearranging as she navigated the path toward her decision. She watched them sink and settle, unaffected by the new topography she walked on. After an hour or twelve, she came back to the clearing that held her Granddad’s cabin, spotting him eyeing her through the sun-bleached curtains.

She stomped toward the small house, feeling the anger and frustration churn with each step. He could have said something, anything, years before. This wasn’t just on Mama, this was on the Old Man too. She tried to center herself, tried to hold back the rage and the betrayal their secrets created. CC failed at composure, never one to tip toe into an argument.

She yanked the storm door open and stepped inside, eyes like saucers at the state of her granddad, her words sticking behind the latch in her throat.

“There’s our girl,” his voice fell flat, the mutilated side of his face rippling as he clenched his jaw.

“I guess this look is better than the bull elk,” CC mumbled as she took the familiar course to the battered sofa. “Let me have it, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Nothing. I’m not here to speak for the dead.”

“So, what are you here for then?”

“The choice.”

“Right, well, I want to wake up, figure out just what she got me into.”

“That’s not what you need to decide.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What do I need to decide?”

“Whether you are going to go back to life as a human, forgetting everything you’ve seen and losing all those burdens and pain from years in the dark.”

Chloe stilled, though her hand reflexively worried the handle of her knife, worn and familiar beneath her callused hands.

Her granddad’s corpse continued, “Or, you go back. With all of the hard truths and the responsibilities of one brought into being by a simple childish wish from a being who had yet to grow into her powers or place in the universe. You can go back knowing who and what you are, but that comes at a terrible cost. For Heaven’s eyes will never be far from you now and the minions of Hell will seek you out as a fortress against the light.

Either way, you wake up. But, first, you must choose.”

His beetle black eyes watched her, the emptiness threatening to consume her as CC realized the elk was her true family. He never wanted her to come here, but now that she had; the choice must be made. Knowing she wouldn’t die wasn’t so reassuring anymore, and twisted laughter erupted from her chest. The part of her mind that became her worst memory watched her, unwavering.

As she closed her eyes, CC inhaled.

And chose.

CC opened her eyes, dragging in a deep breath through her nose as her body protested her every shift. She pulled her hands into fists and clenched her back through the clammy shivers of waking up. The air was cold and stale, a raw discomfort reassuring her that she was back in her body. She appeared to be with the Winchesters, there wasn’t any other place she could think of that had brickwork like theirs. She sat up and looked around, scanning the abandoned sick room. CC stood, staggering on pins and needles, and clumsily took her knife and her gun.  Carefully, she made her way down the hall. Every room was empty, or locked. Every room until the one she remembered. CC almost missed him, he was below eye level after all. But she found him, off to the side and flat on his back. Dean.

Dean sticky with blood and unnaturally still.

Dean.

Dead.

No.

“No.”

She stumbled from her perch in the door frame, reaching the edge of the bed to fall beside Dean. She grasped at his shirts, shaking him.

“What did you do?! Damnit Dean,” she howled, voice cracking from lack of use. She slapped him, the cold skin of his cheek stung as she fell face first against his pillow and fissured. This was not the reality she fought to get back to, she wanted to go back. But there were no more memories to seek out and now there would be no new ones made. Not with Dean. Her arms clutched to his face, pulling him up, his bulk anchoring her as she sobbed. Nothing felt connected, rage, guilt, grief flowed into a noxious mix and Chloe had to step back. Hurling all over the floor as her body rejected the trauma as much as her mind had.

Once the putrid yellow liquid had emptied itself, she focused. Where the hell was Tweedle Dum?

“Sam!” CC walked backwards, keeping her eyes on Dean’s body as if he would disappear at any moment, just another nightmare she needed to pass through. “Goddamn it, Sam, where the fuck are you?!”

She was still crying but clutching the door knob and shouting through the cavernous Bunker had given her some slight release. If anyone was going to hear her, it wasn’t going to be misunderstood for more than it was. There was a faint rumble and the sound of doors closing.

“Sam?” CC’s voice broke and she whispered to herself, “Oh, Maheo’o, please.  He’s okay. He has—”

Sam rounded the corner, dirty and mystified.

“—to be.”

They fell at each other, Sam tucking his gun in his belt before his arms could hold her to his chest, keeping her upright. “I’m so sorry, Chloe.”

She felt his words more than she heard them, her head clouded, ribcage unhinged and gaping. She kept looking over her shoulder, watching Dean’s body, but Sam turned them both away, unwilling to let her dwell on it like he had, the entire drive home.

“What happened?”

Sam swallowed. “Metatron.”

Angels. Of course.

She nodded, trying to remember everything she could about what they had been hunting last. “But what about Abaddon? And Crowley? How long have I been out?”

“Yeah, well, hey are you alright? Do you need anything?” Sam held her at arm’s length, taking in her eyes and her steadiness. “Because I was going to summon Crowley, make him fix this. Since he was the one that started this whole suicide mission with the Mark of Cain.”

“Suicide? Sam, what are you talking about?”

Sam sniffed. “Oh, Chloe, tell me you know. That you--”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me, dumb ass.”

Sam almost laughed at that, inhaling with a mirthful pout. “Let’s get you some water and then how about we see what we can do?”

“How can we just leave him like that?”

Sam gave her a sad smile. “We’re not going to. Let’s go.”

Sam led her to the kitchen, keeping his right arm over her shoulders, at the ready should she lose her balance. But he needed her there more than she ever could.

“Finally,” Crowley muttered as he watched Sam and the empty vessel slink off together.

*^*

This was new. It was as if a seatbelt had been strapped to his soul, barring him from escaping the wreckage that was his body. So much for meeting his new Reaper and getting the spiel that was once reserved for Tessa. He tested the barriers of his body, unsure what would happen if he couldn’t crossover. Would he go vengeful? Was Sammy going to have to go full blowtorch on his ass? He started to separate, slipping from solid to gas and back to liquid as the darkness pulled him apart. He folded in on himself, twice, twenty, two thousand times until he was frayed and knotted and mangled beyond belief. The unscratchable itch remained the same, the Mark the source, but not the remedy. Dean stretched, reaching out to gain control in a space only he could navigate. It was disgustingly fragile to him now. Everything felt, lesser. It still reeked of humanity and its pathetic mortality.

Then he heard him, Crowley. That smug bastard really could spin yarns, but Dean wasn’t convinced, yet. He settled back, as easy as slipping into an old flannel, finding his arms and toes and all the other places he liked to control. Once Crowley made his true offer, Dean knew what he sold to be true, or as available as any other fate to him now.

And so he opened his eyes to bask in their shared damnation.

Next Chapter: Too Good to Be True

[lovelyfictional-imagines]

Me and You. (Twelfth Doctor x Reader)

This is my first explicit songfic, meaning it actually involves the song. Well, mostly. I had the idea while driving home this morning, and Twelve is currently the rabbit hole I’ve fallen into. Often I’ll be listening to the playlist I’ve put together for the Doctor, and I crave to write more songfics. Please let me know if you enjoyed this, if I did this right. I’m still extremely new to this.

The numbers 1-5 are different scenarios, I’ve read a lot of stories in this format and absolutely loved them, and will probably have more like this in the future. I’m better with many shorter stories. 

I swear there’ll be others, I actually have a Ten fic in the works right now. 

This was also written in maybe two sittings, so I do apologize if it’s inconsistent or not as well written. I’ll be back to edit it a few more times, I’m sure. 

Until next fic,

- Ashley

Song: Me and You by Jake Bugg

Word Count: 2697

All the time people follow us where we go We both should believe the path that we chose And I'll hold you with such delicacy No they won't catch you and me

 1.

He’d found her outside a strip mall, smoking. She was bleak, bleary, obviously having been beaten down by life thus far as she slouched against a metallic picnic table. The circles beneath her eyes were so dark they could’ve easily been mistaken for bruises.

“Did you know smoking is terrible for you?”

And suddenly he was there.

“Did you know I don’t give a shit?”

“Language! Good god, everyone here is so vulgar.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there. Apologies, then, it’s just been one of those days.”

