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bloodpenned · 3 years ago

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plz plz plz can you write m!whitney skullfucking pc

wordcount: 2.5k (can’t believe this is the first time i write an actual fic on here.) cw: noncon, detailed ero guro / gore porn, eye trauma, drugging, knives, vomit mention, needle mention, degradation, victim blaming.

or: whitney fucks your eye socket and prepares you for the act. don’t read this to upset or trigger yourself, please.

Since all of your holes have been used by others, Whitney makes one for himself.

“Look at you- You can barely keep your fucking head up, slut.”

The voice drifts to you from far away, a figure leaning over the ice you’re trapped under. Where am I?, you ask, but all your vocal cords produce is a gurgle. Your limbs are made of cement and frozen in place. Letting yourself be dragged back into the depths of unconsciousness is much easier than staying afloat. Through trembling eyelids, you barely make out the shape of the person in front of you. Their legs, to be precise. Pain shoots through your scalp and you jolt, finally present enough for the ties around your wrists and ankles to register in your mind, the cold wall you’re leaning against. That it’s Whitney, because who fucking else would it be, yanking you up by your hair. Your tongue still refuses to move.

“Follow.” His voice feigns disinterest. Yet he keeps shuffling, leaning his weight more on one leg, then the other again. He holds his hand in front of your face, moving it from side to side. Your head is so fuzzy you see no reason to disobey. By the time you’ve caught up with him to the right, he’s already back the other way. Your eyelids droop. He laughs. “God, you’re out of it. Poor you, did I gave you a little too much? You can’t say I’ve ever underestimated you.”

As soon as his grip loosens, your head drops and black dots litter your vision. Drool spills from your mouth. Something bad is about to happen, there’s no other explanation for this. His hands will end up all over your body again. But there’s no chatter of his friends, no flashes of cameras, so different from the usual that you don’t know what to expect. The world fades out, before flickering back in the middle of a sentence.

“...pay me back. Got that? Good.” The hand is back in your hair, keeping you steady. He’s digging around in his pocket. “If you weren’t such a whore, I wouldn’t have to do this. Did you think I wouldn’t see those pictures? Wouldn’t know when my slut’s gagging around someone else? I promised I would beat some sense into you if you didn’t listen, so here we are.”

Whitney’s found what he had been looking for. There’s something in his hand, moving toward your face too quickly to make out. Everything’s so blurry that even while squinting, you can’t immediately tell what it is. You nearly go crosseyed trying to figure it out. A handle clenched in his fist, gray, reflecting surface, ending in a sharp point-

A knife.

“You’re a fucking cumbrain already, but I’ll give you one too.”

You watch the situation unfold from the back of your skull. This is happening to someone else, anyone except you. It’s a movie, and a bad one at that. You can’t pinch your arm to wake yourself up. Whitney had hurt you before, sure, with his bare hands. Never like this. He’s always made fun of Kylar for having to resort to knives, why would he use one now? Is it just a threat? It has to be. Then again, you’re so disoriented you don’t stand a sliver of a chance against him. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, so loud it makes your head throb. The furthest your abilities go is to shake your head and force a whimper from your throat, rubbing your wrists raw on the zip tie. Whitney presses cold steel against your cheek. You try to spit at him, but you can’t put any force behind it. It dribbles down your chin in a slow stream.

Whitney barks out a laugh. “What the fuck are you, a dog?” The knife digs into your skin, a gentle push away from slicing you open. “Don’t get to get too excited yet, we haven’t even started, slut.” He slides the blade up to your bottom eyelid, leaving a shallow cut. (Your brain is fuzzy. Your cheeks are warm, burning- Are you blushing? Is the wetness rolling down your face a tear?) Your fingers twitch, your teeth grind together, every muscle pulled tight like a bowstring.

His breathing is laboured, eyes boring into yours, expression blank for a mere moment. Whitney, as you know him from school, is all but empty. He’s of scoffing and snarling, of laughter and grins- This is nothing you recognize. Your gut twists. Every instinct in your body is screeching at the top of its lungs for you to run. At the same time, another part tells you to stay as still as possible, as if you will simply fade out of existence if you don’t move. (But it’s okay, because none of this is real, and you’re at the orphanage in bed curled up under the covers, and you’ll wake up late and rush to get your uniform to not miss the bus and you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine-) Whitney’s tongue darts out to trace his upper lip, his fingers turning white around the handle.

The next, there is a blow of air against your eye before pure, indescribable agony accompanied by a wet squelch. You’re dying, you’re dying, you’re dying, it’s over- Half of your face has been blown off, your brain is exposed for all to see and poke and prod, your lungs collapse with every breath, your throat spasms around vomit. What’s left of your right side of vision is a red and black pulsating blur. The screams, the sole outburst you’re capable of, are mere groans in the back of your throat. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish on land. Blood, sweat, tears, pus, slime- You wouldn’t know. Something oozes down your face, thick mucus, making a mess on your lap. You’re warm, you’re cold, sweat thick underneath your clothes. Everything is wet. Everything is hot.

A hand is on your head, stroking. The sensation dissapears into and becomes one with the pain, the thing that melts everything else away. “There you go, you’re being so good! But I’m not done yet.” He speaks to you in the tone reserved purely for dogs. From the corner of your good eye, you can see him reaching his fist back and pounds it against the handle, your entire world dissolving into nothing as it hits.

When you wake up, you do so to a palpitating heart that’s skipping beats left and right, to a convulsing body, to spit frothing at your mouth and a needle in your leg. The gag in your mouth rubs against your tongue and tastes of sweat. Whitney has discorded the knife, left it at your feet. Your eyeball looks like scrambled egg white on one end, a sloppy mess, and you gag. At one point or another, you will have to come to term with the fact that you’re never going to see from it again.

“Can’t have you leaving before the party’s started.” Your head whips around, the sensation of something sloshing inside your eye socket immediately making you regret it. Wind blows straight into the wound and causes you to ear up. He’s on your right. Somewhere. What you assume to be the syringe falls to the ground with a clatter. There’s no way he isn’t standing there, in the void he created, on purpose. You would’ve preferred to be really fucking dead right now. Let him rape your corpse, at least you wouldn’t have to be there to notice it. Whatever he injected you with, it’s all so much sharper now. The lights are brighter, every little step he takes ringing in your ears, your right eye (or the slurry that’s left of it) aflame. You rock back and forth to shuffle further away from him, but you’re already backed against a wall and the movement makes the blood in your skull slosh alongside it.

“Gotta check if you’re wet enough for me. Thank me later, slut.” Whitney pulls on your eyelashes, the tip of his finger teasing the hole. Once in a while, it dips into the wound, your nerves tingling in anticipation at the near touch. Breath hitching every time, your brain can’t comprehend what’s exactly happening to you. Your heart pounds in your ears, your limbs keep twitching against your will. Now that you can, you want to struggle, but you’re so scared of that pain, terrified that he could choose to take the other one as well.

All you want is for this to be over. You just want to be home. As flawed of a home it is, it’s still the one place you can think to return to. (Robin will be there, waiting for you. They always have. Could you still keep up with them during games, now that you’re like this? Bailey’s presence, suffocating as it is, at least keeps you safe from intruders. How pissed off are they going to be, now that you're a damaged ware?)

“Can’t you sit still for one fucking second? You wanna know what it feels like when I slip so badly?” Your head jerks to the side against your will, foot hitting his ankle. “I guess you do, huh? But, fuck- You keep writhing around, maybe I should give the needy whore what they want. You’re soaked, that’s for sure.”

Whitney pulls away, his fingers coated a pale red. Using your hair as a rag, he smears the fluids in it, tugging on it once for good measure. He takes a step back, descends back outside your field of vision. There’s the rustling of fabric, unbuckling of a belt, a zipper being undone. You begin to plead through your gag, repeating muffled, incomprehensible words, because please, anything but this, not right now, not ever, hasn’t he done enough, isn’t he satisfied, he’s already ruined you enough, please, just please-

“It’s cute you think you have a choice.”

There’d been a nagging suspicion in the back of your head that it would come down to this. Every meeting with Whitney would end up leading down the same path, but this time... You choke on your breaths, chest heaving with sobs. With every shock of your shoulders, more heat leaks out of your eyes, your entire face turning into one throbbing mess. You squeeze your eyes shut. (There’s no way you can move the right eyelid, the knife has torn straight through it. All it is now is limp meat, hanging on by a thread.) His dick presses against your cheek. Fucking hell, why does he have to be so big too? There’s ringing in your ears as he leaves a trail of precum, mingling with the mess already there. His scent overpowered by the metallic smell of blood. Why can’t you just pass out again? But you’re still twitching, thoughts racing faster than you can keep track of.

“You’ve been asking for this, don’t try to deny it. I’m not stupid. Well, you’ve got my attention now. You better be grateful.” He misses the first time, the head of his dick rubbing against your eyebrow. Whitney curses underneath his breath. Trembling fingers tug your eyelids as far apart as possible and you hate it, you hate this so fucking much, you want someone to come by here to save you, you want to sink through the floor, you want to die.

He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, and hits his mark. You’re not sure how much he crammed inside your skull, but all of it was too much, too cruel. The screaming is clear through your bounds, raking your throat raw. Whichever way you move, his cock stays lodged in between the bone. The muscles snap and tear, the bones crack, the flesh, like the tight fit that it is, clings around his dick, and he groans as he pushes himself further inside. An impossible amount of more fat and mucus and slime comes free, clogging your nose. The back of your head slams against the wall with every movement, but it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t compare.

There’s nothing else. There can be nothing else. Your mind is full and empty at the same time. He’s all you can think about, he’s fucking the memory of him into your brain, leaving his permanent mark. Is this what he wanted? You’re being dissected, pulled apart, the creases of your brain violated. He’s saying things, (tight, mess, slut, enjoying, loud.), but he’s pulling out and the scrape of the warm flesh makes the scenery blur. Your throat feels like it was pulled across sandpaper.

The pressure dissipates and you cry in pure relief. But, a moment later, he’s back in and down a slightly different path at a slightly different angle and there’s more snapping, more gushes of fluid. The only thing that will ever fit there again will be him. The perfect little cocksleeve. He’s pushing up against something and you don’t know what, but every time he twitches and brushes against it, your entire vision blacks out. Where the pain reached a crescendo before, it’s turned around to be almost numbing now. Are your nerves torn up? Are you dying?

“Open your mouth. Wait, fuck-” He’s breathless, stuttering over his words. His dick twitches and scrapes against bone. Trembling fingers remove the gag from your mouth. If this were literally any other situation, you might have been almost proud to have turned him into such a wreck. “Stick your tongue out and it’ll be over. Done.”

You latch onto those words like a lifeline. No matter how it ends, you just want it to be over. Without much more than a second of delay you do as he asks, your good eye rolling up to try and look at him. Considering how full your head is, you hardly notice the strings of cum being added to the pool, until some of it leaks through your nose and onto your tongue. He puts one hand on your head, shaking it until more follows. (Though his cum isn’t the only thing there.)

Strings of blood and slime stick to his dick like drool as he pulls out. You hate him. You hate yourself. You hate this fucking town, and you hate every piece of shit in it. Your brain is a cacophony of screaming, of visions of growing fangs and claws and tearing him to shreds, of burning this whole town down. All you do is stare up without really looking, eyes glazed over. You’re tired, so unbelievably tired. All you want to do is rest, even if it’s while bleeding out in some shitty alleyway. His voice drifts to you from far away, smile clear in his tone.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

An eye for an eye has never sounded so appealing before.

#degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully #i knoooow he wouldnt do this but whatever i like writing it and also i can do whatever i want #it was just a top tier request i cant help myself #seriously dont read to freak yourself out !#k.gore #k.degradation #k.drugs #k.knife

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strawberrysoup · 4 years ago

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Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 3

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.4k chapters: 3/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk.

Tony had presented as a delta at twelve, much to his father’s insurmountable disdain. Howard Stark had gone to great lengths to ensure himself an alpha prime for a son—he’d spent years hunting down the perfect omega, who proceeded to have almost unheard of difficulties getting pregnant. After a grueling pregnancy, said omega had the gall to have massive complications during birth that meant she’d never carry another pup. The fact that Tony couldn’t even do the simplest thing right—present as an alpha prime, like himself, like Captain America—was just heinous.

But for all of his intelligence, Howard Stark had been a moron. Being a delta came with a slew of advantages over alphas, over alpha primes even. His heightened empathy was an extraordinary tool, his intuition was nearly on par with an omegas. Sure, he wasn’t as dominant as an alpha but he could hold his own in most situations. Alpha orders rarely worked on him, at the very least. He could induce an omega’s heat and even if he couldn’t completely sate an omega during that time as he lacked a knot, deltas were critical in giving alphas periods of rest during the week-long estrous.

If an omega was the glue that held a pack together, deltas built the foundations. Their ability to support packmates on multiple levels was crucial—just like an omega, they were able to understand their packmates deeply and act as conduits and facilitators.

He’d never been called a manipulator before. Especially not by a sweet-faced omega with surprisingly sharp little fangs. He supposed that most deltas were considered more… cunning than other presentations. Tony preferred the terms suave or charismatic, if he was being honest. Deltas were charming, dammit. But she’d reacted like he was some sort of con artist, a blink away from hiding the Queen up his sleeve.

Letting the suit catch her while he stood aside might’ve caused a bit of unnecessary distress—it was a good thing said suit was equipped with a silencer, or the shrieking would’ve brought down every alpha in the surrounding three towns. Steve had been giving him those disappointed eyebrows since he’d emerged from the woods, even after Thor and Peter took her inside to be bathed. Tony figured that was punishment enough, especially considering their omega seemed to hate him.

“We should probably go through the car,” Steve sighed, running a hand over the back of his head—Tony knew the alpha prime didn’t want his own discontent to unsettle the rest of the pack, “thoroughly. Make sure you check for anything hidden, we’ll make stacks for what we can and can’t give back.”

The blond shifted closer to Tony’s side, his other hand brushing against his back gently. Alpha primes weren’t as in tune with their pack’s emotions, that’s what omegas and deltas were for, but Steve and Thor put in more effort than any other’s Tony had ever encountered. They’d waited for him to arrive after all, instead of converging on the scared omega in a group of two alpha primes and two alphas—even Bruce’s serene beta wouldn’t have been enough to calm her. Steve realized that Tony was put off, had made the effort to notice the shift in the delta’s demeanor, and moved to offer comfort if he should want it.

“I doubt she has much,” Bruce had his arms crossed over his chest, one hand rubbing at his chin as he stared towards the house, “I can’t decide if her body chemistry is just a 180° of what it should be because of the suppressants or if there’s something else.”

“You called her something earlier, when we were walking through the woods,” the blond had already started pulling bags from the back of her Tahoe, setting them gently on the ground so that his delta and beta could begin looking through them, “you called her classical?”

“Classical presenting omegas? It’s a theory that started cropping up in the late nineties,” Tony’s hand bobbed slightly in the air, “widely debated in accuracy. There have been very, very few case studies but they’re pretty promising—essentially, we’re looking at traits that were bred out of omegas a thousand years ago or more that are starting to crop up again due to environmental and cultural stressors.”

“Or,” Bruce sent the delta a stern look, “it could be the result of genetics; omegas on both sides of the family likely went extremely scarce, to the point of nonexistence. Both parents must’ve carried the same near ancient recessive genotypes, the alleles would’ve had to match up perfectly in order to produce offspring with those traits.”

“Like I said, it’s widely debated,” Tony rolled his eyes affectionately at the beta, riffling through the bag at his feet, “either way, our omega is displaying traits that haven’t been prominent since the 10th century.”

“What do we need to do? What do we need to watch out for?” If alpha primes were only good for one thing, it was determining the necessary course of action for their packs’ safety and prosperity.

“There’s no way to tell for sure exactly what we’re looking at, except for an omega who’s biology is incredibly convoluted and—” the sound Bruce made was one of disdain as he pulled a ziplock with what must’ve been at least a hundred small blue pills in it from one of her bags, “chemically altered beyond belief. How could she even get a hold of so many suppressants?”

“She’s willful,” Steve sighed, tossing a matching baggy towards the disheveled beta, “Even Peter’s purr doesn’t affect her the way it should, it’s a good thing Thor and I coexist so well—keeping her in hand would be difficult for one prime.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony’s jaw dropped as he withdrew a fucking machete from one of the bags, the several hunting knives, snares, and fishing lures neatly arranged in the bag barely even shifting at the jerky movement, “can you imagine an omega using one of these?”

“That one I can,” the blond snorted, gesturing back over his shoulder with one thumb, “if she’d managed to grab that bag we’d be a couple of packmates short.”

“This is the one she was about to make a run with,” Bruce held up a wallet, opening it a moment later, “no debit or credit cards, driver’s license for Colorado, local library card, $200 in American money.”

“There’s a wallet in this one too,” Steve frowned, unzipping it and peeking inside, “looks about the same, license is out of Quebec though—and another library card. No cash in this one though.”

“I bet it’s hidden in there,” Tony stated, having already pulled out two fifty dollar bills from a small hole in the seam of the inside of his chosen bag, “oh, here’s the suppressant stash from this one.”

The sound of tires on gravel distracted the three of them, head’s popping up to see Bucky and Carol making their way down the driveway in a dark green Jeep Wrangler. Both looked antsy and there were shopping bags piled so high in the back seat Bucky couldn’t see out of the rear view mirror. Carol was out of the car before it even came to a complete stop, coming to stand in the middle of the chaos of neatly packed bags.

“This is all she had?” The blonde alpha questioned, frowning at the three remaining boxes and the camping equipment in the back of the Tahoe, eyes briefly passing over the contents of the bags on the ground, “good thing we went overboard with the shopping.”

“Did you buy her any clothes?” Bruce questioned, looking at a faded, threadbare old t-shirt he’d just withdrawn from the bottom of the duffle, “everything she has is either full of holes or has been washed so much it’s practically see through.”

“We bought everything,” Bucky answered as he dropped down from the lifted Jeep, “clothes, toiletries, collars, nesting supplies—we grabbed some of those omega diet essentials too, the vitamins and the powder stuff they’re supposed to have.”

“She inside?” Carol interjected before the conversation could be continued, “I wanna see her.”

“Thor and Peter took her inside to get cleaned up about 10 minutes ago, Sam’s starting on dinner,” Steve stepped to the side and motioned the two towards the house, “be gentle, she’s… she’s having a hard time.”

“Have we figured out how long she’s been hiding for?” Bucky ignored his friend’s gesture, turning back towards the Jeep to retrieve several bags, “Wanda told us what sizes to buy but wouldn’t say anything else about her.”

“This ID says she’s thirty-two,” Steve flicked the plastic ID, having dropped the rest of the wallet back in the bag, “Bruce, what did the one you had say?”

“Twenty-nine,” the beta’s response was quick enough that the alpha prime knew he’d memorized the details of the ID and anything else he’d found in the bag already, “there’s no telling how long she’s been on her own though—at least a few years considering how well established she is living from her car.”

“She has two different IDs?” Carol’s eyebrow raised, taking several of the shopping bags Bucky passed her without complaint.

“And at least a thousand doses of suppressants,” Tony snorted, “a machete, I’m pretty sure if we keep digging we’ll find a gun—”

“Thank you Tony,” Steve cut the delta off before he could start any nonsense, “we’ve found two wallets with two IDs so far, but she’s got three more bags like this and then those boxes. We’re just trying to sort what she needs from what she doesn’t right now.”

“How is she?” Bucky’s question was obviously directed at his fellow delta, eyes not wavering even when he saw Steve and Bruce exchange glances.

“She called me a manipulative monster and tried to bite me.”

“There’s no telling how long she’s been hiding, or what she went through before she started hiding—or even what she’s been through while she’s been hiding,” Bruce sent the delta a look that bordered on provoked, “and you were being antagonistic.”

“I was not, I was just—”

“Being yourself, huh?” Carol smirked, dodging past the men and heading up the path towards the mansion before the billionaire could respond.

“What, you guys think we should’ve waited for the sentient iceberg?” Tony jabbed his thumb towards Bucky, “his delta charm is rustier than that heap of metal we found attached to his arm after he pulled you out of the Potomac.”

“You don’t even know what charm is yah fuckin’ grifter.”

Steve dropped his forehead into his hand; there was a consistent theme in large packs that resulted in deltas being at each other’s throats constantly. It would only get worse when Loki arrived, the third of the trio was an entirely different breed of antagonistic. Steve was absolutely sure that all of his packmates looked upon each other with affection, at least 99% of the time, but Tony, Loki, and Bucky fought constantly without an omega’s balancing presence.

The clearing of a throat silenced the squabbling deltas, attention immediately going to where Bruce stood with a stack of notebooks in his hand, “one of the boxes has notebooks and library books, the other has dry foods. She’s got a sleeping bag, tent, a water filtration system—anything she could need to survive in the woods or her car for an extended period of time.”

“No notebooks or food in the go bags?” Bucky frowned, arms crossing over his chest and he shifted his weight when they all responded negatively, “I could understand why the notebooks wouldn’t be a priority to bring with her, but no food?”

“From her supplies it looks like she’s probably a passable hunter, food would take up too much space if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Looks like she prefers hunting knives to bread and peanut butter,” the beta shrugged, motioning to the piles he’d been organizing while Steve tried to mediate the deltas squabble, “each of her bags has a wallet with an ID, cash hidden somewhere, a change of clothing, a bag of suppressants, water filtering tablets, the hunting knife, matches, a water bottle and a thermal blanket.”

“Pragmatic,” Bucky muttered quietly as he stepped up to the trunk of the Tahoe, glancing at the box of notebooks and library books, “Neotropical Diversification, Monoco—what the fuck, Mono-coty-ledons? Avian Genomics in Ecology and Evolution, Orientation and Navigation in Vertebrates. I don’t know what half of those words even mean, and they’re titles of books.”

“That’s all environment biology—ecology,” Tony’s eyebrows went up, “niche stuff too, higher level.”

“Good thing there’s a lot of us to keep her brain occupied,” Bruce’s lips split into a small grin, eyes directed at the pile of knives, “otherwise she’d be difficult to manage. Whatever happened in the meantime, it seems she might’ve attended university at some point—this level of understanding is usually somewhere in a graduate program, although it’s a pretty wide variety of specific topics that aren’t generally associated with each other.”

“They are library books,” Tony stated with a shrug, “maybe it was all she could get her hands on at this level. We did find multiple library cards, all to different library districts. The ones she has now are all from the same district—does she have any Canadian IDs?”

“One from Quebec and one from Ontario,” the beta pointed out two bags, one of which was sitting by Steve’s feet, “those two bags. The other IDs were Colorado, Alaska, and Michigan. We’ll have to figure out which one is real, if she has a real one. The name of the housekeeper the company assigned to us matches the Ontario ID.”

“This is insane,” Steve sighed, shoulders heaving with the breath, “she must be running from something, hiding.”

“Wanda will tell us, I’m sure,” Bucky’s flesh hand landed on the blond’s shoulder with a clap, fingers squeezing momentarily, “for now, how about we just focus on getting her settled in the cabin with her things.”

“Should we let her get settled here?” Bruce frowned, a worried line creasing his forehead, “I’m worried it could be detrimental, for her to adapt here and have to move to the compound once our vacation is over. As soon as she starts to get comfortable she’s gonna be uprooted all over again.”

“We’ll discuss it tonight at dinner,” Steve spoke before anyone else could prolong the debate, “Hopefully Natasha, Clint, and Loki will get here in time. Sam’s making lasagna, said we wouldn’t be eating until late anyway. Let’s bring everything in, minus the things she doesn’t need.”

“Nesting supplies to the laundry room?”

“Yeah, toiletries to Nat and Wanda’s bathroom. Put her clothes with mine or Thor’s,” the blond alpha instructed, heaving several bags into each arm before turning on his heel and heading into the house, “leave the camping supplies, we’ll lock up what she doesn’t need back in the garage for now.”

Her scent, chemically masked and altered, was emanating through the entire cabin, he could smell it the moment he stepped over the threshold. Everything looked spotless and he smiled, ducking his head slightly to hide it; he liked that the whole house smelled like his omega—their omega, who’d spent a lot of time and effort making everything look perfect for their arrival.

Wanda and Carol were in the living room, bathed in the light of the sun just beginning its descent. The stairs, one set leading up and one down, were straight ahead, blocking the view of the kitchen, dining room, and study. The parlor to his left featured haphazardly abandoned suitcases, the rest of the pack who couldn’t quite be bothered at the moment to properly deal with their things.

The smell got stronger up the stairs, he could hear the low rumble of both Thor and Peter’s combined purr. Their omega was in distress—alpha’s struggled when omegas were in distress and Steve imagined both were getting their hearts twisted in their chests. His packmates dispersed to follow their assigned tasks, Bruce joining Sam in the kitchen to help with dinner. Steve dropped bags at the appropriate doors in the hall before making his way through Thor’s room and into the bathroom, where the two alphas were practically piled in the tub with their omega.

Peter sat on the edge of the tub, pants rolled up past his knees and his legs in the water where she was leant up against them. Thor was half in the water, shirt gone as he leaned over to clean the mud and grime from her skin, manipulating her limp limbs gently.

“I take it she didn’t want a bath,” Steve murmured, eyes flashing around the half destroyed bathroom.

“She can fight my purr more than we expected,” Peter looked almost bashful, the hand that wasn’t stroking her cheek running over the back of his head.

“Omegas on Asgard are very similar to her,” Thor commented quietly, still focused on his task, “its why I found them so meek when I first arrived—Omegas are willful and determined. She just needs to be trained, her behavior can be corrected.”

“I know there are omega protests sometimes, but I’ve never seen one completely reject packs,” the brunet alpha was frowning, “they have biological requirements for interaction with others—her body can’t generate certain chemicals without the necessary pheromones that the different presentations provide. It could stunt her immune system, damage hormone glands like the thyroid and—”

“We’ll get all of that figured out Peter, we can fix anything that’s wrong with her,” Steve told himself it wasn’t a false promise, “it’ll just take time and a lot of effort. Let’s get her dressed and up to the attic. Bucky took all of the extra bedding for nesting to wash but we can make do with what we’ve got temporarily, the scents might help.”

“Would you grab one of my shirts?” Thor asked, looking back at the other prime imploringly; it wasn’t just a simple request—Thor was asking that their shared omega be scented by his clothing first.

Steve hadn’t been born an alpha prime. Sometimes, he felt like a delta that had been gutted and pumped with morphine—his empathy had been stolen, replaced with strength and adrenaline and aggression. He missed the part of himself that allowed him the deeper connection with others, the amount of effort he had to expend to determine the emotions of his pack made him feel like an alien (especially if they weren’t telegraphed by scent), but sometimes it was okay. Sometimes, it meant he had a wider understanding than other alpha primes because while he didn’t retain the heightened sense, he knew where to start to unravel their puzzles.

With Thor it was easiest. All he really had to do was follow his own stream of consciousness—wanting the omega clean and warm and fed and scented. He wanted her to smell like him, wanted her wrapped in his clothes, his blankets, he wanted it beneath her skin and seeping from her pores. And so did Thor. The Aesir was asking Steve to take a loss, to not fight him for the right to scent her first.

It was a good thing he hadn’t been an alpha prime, or the request would’ve absolutely ended in some sort of dominance display. Aggression had immediately surged though his chest at the question, the challenge, the demand, he needed to prove he deserved it more—Steve shook his head firmly, cleared his throat, and rolled his shoulders back before making eye contact with the other prime.

“Sure thing, any in particular?”

There was relief on Thor’s face, along with understanding; he was fully aware of the sacrifice Steve was making and the effort it took to make it, “I know you’ll chose the right thing.”

They didn’t realize their omega was practically having an out of body experience—that she felt like she was hovering over her own body, watching in horror as the two alpha primes who’s mingled scents she was sure marked each and every one of their packmates, communicated like real people. The suppressants hadn’t completely brutalized her scent receptors or hindbrain; she’d known there was something too much about the blond alphas, something that whispered to her omega senses. They were alpha primes and that was a nightmare.

Because alpha primes weren’t supposed to co-habitate. They didn’t share. They were aggressive, territorial, verging on violent. The idea that the two had somehow weaseled their way through that instinctive disposition upon meeting, had managed to form a pack—it didn’t bear thinking about. All she needed to think about was getting out quickly, before something irreversible happened and she was trapped forever.

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #thor x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #bruce banner x reader #carol danvers x reader #clint barton x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #pocketful of posies #posies chapter 3 #will reblog w tags in a bit

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feralnumberfive · 3 years ago

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The Rewatch Academy: Episode 3 of Season 1

“Extra Ordinary”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it's funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

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1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 |

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☂ First off I’d like to say that this is one of my favorite episodes of this season. It’s just soooo good

☂ The second comic book in the window features the Televator from the actual comics, so that has to be canon in the show! Also at the time that that second comic came out, Five had already left since we don’t see him on the cover

☂ It’d be cool if they actually printed Vanya’s book for fans to read

☂ Well Diego isn’t wrong when he called Hazel and Cha Cha animals because of their masks

☂ Honestly I feel Vanya’s struggle with chair placement. I’ve fortunately had the luck of playing in all three clarinet chair placements, but 1st chair is challenging. I personally found each placement very fun to play, especially 3rd, and I hope Vanya does too! (why am I talking like she’s real)

☂ Hazel talks about people living ordinary lives, but didn’t he live like that too at one point? How does The Commission recruit people? If they get ordinary people, do they wipe their memories of their previous lives?