“Looks more like one of those weeks in your case.”

A light glare was sent his way before she took another drag. Dropping it, she shrugged and scrambled on the table for it.

“You’re not wrong there, either.”

“What if I said I could take you away from all this and have you back in time for your shift?”

(E/C) irises swimming with uncertainty snapped in his direction, dropping her cigarette again, this time onto the pavement, in shock. She looked terribly unsure of him, and he couldn’t blame her. Here he was, a complete stranger, asking an exhausted looking young woman if she’d like him to take her away. “I’d say you’re mad. Unless you have some sort of funny time machine.”

“Don’t believe me, eh? Keep that thought in mind. Come with me.”

“Ah, that’s not suspicious now, is it? Older man coercing a young, vulnerable woman to follow him somewhere?”

He’d already leapt up and over the bench they’d been sitting on, striding off down the sidewalk.

“What’s your name anyway?” The cashier called.

“The Doctor. Coming?”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed in annoyance. Nevertheless, she followed him with a small smile on her face that managed to light up the rest of it. The confidence in his walk was a bit exaggerated, though she seemed to be so ecstatic that she didn’t seem to notice or care. A familiar blue police box came into view, and he approached it, tapping it with a certain fondness. Confusion spread over her worn down face.

“Now this really is concerning, I believe I should’ve been more careful from the start.”

“Oh calm down, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Have a look.”

Skeptically, she stepped forward, pushing the door open reluctantly. Moving inside, he heard a loud cry of shock, something along the lines of it being “bigger on the inside”. The Doctor chuckled to himself.

“Hasn’t gotten old yet.”

 It's all over all of the time And if you want to I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you

 2.

Here they were, on a busy street on the edge of London. (Y/N) sat behind the wheel of her ancient canary-colored car, chewing her lip in anticipation. The Doctor sat adjacent to her, leaned back casually. His foot tapped impatiently, position slightly shifting every few seconds. Tension was thick in the dusty air.

“Well?”

“I said I thought I could drive. Don’t actually know if I can. Haven’t had much of a chance to.”

“Anyone can drive, it’s elementary. You’re just not.”

A glare was shot in his direction, causing him to snort. It was a mirror image of his, contorting her lovely face. He grinned knowing that he’d grown on her as much as she’d grown on him. Stuck to him, he’d often tell himself, knowing it was absolute rubbish.

“Come on, you can do it. If a moron can do it, so can you.”

A small fist flew across the front seat, shoving him playfully.

“Shut it, Doctor. I’m trying to drive now, and it could be detrimental to both of us if I’m irritated.”

The Doctor chuckled, watching her aggravated face behind his dark glasses. A small smile attempted to break her glowering countenance. At last it was triumphant, a shy, cheeky expression that he’d only seen directed at him. Gentle dustings of pink swept across her cheeks.

“Let’s go.”

Speeding along after some difficulty merging into traffic, they were silent. The Doctor had yelled at her and the other driver simultaneously. Refusing to argue and attempt to remain at a reasonable speed concurrently, (Y/N)’s face burned. All she could do is grumble beneath her breath and continue on until they were far out of the city, bumbling along the countryside in her yellow car.

“You know,” he began, voice softer than before. An attempt to wordlessly apologize for his previous action. “I once had a car of my own, quite a bit like this one, too. Same color, not as junky. I took great pride in it.”

(Y/N) laughed loudly, apparently thinking it a joke. Feeling quite indignant, he puffed up a bit at her chortles. “I did! Years and years ago when I wore a different face.”

“I’m sure you could actually drive it, hm?”

“You’d be surprised at the many things I can do, (Y/N). Driving happens to be one of them.”

“How about smiling more?”

At this he gave her the most obnoxious leer he could muster, emitting a loud, obviously fake, snicker. Once again she giggled uncontrollably at his antics, and he found himself easing into a comfortable titter. Then they grew still again, though it was a comfortable quiet. Looking over to his companion, her concentrated and radiant disposition filling the automobile, the Doctor found a sense of pride filling him at the human he’d stumbled upon.

 There are too many flashes and guards around me There is so little time and places to see And we can wait so patiently No, they won't catch you and me

 3.

Throughout every danger they’d faced together so far, the Doctor had never hesitated when he placed himself between it and his companion. Devotion made itself apparent not only in times of crisis, but moreso in the calmer moments, in the TARDIS. Anytime she’d needed help, even if it were reaching a shelf she’d have to scale in attempt to find whatever she was after. In moments of silence, when both were on opposite sides of the ship, he’d seek her out.

For months he fought it, refusing to go to her as often as he could. Why allow himself this? He’d been well-behaved, keeping his cool. Resisting would be a better word to describe his approach to his current feelings.

Feelings that had begun to extend, budding from their companionship in sarcasm and loneliness to something more... romantic, to his complete and utter trepidation. In those moments in the TARDIS, when there was something more in her eyes, something warm and inviting, his self-control was put to the ultimate test.

Seeing that silent plea, combined with the comforting heat of her room and the conflict in his hearts, caused him to shut himself off again. To push all of those vulnerabilities back into that metaphorical locked room he’d set aside with the label ‘too dangerous’. Too good, he often thought. Too whole for a broken man like him.

Whisking her across the galaxy to see things most humans wouldn’t ever be able to dream of brought him close to the breaking point every time. The astonishment across her soft features, the curiosity in her eyes, the mischievous curve of her lips. Knowing the unfiltered joy and wonder that filled her heart and mind was almost too much for him to bear. But it was worth it every time, anything was worth even a glance in his direction.

The Doctor felt like a lost dog, clinging to her and anything she was willing to give him emotionally. Any of her stories, recollections of her life before him, even the most mundane little quips, left him hanging on every word. Absorbing all of her voiced thoughts, debating with her, even flat out arguing with her, brought him closer. And it seemed to draw her closer, because the next time there would be more, even if an adjective or verb more, she’d oblige him.

He would wait. The Doctor could and would and probably had waited hundreds of lifetimes for something like he’d found in (Y/N). Different and similar to connections he’s made before, but unique all to herself.

 It's all over all of the time And if you want to I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you

 4.

Often he’d catch (Y/N) eyeing him not-so-discreetly as she propped herself up in various odd positions on whatever she could fit on. Not that he minded, not at all. As long as they’d been traveling together now, it felt like part of their daily routine. Dancing around each other and their affections in some kind of clumsy ballet, too afraid to step independently but too brave to stray far from what they’ve learned.

The Doctor knew in his hearts of hearts that he’d never initiate. Never would he overstep that line, the invisible boundary that had been drawn around their relationship. He, who would go headfirst into unknown territory without a second thought, was terrified. Completely and utterly terrified at the potential mistake he could make. Another mistake in his existence that he wasn’t sure if he was willing to make.

So when their brief touches began to last more than a few seconds, when their eyes would meet and lock instead of darting away, he found peace in an internal resolution. He would lay in wait, wait until it was too much for her. She was so wonderfully human, trying to follow her mind but being driven by her passionate, whimsical heart. Any feelings she had towards him would emerge sooner or later, and if she chose to act on them.... he wouldn’t mind. Not at all.

Until then, their hands would intertwine, hugs would become less uncomfortable on his part, and faces would draw nearer for longer before they turn away. As long as he was near her, he wouldn’t quite mind the wait.

 All of these people want us to fail I won't let that happen no Just you believe me I'll hide you discreetly Discreetly from this cold world

 5.

Earth had been a cruel and unforgiving place for his young companion in her life prior to their meeting. Once he’d found her in tears, reflecting over a picture she’d dropped, (Y/N) poured out her heartaches on him. Before they’d met he would’ve run far when arms extended towards him, but now he hesitantly scooped her to him, trying to comfort her in any way.

The jobs she’d had barely made ends meet. When they met that day, almost an entire year ago, she’d been on her lunch break without anything to eat in sight. Sunken eyes had only reflected dull pain back at him. Only a smoke and a conversation, him sensing her desire to actually live and offering an out. He’d proved her wrong, and she hadn’t ever expressed the desire to go back. Not that he could blame her.