☂ “Let’s see’em get out from behind their desks, get their hands dirty for once.” Well Hazel, Five does indeed do this even though he only had a desk job for a day. Still, he got to experience both worlds

☂ My mind is blanking on this, but how did Five get that cut on his arm? Was it from a bullet wound at Gimbel’s?

☂ Five must have a high pain tolerance to stitch his own wound but his bandaid probably wouldn’t stick due to the wet blood he slapped it over. Five sweetie you need a cotton pad and gauze for that one

☂ Wait, you’re telling me that The Umbrella Academy boys’ top uniform consists of a tank top, a white dress shirt, a tie, a sweater vest, and then the blazer? Someone asked Reginald what he wanted for the uniforms and he just said “Yes.”

☂ Five: *puts hands in pockets only to immediately take them out*

☂ Aidan almost sounds like he has an accent when he says “I'm done funding your drug habit.”

☂ Five’s so soft talking to his wife

☂ No Leonard, your bread and butter is being a creep

☂ Also, he thinks wood carving is embarrassing? If someone came up to me and showed me something they carved out of wood I would be so jealous cause it’s such a neat form of art

☂ Leonard saying that he carved wood, and in that case wooden figures, when he was a kid is a slight foreshadow of all of his tampering with his Umbrella Academy figures. He can make wooden figures but he’s also destroyed a handful of the Hargreeves figures

☂ “Never really did like The Beatles.” Well sir you’ve made me dislike you even more

☂ Vanya asking Allison if her siblings wanted her at the family meeting bugs me a bit. I absolutely get that she was literally left out of anything and everything that had to do with her siblings when she was younger, but Allison just asked her to come back home for a family meeting. Allison wouldn't have walked around looking for Vanya only to tell her that they were having a family meeting and that she wasn’t actually invited. Allison is including her in on a family meeting but Vanya is just in a bit of disbelief that she’s being included

☂ Ah yes, the only PTSD flashback for Five we see in the show! He looks so scared when he snaps out of it. I believe it was somehow triggered by the kids (I could be wrong) but do you think Five sometimes panics when he looks at himself in the mirror now since his body is the same age it was when he got stuck? Also it’s very subtle but when Luther opens the door, Five slightly jerks/flinches back. I wish we would see more of this in the show since it’s one of his major traumas

☂ “Does it matter? It’s Klaus.” Ouch! Well Five I hope you know that your siblings are somewhat thinking the same thing since they believe that you’ve lost your mind and are practically an old man crying “Apocalypse!”

☂ Five does an ever so slight huff and smirk when Luther tells him that the meeting at the Academy is important. He finds it a little funny but so frustrating in his mind that Luther doesn’t know what’s truly important

☂ Also I love that Aidan has to turn to the side so that he can keep it together after Klaus talks about his chocolate pudding waxing. Either that or he’s portraying Five as being frustrated and in disbelief. Also this is the first time I’ve noticed that he says “Ay, ay ay...”

☂ “We’re all you have. And you know it.” Oh Luther, you’re failing to see that that’s why he’s acting like this right now. He’s all frantic and crazed about trying to stop the apocalypse so that he can protect and save all that he has

☂ Five certainly is mad at Luther during his mini lecture. He’s clenching his jaw tightly and when he first speaks he hisses out the words through gritted teeth. He even called Luther by his number. He’s very impatient at this point and doesn’t care for Luther’s act of attempting to be a leader

☂ This is their first, and certainly not last, time watching Klaus go by in front of them doing something he shouldn’t be doing

☂ “You haven’t been home in a long time, Vanya.” Sir you were also just on the moon for four years. Yeah Vanya was away for a long time but Grace easily could have changed too during the four years you were gone

☂ How sweet, even though Five hasn’t really been home they want to include him in on the family vote :]

☂ I’ve noticed that in S1 that David really mumbles his lines. A lot

☂ I wish we got more flashbacks of the younger Umbrellas

☂ Diego my beloved mama’s boy ♥️

☂ It’s confusing as to which country TUA takes place in, but it’s really not supposed to be a specific one. It’s portrayed as being in North America, but you can see behind Cha Cha when she gets out of the car at the Academy the flag of the RAF, which Canada would have at a monument since it’s a Commonwealth country. At the same time though Delores came from Gimbels, which was a department store chain across the U.S

☂ The light above Five’s portrait is slightly crooked, which probably means no one has really been paying attention to it

☂ It makes me nervous that Klaus wipes bubbles onto his face. It looks like he got some in his eyes

☂ Ugh I love the whole scene of Hazel and Cha Cha walking around the Academy with “We’re Through” playing

☂ Diego: *has knives but instead chooses to punch and hit Hazel to try to make him let go of Allison”

☂ A rope-a-dope is a boxing tactic of pretending to be trapped against the ropes, goading an opponent to throw tiring ineffective punches. Diego sweetie Hazel wasn’t even trying to get you off of him all he was doing was choking Allison. The only person who got tired was probably you

☂ What’s the point in Diego yelling “Luther, go!” if he’s already going 💀

☂ Luther was there immediately when Hazel attacked Vanya. That means that Luther heard Vanya and was going to go get her to safety

☂ I will never stop signing my praise for the entirety of the “Sinnerman” fight scene(s). It gives me chills every single time. Easily one of the best scenes in all of the show

☂ Klaus must really have his music blasting if he can’t hear the gun shots right next to him

☂ I’ve always wondered if Allison actually registered in her mind that “The boy” is Five when Cha Cha says that’s who they’re looking for. Either she does realize that’s Five, is simply just angry that those two are looking for a boy, or registers in her mind that it’s Five through his superhero codename even though Cha Cha’s not referring to him in that way

☂ Diego is full on just standing in the background watching Allison get beat up by Cha Cha 🕴

☂ I love Diego’s little hand flap when he gets hit in the hand fighting Cha Cha

☂ Okay so I make everything about Five, but the whole Cha Cha fight scene with Allison and then Diego kind of scares me. Cha Cha and Hazel are both amazing assassins (they’re both probably right below Five) and neither Allison nor Diego could stop her by themselves. Could you imagine Five fighting one of his siblings? Especially with his spatial jumps? We already got a glimpse of his true combat skills when he fights Lila in S2. What a scary little old man

☂ “Vanya, get out of here!” Again, wanting to make sure that Vanya is safe and gets away. He even tried to go look for her

☂ Something I don’t really get about the Hazel and Luther fight is why doesn’t Luther just overpower him? Luther has super strength and on top of that he has giant muscles due to the gorilla DNA. Shouldn’t he be able to beat Hazel to a pulp? Maybe we have to consider that Hazel might have been altered by The Commission to be stronger and more durable, but they haven’t mentioned that in the show

☂ “Ah, you gotta cut down on that fast food, soldier.” What are you talking about Diego he literally just got off the moon two days ago aflksjfdk

☂ So Luther was too injured to jump out of the way of the chandelier but was able to push it up off of himself? 🤔

☂ I personally think that Luther’s body design adaptation for the show is really cool and that they gave him the perfect amount of bulk without making him look ridiculous

☂ This has been pointed out before, but cross-stitch foreshadowing, baby

☂ Again, Diego my beloved mama’s boy ♥️

☂ Well at least Diego thought about Vanya dying before thinking about his siblings dying because of her. The latter is ironic!

☂ The clock above Luther’s mirror reads approximately 1:30 am. Hazel and Cha Cha didn’t want to wait until morning

☂ I wonder how different it would be if Five was present at the Academy when Hazel and Cha Cha attacked. He probably would have surrendered himself to them, but it's fun to entertain the idea that he would go apeshit if he knew that they were harming his family in order to find him

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Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

#tra #the rewatch academy #tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #hazel and cha cha

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years ago

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Tumblr was being a Big Bitch and reset my scrolling about 4 times before I could get to the end of your blog. You’re incredibly talented and dedicated to write so much, it’s inspiring! Thank you for being you, I hope you’re safe during these trying times!

I swear that with each new ‘update’ Tumblr breaks a little more. It is one of the charms of the site, right? Watching you blast through the blog was amazing. Thank you for all the notification pings :) Hope you’re safe and able to relax during these wild times! <3

The first winter Jaskier had at Kaaer Morhen was miserable. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration but it was most definitely not one that he enjoyed. Except for the mind (and back) blowing sex that made up a large part of winter because there was not much else to do. Throughout the season, the witchers trained, hunted and bickered. Gwent was played with increasingly twisted rules and Jaskier couldn’t keep up. He had come to the conclusion that the witchers were bored, cooped up in a crumbling old keep for months on end. There was only so much relaxing and downtime they could take before they were raring to go again. So when the invitation for a second winter at Kaer Morhen was offered to Jaskier, he began plotting.

Witcher enrichment activities were difficult to come by, no market stall really catered to such a niche area. So Jaskier was going to have to get creative. Over the course of the year, he stocked up on things which might be useful: small gadgets, a cryptex or two, some miniature throwing knives and a whole host of other knickknacks which seemed like a great idea at the time. It seemed less great when he had to lug it all up to the keep where the witchers were already gathered.

They had about a week of peace before the first wrestling match broke out between Eskel and Geralt. It was over the question of who should to the dishes and who should dry them. Only Vesemir fisting the back of Lambert’s shirt stopped him from bundling in. It was time for Jaskier to start his new programme.

The following morning, Jaskier had gone out and hidden a dozen red pebbles around the keep and the surrounding area. He walked all over the place to hide his scent and when the witchers finished their morning training, Jaskier was ready.

“You have a task,” he announced, holding a red pebble aloft. “There are twelve such pebbles hidden around Kaer Morhen’s grounds. The one who brings me most of them will get a prize.” Here, he pulled out a lavender infused cuddly rabbit. At first, nobody moved, none of the witchers wanted to look like they were keen to compete for such a ridiculous prize. However, after a few sly looks, they all seemed to slink off, even Vesemir looked shifty. He claimed he was only checking the keep was in order but Jaskier spotted him slip a red pebble into his pocket in the library.

By late afternoon, Lambert appeared, looking quite proud as he presented Jaskier with five red pebbles. Vesemir had three while Eskel and Lambert had two each. Nobody saw the rabbit but the other witchers could all smell hints of lavender on Lambert each morning, suspiciously like he had been cuddling the toys throughout the night.

Sometimes, the witchers’ restlessness was less pronounced. More than once Jaskier had caught Eskel prowling the ramparts, guarding and defensive without any threat to take his frustrations out on. The cryptex had been for him mostly and when Jaskier spotted that he was stalking around the keep again, he brought a cryptex to him.

“I couldn’t crack it, help?” Not even waiting for an answer, Jaskier pressed it into Eskel’s hand and wandered off. He was pleased to see Eskel settled into an armchair by the fire for the next two days, delicately trying to open up the cryptex without breaking the glass. When he finally got it open, a small vial of scented oils rolled out into Eskel’s palm. It would help him relax in the bath for a while.

When Vesemir started snapping at his pups, Jaskier had just the thing for him. He’d spent a good chunk of the year learning a book by heart, one that was filled with riddles.

“I am all around you until you call my name at which point I’m gone. What am I?” he asked Vesemir.

There was a special kind of delight in watching the old wolf mull over the riddle, trying to figure it out. And when he got one right, Jaskier was immediately giving him another one.

Meanwhile, Lambert was getting antsy again. So Jaskier set up a larger hunt just for him. It all started off with a puzzle box. One that didn’t have any glass in it so if Lambert got frustrated and broke it, it wouldn’t ruin his fun. The puzzle box opened up to give him a clue of where to find the next clue. Some of them were more puzzle boxes or a cryptex (with a warning to be careful attached) while others were riddles and codes for him to decipher. In the end, it took Lambert four days of solid work to finally get his prize: a hug from Jaskier.

Of course, while it was fun to do individual challenges for the witchers, they still enjoyed competing against each other. One breakfast, their plates were empty save for a large puzzle box each. They were all identical and the smell of dried fruits emanated from them. It was a race not just to get to their food but also bragging rights of being the fastest to open the toy.

In a way, Geralt was the most difficult to keep entertained because he had seen some of the toys Jaskier had acquired. Though he was still stunned by a couple of the Gwent cards Jaskier had managed to smuggle home without him knowing. They made for some great treats to find hidden in crevices randomly throughout the keep. Plus Jaskier did have the benefit of being able to push him up against the nearest surface and blowing him if nobody else was around. So even if Geralt didn’t seem to get as much attention as the others, it was safe to say Jaskier took good care of him too.

With all the witchers taken care of and kept busy, Jaskier was content and happy too. He loved watching them pout and frown over a more difficult toys Jaskier put in front of them, only to smile widely when they solved it. As predicted, the miniature throwing knives were a big hit, Eskel hoarded them with a fierce protectiveness while the others tried to steal them. It was just as well that there were four in the set so each witcher could end up with one - almost like Jaskier had planned it like that.

By the end of winter, everyone seemed happy. Keen to get back on the path but not half out of their mind with the need to go. Vesemir clapped Jaskier on the shoulder.

“Thank you.”

It had Jaskier smiling, proud but also not wanting to rub it in Vesemir’s face. “It’s my pleasure.”

“Yeah, well, we weren’t sure you’d realise.” Maybe they weren’t talking about the same thing. “I mean, we love having you here and knowing that you love Geralt. But last year was a bit much.”

“Oh?” Jaskier’s voice was strangled as he tried to figure out just what was going on.

“You know, all the noise and the smell. We’re happy for you and Geralt but even we have our limits. So thank you for bringing all these games with you this year. Our ears and noses truly appreciated it.”

Face falling Jaskier stared past Vesemir’s head and at the wall. All winter he thought he had been keeping the wolves occupied. In turn, they thought they were keeping him busy and away from sex. Next year Jaskier was dragging Geralt to Oxenfurt.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #vesemir #witcher wolf pack #tldr: jaskier runs a witcher enrichment programme over winter

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weclassygirl · 4 years ago

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𝐃𝐞 𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐦

Word count: +5.8k

Pairing: santino d’antonio x f!reader

Warnings: none

Author’s note: hello everyone! uni is completely figured out yay! also i’m thinking of taking a small month or so break from writing, want to focus on some other projects that i have in mind. hope you’ll enjoy this part. english is not my first language so beware. take care love <3

dulce periculum series: ... 04 / 05 / ... / 07

Gif credits (x)

You pack your bags in a hurried fashion and with a bit of nervousness. The Elder wants to speak with you. The man that sits above the High Table. You pack every necessity, clothes, guns, coins, not much, you don't plan on staying there for too long.