Unable to explain what troubled her, she left him with something he understood too well.

“I’ve done too many things, haven’t tried enough or tried too hard. And sometimes it smacks me right in the face.”

As she leaned into him, tears slowly beginning to dry, the Doctor felt his own pain. He’d spent centuries working through indescribable horrors of his own, still taking time even now to attempt to process them. Shadows of friends and foes crept behind him, always waiting. It was torture, almost, to know that this dependable, wonderful person he’d come to know was treated so terribly in her life before that she’d been willing to try any way to escape at the drop of a cigarette butt.

(Y/N) moved back to study his face. Watching with equal scrutiny, the Doctor observed her puffy (E/C) eyes, trembling (S/C) chin, and pouty chapped lips. That dreaded feeling blossomed in his chest at the misty abundance of affection in her features, even as her own emotional ailments afflicted her. During her own personal calamity, she still found ways to put him at ease with a silent affirmation of how much faith she had in him. That somehow he’d make things right, even if for a little while.

Even as she was completely blue, that terrifyingly airy feeling knocked the wind out of him. Realization poured through, filling any cracks of doubt that had previously served as an intentional protective barrier. It was true, true and real and paralyzing. Quickly he brought her back against his chest.

“Whatever you’ve done before doesn’t matter, it is what you choose to do now that does. And whatever you do, you will have a friend at your back. I swear it.”

Weak arms slithered around his waist, feeling her head caress his chest.

“Thank you, Doctor. For everything.”

Slowly he released her, and she stepped back and attempted to clean her face a bit. Feeling out of place, unsure of what to do, the Doctor remained where he stood until she initiated anything. Sentimentality was obviously not this body’s strong suit, though he wished to give more.

Her hand taking his own seemed to draw him from the recesses of his inner dialogue. A sweet smile was sent his way, brightening her rosy face. Making a mental note of how she looked at that particular time, he almost forgot what he intended to say. The Doctor sighed deeply, not entirely partial to the rush of solicitude through his veins that came with it. An easygoing smile finally planted itself on his thin mouth.

“Whatever it is, (Y/N), be it external or internal, I’ll support you to the best of my abilities. You have my word.”

Before he could properly appreciate the moment they were having, she was back. Swinging back into her heels, bouncing up on her toes, she hummed. Girlish excitement restored, determination to take on the universe and more.

“How about we find some adventure, eh?”

Returning to the noise, prepared to put their problems away for another day. The Doctor laughed at her spirit, glad to know she was bouncing back. Part of him knew she understood, at least somewhat, that he was trying his best.

“You’ve got moxie, I’ll give you that.”

“If we don’t start moving, I’ll give you a swift kick in the—“

Raising an owlish brow at her, she laughed out loud.

“C’mon Doctor, let’s go.”

“Alright, pottymouth.”

(Y/N) exited her room, the Doctor examining her as she left. Stretching his arms up and out, he rested his hands on the back of his head and exhaled loudly.

“What am I going to do with you, you peculiar girl?”

Following at his own pace, he trudged down the hall. The console room was a bit brighter; his companion was waiting patiently for him, plopped in yet another uncomfortable-looking position one set of steps. He approached her, standing near the command center, pressing buttons and pulling levers. “Where to?”

In her eyes he saw the entirety of the universe and its marvels, entirely awestruck by the impish expression she’d donned. Knowing the hunger for travel, for exploration, for knowledge, that she’d found within herself all too well, he was prepared to take her wherever her heart desired. To show her whatever would make her smile. The Doctor was completely at her mercy, on his knees to bring her joy.

“Anywhere.”

The TARDIS was off, rumbling and whirring like she always did. (Y/N) laughed out loud, watching the core with her refreshed fascination, burning brighter than the sun itself. The Doctor chuckled along with her, finding the answer to his self-imposed question that he had known all along.

“Everything.”

 It's all over all of the time And if you want to, I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you No they won't catch me and you No they won't catch me and you

[spider-man-stan]

That’s on me

o shit first fic on this blog and my first marvel fic ever, what an accomplishment. takes place sometime after spider-man: homecoming. no prompt, just something i started writing lmao (but if you wanna shoot me an ask with a prompt or fic idea you wanna see feel free) enjoy!! 

"Why are we doing this again, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked as the two of them walked down to one of Peter's favourite restaurants. "Not that I don’t want to! Obviously! But, like, what's the special occasion?" Mr. Stark wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulder and continued walking down the sidewalk.

"You don’t need to say ‘like’ all the time, break the habit now because I don’t want sounding unprofessional next week at dinner in front of all my cool business friends. You amaze them enough already, let’s keep that going.” Peter nodded.

“You’ve got it, Mr. Stark.” Peter replied seriously, which caused Mr. Stark to chuckle and pat his shoulder twice.

“The reason I’m taking you out is because you have been doing exceptionally well in school, and in all of your "extracurricular activities" and I wanted to take you out for a little treat." He explained. He looked down at Peter. "I'm assuming training teenagers is like training a dog, they do something good and you give 'em a treat." Peter giggled as Mr. Stark mussed his hair. Peter honestly felt like he could fly to the moon. Granted, it wasn't a hug, but they were getting there.

Suddenly, a crashing sound came from behind the two. They both turned to see a large van charging through traffic. It came to a screeching halt not too far from Peter and Mr. Stark. Five men stepped out of the van, in all black and carrying assault rifles. Mr. Stark stepped protectively in front of Peter.

"We have the streets barricaded, nobody's leaving! Everybody get down on the ground!" One of them shouted. Mr. Stark looked down at Peter. He nodded towards his backpack.

"You got your suit in there?" He asked. Peter nodded.

"Always." Peter replied quickly. Tony patted him on the back, ushering the two of them into an alley.

"Good boy, suit up." Peter didn't need to be told twice. Without hesitation he stripped down to his boxers and jumped into the suit, a familiar and methodical action by now, as Mr. Stark's suit seemingly just materialized onto his body. Peter stuffed his street clothes into his bag and webbed it to a dumpster, he doubted any garbage trucks would be making their way through here anytime soon, and Mr. Stark grabbed him by both shoulders.

"Alright kid, I'll come out in front of them and grab their attention, you go high and take them from above. I don't know how many of them there is, so stay alert, you got it?" Mr. Stark asked. Peter only nodded, and Mr. Stark nodded back and offered a sincere "Stay safe, kid." before walking out of the alley to face the bad guys head on. Peter smiled to himself before climbing up to the rooftops, waited till all eyes were on Iron Man, then swooped down on a web, ready to fight.

It was crazy intense to say the least. Peter couldn't keep track of how many guys there were, they were all dressed the same and covering their faces! He stopped trying to count after he got somewhere around eighteen. They were putting up one hell of a fight, and Peter was being extra careful to not hurt any civilians, they were all trapped on a busy city block after all. But Peter did his best to keep them safe, ushering them into buildings and even swinging them up onto rooftops so they'd be out of harm's way.

"What are these guys doing this for, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked as he kicked one of the assailants into a green car parked by a curb, smashing it. Peter was going to have to ask Mr. Stark if insurance companies would cover things like that later. "Did you know this was happening today?"

"We're big on questions today aren't we?" Mr. Stark replied with a grunt. "I don't know what their MO is and if I knew this was happening today it wouldn't have happened." Peter snatched a gun out of another criminal's hands before webbing up his hands and feet. "But the more training you can get the better." Mr. Stark finished.

Peter swung up onto a balcony to get a better view of what was happening and what he needed to do. He saw six men shooting at Mr. Stark's suit (as if that would do anything lmao) and most of the remaining guys Peter had already webbed up. Peter wasn't sure how much longer this was gonna take, because it looked like these guys weren't giving up anytime soon. And Peter had homework to do.

Just as he was about to swing down and help Mr. Stark finish off the rest of the bad guys, something caught his eye. Another guy in black was crouched down in the middle of the road. Peter jumped to the next balcony to get a closer look. The man stood up and waved his hands to the other six guys shooting at Mr. Stark, and all six stopped and ran back to one of their vans.