You reach under your pillow to take out the knife hidden beneath it. It's handle is engraved with a beautiful design, the silver of it shines in the faint stream of light and the green and blue elements make it look royal. You stare at it for a while, admiring the build of it. The thin blade is sharp and reflects in the light.

Santino walks up to your room and leans against the door frame, watching you holding the dagger he gifted you. You don't hear him coming to your room, he stands in the doorway, waiting for the right moment to make himself present.

He knocks lightly on the door and you quickly turn in his direction. The hand that holds the dagger falls to your side, he looks at your bed and sees the bag filled with clothing and every necessity you would need for your trip. He walks up to you, that stoic attitude replaced by that soft expression you often see whenever both of you are alone.

“You don’t need to go.” he says as you put the knife into the bag.

"I have to, I don't have much of a choice." you inform him going to the wardrobe to grab a few shirts.

"Of course you do." he says back, his eyes focused on your face. "You’ve spent two years here without him wanting to speak with you-"

"But it’s the Elder," you cut him off. "he sits above the High Table." you turn to him, your own eyes focused on his emerald ones. There's a worry and question filling his features, he wonders why you're complying to the Elder's wish. You look at him and sigh, turning your gaze back to the bag. "We both knew that this day would come sooner or later." you say in a defeated voice.

You hear a faint shuffling and see Santino moving closer to you from the corner of your eye.

"Let me come with you at least." he pleads softly. You look up at him, your eyebrows drawn together in a sad frown.

"You know you can’t. The Adjudicator strictly said that he wants to see me alone," you say, remembering the Adjudicator's words. "no other parties involved, even one of the Heads."

You detach your gaze from his and move to the small bathroom and grab some toiletries you would need, toothbrush, comb etc. You come back to the room seeing Santino who's moved closer to the bathroom. His eyes follow your every movement. You finish packing as Santino hangs his head down and sighs.

"I guess I won't be able to convince you otherwise, right bella?" he smirks faintly but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. You say nothing, he already knows the answer. "Very well, but take the plane. It will at least ease my mind to know that you got there safely." he takes your hand in his, gently going over your knuckles. You learned that he started doing that sometimes out of boredom and sometimes as a form of reassurance.

You place your hand on top of his and hold it there until you speak up, your quiet voice carrying through the small space between you.

"Alright… and you don't need to worry too much, Sofia is letting me stay for the night before I go to the desert." you don't know Sofia personally but always admired her in the movies. The Adjudicator told you that you'll be staying at the Moroccan Continental before your departure to the desert. Santino looks at you wearily but nods and let’s go of your hand. You smile at him faintly, reassuring him that you’ll be fine.

It’s not that he thinks that you’re not ready, he knows you're capable of pretty much everything at this point, but it still puts him on the edge. Your own version of the Impossible Task made him believe that you can withstand anything, that you're as much capable as the other guards.

Santino leaves your room and your eyes follow his figure as he disappears behind the door. You sit down on your bed, looking at your lap, thinking of every decision you've made in the past two years. Saving Santino, joining Camorra, making a name for yourself in this world. And now a meeting with the Elder, a man that could no doubt easily kill you in a matter of seconds and wouldn't even get any blood on his robes. You decide not to ponder much about it and finish packing.

The airport is relatively quiet, the only sound that can be heard is the engine of the plane. You see Spirto and Sonya waiting for you at the hangar. Sonya comes up to you and hugs you tightly.

"If something happens, call me, I still have some contacts in the city." she says to your ear and you chuckle.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary." you pull away and see Spirto watching both of your interactions. His hair going in every direction and the bags under his eyes tell you that he spent another night wide awake.

During your time here you've gotten along the best with Sonya and Spirto, their cheerful personalities really helped you not feel so miserable at Camorra. Spirto puts a hand on your shoulder.

"As Sonya said, if you need anything you call us, I'm sure Andre would be against it but what's life without a little danger." he tells you with a grin spreading on his lips. There's that glint of madness twirling in his eyes. You nod at them in thanks and see a figure behind them.

Santino stands with his hand in his pocket, a bag waiting by his side. Sonya and Spirto give you a knowing look and you have them in the ribs before they can say anything further. You move towards the Italian.

"If you're here to try and change my mind, it won't happen." you say to him, he smiles and reaches for the bag at his feet.

"Believe me I won't do that, I know you made up your mind. I'm here to give you a small parting gift." he hands you the bag and you look at him suspiciously, you don't look in the bag but see a dark material crumbled up inside.

"Be safe, bella." he simply says. It's not a goodbye, you only go there for a few days, you'll be back in a blink of an eye.

"Always am." you say, he looks at you with expectation and you step closer to him as you hear the pilot announcing the departure. You kiss the Italian briefly on the cheek and place a hand on the other, Santino closes his eyes momentarily before you pull back. Both of you look at each other, feeling as if there's something more to say.

You turn to the plane and climb up the stairs giving one last look to Santino. Sonya and Spirto already left the hangar. You enter the plane and the hostess closes the door behind you. You go and sit in one of the chairs, placing your bags beside you. You see Santino through the window and his silhouette becoming a dot as the plane begins to move.

You relax in your seat, already planning to sleep through the flight when you remember the bag Santino gave you. You take a look inside and pull out a dark material, a jacket and suit pants. You see a tag saying that it's made by Angelo. The same Angelo you've seen making a suit for John when he visited Rome in the movies.

The suit itself is custom made as you realize, small threads of blue and green embedded into it. There are multiple small pockets inside it, some of them already containing thin knives, the fabric itself is the same bulletproof one you've seen John wear.

You look at your window and smile, deeply thanking Santino for this gift. During your stay at Camorra he's only given you two gifts, a dagger and a necklace. He gave you the necklace when you visited Naples with him during one summer. You've been walking around the city streets, him telling you about where everything was, and even some of the stories the streets held. You saw a stand with jewelry in the corner and decided to go up to it. You saw a beautiful thin silver chain with a green stone in it. Santino saw you looking at it and decided to buy it when you didn't see. He gifted it to you at a beach when both of you were returning from the city. You've been wearing it ever since.

You smile at the memory and hide the suit into the bag, deciding on putting it on later. You make yourself comfortable in your seat and quickly fall asleep, the hostess wakes you up as you're about to land in Morocco. You exit the plane and decide to walk into the city, deciding that you're gonna have to find the Continental on your own. Walking through the market and the alleyways you're met with Yassin, the man that you remember guiding John and also somewhat saving him. Both of you cross the street filled with people to enter a luxurious open space.

"Welcome to the Moroccan Continental." you see people scattered around, belly dancers performing in front of the clients and various alcohol being passed around. It's nothing like the New York or Rome Continental. Yassin leads you to a secluded room, away from the lobby.

"Ms. Al-Azwar will be with you shortly. Best of luck Ms. Jade." he says bowing slightly as he disappears behind the entrance. You look around the room and wait, you walk towards a small table and see pictures of Sofia with the dogs and her daughter. You hear a faint tapping of paws and see two dogs staring at you, bearing teeth. They growl at you and for a moment you fear that they will attack you when a woman's voice tells them to stand down in Arabic. The dogs calm down as Sofia approaches you. You stare at her with slightly wide eyes and smile shyly. Sofia looks at you with question in her eyes. You're surprised she's not pointing a gun at you.

"Sorry, I just- you've been one of my favorite characters since I watched Parabellum." you say quickly and feel her stare at you. You feel like you may have said something wrong but she only chuckles, the slight tension dropping from your shoulders.

"I guess what they say is true, you are from a world where all of our lives are a movie." she says. You smile and look around the room, it's dark, beautiful rugs laying on the floor, gold ornaments laying around. Sofia gestures to the couch and you take your seat, the dogs following and sitting on both of your sides.

"We're gonna be meeting with Berrada?" you ask, thinking that you would have to go to him as he used to be the previous manager. She pours water into the glass and heads to the couch giving you one of the glasses.

"No, it's not necessary. You already know that one way or another you would have to go to the desert." she answers and you nod along her words.

"Yeah, I suppose." you sip on your water when Sofia asks you another question.

"Why did you save him?" she looks at you, wonder in her eyes, confusion even. You put the glass on the table.

"I knew that if John killed him then that would be followed by consequences. Excommunicado, the whole world would be trying to kill him, he would call in for the Marker he has on you. Just a lot of awful stuff, for him at least." Sofia looks at you with a cold attitude but her eyes did go slightly wide at your mention of her marker.

She looks you up and down and leans in closer.“But that’s not everything, is it?" she questions. You straighten up in your seat, your head held high as you listen to the manager's next words.

"There are rumors about your connection to Santino. Some say that you’re his private bodyguard - closer than Ares even - that you’ve saved him and made up that little story cause he informed you that John is after him. Some even say that you only saved him so that you can warm his bed at night.”

You scoff at her statement. For people to think those things are beyond you. You knew that some may not believe that you're not from this world, but to make up those kind of assumptions… “Do you believe those rumors?”

Sofia crosses her legs and leans back slightly. “Not really, but no one truly knows you, except for Camorra." you look at her, her eyes fill with questions. Sofia tilts her head to the side, wondering out loud.

"People are curious… and I can see from a mile away that you care about them. The Camorra, Santino.” you listen to her, your cheeks feeling a bit warm. You compose yourself quickly and just shrug.

“Well, they did let me stay with them and not wander around New York, just waiting to be killed.” the manager looks you up and down, examining your face, she squints her eyes and lifts the corner of her lips. “Yeah, that’s the only reason.”

You look at her with wide eyes and your blush grows, you chuckle nervously. There's a comfortable silence hanging between you two, you can hear music and people outside laughing and speaking in a language, still a bit foreign to you. One of the dogs decides to come closer to you and put his head on your leg. You look at him and back to Sofia, silently asking for her permission. She nods at you and you put your hand on the dogs head, petting it lightly as he closes his eyes. You smile, feeling at peace for a moment.

Yet that small moment is interrupted as Sofia stands up and the dog averts his eyes in her direction.

"Come on, I'll show you to your room.” you stand up and reach to your pocket preparing to take out a single gold coin and give it to the woman. Sofia looks at you and shakes her head. “There’s no need for that, your room has already been paid for.” you look at her confused but follow nonetheless.

You assumed that Santino would have paid for your stay at the hotel, but you truly hoped that he wouldn't have to do that. You earned your money and you wanted to use it, to make yourself feel that you fit into this world. You reach the door and Sofia hands you the key, she leaves you alone in front of the door, bidding you goodnight. You enter the room and are met with a lowly lit room, columns decorating the open space, maroon carpets feeling soft underneath your feet.

You head to bed and drop your belongings near it. You quickly spot a bathroom and shower, desperately in need of sleep after a tiring journey. After you exit the now steamy bathroom you go to lay in your bed. You sigh as your face meets the soft pillow, your body immediately relaxing. You turn on your side and look at the high ceilings, thinking what the Elder might want with you.

As far as you know he rules this whole world, he is the person that you don't question twice. You knew that one day you would have to face the consequences of your actions. You saved a person that was supposed to die, someone that stood high on the food chain. Your mind briefly slips to Santino and you reach for your phone texting him a short message that you arrived and are safe. After a few seconds you hear a soft ping and see a message from the Italian. "That's good to hear. No trouble I hope." You reply with a confirmation and your brief interaction with Sofia. "Rest bella, a long day ahead of you tomorrow. I'll stay in touch. Take care." He responds.

A short message that for some may seem not that much caring, but this is Santino, his way of showing emotions and concern is different. Small affirmations like this show that he cares about his people, that his family means more to him than anything… well, maybe except power.

You put the phone away on the nightstand and close your eyes, feeling yourself drifting away to sleep and your heartbeat slowing down with every passing breath.

The next day you drive with Sofia to the desert, you sit on the passenger seat as the dogs sit behind both of you. You drive through the desert that doesn't seem to end. The sand creates a dusty smoke as the car drives on it, the sun shines brightly above you and you mentally prepare yourself for what's about to come.

You stop in the middle of the desert and Sofia takes out a bowl and water for the dogs. They drink it rapidly, clearly thirsty. Sofia passes the bottle to you, a bit more of the water inside than what John had when he came to the desert and without the spit.

"I hope you don't die here." she says to you. You look at her again with confusion.

"You don't even know me, why do you care if I die here or not?" you question, squinting her eyes at her as the sun shines on both of you.

"I can see a fighter when I meet one, and you have that spirit that this world so desperately needs." she tells you and you wonder at her statement. People die everyday in this world, be it by an open contract, broken marker or a rule, or even a classic revenge. For a moment you think about your future and for how long you'll be able to survive in this world. You turn to Sofia, her eyes expectant, the tattoo on her neck showing up from behind her hair.

"Sofia." you nod at her, raising the bottle up.

"Jade." she nods in return and gets into the car, the dogs follow her. You see her drive away as she becomes a time dark speck on the horizon. You begin to walk.

You seem to be moving for hours, sometimes feeling as if you're going in circles. The day slowly turns to night, the sunset greets you along with a breeze that moves the sand. You don't stop walking, knowing that stopping would be even more dangerous in these conditions.

The morning sun rises after a few hours and you reach for your bottle, trying to satiate the need for water. You stop yourself as you remember that you shouldn't be wasting it, every drop is precious in this desert. You keep on walking, the day once again turning into night. You feel yourself grow weaker, not eating in days, only surviving on the bits of water. You lift up the bottle only to find it empty and you feel yourself loosening balance on the sand and tumble down the sand. You don't have the energy to stand up and lay against the warm sand as the night turns darker, the stars and the moon start to shine high above you.

You wake up feeling a light breeze moving your hair, a soft material lays under your hand, completely different from the hot sand you recall falling asleep on. You open your eyes slightly and see a pair of shoes far in front of you, white robes concealing them.

"Drink." says a male voice, his accent visible and his voice rough.

You reach to your pockets inside the jacket when you hear the man speak up again. "Don't worry your weapons are still there. Please drink." you get a sense of deja vu. You reach for the small red glass beside you and drink until it's empty. You look up and see the Elders gaze hanging onto your frame, his dark eyes meeting yours as you stand up on wobbly legs.

You go straight to the point, not wanting to prolong your stay here. "Why did you want to meet me?" he acknowledges your question and shows amusement on his face. Surely he's used to people speaking and answering to him with respect, but you're not sure what to make of him yet. The Elder doesn't seem to be bothered by your tone.