"Guess we’re finally scaring them off!" Mr. Stark chuckled, making his way over to the van. Peter kept watching as the man ran in the opposite direction, and Peter could finally catch a glimpse of what he was fiddling with on the ground. His eyes went wide. "How about you web up their doors and I remove the barricades so the police can deal with these guys? What do you say, kid?" Peter couldn't bring himself to reply, his vision hyper focused on the small box filled with wires and blinking lights. "Peter?" Mr. Stark asked, his voice cautionary. The blinking was speeding up. Peter didn't hesitate. He couldn't.

He climbed up onto the roof of the building he was on and stepped back to give himself a running start before leaping off of the building.

"Peter what are you-?" Mr. Stark's voice cut through his thoughts, but there had been no time to explain anything, and it was definitely too late now.

"I'm sorry Mr. Stark I have to!" Was the only thing Peter could think to say as he dove towards the homemade bomb. He could hear Mr. Stark flying towards him, but Peter knew he'd hit the ground before Mr. Stark would reach him.

"Peter!" Mr. Stark shouted. His voice rang in Peter’s ears as his body hit the ground, the bomb pressed uncomfortably against his chest. As he curled around the bomb he could see Iron Man flying towards him for a split second before his vision clouded and went dark, his ears ringing and airways seizing up. His body was weightless for no more than a moment before being slammed into something hard and dense and was overcome with burning pain. But numbness quickly overpowered his senses as instantly everything turned to nothing. And before Peter could even process what was happening, and as his ears rang and his body went limp all his brain could think of was the now smashed up green car, and Peter just hoped the explosion didn’t damage it any further, because he knew absolutely nothing about car insurance.

"Peter? Peter can you hear me? Peter?" Peter's eyes snapped open and were immediately flooded by blotchy light he couldn't see through. People were yelling out stats and he was being dragged, no, wheeled somewhere quickly. He tried to turn his neck but was stopped by immense pain and what felt like a... a neck brace? "Peter?" In its haze Peter's brain was able to understand the voice calling his name as Mr. Stark's, but he was speaking in a tone Peter had never heard before.

He sounded scared. Terrified, even. That couldn't be right.

Peter wanted to reply, wanted to tell Mr. Stark he was okay, but all that came out when he opened his mouth was a pained squeak and warm liquid dribbling out of his mouth. He choked, coughing and it hurt. Breathing hurt, moving his eyes hurt, his chest, his arms, his ears, his brain, everything hurt. He tried again to speak, wanting desperately to know what was going on, but the only thing he could manage was an agonizing moan and another stabbing cough. He felt a large hand on his head, knowing that it was Mr. Stark's instantly. He wanted so desperately to reach up and touch it with his own hand but he couldn't bring his arms to move. Amidst all the shouting around him, and the ringing in his own ears, he managed to only hear Mr. Stark's voice shushing him.

"Pete, listen, you're gonna be just fine you’ve just got to hang on.” That was the last thing he heard Mr. Stark say before he was pulled once again into unconsciousness.

Peter wasn’t sure when the last time he was awake was. The last thing he could remember clearly was fighting bad guys with Mr. Stark. Was that just a dream? He felt sore, which could be from the fight which would suggest that it wasn’t a dream, but.. He’s been sore after battles before, but this was a different and unfamiliar kind of sore. He opened his eyes. A cream colour ceiling stared back at him. He turned his head to the side cautiously, and saw Mr. Stark standing next to the windows of what Peter assumed at this point was his hospital room, looking out at the view below. He was on the phone.

“Hopefully we can bring him back to the compound today, tomorrow at the latest. Trust me, the less time I have to spend in this hospital the better…. No, no I’d rather be here when he wakes up, I don’t want him getting freaked out. The last thing he probably remembers is the explosion, and I don’t know what kind of headspace he’s gonna be in when he comes to..” Explosion? Yeah, the details are definitely fuzzy there. But what Peter did know was that he was gonna get an earful when Mr. Stark realized he was awake. Peter allowed his eyes to close again, trying to piece together what had happened.

Logically speaking, the best thing to do would be to ask Mr. Stark what had happened, but he was on the phone. But his brain was still lagging behind the rest of his body, and before he could even comprehend what he was doing a small “Mr. Stark?” left his lips. Peter opened his eyes, cringing at how weak his voice was and saw Mr. Stark turn to face his bed.

“He just woke up I’ll call you back.” He murmured into his phone before ending the call and putting it on the bedside table. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and approached Peter’s bed. His face was stoic as it almost always is but his eyes were uncharacteristically concerned and uneasy.

“A concussion, first and second degree burns, ruptured eardrums, a ruptured spleen, a bruised liver, blast lung, fourteen fractured ribs, two dislocated shoulders, a broken arm, peripheral vascular injury, three spinal fractures- feel free to stop me at anytime by the way because the list is long. You got completely destroyed.” Peter wanted to shrink into himself. He really did get destroyed. But if all that had really happened, why isn't he in more pain? He panicked at the thought that he might be completely paralyzed for about two seconds before Mr. Stark started answering the question Peter had yet to ask. “You’re lucky you got bitten by an insect that can grow its own legs back because otherwise you’d be super dead right now.”

“Technically they’re not insects they’re arachnids-“ Peter started, before getting cut off.

“Not the point I’m trying to make here, kid.” Mr. Stark retorted. “God, you have such a big brain, why don’t you use it more often? What you did yesterday? That was suicide, Peter. You could have died, you realize that don’t you?” Peter wanted to sit up, but the moment he attempted to lift himself up his body screamed in protest. Peter whimpered and Mr. Stark helped sit him up without wasting a second. He sat down on the edge of Peter’s bed and let out a tired sigh. “Pete, I get the whole ‘self sacrifice for the greater good’ thing, I really do. But you’ve gotta understand that there’s a difference between me jumping onto that bomb and you jumping onto that bomb. You’re a kid-“

“I’m not a kid.” Peter cut in, his voice sounding harsher than he meant it. Mr. Stark shot him a look.

“-Who’s got his whole life ahead of him. You’ve got your aunt, you’ve got your friends, you got that dumb..” Mr. Stark gestures absently at nothing trying to come up with the right words. “..That account thing you always go on about? The one you put all your funny pictures on?” Peter shot back a confused but amused look.

“Are you talking about my Instagram meme account?” Peter asked. Tony nodded.

“Look, my point is you’ve got a hell of a lot more to lose than I do, so next time? I’d appreciate some kind of a warning because… Because I would’ve never been able to forgive myself if you died,” He pointed to Peter’s Spider-Man suit, laid out on a table at the other end of his room. “In that suit. Because that’d be on me.” He spoke slowly, quietly, as if trying to hold back tears. It was an odd and unfamiliar way to hear his mentor’s voice.

“And I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I just sat up there and watched innocent people got hurt.” Peter responded, just as clearly. “Because that’d be on me.” Mr. Stark nodded knowingly, and Peter wondered if he had already known how this conversation would go.

“I know kid.. And that’s why I picked you for this. Not a lot of people have the kind of heart you do, let alone at fifteen years old.” Mr. Stark smiled, and Peter smiled back. He glanced at the suit not so obviously. “Yeah, it was pretty beat up after the fact and I’ve made a few fixes, but the only person who can really know what kind of upgrades it needs to keep someone safe during explosions is the guy who’s gonna be wearing it. We can work on it together in my lab until you’re up and running again.” Peter could feel his heart swell. This was the first time Mr. Stark had granted him access to his lab.

“So uh.. How-how long is that gonna be, exactly?” Peter asked. “You know.. until I am up and running?”

“Well, going by how much your injuries have already healed, I’d say about a week until you’re back to normal.” Mr. Stark explained. “I mean, when we first brought you in the doctors said you were totally blind.”

“Woah,” Peter breathed, blinking his eyes quickly. “Does Aunt May know about what happened?” He asked. Mr. Stark shook his head.