"Your appearance has created a disturbance in this world." you listen to him, the wind flowing through the open tent. His whole presence seems so calm and yet it has a certain hidden edge to it. "You being here is dangerous on it’s own."

You draw your eyebrows in worry. "Dangerous how?"

"You know what happens." he says simply, clasping his hand together and putting them on his knee."It may not be in the very distant future, but you possess a knowledge that endangers some people. With you now working for Camorra, that knowledge had only expanded."

You were made aware of the dangers that would fall upon you when you first arrived in Italy, the Council and Santino made sure to tell you them. You've already encountered some of those dangers, being held at a gunpoint multiple times, kidnapped in need of information on other organizations, someone even tried to push your car out of the bridge into the river that you were passing by. All of those encounters however, were unsuccessful. You only got out with some scratches and scars going into your growing collection.

"And you’re probably one of those people that feel endangered." the Elder doesn't answer you, instead he changes the topic of the conversation.

"I do hope that your stay at the Continental has been pleasant." he says and you move to answer him when a thought crosses your mind. You thought that Santino has been responsible for your stay at the hotel, but now it makes sense. His voice even indicates that he meddled with your stay there. Realization falls upon your face and you stare at the man in light robes.

"You have questions." a simple statement, he doesn't waste unnecessary words. That reminds you of a certain someone.

"Plenty, but right now only one comes to my mind." you say looking only at him, the rest of the people in the tent forgotten. As if only the two of you were occupying this space. The Elder nods at you as a sign to continue.

"Why wait two years?" the same question you asked an Adjudicator. But you need to know the reason and who's not better to get it from than the source itself. He looks at you as if he was expecting that question and you're not surprised. You hear his accented voice carrying through the tent.

"You needed to adapt to this world, train to become stronger, to be ready to face challenges that will lay ahead of you." he stands up from his seat and moves closer to you, his steps light, quiet. He looks down on you, studying your face. "You’re confused."

You shake your head slightly and look him in the eye, his dark eyes never once leaving yours. "I’m not, it's just…" you hesitate answering, trying to find the right words. "If you wanted to see me train you could have easily just gone to Italy and get me, tell Santino that you will be overseeing my training." you explain, thinking of all the possibilities he could have got to you.

He had all two years to do that. To take you to the desert, train you as one of his people, explain you everything and yet he didn't. You examine his face, wondering what he's thinking and you see him lift up the corner of his lips.

"What makes you think I don't plan to do it here?" you draw your eyebrows, your mind reeling with questions. You open your mouth to speak when he interrupts you. "Walk with me."

The Elder moves by you and leaves the tent, you quickly follow him and try to catch up. He's not the person that would be waiting for someone. The rest of his tribe doesn't follow, they stay in the same seats they sat on throughout the whole exchange.

Both of you walk in silence through the desert and his tribe. You see people walking around in light, flowy robes, the wind carrying through them. You see people training with sticks and even notice a tattoo on one of their hands as it clashes with the person they're sparring with.

Up ahead you see people meditating, far from the tribe, seeking silence and peace, away from the others. Only with their own thoughts.

"I have heard about your abilities," you hear the Elder speak up from beside you. "you have an extensive knowledge in languages, fighting, your skills are admirable. Not many people go through such a hard training in Camorra and get to see another light of day." you hear praise in his voice, something to be proud of. You squint at him, the sun seemingly shining brighter.

"Doesn't the same rule apply here?" you wonder out loud. He listens to you, his eyes glancing at you every now and then. "You sit above the high table, you definitely have selected individuals that were trained even harder than at any organization."

"Yes, but I am the one that chooses them." he admits and you sense that there's more to his statement then he leads on. "You are aware of this, that I am the one choosing who to speak with when people search for me in the desert for days. You were no different."

You look at him questioningly. You stop in your track, feeling the hot sand beneath your feet, the heat getting to you. It doesn't seem to bother him as he's adjusted to the unbearable weather.

"How? You wanted me here."

"Yes, but I also needed to see how much you would endure out there. Just because I demanded your presence here didn't mean that you wouldn't have to fully earn it."

"By sending me out to the desert just to see if I survive." you tell him, not a question in your statement, more of an observation.

Both of you turn back to the tent, seeing less people and that others from the training mat long gone.

"You've been through much worse I assume, that small test only proved that you're capable." you enter the tent and the Elder takes his place on the seat at the head of it, his legs placed on each other, the golden ring on his finger glowing in the sunlight. You can even make out a silver of a watch beneath his sleeve.

You stand there wary, not knowing what to expect. "Capable of what exactly?"

The Elder breaths in, his shoulders straightening and it somehow gives him a sense of power. More power and authority than before, like finally he's the person that so many respect and even fear.

"Joining our ranks." he simply says, not a doubt in his voice. You look at him, your eyes going wide and soon you start to smile, small chuckles escaping past your lips.

"You want me to work for you?" you quip up. You look around and see the people surrounding him sitting quietly and listening. You're certain that they could disarm you in a matter of seconds. The Elder doesn't say anything, only studies your reaction. You compose yourself and your face becomes more serious with every passing second.

"I already work for Camorra."

The Elder shrugs, though the movement is invisible. "Who says you can't do both? You can serve Camorra and the High Table. Simple as that."

A moment of silence passes between you, you consider his proposition. Camorra is a part of the High Table but working for the Elder himself would be completely different. You thought that working for Camorra was signing a deal with the devil but it turns out that he was that devil all along. You look at him, worrying about the words you're about to speak but don't show it on your face.

"I'm guessing that if I don't agree then you'll just make me excommunicado or kill me the moment I say no." you question, the man says nothing once again, he doesn't need to, you know you're right. You sigh in defeat.

"What do I need to do? Cut off my finger to prove my loyalty to you?"

"That won't be necessary, however I'll need you for various of tasks. For now you'll be staying here for your training."

"What about Italy?" you wonder.

"Mr. D'Antonio will be informed of your stay here." he answers you, his eyes gleaming in the desert sun.

"How long?"

"A month. I'm sure you're a fast learner, we don't need more time to teach you our ways."

Our ways. You wonder what that might entitle. You've seen the High Table mercenaries work already, their movements careful, quiet as if they're a part of the shadows. You've seen them work effortlessly, them not sparing anyone in their path.

"Your ways?" you ask him. He seemed to expect that question out of you. His rough voice carries through the small tent, you feel a presence behind you, a person to probably stop you if you refuse completely. Your eyes quickly turn to the Elders.

"Standard training, new methods and techniques. You've seen what people of the high table can do." he informs you and you look around.

If you agree it will mean that you'll have to sacrifice a month of your stay here. Adjusting to the new climate, leaving Italy without a proper explanation. For a moment you worry what the Guard might think, what Santino might think.

Would he see you as if you've lost your interest in Camorra? Or maybe he'll acknowledge that you seek to gain knowledge and more experience?

"Alright…" you sigh and see the Elder holding his chin up high, his lips turning upwards, a clear sign of victory. "When do we start?"

It’s been almost two weeks since you’ve started training in the desert. Throughout those weeks you've been training with the other people here, some of the ones you've seen when you first got here, gone. Probably sent on a task ordered by the Elder. The man himself oversees your training, telling you new ways of fighting everytime he sees that you've done something wrong in his eyes.

The training is brutal but you expected it. You've started to meditate even, the Elder told you that in order to control your body you need to first control your mind. The meditation didn't work at first cause your mind couldn't stay quiet but eventually you got a hang of it.

The Elder reaches you new weapons, fighting styles, how to be quiet on the feet and even poisons. You've learned that he dabbles in various forms of martial arts and science.

You're still wary of him, not sure what to make of his character. He seems calm most of the time, reserved but he is also the one that sits above all. You don't trust him enough to have a friendly conversation with him, even though you speak to him nearly every night.

Currently you're fighting with one of his people as he watches the sparring match. You fight with sticks, yours are now broken in two after your opponent broke them in half with his stick. You duck the men as he charges at you, swinging him off his feet, he quickly stands up. Both of you circle each other when you advance at him, he blocks your first strike but doesn't expect the other to his leg. The man collapses clutching to his now broken knee. You look towards him and then at the Elder, he nods at you and you step back. The man on the ground already being taken to a medic.

The Elder crosses the hot sand to you as you take off the wraps from your hands, some spots covered in already dried blood from your knuckles.

"You listened." he tells you. When you first started your training he told you about techniques you can use in fights, that was one of them.

"Yes." you shortly respond, you're tired and it's only the beginning of the day, you still will have to train later, meditate and such.

"But you focus on the weak points of the body, rather than expecting the opponents moves." he continues. His eyes moving over your features, he sees your skin glowing due to exposure of the sun.

"I thought that was the point. To see the opponents weak spot to fight them off more successfully." you say, your hands starting to go numb at you knuckles, already feeling the pain of the bruises spreading on your body.

"You are right, but if you expected what he would do, see where he places his foot, on which side of the body he relies on more, you would have ended that fight quickly." he informs you. You nod at his explanation, his words making sense yet you still by your decision on the fight.

"I'll keep that in mind." you tells him and turn to the tent to see a medic to help you with bruises and cuts on your hands. The Elder's eyes follow your figure as you disappear behind the tent's entrance.

That cycle goes on for another two weeks, with you training and even sparring with the Elder himself, meditating and learning more and more each day. You study poisons from all over the world, techniques that you've seen Zero using in the movie. The Elder is impressed by your improvement, you asked him once to send a letter to Santino but you're not sure if he really sent it. You still haven't received a reply.

Your stay in the desert shows how much you can improve in a short amount of time, you've gained muscles, knowledge and even respect. People sometimes whisper behind your back about your Impossible Task, no one - except the Guard and Santino - knowing what truly happened there. But those people tend to keep to themselves most of the time, their whispers behind your back being a rare occurrence.

After another exhausting day you drop onto your bed and fall asleep, dreaming of a pleasant warmth of Italy and not the scorching one of the desert. Your nightmares still make themselves present, but due to your meditating they've been not as frequent.

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a-detraque-barista · 5 years ago

Text

Our Haunted House

Title: Our Haunted House

Rating: M

Word Count: 5.4k

Genre: yandere, horror, smut

Warnings: cursing, yandere behaviors, mention of blood, tentacle fucking, buckets of cum, biting, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex

Summary: On your first trip back to the Halloween Fest you ran into a quiet but attractive man. Once you get separated from your friends he can’t keep himself from touching you.

A/N: HAPPY SPOOKS DAY EVERYONE!!!! A perfect rainy day (not for trick or treaters) for Halloween and to stay home and have a Halloween Movie Marathon while eating candy and other junk food. Anyway, this is my very first smut and I hope you all like it. I also entered this in @bang-tan-bitches writing challenge, Monster Mash. So go check out all the other amazing stories posted in the challenge and show them some love and now on with tentacley Jimin 💜 💜 💜

The music box played alone on the stage. It reminded you of carnival music but there was a dark undertone to it. You were only twelve and your father decided to bring you to the annual Halloween Fest. You never got scared when someone jumped out in front of you. For some reason, you have never felt fear. Nothing ever frightened you like other people.

Your mother had voiced her concerns on more than one occasion. Calling you a freak, a monster, even going as far as a demon. She doesn’t speak to you anymore. Ignoring your existence and spending her time drinking wine and watching trash television.

The stage you sat a few rows away from had gone completely dark before a clown was in the spotlight. His makeup was done terribly. His lips were painted black which was peeling and the white paint on his face was cracking. As he smiled widely you could clearly see black smudges on his yellow teeth.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!! I am your host for this evening! And tonight I welcome you to The Clowning. I did not come up with the name by the way,” he spat as he spoke with a fake speech impediment. “And now I present to you, Stabby the Prankster.”

Your father’s eyebrow raised, just as many other parents at the name. Then a clown wearing all red and black popped out from behind the curtain. A laugh similar to Woody the Woodpecker reached your ears. And just as his name entailed, he had knives in both hands. His makeup was just as terrible as the first. Instead, his eyes had red circles and his cheeks had red spots on top of the cracking white paint.

He jumped down from the stage and in front of the first row viewers. His bulging eyes looked from left to right before lunging straight ahead and swiftly slit the young boy’s throat.

Screaming followed as people began to rush towards the exit. Your father picked you up and began to run with you tightly in his arms. Pushing his way through, he got to just outside the door before stopping dead in his tracks. Everyone around the two of you gasped as they saw the dagger sticking out of his back.

Your father looked down at you and smiled weakly before dropping to his knees and before he could fall forward onto you, a family friend hoisted you onto her hip. She ran with you as you looked back to your now-dead father lying on the floor.

The clown that had thrown the knife had made his way to your dad’s body and locked gazes with you. His smile was gone and he was no longer slashing townspeople one by one. He seemed as if he was worried about something.

The clown that had claimed to be the host grabbed Stabby by the neck and threw him back into the auditorium before disappearing behind the doors himself.

“It’s going to be okay sweetie. They can’t hurt you. There’s nothing you have to worry about,” the woman carrying you said softly as you began to cry. Your father was the only one that cared about you. And you were old enough to know that.

It’s been around a decade since then. You moved out of your mother’s house into your own. You finally had your own space. Your mother didn’t talk to you much after what happened. Only a few words every couple of weeks.

As you grew older, nobody realized your dad was one of the victims. Which led you to make friends. Your best friends were Jennie and Mark, they even wanted to be your roommates. You may not live alone but you still consider this your own space, compared to your mom’s house.

You laid in your bed as you played on your phone. It was already four in the morning, but you couldn’t sleep. Nothing worked. Listening to classical music, drinking some of Jennie’s chamomile tea, tossing and turning. Now you stared at your white ceiling thinking of other ways to fall asleep.

Halloween is coming up and you had to think of ways to decorate the house. No wonder why you can’t sleep, your mind always wanders off. Still, you think about all the decorations you have in storage in the attic and think of new ones you could buy.

As you zone out you see something in the corner of your eye. Quickly looking to the side, you see nothing but your closed closet door and look back up at the ceiling to see swirling patterns begin to slither across. They were navy blue mixed with graphite grey. They were like vines twisting and curling around each other. Your eyebrows furrowed as the vine-like tendrils became bigger like they were getting closer. You feel the smooth tip of the reaching blue vine graze your nose. You attempt to sink further into the bed but as you run out of space the tendril still follows and moves to the side to comfortingly caress the side of your face. It was gentle and you could feel your eyelids becoming heavier.

Trying to fight it, you struggle to keep your eyes open. Even attempting to hit it away with your hand but another tendril grabbed your wrist, with the utmost care. It laid your hand back down softly as if it didn’t want to cause you any pain, even a little.

Your eyes were closed by the time the most soothing voice you’ve ever heard say, “You have all the power over me.”