“All she knows is I’m keeping you for the next two weeks to focus on the internship, figured if there’s anything else she needs to know you can tell her yourself.” Peter nodded. Mr. Stark patted Peter’s leg delicately before standing from his bed. “Well,” He announced. “I’m going to go find a doctor and see if I can’t get you out of this hell hole.”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked just as he reached the door. Mr. Stark turned, his hand already on the door knob. “Do you know if car insurance companies cover ‘super heros throwing bad guys into and smashing your car’?”

End

[rainythefox]

Deviant Heart (D:BH fanfic)

Chapter 2: Was it Personal?

Connor met Hank outside of the sandwich eatery, bringing him a large soft drink in the process. The Lieutenant had to step out to take a phone call, and took his sandwich with him, but had asked his partner to get his drink for him.

Connor sat Hank's drink down before him on the table before sitting opposite of him. With it being sunny for once, it was nice to sit out in the terrace area of the eatery, even in the middle of July. Connor observed his surroundings for a moment as Hank hung up his cell phone and started digging into his sandwich. Androids and humans walked by on the sidewalk, traffic went on as normal. There was a couple sitting at the far end of the terrace as well. People were coming and going from the eatery. A few security drones flew by overhead. It looked like the average, bustling day in downtown Detroit.

"Thanks, Connor."

Hank wore a dark brown button-up shirt and jeans. Connor remained in his usual suit, and did so on the job. After hours or on their day off, Hank often made Connor wear normal clothes, something that had taken the prototype awhile to get used to. Hank's words were along the lines of "sick and tired of seeing you in that stupid suit all the time."

"Do you always have to eat something stuffed between pieces of bread?" Connor asked, shaking his head.

"Hey, it's healthier than what I had this morning…there's lettuce on there." Hank took a drink of the soda Connor brought him and gagged. "What the hell, Connor…"

"Oh, it said diet. I figured you could use one."

"Very funny." After a few bites of his sandwich, Hank motioned to his android partner. "So, you really don't think it was a robbery?"

Connor thought it over, reconstructing what he was able to gather at the crimes scene. "I highly doubt it. Seems…personal."

"Personal, huh?"

"There was nothing there the deviant would have a use for. The clothing was for women, too small for his form. And with only $74.16 in the cash register…makes it highly doubtful. Besides, the register wasn't even touched."

Hank shrugged. "Good point. What makes you think it's personal?"

"A hunch I guess."

Hank smirked, nodding. "Always listen to your gut…well, in your case your wiring or…something."

"You could've done better on that one," Connor said, smiling.

"It's all this healthy eating…throwing me off my groove."

"I wouldn't exactly call this healthy eating. It's only 177.3 calories less than what you had this morning."

"But there's lettuce!" Hank waved him off. "What do you know, you don't eat."

Hank's cell phone dinged, and he picked it up to look at the notification. "Alright, owner's on their way to the crime scene. Let's get going."

Hank stuffed one last big bite into his mouth and carried his trash over to the bin to throw away. He took his diet soft drink and headed for the car, Connor at his side.

The crime scene was only a few blocks away, and so the drive wasn't long, around fifteen minutes. Ben and a few other police officers were still there, preventing public access and questioning potential witnesses. Hank and Connor looked around the clothing store one last time in case they missed any clues. There was an emergency button under the cash register that hadn't been pressed. This told them that the victim either didn't have time to push it, or hadn't been expecting the need to.

Connor stooped down next to the bodies, looking them over one more time. He licked the blue blood of the WR600 to make sure it lined up, and the scan passed.

"Dammit Connor, what did I tell you about doing that shit after I ate?"

Connor stood up, looking to the lieutenant. "Do you need to know the exact words you said? Because I can replay the conversation."

Hank shook his head, though a smile cracked on his face. "Look at you, all witty today. You're on a roll."

"Hank, Connor."

Ben Collins walked over, escorting a woman in her late 50s. She wore high-end clothes and shoes with lots of gaudy jewelry. "This is Joyce Hendy. She is the owner of the store. Mrs. Hendy, this is Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the Detroit Police Department and his partner Connor. They will be asking you a few questions."

"O-of course," the lady said, dipping her head. Ben headed back for the front entrance.

"Ma'am. I'm sorry you had to see this, but we need your help," Hank greeted.

The owner looked down at the bodies, her eyes fixating on the victim. "Oh Lizzie, she was such a sweet girl. Hard worker. I can't…I can't believe this. I just talked to her this morning. She-she didn't seem like anything was wrong."

"Do you know this android that attacked her?" Connor asked, pointing to the dead WR600 beside the victim.

Joyce studied the dead android for a moment and her eyes lit up. "Oh my goodness that's Sam! He…he was hers, I think. Oh wait, he belonged to her father at some point. Had got him to do the landscaping around all the houses he owns. He and Lizzie were quite close. I'd see him come in from time to time to give her things or pick up something from her on behalf of her father. Her father's name is Kent Hubb. He would be the one to talk to if you need more information on Sam."

"Do you have any idea as to why he would attack her?" Hank asked.

The owner shook her head, clasping her fingers in front of her. "No. He's always been gentle around her. Although…there was that one time…"

"What one time?" Hank echoed, eyebrows furrowing.

"There was this time, a couple months back. I had just come in, the store was about to close, I came to check on everything and count the cash register. Sam was already here, visiting with Lizzie and waiting for her to get off. A guy friend of hers stopped by, someone she had been close with in college or something. They talked and hugged, and everything was going fine until Sam shoved him away. I stopped the situation before it could get any worse and her friend left. Eventually, when Lizzie clocked out and left, her and Sam were arguing. But…they seemed fine the next day. I'm not sure if it would be related to this or not, for how long ago it was…but it just popped in my head."

"Anything else?" Connor asked. "Was there anything big going on in Elizabeth's life? Something that could've cause an emotional shock to Sam?"

Joyce shook her head, confounded. "N-no, not that I am aware of."

Hank heaved a sigh. "Here, I'll escort you out. You shouldn't be looking at this. If you think of anything else that could help us, please let us know."

"Of course," Joyce said, as she allowed Hank to escort her to the front of the store.

Connor watched them go, then turned back to the bodies. He thought over the store owner's words. Upon analyzing her behavior and heart rhythm, Connor could tell she told the truth. It looked as though they would be speaking to the victim's father next while waiting for a new plug for the WR600. By what he gathered, Sam had known Lizzie for a while, before becoming a deviant, as part of the family. When he became a deviant, it must have allowed them to become closer. The store owner's story about what happened with the victim's friend a couple months ago made Connor curious. It certainly had potential to be an emotional shock for Sam back then, of jealousy. It apparently worked itself out in the end. However, Connor knew that if Sam was capable of jealously over Elizabeth then, there could certainly be another. He logged it away, his LED indicator flashing momentarily.

The RK800 was distracted by a sharp whistle. He turned away from the bodies towards the front of the store, seeing Hank beckoning him. Connor left the bodies behind and went to his partner.

"You all done here?" Hank asked.

Connor dipped his head. "Yes."

"Good, let's get back to the station," Hank replied, digging for his keys in his pocket. "I'll have her father meet us there for some questions as soon as he can get there."

The transit was packed. Markus stood, one hand on a strap-hanger as he waited impatiently for his stop. The metallic rolling of the tracks resonated from the underbelly of the train. Over that, people talked or listened to their music or played with their phones. Markus took a detailed scope of the passengers around him.

Humans and androids rode the transit. Some sat together, some stayed within their own people. But it was quiet. It was peaceful. There were days it wasn't. There were days humans picked fights with androids, angry about the growing list of rights the deviants were receiving from the government. Sometimes there were physical fights. Sometimes there was worse. It made Markus and his followers have to work harder to preserve what little they had for now and keep it from falling apart.

Unlike his destination he was heading to, this train was peaceful at the moment. It was relieving to see. A delicate scenery that two races could intermingle without hate or rejection. The transit's wheels grated along the path, slowing the transport vehicle down to a slowing stop. Markus weaved his way through the crowd to get off at the station.

He made haste after leaving the confinement of the train, running down escalators to go into the nearby shopping district. Using his built in GPS and scanning down North's, Simon's, and Josh's signals, he was able to find them pretty quickly.

He saw them and saw the trouble that was about to go down. A group of human protesters were arguing with his friends. Simon and Josh had a hold of North to keep her from reaching forward and popping the leader of the protesters in the face. Another android sat on the ground behind them, gripping a damaged arm that emitted blue sparks. Markus recognized him from Jericho, a PL600 like Simon called Gus that had red hair instead of blond. The protesters were a small group that Markus and his gang had conflicts with before. The leader was a middle-aged man named Mel, and he was always looking to cause trouble for androids.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's going on?!" Markus yelled, getting between the two groups.

"Oh hey, it's Robo-Jesus, fuck off Markus, this doesn't concern you," Mel snarked.

Markus rounded on the human protesters, biting back anger. "It does if it concerns my people. What's going on?"

"They attacked Gus, Markus," North spat, still riled up. "He was just passing by and-"

"That's not what happened!" the leader interjected, jabbing a finger at North accusingly. "Stop saying that shit. We were protesting, minding our business, when that fucker came in and attacked us!"

"Gus wouldn't hurt anybody," Josh said as he stared at the humans.

A few humans in the small protesting crowd snapped their disagreement. Markus did a quick scan of each person. Within the group of eight protesters, four were injured. Slices on their arms and chests, nothing notably deep. One of the protesters had a stab wound in their forearm.

"You guys don't mind your business when you protest," North hissed, tearing her arms out from Simon and Josh but she remained where she was because of Markus. "Your little wounds are from him defending himself!"

"You bitch, that ain't true. Just wait 'til the cops get here."

Mel stepped forward threateningly, but the motion didn't intimidate North at all, and she was ready to meet him head on. Markus stepped in the way, however, and grabbed up Mel by the collar, lifting him from the ground.

"Listen to me," Markus growled. "I've always stood by my decisions for peaceful solutions to everything, but I'm about to make an exception with you. The next time I hear about your little group causing harm to my people, your "protesting" days will be over."

Markus let Mel go and shoved him back into his friends just as a cop car pulled up with flashing lights. Markus glared at the hushed protesters for a moment, then turned to face the two police officers who got out of the vehicle. He was relieved to see Chris Miller as one of them. The cop he spared all those months ago at Capitol Park was a good man, a good officer, and now an advocate for android rights.

"Oh boy, should have known," Chris said, shaking his head.

"We got attacked during our peaceful protest! That fucker right there, he came running into our group like a damn animal and started stabbing us! You have to figure out a way to get him destroyed!" Mel said, pointing down at Gus, who winced from the raised voices and looked away. His LED flashed a bright red.

"Peaceful protest, huh?" Chris asked flatly.

"Don't believe them, Chris. They're lying. Gus wouldn't do anything like that," Simon said, glaring over at the group.

"Alright, alright," Chris sighed, motioning to the human protesters. "My partner will take your statements and check over your injuries before you go to the hospital. I'll take the statements from the androids."

"But they didn't see anything, they showed up after it happened!"

Chris ignored Mel, stepping over to Markus and his group. He took out a tablet, but he didn't bring up an app for their statements. "You think your friend could tell us what happened, or at least show you what happened with your little handy exchange technique you guys do?"

Simon knelt down beside Gus, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. "Gus? Can you tell us what happened?"

Gus drew away. "I-I didn't do anything."

"Tell him what happened, Gus. It will be alright," North said softly.

The android was shaking, LED flashing red. Josh shook his head. "He's too stressed at the moment. We'll only make it worse prying him. We have to wait until he calms down."

Chris shrugged, putting away his pen. "I'm sure it's Mel's fault like usual. You guys go ahead and get him some help. Give me a statement later when he's able to talk."

"Well, sure, if you trust us. I wouldn't want you getting in trouble though," Markus stated.

"Nah, I trust you. Not North though."

"Hey!"

Chris chuckled, winking playfully at North. The female android shook her head, though a smile formed on her lips.

"Just get back to me later. Maybe I can actually book Mel this time and we won't have this problem again. I hope anyway. You guys stay out of trouble."

"See ya, Chris," North, Simon, and Josh said.

"Take care, Chris," Markus added.

Josh and Simon helped Gus to his feet. The injured android, still overstimulated and stressed, drew away from their touch. With gentle encouragement, they were able to get him to walk with them. Gus held himself like a nervous child, looking around. A little blue blood trickled down his arm from the injury, random blue sparking from shorted wires snapping within the arm.

"We better get him back to the center and see what we can do for him," Markus said. After a short diagnostic scan, Markus couldn't see any other injuries on Gus besides his arm, but his central core processing was through the roof, showing extreme distress. Markus couldn't understand why such a small injury would cause such a reaction. Then again, Gus was always sensitive, and so the humans' words and threats were probably a bigger cause than the injury itself. He wouldn't know for sure until Gus opened up to them.

The Detroit Police Department had become a cluster of energy and noise since the last time they were in during the morning hours. Phones rang on several lines, people talked over each other in the front lobby, waiting to speak to law enforcement or for the release of a friend from jail. An officer walked by with a cuffed man who spouted nonsense as he was taken to the back.

Hank and Connor left that mess behind to get to the back where their desks were. Connor got distracted by one of the police K-9s while Hank was going on about the last baseball game. When the lieutenant turned around, his partner was gone, stooped down petting the dog on the next aisle.

Hank almost yelled out at the RK800, but stopped himself, watching as Connor smiled when the dog thumped its tail on the floor, staring up at him. The sight made the older detective smile. He kept it to himself, but he found these moments with Connor endearing. His partner was highly intelligent and rational, able to kick any kind of ass with near ease, but his post-deviancy behavior allowed him to have innocence akin to a child at times. When Connor stepped back around to join Hank once more, he continued his conversation, heading towards the break room to get a bottled water.

As they were leaving the break room for their desks, they bumped into Detective Gavin Reed. The younger, brash detective sneered at them, and Hank barely caught himself from rolling his eyes.

"What's up, Lieutenant? Still have your plastic dog following you around I see."

Hank pretended he had to swallow something, putting his hand to his mouth. "Oh, sorry. Just threw up a little in my mouth."

Gavin snickered, taking the bait. "Well, maybe if you wouldn't drink so much, you could keep a lot more shit down instead of flinging it outta your mouth."

"Oh, another fucking drinking jab. It's like you can't come up with anything else clever, Gavin."

"If I may," Connor said, looking between the two law men. "The Lieutenant doesn't drink as much as he used to. He is getting better, Detective Reed."

"Yeah, cause you act like my nanny sometimes," Hank grumbled.

"A nanny and a pet? Oh, he has multiple uses then," Gavin snorted.

Hank glared at the younger detective. "Hey, only I can insult Connor, shithead. He knows I'm just messing with him. That's not the case with you."

"So?" Gavin folded his arms. He glared at the RK800. "Why you with this old asshole anyway? You say you have free will, yet you let him order you around? He still treats you like a dumb machine…I mean granted, you are still a dumb machine, but I thought you could do whatever you want now? Go mingle with a copy machine or something. You'd probably get more enjoyment out of it."

"Why you!" Hank snapped, jerking forward.

Connor stepped between them with one graceful step, stopping the lieutenant from grabbing Gavin up.

"Please, Lieutenant," Connor pleaded. "He is only trying to incite this reaction out of you to get you in trouble. I advise you to just walk away. We can ignore him."

Gavin laughed, smacking his hands together. "Yes, let him ignore his problems. Look how well that's played out for him so far."

"Yeah and believe me, I know from experience, karma is a bitch. I'm looking forward to the day it comes back to you," Hank said, stepping away. He motioned at Connor, still glaring at Gavin. "Connor, initiate an insulting sendoff while we walk away from this prick."

Connor blinked. "Oh…I have 41 different responses for just Detective Reed logged away from various scenarios. Which one would you like?"

"I don't know, pick one that really gets the point across!"

Connor thought it over a moment then turned to Gavin.

"Go fuck yourself, Detective Reed," he said politely.

"Hah!"