Mark jumping onto your bed while Jennie made an alarm go off on her phone was what woke you up. Mark began to shake you violently as he laughed, “It’s one in the afternoon, lazy ass. Get up.”

You weren’t able to say anything until he finished shaking you. Even then you didn’t say anything and just groaned. Mark and Jennie both started to jump on the bed and stopped abruptly to hear what you had to say.

“Fuck you,” you swiped your leg into theirs to make them fall. Jennie landed on her back on the bed and Mark landed on the floor.

“So mean,” Mark grumbled from the floor. You sat up and leaned on your elbow to give him a blank look when he popped his head up.

“So annoying.”

Mark laid back down on the floor to sulk while Jennie turned to you, “Wanna go to the Halloween Fest with us? I know you never go but it’ll be fun.”

You got up and walked to your bathroom connected to your room, closing the door behind you. You never told them about your father being one of the victims during what they called, Hallow’s Eve Massacre. You had always thought it was a dull name. Created by none other than the group of moms that have nothing better to do than to drink overcomplicated coffee that was too expensive for their small sizes and get into other people’s business like it’s their own.

Standing at the sink you thought about the pros and cons of going. Pros. Delicious seasonal foods, haunted houses, everything scary you love, and getting out of the house with your two best friends.

Cons. Paranoia, especially of clowns and stages, people you don’t like to even be within a ten-mile radius, and going outside.

You supposed the pros outweigh the cons. Who knows, it could be fun.

You regret your decision the moment you walked through the admission stands. Looking around you saw many clowns. Or were they your former classmates? It was hard to tell. None of these-

“Ow!” Landing on your ass you ended up dropping your coffee.

“I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” The man who bumped into you kneeled down to make sure you were okay. You felt like you've seen his face before but couldn't really pinpoint where you've seen him.

"Yeah-yeah. I'm fine," you felt him begin to pull you up by your arms to stand up directly in front of him. “Are you okay? I mean I ran into you-”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good,” you stood there awkwardly and watched as his hand soothingly rubbed your forearms. It felt comforting. His hands were warm and it seeped through your jacket and into your skin.

“Jennie, I think we’re interrupting something,” Mark joked as he leaned into Jennie’s side like he was whispering to her but spoke in a normal, almost loud voice.

Your face gained a red hue as you stepped away from the man who tried to look into your very soul, “Sorry again. I’ll try to pay more attention.” You stared at the ground and began to quickly walk away from the man.

“Please don’t. I’d love to run into you again sometime,” he called out before turning the other way and continued his path to wherever he was going. You kept walking with Jennie and Mark until you arrived at the part of the fairgrounds where they had all the rides.

First, you rode the Twirling Tangerines, inside the large oranges there was a wheel you could all turn. Then, you rode the Spider, where you sat in a cart-like box that spun as the arms lifted you up and down.

You were on your way to the haunted house when you turned to Mark, “I think I just saw-” Noticing he’s not with you, you look around the crowd to try and spot him. “Jennie, where’d Mark go?”

She turned to you and looked around as well, “How the hell could we lose him?” She took out her phone from her pocket and clicked on his contact to call him. He didn’t answer.

“We’ll have to split up and look for him,” you shrugged as you headed toward back the way you came and Jennie veering left from the way you were going.

It took almost half an hour before you get a call from Jennie, telling you she found him. She failed to mention the man that Mark had crossed paths with on his adventure.

You met them at one of the tents where they had a rigged game for people to play as stuffed animals hung from the top. You may or may not have stopped at the apple cider stand on your way to the game tent.

“Woooooow. You didn’t get us any?” Mark was obviously hurt but you didn’t really care. “You shouldn’t have wandered off like you did cause then we’d both have apple cider right now,” you took a sip of your hot drink while looking at him.

Your eyes shift to the man who you had bumped into earlier. You began to cough up the warm beverage that was trying to intrude into your lungs from your sharp intake of breath. Coughing into your sleeve, you tried to breathe again before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Mark ran into me while I was heading toward the Baker’s Street and he was looking somewhere else,” his smile was so big it made his eyes turned into crescent moons. It almost made you want to smile. He walked closer to you before reaching out his hand to you, “My name’s Jimin. What’s yours?”

You stood there wide-eyed and shocked before snapping out of it and taking his hand. Maybe a bit too eagerly, “Y/n.” You took your hand back and turned to Mark and Jennie, “Ready for the haunted house?”

Mark groaned and Jennie gave an unconvincing “yeah” as she kind of curled into herself. You lead the way and never turned to look if Jimin had ended up following you or went ventured off somewhere else.

You didn’t really know what to do with guys. Keeping to yourself you never really talked to people. Especially guys so it was kind of new and weird for you to speak with such an attractive guy that wasn’t a close friend like Mark.

Walking up to the house you showed the wristband you got at the admissions booth to allow you to go in.

"I'm sorry sir. If you don't have a wristband then I can't let you in," the woman at the entrance practically spat the person she was talking to.

You turned around to see her speaking to Jimin and felt kind of annoyed by how she spoke to him. She didn’t really have any reason to be so rude, that you knew of. “He did have one, I saw it on his wrist a few minutes ago,” you don't know why you were vouching for this guy. You just felt like it, you guessed.

The lady reluctantly nodded him through with a sneer. He smiled politely towards her before joining your group into the dark foyer.

As a dressed up ghoul jumped out in front of you and Jimin, you did nothing but stare blankly at the man while Mark yelped and Jennie gasped. How Jimin ended up next to you, you didn't know.

Jimin noticed how the jump scare didn't frighten you. He found it intriguing, in fact. You didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Where’s Mark?” Jimin’s head snapped to you as you looked around for your not-so-bright friend once again. Jimin began to look around with you.

“You must be fucking kidding me,” Jennie sighed before saying, “I’ll go look for him so he doesn’t make any weird friends in here.”

Leaving you and Jimin alone, you kept walking through the hallways and up the staircase. Many people attempted to scare you but none of them succeeded. And Jimin tried not to laugh at your reaction to their attempts. It’s not that he was making fun of you. He was just amused how much effort the actors put into being frightening and all they get is your eyebrow raised at most.

You felt Jimin take your hand gently and slowly tighten his grip into a comfortable hold, “I’m scared.”

Immediately, you could tell he wasn’t scared at all. He just wanted a reason to hold your hand like he was smooth. But you didn’t really have the heart to take your hand away. And you didn’t really want to. You felt him come closer to you bit by bit until your shoulders were rubbing against each other.

“You wouldn’t mind if I held you would you?” Jimin broke the eerie silence that sat between you two.

“Why do you want to?” you found the question odd but weren’t completely opposed to it. You weren’t a hoe but he just made you feel comfortable.

“Cause I want to get closer to you.”

“But you’re already close to me,” you smiled. “I suppose.”

He reciprocated your smile and let go of your hand to wrap around your shoulders. He tugged you closer so you were tucked into his side. The warmth from his body kept you from shivering because of the freezing temperatures inside the building.

Seeing a door crack open not far down the hallway, you expected someone to jump out of the room. Getting close enough to look into the bedroom, no one jumped out. Jimin noticed your interest in the room and peeked inside with you. The only thing in the room was a wardrobe, a desk, a king-sized bed, and a mirror hanging in front of the desk. All were caked with dust.

“Must be an extra room they decided not to use,” you concluded before you took a glance at Jimin, only to meet his eyes. You quickly looked away and awkwardly scanned the room.

All you heard were his footsteps before feeling his grip your arm to turn you towards him, “Keep your eyes on me.”

Your cheeks felt like the sun had been shining on them for hours. And as he demanded, you kept your eyes on him. The thumb on the hand that rested on the side of your face came up to slightly pull down your bottom lip.

“You wouldn’t mind, right?” he said quietly then bit his lip while looking at yours.

Shaking your head gently, Jimin kissed you without a second thought. It was rough and hungry. He didn’t hold back for a second. Licking your lips, practically begging for access. You parted your lips slightly and that’s all he needed to slip his tongue into your mouth. No inch was left untouched. He started to walk forward making you walk back until the back of your knees hit the bed.

After falling back on the bed, Jimin practically ripped off his thick black hoodie, showing the loose white shirt beneath. It was thin and the neckline hung well below his collarbones. The hoodie landed somewhere by the door as he got down on the floor on his knees. He gently took hold of the waistband on your pants before pulling them down slowly. As they pooled around your ankles, he came back up to start peppering kisses along your inner thighs.

“I’m sorry baby girl, I would take my time with you but I can’t wait anymore,” his voice was thick with arousal as he tore off your shoes, socks, and pants. “I need to have you.”

Jimin ripped your panties from your waist and fell to the floor in shreds, “I’ll get you new ones.”

Trailing more kisses down your thighs he got closer and closer to your core. His fingers began to skim over your folds and dip between them to land right on your clit. Rubbing small circles around it, his soft lips were at the apex of your thigh.

He was so gentle with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. Adored, impatient, excited. Personally, you were never the vanilla type.

Jimin was so close to your core, so close. But he pulled away at the last second. You whined, at which Jimin laughed at, as he pulled his shirt off from over his head. Tossing his shirt away he climbed back up your body.

“There’s something I need to show you,” Jimin’s eyes were dark with excitement as he hovered over you.

Your puzzled look was all he needed to continue to show what he meant. He was groaning as his head hung and his expression made it seem like he was in pain. You didn’t understand what was happening until you saw the tendrils coming out from his back. They were cobalt blue. Two were thinner than the other two. They grew and grew towards the ceiling but stopped just short of it. Once they were straight, as if they were stretching, they curled back down towards you and Jimin. They floated in the air and you stared at them. You weren’t appalled. No, you were...curious. You would’ve never thought he was anything other than human.

It’s not like you believed in aliens and werewolves it’s just you the type of person that thought, maybe they do exist, maybe they don’t. It looks like they do.

“Are you gonna fuck me with those or not?” you said half-joking.

“You’re not disgusted? Horrified?” Jimin could not believe what he was hearing. You wanted him to fuck you with his tentacles. You wanted him.

“No, why would I be? I’m surprised and I have some questions but those can wait till later. Don’t you think?” you answered honestly and looked Jimin in the eyes while you said it. And after you said it, the tendrils behind Jimin visibly relaxed.

Jimin’s eyes lit up for only a second before he attacks your neck with his pillowy lips. One of the smaller tentacles reaches down between your legs causing you to get surprised and you try to close them. Jimin sucks on your neck harder as he held your legs open with his right hand, “It’s okay, jagi. I’ll make you feel good.”

As Jimin nibbles on a particularly sensitive spot, you moaned. He almost came right then and there. Your voice was already music to his ears. But your moans? Absolutely heavenly. He tried his best to keep his body from shaking from the numerous shivers. Part of him couldn’t even believe that this was happening. He was touching you, breathing in your scent, pleasuring you. It was his dreams coming true and he was intoxicated with everything you.

The tentacle between your legs began to rub your clit faster than what Jimin did. More moans started to escape you and your head tilted back into the pillows. Jimin was still making his way all-around your neck, making sure he was marking your neck thoroughly.

You felt the other small tendril circling your entrance. Becoming coated with your arousal. It slowly began to enter, inch by inch. It was about the same thickness as your trusty vibrator at home so you stretched to its girth with ease. Its smooth texture slipped past your walls effortlessly.

Jimin was starting to groan the deeper the tendril went. His breath became heavy as he nuzzled his face into your neck, “Jagi~ you’re so tight around him. I can’t wait until my cock is inside your hot cunt. Can I, jagiya?”

“Yes, please. I want you to fuck me,” you said brokenly in between moans.

Jimin sat up and quickly unbuttoned his pants and took them off swiftly. The two larger tentacles reached down to you and took off your coat and shirt. You arched from the building pressure in your abdomen just in time for them to take your bra off.

The tentacle fucking you took up a hastened pace. It was starting to go deeper and deeper with every thrust. The knot in your lower stomach grew tauter. Jimin kissed you feverishly and swallowed your moans as you got closer to the peak. The very last thrust of the tendril made you come the hardest you’ve ever came before. You felt the tendril in your stomach as it spurted. As did every other tentacle and even Jimin’s cock was spewing out cum.

Jimin’s moan was getting you excited again. It was deep and guttural. You were panting as you felt full of his cum and felt more cum on your chest and stomach.

“I didn’t know all of them had cum,” you chuckled as you regained your breath.

Jimin laughs with you, “Now you know how I felt the first time I jerked off.”

His statement made you laugh harder as both of you came down from your highs. The appendage slowly began to pull out of your cum-filled cunt. You whimpered from the sensitivity. Jimin’s cum flowed out of your entrance before Jimin plugged you up with the tip of his cock.

Feeling the head, you realized just how big Jimin was. Being too distracted to notice earlier. Jimin could tell your realization by your expression.

“What’s the matter, jagi? Never had anyone this big before?” Jimin knows he was being a tease. Even though he doesn’t want to even think about the others who’ve touched you. Only he can touch you like this. He’s the only one who can pleasure you.

You knew what he was doing. He was getting smug. But you didn’t really have the patience to play games with him.

“Who knows.”

Jimin’s smirk fell as yours grew. Jimin stared into your eyes as he slammed his entire length into you in one thrust.

“You know I’ve stuffed you full. I don’t think there’s even any room for one of my tentacles. I can feel how I’m stretching you,” Jimin wasn’t going to let you win this one.

He wrapped his arms around your waist to bring you with him as he sat back on his heels. Your chest heaved from his massive girth inside you. One small tendril wrapped around your wrists and held them above your head, the other small one began to circle at your puckered hole while a larger one spread your right cheek to give it room. And lastly, the last, larger tentacle curled around one of your breasts.

Jimin slowly pulled out his thick cock before slamming back into your hot cunt. His moans mixed with yours as his pace became faster. Soon he was slamming in and out of you at a bruising pace. The appendage at your tight hole caught some of yours and Jimin’s combined cum and lubed you up.

At first, it only dipped in its tip. After a few thrusts, it started to go further. Still taking on a slow pace, it steadily enlarged your hole.

Jimin’s right arm let go of your waist to support himself above you as he leaned forward. He was still pistoning in and out of you with no intention of slowing down. Hair stuck to his forehead as did yours. Moans left you uncontrollably as both of your holes were being fucked and your tit was being gripped.

You felt the pressure on your breast vanish before feeling the said tendril slither up your neck. You hear Jimin breathe out a laugh as he saw his appendage shyly touch you.

“I think he wants to know if you could suck him,” Jimin smirked, knowing that’s exactly what it wanted.

Opening your mouth, the tendril appeared to become a light blue as it took the invitation. You felt the tentacle practically purr from the wetness and warmth from your mouth. It thrusted into you languidly. Not going very deep so it wouldn’t hurt you.

“Look at you. Being a slut for me. All your holes are filled with parts of me.”

His thrusts were becoming sloppy. And the tendril in your mouth was going down into your throat until you were gagging with every plunge. Your ass was so stretched out you knew that there was going to be a gap now. Maybe not a large one but there will be one. And Jimin was still pounding your swollen cunt with his massive girth.

The tendril around your wrists let go to reach down to rub your clit in quick, small circles. You’re loud, almost screaming moans were muffled by the deep throating appendage.

You could feel you were getting so close to your release. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach building. By Jimin’s groans growing louder and his sloppy pace, you tell he was close too.

He opened his eyes to see your body being completely surrounded by him. He let his arm fall around your waist again but he laid his head between your tits and put the rest of his energy into the last few hard pumps and stilled as he felt your walls flutter around him.

Your eyes rolled into your skull and Jimin squeezed his eyes closed tightly. Your walls milked Jimin’s cock as it pulsed and shot cum inside you. You felt all the tentacles pulse out cum into your throat, ass, and onto your clit and mound.

Reaching up to Jimin’s hair, you carded your fingers through the strands. Both of you were trying to calm your breathing down. Jimin was still coming but the tendril down your throat pulled out so you could breathe more easily.

Jimin began to kiss your sternum after he came down from his high. You glanced down and back up, only to glance down again to notice a visible bulge in your stomach, that's still growing.

"How much cum do you have?!" you exclaimed as you watched it grow bit by bit.

"Don't pretend you don't like it," Jimin's smug attitude was still there as he knew he was right by your silence.

Jimin reluctantly pulled out of you and he didn’t mind how much cum was pouring out of your cunt. He knew there were going to be many more times like this. And that’s when he’ll worry about keeping you plugged up but for now, he just wanted to fall asleep next to you.

He pulled your exhausted body back up to the pillows with using the help from his now sky blue tentacles before they slowly retracted back into the slits in his back.

“We should probably go, Mark and Jennie might be worried about us,” trying to sit up Jimin pulled you back down.

“No need to be in a hurry, jagi. You’re too exhausted to go out looking for him-them right?” Jimin brushed the hair from your forehead so he could see your eyes more clearly.

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just hope none of the employees find us,” you huffed out a laugh as you snuggled further into the covers.

Jimin wrapped his arms around you and entangled his legs with yours. He wasn’t able to even doze off until you were sound asleep. He tried not to think about what just happened so he wouldn’t become hard and wake you up. He needed the whole night to transform this place back to the original with how worn out he is.

“Goodnight jagi. Tomorrow you’ll start your new life here with me. In our own haunted house.”

You woke up to Jimin hugging you tightly beneath the warm blanket that you had dirtied just a few hours ago. Your muscles didn’t want to make any effort to move so you had to lay there until you had the energy to get up and get dressed. Stretching out your legs a bit you felt a crack somewhere in your spine. You’re puzzled about how that would affect your back but you don’t worry about it. Nuzzling back into Jimin’s neck, you finally remembered Jennie and Mark being in the house with you. They must have gone home without you given how long it’s been.

They were adults, no reason to really worry about them. You tucked the blanket over your shoulder to hide from the cold draft. Jimin felt you moving around so he got impossibly closer to you and pulled the blanket up to his neck so it covered most of your head.

You groaned and tilted your head up causing your chin to rest on his chest making your lips pout. He cracked an eye open to see what you were doing. Seeing your sleepy, pouty face made him let out a breathy chuckle.

Jimin leaned down to kiss your forehead, “Did you sleep well?” He continued his kisses all over your face, moving down to reach your nose.

“Mm-hm,” your eyes were still closed when you thought about what it was. “Do you know what time it is?”

“No,” he kept smothering your face in kisses.

“I have to go home soon.”

“No.”

“No? I kinda do. I need clean clothes, I need a shower, and I need to check up on Jennie and Mark,” you began to untangle yourself from Jimin’s arms and legs only to have him roll you over to lay on you. “Jimin~ I have to get up,” laughing you tried to roll back over Jimin had you completely pinned.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said quietly into your ear before he kissed right below your lobe. “My marks are fading already, stay still.”

You huffed as he darkened the already almost purple hickeys on your neck, “After this, you have to get off me so I can go home.”

“But you can’t go home. You live here now, with me,” he pushed himself up with his forearms on the mattress. His eyes were stone. But they were warm as they bore into yours. “You’re not leaving me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you whispered as you maintained eye contact. “How can either of us live here when it’s just a stage for townspeople to dress up and scare people?”

“It seems, you haven’t noticed the change in the room,” Jimin smirked as his eyes left yours to scan the room, causing you to follow his actions.

The room was no longer a dirty beige with dust-covered furniture. It’s the same exact room except, it was gray. Everything in the room was gray beside you two. The window that had light from the fair shining through was completely blacked out. And the mirror above the desk was completely shattered. Little to no pieces remained in the frame.

“Besides, your friends tried to find us but they kind of got trapped,” He laid back down next to you and rested his head on his hand. “So there’s no need to worry about them, sweetheart.”

You pushed his arm off and swung your legs onto the floor but you felt the familiar wetness from one of Jimin’s tentacles wrap around your abdomen. It made you sit back down and pulled you back to Jimin.

“It’s true that you have all the power over me. However, that doesn’t mean I’ll let you go.”

Your heart undoubtedly fluttered.

#park jimin #bts jimin #yandere!bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jimin #yandere jimin x reader #jimin smut #possessive jimin #possessive bts #bts smut #tentacle smut #tentacles #halloween #monster mash

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reeeyachi · 4 years ago

Note

Killua and Gon plan a surprise for Mito?

OMG YES YES YES!!! okay let’s try this. idk if it’s too long for a tumblr prompt but...!!! THANK YOU FOR THIS <3 imsosorryifitsucks

Treat

“What do you think?” Gon asked in an excited whisper, immediately cupping his mouth when he realized that his pitch stepped an octave higher at the end of his sentence. He snapped his gaze at his bedroom door and paused to wait for footsteps. Two seconds. Three. Four. Five. Hearing nothing but the soft hums of the morning wind and the choir of birds chirping from outside his window, he shifted to face his best friend again, beaming.

“Hmm…” Killua hummed, crossing his legs as he sat on the floor with Gon, narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows examining the piece of paper in his hand. His other hand slowly stroked his chin, elbow on one knee—a stance that exhibited internal deliberation. Again he hummed, thoughtful, then he sniffed when he couldn’t think anymore. “Well,” he quietly said, careful not to disturb the silence that engulfed the break of dawn, “I’m not really good at this. But I think the list looks okay.”

Gon leaned forward, planting his palms on the cool timber floor, to try and take a peek at the list again. He mimicked Killua’s hum as he scanned it with his eyes. “Should we add cherries?”

Killua paused, confused. “Do we need cherries?”

“Not really. She just likes to put a cherry in her drink.”

“Why?”

“She says she likes the bittersweet taste.” Gon shrugged and lifted his eyes at Killua, meeting his puzzled stare. He blinked. Killua blinked. Then he grinned when Killua began nodding slowly of understanding, lips forming a small letter ‘o’. Gon released muffled snickers and briskly whispered, “Let’s just add it.”

Adjusting the lamp that hovered over it, they stared at the paper once again after the click of the pen, skimming through the long list with their wide eyes, making sure that they never missed a single item. That was the first rule they set when they started to plot their strategy: Do not forget anything. The market was a little far from Gon’s home and they couldn’t afford their time wasted on foot travel, because they were certain that it would take them hours to accomplish what they intend to do. It was, after all, a grueling task.

“Are you sure about this?” Killua asked, for the fifth time that dawn alone, when he was reminded of their little plan. Sure, he would go with whatever Gon wanted to do, yet this disconcerted him—it’s something that he was just not trained for. He expected Gon to have done it before, but to his surprise and disbelief, it was the opposite. He tried to reason out at first, suggesting possible in-task scenarios like poisoning and burning the house down. But it wasn’t Gon’s stubbornness that won him over; he simply wanted to try it too.

Sitting up straight, Gon gave him a stern nod and a raised fist. “Let’s do this.”

Killua grinned and stood up, eyes scanning the dark room for the clock. “What time do we leave?” It was half past five o’clock in the morning.

Gon hopped on his feet, relieved to finally speak in his normal tone of voice—or louder. “Now!”

---

A sigh escaped Mito’s lungs as she stared out at the green and blue opulence of her backyard from their kitchen window, sluggishly rinsing the last plate from her pile of dishes, thinking of the two boys who sprinted past her and out of the house the moment she exited her bedroom. Well, she tried calling after the smaller boy—even shouting his name at the top of her lungs and asking where they were going so early in the morning—but he just waved a hand and said, “We’ll be back!” She sighed again and dried her hands with a towel when she glanced at her watch. It was almost nine o’clock. Time for her to go to the market.

“Grandma, do you need anything?” she asked the elderly woman sipping tea at the kitchen table before turning a heel towards the door, wallet in hand and pouch around her waist.

Lowering the cup with her trembling, wrinkled hands, Grandma took a note out of her skirt pocket and handed it to Mito.

The latter’s eyes grew wide when she read the content of her shopping list. On a normal day, Grandma would only request for replenishment spices that she liked adding to her food that Mito cooked, oh and tea. On a special day, she would give Mito a list of herbal plants and medicines, and sometimes even ask her to buy her something sweet. But the list she gave Mito that morning was a mix of those—and more. To add to how strange it was, some of the items in the list were new to her eyes. She looked at Grandma who was peacefully enjoying her cup of tea again. “What do you need these for?”

“Let’s stock up,” the elder woman calmly said. “We will be cooking a feast before Gon leaves again, right?”

Mito raised an eyebrow, ignoring how her heart ached a little when she was reminded of that fact. “Are these even available at the market?”

Another sip, and a nod. “Oh, and please get the actual Brahmi and Ashwagandha plants. I’ve been wanting to have them in my garden.”

A stare of disbelief. Those plants were rare. “Are you really sure that I can find these at the market?”

Grandma, finally finishing her tea, stood up and walked to the kitchen counter saying, “Just look with your eyes and not with your mouth.”

Mito huffed and shoved the list inside her pouch. “I will look for these but don’t expect that I’ll find everything, ne!” When Grandma responded with subtle laughter, she said goodbye and stomped her way out of the house.

---

“Look, it’s Mito-san!” Gon pointed ahead as they jogged, securing the basket in his arms to keep it from slipping.

Killua looked at where Gon pointed and saw Mito from afar walking to their direction. He grinned and glanced at Gon. The latter did so as well, and after sharing a quick playful look, they sprinted. Mito’s appearance signaled that they were close to Gon’s home and the start of a race.

They slowed down when they neared Mito, who stopped in her tracks the minute she saw them, to give her big smiles and a swift greeting. She was about to say something but Gon beat her to it to tell her, “Take your time, Mito-san!” before waving a hand and dashing towards the house.

Grandma observed the two boys do a quick inventory check of the things that they bought. When they were done, she let herself in the kitchen, meeting the fully occupied table and Gon and Killua’s wide grins. She smiled back, informing them about the success of her contribution to their little shenanigan. Gon laughed and thanked her, estimating with his tiny fingers how long his Mito-san would be able to complete her shopping list. He guessed about three hours. All the items in the list were available at the market after all, and they made sure of this the day before—even asking the people at port as to when the ship carrying the island’s resources would arrive. They were lucky; it was that day.

“Do you need help with that?” Grandma asked, scanning the load of ingredients on the long kitchen table with her eyes.

“We’re okay, Grandma! We can do this!” Gon raised a fist in air and turned to Killua who gave a solid nod before running up the stairs.

Half a minute later, he came back bringing with him Gon’s laptop. Killua pulled a chair a good distance away from the stove and set the laptop on it, clicking on the link to the recipes they had bookmarked three days ago. “Okay,” he started, standing up and flexing his fingers, “first we need to cut.” He turned to Gon, who was already beaming and presenting him with two knives he held on both hands. Killua snorted and paced towards him, cheekily saying, “Let’s try which one’s sharper, my fingernails or your knives!” while the other boy laughed.

Gon and Killua had never, not once in their life, religiously followed a recipe of a dish that they would cook for someone else. Perhaps the only time they did cook for another person was when they roasted that huge pig for Menchi and Buhara during the Hunter Exam—at which they failed. However, this time, they were determined to do well.

Grandma checked on them from time to time, her eyes disappearing into thin lines as she smiled at the view of Gon and Killua busily cutting vegetables and frying meat. Periodically, Gon would come to her to ask her where some of the spices were, how much of those they should put in the pot, and if a pinch of salt was really enough for food to taste alright. Killua was assigned to double check the recipe, and if what they were doing was correct. They made a few mistakes, though, caused mostly by Gon’s excited hands. But they guessed it was fine because the food was looking like the ones in the pictures and, for them, that was just about right.

After more than three hours of scrambling around inside the kitchen, they finished with triumphant grins, one big high-five and a messy kitchen. They decided to clean up later because they had to set the table right away.

---

The baskets were heavy. It was a good thing a friend of hers was there to help her get home with a straight back. When Mito reached her front door, she looked up, hovering a hand over her eyes to act as shade from the noon sun’s intense rays. “Gon?” she called loud, hoping that the boy was already home for she needed help carrying the baskets inside. She was tired, incredibly tired, and sweaty. Retreating to her room to take a cold shower and sleep on her bed would be nice. But the thought was instantly dissolved when she was reminded of lunch. It was already half past twelve o’clock. She still had to prepare their food.

Seconds later, the doorknob was turning and there appeared Gon with a wide smile plastered on his face, Killua, smiling too, on his side. “Hi, Mito-san!”

The instant Gon opened the door, a savory smell fumed in the air Mito breathed in. She inhaled it in again after two seconds, making sure that it came from where she thought it did. She looked at Gon. “Grandma cooked?” Her stomach grumbled and she realized that she was famished. It smelled delicious.

Gon smiled even more, taking one of Mito’s baskets in his arms and ushering Killua to take the other. They carried them in, and she followed, feet leading her to where her nose was telling her to go.

There.

The dining area.

The corners of Mito’s lips slowly curled into a smile as she neared it, feeling a little excited about what Grandma may have prepared, and because it was uncommon for her to be coming home to freshly cooked food. It was usually her who did all the work in the house after all.

Her smile grew wider as the appetizing fumes intensified. When she stepped into the dining area, she stopped, eyes gaping wide of surprise. Her dining table transformed into a full, colorful banquet—salads, steamed and fried fish, roasted chicken, hot soup, buttered shrimp, scrambled eggs, sauced pork. What’s the big event? Was it Killua’s birthday? Her glistening eyes scanned the room to look for an elderly woman, but she found two beaming boys instead, standing behind the table facing her.