Hank shoved past Gavin while laughing. Connor followed after him. They sat at their desks and while Hank gave Captain Jeffrey Fowler a call on the desk phone, Connor transmitted all of the evidence and notes he took at the crime scene into their computers. After Hank got off the phone, they reviewed the notes and exchanged theories. Connor picked up a behavioral change in Hank as the older man fixated on some notes. He wasn't quite as talkative or chipper as he was when they arrived at the police department. The detective android at this point knew the lieutenant well enough to know something was wrong.

"Is something the matter, Lieutenant?" Connor asked, cocking his head slightly. Despite them having become good friends and partners, Connor still called him by his title at times out of old programming habits, but for the most part had stuck with calling Hank by his first name, per Hank's request.

Hank was quiet for a moment, thinking. He scratched the back of his head, letting out a soft sigh. "You know I don't think of you as a machine, right? I mean, of course you know that, I just…fuck I mean…"

"You're doing it again," Connor stated, amused.

"What?"

"You're letting Detective Reed get to you. I know what he says is…how do you put it? Full of shit? Everything's fine, Hank."

Hank slowly smiled, and Connor continued. "Although, I think he may have been right about the copy machine."

Hank frowned.

"I would get more enjoyment out of it than I would talking with him."

Hank smacked his desk, chuckling. "Heh, that's for damn sure."

"Do you think Detective Reed will ever change?"

Hank snorted. "Doubt it. Maybe when pigs fuckin' fly!"

"But…that's biologically impossible."

Hank groaned. "That's the point of that saying, son. It won't ever happen."

"Oh," Connor said, and then glanced across the rows of desks where Gavin sat at his own. "There has to be a reason why he is the way he is."

"Yeah, it's called just being an asshole. Welcome to being human, Connor. Humans are just nasty to each other because they can be. Gavin thinks he's better than everyone else. He's in this for the glory, not for protecting the innocent."

"You really don't like him, do you?" Connor asked.

"Let's just say if I came across Gavin getting mauled by a bear, I would push up a chair and watch. And take pictures. And post them on the internet."

Before Connor could remark on that, Hank's desk phone rang and he answered it. "Lieutenant Anderson speaking." There was a pause as he listened. "Oh, of course. Send him over."

He hung the phone up and got to his feet. Connor watched him before moving out of his chair as well.

"The victim's father is here to speak to us."

After a few moments they saw Kent Hubb being guided back to them by a police officer. Connor immediately scanned him. He was 50 years old, was a car mechanic and owned a few rent houses within Detroit's suburbs. He was a broad man covered in tattoos with a graying beard. The physical scan alerted Connor to the man being distressed. He had been crying, and his heart rate was up.

"Mr. Hubb? Lieutenant Hank Anderson, this is my partner Connor. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your daughter."

Kent nodded, briefly shaking Hank's hand. "I-I'll do my best. I just…I can't believe this is happening."

Hank pulled a chair over for the grieving father, offering it to him. Kent weakly smiled thanks and sat down. Hank sat down at his desk while Connor came around to stand next to his partner.

"I'm sorry about the loss of your daughter. We will do all in our power to figure out what happened," Hank said. "Please, tell us about your android Sam."

"W-well, I got him a little over four years ago, pre-owned. I got him to help me keep up with the properties I own. Never had a problem with him. After Lizzie moved back home for awhile from finishing college, I noticed his behavior was slightly off, but it was nothing bad. Never turned it in. He and Lizzie became friends, you know, and well it kept her around more often so I didn't think anything of it. Well then the deviant thing started happening and I realized…that Sam must've been one for a while. I didn't turn him in though, I mean he was part of the family, Lizzie would've been crushed. A-After it all blew over and life started returning to normal, I still allowed Sam around. He wanted to be with us and I didn't have a problem with that."

Kent Hubb grew quiet, eyes lowering to his fidgeting hands in his lap. Connor kept a constant analysis running for the man to signal any sort of deceit or giveaways. Hank glanced up at Connor for a moment, but the android didn't notice, his focus solely on Mr. Hubb.

"Any idea why Sam would attack and kill her?" Hank asked.

Kent sobbed for a moment but soon collected himself. He shook his head. "N-no. He was always kind and well-behaved. Even with him being a deviant, he never showed any kind of aggression or ill will towards us. I…I just don't understand. He never would've hurt her."

"The store owner told us about a male college friend that came to see her at the clothing shop while Sam was there with her about two months ago," Connor said. "According to her, Sam shoved this friend away, causing a conflict. When he and Miss Hubb left, they were arguing. Did you know about this?"

Kent thought it over, slightly shaking his head. "No. I-I don't recall that, but now that you mention it, about two weeks ago she went on a date. Sam was really down and…frustrated. I told him that him and Lizzie could never be together, not like that. I told him to let it go. Sam got up and left. We didn't see him for almost a week."

"When you saw him again," Connor asked. "Did he have any noticeable behavioral changes?"

Kent nodded. "Yeah…jumpy. Glitchy? I don't know. He seemed confused. He said weird things, was forgetful. Kept saying something about hearing static in his head. B-but he wasn't different towards us. There was no signs of hate or aggression towards me or Lizzie, and we went about life as normal."

"Anything else you can think of that could be related to this?" Hank inquired.

Kent wiped his eyes, a shaky breath coming from his mouth. "Not that I…I can think of. It's all too much right now. I just…I can't believe this. Lizzie was a good girl. This shouldn't have happened to her. And Sam…I just can't see him hurting her. Not on purpose."

Hank stood up. He walked over to the victim's father just as he got to his feet. "Go home, Mr. Hubb. Get some rest. Give yourself some time. If you think of anything else that could be of use to us, please give us a call."

"I sure will…th-thank you, Lieutenant."

The man turned and left, heading for the front lobby of the police department. Connor and Hank watched him go for a moment, both quiet and thinking over the man's words.

"Well?" Hank asked.

Connor shook his head, leaning on Hank's desk. "No deceit. He was telling the truth."

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

Connor processed his thoughts, linking the stories from Mr. Hubb, Mrs. Hendy, and the evidence found at the crime scene. "I think Sam loved Miss Hubb. I think he had an emotional shock post-deviancy that created issues that he didn't know how to handle. I think he killed her because he loved her, but couldn't be with her, and so he killed them both."

Hank pursed his lips for a moment, thinking, a long finger tapping on his desk. "Thing is…there's no laws against humans and androids being together romantically. So, he must've been told by her father it wasn't possible like he said, meaning he wouldn't allow it, or she turned him down."

"Guess we won't know for sure until we can get him reactivated," Connor said.

"You were right…it was personal."

Connor didn't say anything, thinking through any other possibilities it could be that the WR600 would kill a human girl he obviously loved. To him, it was irrational to kill someone you love. But Hank often told him that love was the most irrational human emotion of all.

He felt Hank's large hand plop onto his head, patting him. It broke him from his thoughts and he looked over at his partner. "C'mon, let's go home."

Story published on Fanfiction.net and AO3:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13002717/2/Deviant-Heart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393528/chapters/35726634

[saintbalor-blog]

“ LEAVING HOCKSTETTER ? IMPOSSIBLE ! “ (PART 1/2)

REQUEST: First thing your blog is the best thing I've stumbled across ever. Second thing I love wrestling too, who's your favorite male and or female wrestler (if you don't mind me asking)? And third can I pretty please request a Patrick Hockstetter X Reader where the reader and Patrick were dating but the reader tries to break up with him and Patrick was all like "fuck that noise" and refuses to leave the reader alone. Take it where you see fit. Thank you❤️❤️❤️

Crisp golden leaves swayed in the air as the October wind gently blew across piles of them, the subtle chilliness making Y/N pull the flannel shirt her boyfriend lended her closer in an attempt to shield herself in its warmth. The rich smell of boy’s deodorant and lighter fluid slithered in her nose, making her feel crinkle her nose in disgust as she continued helplessly watching her boyfriend kick some poor chump on the sidewalk with his friends from her spot on the outside table. Knowing the consequence if she decided to intervene, Y/N shifted her sorry gaze from the bullies to where her friend sat opposite of her with a frown on her face.

“And you’re sure about this?” Y/F/N questioned Hockstetter’s girl, bringing her back to the dangerous conversation laid out on the table and eyeing the flannel Y/N was currently dressed in since she recalled seeing Hockstetter sporting that exact maroon flannel in first period.

Sighing in defeat when she noticed Y/F/N glance at the shirt she had accepted from the boyfriend she planned on leaving, Y/N let the side of her face fall on her open palm in defeat and shrugged at her best buddy since first grade.

“I just,“ Her pointer finger belonging to her free hand began drawing circles against the top of their table, the rough granite from the surface lightly scratching her fingertip with each curve she made in an attempt to relax. “I don’t know if this relationship is even worth dragging out for so long if I know that it won’t be a forever thing, y’know?”

Hearing the unwanted feelings, that she had been sheltering in her mind from Patrick for weeks now, finally released into the open air was relieving; at least, now finally someone else knew how she was feeling. Looking up at her friend with child-like eyes that screamed for help, she searched Y/F/N’s face for any sign that she might know what to do in this situation. She was searching for any sign that her friend might actually give her the final push she needs to go through with leaving him but for the first time, her friend failed her.

“Can’t you just make it a forever thing, Y/N?” Y/F/N meekly pleaded her friend, not wanting to take part in a conflict that she knew would piss of the terrifying Hockstetter male. “Just don’t screw up and/or leave him and boom, it’s a forever thing?”

Her friend’s ‘advice’ had came out with a far more confusing tone than hers, not offering her any closure and not easing the obnoxious anxious feeling in her chest at all. Letting out a groan in frustration, Y/N crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head at the ordeal, an action that resembled that of an annoyed toddler when their parents weren’t helping with their frustrations.

“But he’s so fucking psychotic and — “ Y/N hadn’t understood the reason for Y/F/N’s eyes widening like saucers at her statement until she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist and a body slide into the seat next to her.

“I see you’re talking about me again.” Patrick cooed in her ear, placing a hand on the side of her face and averting her eyes from her friend so he could have her full attention once again.

Y/N inhaled a deep breath in through her nose, feeling the thick bands of his rings rub against the prominent bone of her jaw as she tried to keep her composure. She couldn’t help but feel as if his knowing eyes were reading her thoughts, a hidden knowledge inside of the blue hues of what she planned to do once they were alone — about how she planned to leave him for good.

“And, that’s my cue to leave.” The friend, quickly becoming a third wheel, excused herself as she gathered up all her school belongings in her bag and shot Y/N a look to be wise with her next choices. “See ya in third period.”

“You’re always free to join in, Y/F/N.” Patrick unpleasantly smirked, completely unaware of his joke didn’t mix the serious conversation Y/N was determined to have with him now that her friend was gone.

Parting her lips, in hopes of cutting right to the chase, the beginning of Y/N’s grand breakup speech was interrupted by a pair of lips roughly pressing against hers. Taken aback, she placed her hands on his t-shirt clad chest and lightly pushed him to get his attention but it was to no avail.

“Stop.” She asked between shallow breaths, his attention too focused on kissing her to hear or care about her pleas. “Patrick, seriously, cut it out.” Y/N upped the force in her hands as she attempted to push him off once again, this time strong enough to rip his body off of hers and allow her to get off of the now uncomfortable bench.

“What’s up your ass today?” Patrick snapped with narrowed eyes, not enjoying how she was wiping her lips with the back of her hand as if he had some disease. “And can I be up your ass today too?” He tried again, wildly grinning up at her as the adrenaline from beating up Tozier was still rushing through him.

“You’re such a dick.” Y/N rolled her eyes at his perverted comment, swinging her book bag onto the her shoulder and heading towards the back entrance of their high school with the boy hot on her trails and the anger she had built up for so long pumping through her veins.

“Woah, someone’s bitchy today.” Patrick followed after her, not enjoying the ‘lost puppy’ look his friends probably saw from him as they watched the spectacle from the car. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Sneaking his slender fingers into the back of her shirt collar, he pulled her body to his and spun her by her shoulders, determined to get her attitude back into place.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me?” Y/N inquired, raising an eyebrow at him as she shook with rage under his hold, letting out the steam she had been feeling throughout their whole relationship but had been to afraid to voice. “Whenever I tell you to stop and cut that shit out, you don’t. You don’t fucking respect me or any other girls, Patrick.”

“I’m sorry I’m not the biggest feminist around Derry. Here, I’ll hold the door open for you, for one.” Patrick abruptly let his tight hold on her go - making her lose her balance - as he reached for the metal door and held it open for her in a mocking way. “There, is that respecting enough for you?”

Instead of answering his obviously rhetorical question, Y/N stepped through the opening and continued walking through the school’s back hall, completely ignoring his words and leaving him dumbstruck at the idea that she actually did that; she was actually dumb enough to ignore him, the same him that she was supposed to listen to and respond to when spoken to.

Annoyed with her, he caught up to her and looped his fingers around her upper arm with enough force to leave splotches of indigo there for later. Spinning her around to face him, he pushed her by her shoulders back into the tall locker behind her, earning a sharp pain to shoot up her spine at the harsh contact with the metal door.

Hissing in pain, shutting her eyes out of habit, Y/N turned her head away from the body pressing up closely against her as she already regretted putting her plan into motion due to his reaction. Fingertips pressing into the subtle dips of her cheekbones, she was forced to look at him in those eyes she had remembered once losing herself in when he had animatedly talked to her about the gang’s next plans of attack.

“If you walk away from me one more time, you’re gonna get a really rough visit from me later.” Patrick sincerely promised her, his prominent facial features holding a faux sense of concern for her safety as he looked down at her, pushing his hips further against her own to hold her in place and to please himself.

“I’m done.” Y/N’s voice lacked the conviction it had all the times she had rehearsed that line in front of her mirror, the quiver in her voice betraying her as it earned a satisfied smile from Patrick instead. “I’m done with this, I’m done with you and I’m done with your stupid friends.”

“Really? You really think I’m just gonna let you walk away like that?” Patrick furrowed his eyebrows at her for dramatic effect, knowing the answers to his questions already. “Oh, Y/N. You’re so much stupider than I thought.” He patted her cheek as one would with a pet puppy before trailing a taunting finger down her body, stopping right where he felt the lining of her bra through her t-shirt.

Sucking in her breath at his troubling touch, she shook her head at him in disbelief and swatted his exploring hand away from her chest. Taking her fighting hands in his swatted one, Patrick placed them above her head in hopes of avoiding any further interruptions from them.

“I’m breaking up with you, Patrick, Jesus Christ.” Y/N trashed under him, annoyed at his stubbornness for her leaving him but not surprised one bit. “I’m not asking for your god damn permission, I’m doing it.” Her continuing to try to escape his hold only earned her the guarantee of more bruises littering her back instead of actually freedom from the boy.

“Here, how about this? I’ll give you thirty seconds to think of a good apology to give your boyfriend for all the shit you’re putting him through right now or I’ll make sure to put your pretty little mouth to a better use.”

The latter might have been appealing any other day but she knew how long Hockstetter would make her blow him and she definitely wasn’t in the mood for that today. Plastering a fake smile on her face, she nodded as if she was intently taking in everything he was saying.

“I’m sorry —“ Y/N began, almost finding herself slipping back into the vicious cycle of her actually apologizing for things that weren’t her fault. “That you don’t understand what the hell a break up is but this is it, Patrick.” Bringing her knee up to his dick, she roughly pushed him off of her and stumbled away from him.

“Just like that and you think you’re actually free of me?” Patrick called out, the smile never faltering from his voice despite his hand clutching onto his injured dick. “You don’t just get to decide to leave, Y/N. I’m the one who calls the shots and you’re only making this far more entertaining for me.”

“Fuck off.”

She flicked him off, not bothering to look back at him because she knew it would only serve as temptation to stay with him and apologize for what just happened. Only allowing her to get a few feet away from him, Patrick grinned to himself as he straightened himself out and surprisingly began walking the other way, not without leaving a warning for her though. The words he called out to her were enough to send chills throughout her body when she remembered he’s been over to her house.

“I’ll see you after school, babe.”