“Surprise!” They said in unison, throwing their little arms in the air.

Mito was taken aback, unsure of what was happening. Still, her chest swelled of awe. It made her smile more. “What is all this?”

“Gon and Killua prepared this just for you, Mito,” Grandma interposed from behind her. Mito turned. “They have been planning this for days.”

Shifting her wide-eyed gaze back to the two boys, she blinked, unable to utter a word.

Gon laughed sheepishly. “We wanted to do something for you while we’re here, Mito-san, to thank you for taking care of us. We hope you like it!”

Was she just too tired? Or was it because she found the gesture incredibly sweet and thoughtful that her limbs suddenly felt weak? She had to take a breath, one deep breath, so that she could say the words, “Thank you, Gon, Killua,” without letting tears that had already built up in her eyes stream down her face.

“Let’s eat, Mito-san!”

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh fic #hunter x hunter fanfiction #it's a long tumblr oneshot i know #i've been doing chaptered fics for 2 years and no one shots im sad #i wanted to make it longer but im afraid that it might turn into a 10k word fic #thank u for this prompt #hisoillusandwich #ily #hxh headcanon #hxh prompt #killugon #killua #gon #i havent been writing oneshots #i havent written a oneshot in nearly seven years #i hope this is fine

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irwintry · 5 years ago

Text

Jean Jacket

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, drug mention

Summary: Y/N and Luke have been best friends, but they haven’t seen each other in years. Based loosely off of the song “Jean Jacket” by The Summer Set.

Word Count: 9.5k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You messaged him at 10:14 in the morning. It felt unnatural, and a knot formed in your stomach once you hit send.

You:

hey.

string bean

He didn’t reply until 6:24 that night.

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Don’t call me that.

I’m toned now.

You:

oh my bad

what’s a thicc vegetable

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I don’t know

You:

you have cool hair

so do asparagus’

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Don’t call me asparagus.

You:

sorry

sexy stalk of corn

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I hate you

You:

i love u squid

should i learn how to use photoshop

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Absolutely not

I don’t want to be photoshopped onto corn

What do you want?

You:

oh sorry am i bothering u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Yes

You:

rude

string bean

Message not delivered.

why aren’t my messages sending

did u block me

wtf asshole

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Hehe

You:

i'm gonna kick ur ass

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Good luck reaching it.

You:

ok getting on a plane rn

and jokes on u

i'm bringing a step ladder w me

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I’ll pay

You:

bet?

did u just fucking venmo me

squid????

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Maybe

You:

luke

do u want me to visit u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I just venmo’d you

You:

wait do u rly want me to visit u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Yeah.

You:

wait ok shit... when works best for u

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Literally whenever

You:

don’t u have tours and shit

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Not for five months

You:

oh fuck.

ok I’ll start looking

shit dude

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I miss you.

You:

i miss u 2 squid

sorry i mean

string bean

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

JK. Can you venmo me back?

You:

no fuck u

it’s mine now

You weren’t in airports often.

You never grew accustomed to the atmosphere–– the hustle and bustle of business class and the lack of knives in terminal restaurants. You had no reason to be acquainted. Yet, there was still a familiar panic that gripped you as you stood shoeless and alone in the line for security. The terminals were each a maze of their own, and the heavy Jansport hanging off of your shoulder pushed down against your tight muscles.

You preferred traveling with another person. In fact, you preferred to not travel at all. The comfort of your home held Jeopardy re-runs and take-out Chinese. Whereas your terminal had startling gate announcements and overpriced froyo, and they didn’t even have toppings. The bathrooms smelled of poo no matter what time you chose to use them, and you sat on the toilet in mild discomfort, suitcase meshed between you in the broken metal stall. The same abandoned luggage announcement had played sixteen times since your arrival through security.

But you tried to think about the positive outcome of your travel. You saw yourself running up to him, hands slipping the bulky luggage to the ground as you threw your arms around him. He stood there smiling and calling you old nicknames you had been forced to read over text for six to seven years. And then he would take your hand and guide you to his car, his ever-present smile never faltering because you were there, and he was with you. It would be just like old times.

You thought about all of the places you would go and the people you would meet. Anxiety puddled your head when you thought about meeting his friends. They were untouchable, glamor and gold and all things Hollywood untold. And you were you, but Luke had changed, too.

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Still arriving at 6:13 in Terminal B?

You:

u bet ur (terminal B)um

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

That was one of your worst.

You:

ur right i gotta work on my comebacks on the flight

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

That wasn’t a comeback...?

You:

tHat WasN’t a CoMebAcK

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Die.

You fell asleep on the flight.

Economy class forced you between a professor in his mid-forties and an athletic coach whose knees nudged against yours every time he shifted. You had started the flight off with a movie, some Anna Kendrick rom-com that stimulated a headache worth three bottles of Ibuprofen. Soon enough you were hobbling over long legs, bladder aching from an unbearable pressure, and then the lavatory was occupied.

You filled the next few hours with a playlist you had made for the flight. Luke’s songs lulled you to sleep–– but you wouldn’t tell him that. You wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction, not unless the moment called for it. That moment only occurred a few times within a year. That moment occurred during the times he came to you when he thought he had no one else.

And you would never tell him how selfish you felt. You would never admit that you loved those moments because you felt important. You felt like he needed you.

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep for after you woke. The plane was dark and quiet, and not a soul breathed a word. So, you settled down into your seat and kept the light of your phone low. The time was 5:35 in the morning.

The airplane awakened a little after six o’clock, brightness flooding in followed by a chorus of groans and moans. You toyed with the sleeves of your jacket and felt incredibly small. The nerves in your chest simmered, and you thought about the shaky steps you would soon take to reach the arms of an old friend. You didn’t know why the blistering excitement felt so bad. You wanted to sit back down and take a one-way flight all the way back home.

Luke was in airports all too often.

He grew accustomed to suitcases rattling against filthy marble floors. He memorized the high-pitched, buzzy tone of squeaking escalators in frequented terminals. The familiarity overwhelmed him, and he had almost convinced himself he was among the many travelers on this day.

But he stood alone, not a single ounce of hurry in his bones while he waited for the arrival of an old best friend. The rising sun outside seeped through the large glass windows, yet the warm colors touched his back and kept his chest cold. He wanted your embrace, and he wanted the heat of your smile. Because he didn’t quite remember how it made him feel. He saw your face through pictures and videos, but the comfort of your presence faded from his memories.

Strangers eyed him. He could picture them searching the depths of their brain and wondering why they knew him. At the moment, he wished he wasn’t known. He wished he was seventeen again, the year the excitement was fresh and when the world didn’t seem so small. He wished he still knew you like he had back then.

Luke was tired.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

i need some fucking food

He felt nauseous and numb as he laughed at your words. It was like stage fright, like the intense, sickening nerves had hadn’t felt in years. His fingers trembled against the screen of his phone.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

also where r u

can u meet at baggage claim

i get nervous when i have to pick up my bag

i get scared that i’m gonna miss it

is that weird

Luke’s stomach knotted, and he typed out a quick affirmation while he kept his eyes locked on the small crowd of faces. Faces that looked like they hadn’t slept in forty years. But then again, Luke felt as though he looked the same way.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

what happens if i miss my bag

Luke:

It comes back around.

Don’t worry

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

fffuckkkkkk customs

Luke:

Lol.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

escalators escalators escalators

Luke:

Eels.

Luke swallowed the bile rising to his throat. It had been years. He hadn’t seen you face-to-face in years, and he still wondered what it was about the moment that made him nervous. The anxiety caused him to shiver, and he tugged the sleeves of his sweater up and under his fingers. His eyes ached from lack of sleep, but he hoped your energy would change that. He hoped his nerves would ease the minute you opened your mouth. All he wanted was for it to feel natural.

He thought he saw you. He thought he had immediately recognized you from across the room, but the stranger was in a dress. Luke knew you would never––in your right mind––wear a dress to travel anywhere. So, he kept his eyes on the person as they walked away, and then there was a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey Squid.”

Luke glanced to his right, heart stammering in his chest at the sound of your voice. You were smiling, your eyes tired yet warm while the jean jacket you wore swallowed you whole. His jean jacket.

“You busy later?”

He cleared his throat and reached up to brush a few hairs away from his face. He didn’t know how to speak or initiate any kind of touch. He didn’t know how to talk to you anymore. “Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled with a small smile. “Got plans.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “You do?”

Luke hummed. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking. “Meeting up with this old friend,” he said. “They flew all this way t’see me, and to be honest, that was kinda dumb of them.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you replied with a laugh. “We gonna hug or just like, stand here looking like assholes?”

“The latter,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. Luke laughed as he allowed himself to push down nerves and throw his arms around you. It was a warm hug, just like he wanted it to be. “I see you still got that fuckin’ jacket.”

“Technically, it’s your jacket,” you said, pulling away. Your hair was messy, but he found it endearing. You looked like his best friend even though the years had separated the two of you. You looked soft and sweet, and he didn’t know why he wanted to keep holding you.

You nodded to yourself. “Got my suitcase,” you told him. “No thanks to you. In case you didn’t know, this isn’t baggage claim.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “’m sorry. I’m tired.”

“Oh, sorry to bother you,” you replied, smiling brightly before sending him a wink. “I’ll be going then.” You took a few steps toward the door.

Luke caught your arm. “No, no, you’re not leaving me. We’ve come this far. You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh, joy.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm, babe,” he said, and two of you made your way outside into the cool morning.

You stumbled behind him, your suitcase smacking against large chunks of concrete on the sidewalk. “Babe? Shit. I just shuttered.”

Luke chuckled. His nerves hadn’t disappeared, but he tried hard to ignore them. He felt out of place. He felt as though his head and his body did not exist on the same plane. He felt like he was caught in a dream. Or maybe it was a nightmare.

“Hey, Lu?” You yawned and curled yourself up in the passenger seat of his car.

Luke thought you looked too damn good. He wanted to tell you. “If you put your feet on my dash, I’ll kill you,” he said instead.

You mumbled something incoherent.

Luke slid his keys into the ignition. “Okay, well, that was not English,” he said, “but nice try.”

“Shut up. I’m tired.”

“I’m tired,” he mocked.

You hit his arm, and his laughter filled the small car. “I’ll kill you first. I was gonna ask you if we can get breakfast, but I changed my mind.”

Luke kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, but he ached to look over at you. He ached to take you in and memorize you like he had done over seven years ago. “We can get breakfast, babe,” he said quietly, glancing your way, and then he smiled. Your knees were pressed to your chest, and you had closed your eyes.

At the stop sign, Luke waited a moment to accelerate. The sunrise painted gold into the sky and onto your skin. He wondered if you had always looked this beautiful. He wondered if he had ever thought so before. All he could remember was the present, and every memory was drowned out by the soft scent of your perfume in his car.

The jean jacket you wore had been his once. He never saw how it looked on you. And he never imagined that the sight of you in it would one day take his breath away.

“Do you think I should leave it unbuttoned like this?”

“You’re really asking for my opinion on that?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your gaze.

“Okay, you’re right,” he said, “unbuttoned it is.”

You rolled your eyes. “Love that my opinion is so valued.”

It had only been a day. Your body clock had yet to reset to the time difference, and you spent the afternoon prior knocked out on Luke’s bed with Petunia cuddled against your stomach. It hadn’t been a terrible way to nap, although your neck ached when you woke. The situation was still surreal. You still refused to believe you had traveled across the globe to visit someone you felt like you hardly knew. Except you did know him. He was Luke. He ate his gummy worms with peanut butter.

Yet, your eyes lingered on his figure on your way into his kitchen. You gazed a little too long when he talked about his plans with you. Whenever he nudged your shoulder or poked your arm, you thought about his touch for a few minutes after. It had only been a day.

And it didn’t take long for him to invite you out to a club.

You didn’t like the feeling of the leather seats against your thighs on the drive into the city. Your shorts had ridden up, and you had the sense that something about the night was off. It wasn’t the intoxicating fragrance of Luke’s cologne or the exposed bit of chest that drove you wild. It wasn’t the unbroken melody he sang loudly or the expensive boots that added an inch or two to his already-towering height. It was how expensive he looked–– how untouchable he was. You had thrift your jean shorts for $15, and Luke was missing a button off of his designer shirt. But there was something else about the night that bothered you, and you couldn’t quite place it. So, you belted along to his favorite songs and pretended as though you didn’t feel sick to your stomach.

Luke’s smile hardly faltered throughout the night. He introduced you to faces you assumed you would never see again, and then he would buy you another drink without asking. You could feel his energy, and not even the blasting bass could distract you from the weight of his laughter. He knew everyone, but it didn’t come as a shock. He had always loved people, and people had always loved him.

So, you sat quietly on the couch, feeling miles apart yet inches away at best. You twirled the tiny straw with two fingers and watched your old best friend bounce from person to person. He had a big heart, you told yourself, he loved people. But the thoughts never pushed down the sinking feeling that he had forgotten about you. It was halfway through the night, and you had been sitting alone for forty-seven minutes. Luke was nowhere to be seen.

You:

luke

You placed your phone in between your thighs. One single text had sent your heart into your throat, and you weren’t sure why. You weren’t sure why you felt so sick at the thought of his response.

You:

r u ok

where’d u go

A few strangers crowded around the couch Luke placed you at. It was his usual spot, he said. No one ever took his spot. But you sat alone, and not a soul cared to join you. They knew you didn’t belong here.

You:

string bean

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

I’m okay.

:-)

You sighed, letting your head rest against the leather cushion while you watched drunken interactions play out. A song you recognized played throughout the cramped club, and you wished you were anywhere else. You wished you were on a bench overlooking the ocean with a bag of tacos separating you and your friend. You wished you were on the bike path by your house, hand-in-hand with someone you had known all too well. You wished you hadn’t fallen witness to a life you had no part in. You wished you could be the person he wanted you to be.

You:

ok i’m just chillin

The empty glass from your drink had perspired onto the table. After a while, the heat of the room had melted the ice as well, and you were stuck wishing you could conjure up the courage to join the crowd. But you couldn’t. You felt out of place, like you didn’t quite belong. All eyes told you so. You carried on waiting, but you were no longer sure what it was you were waiting for.

You:

r u getting hungry

You stopped waiting for a response after fifteen minutes. Luke had left you for two hours in a club, in some town you had never been to before. He had left you, and you had only been with him for a day. An unsettling feeling grew in your stomach, but you wanted to reject it as much as you could. It was Luke, the boy who shot carrots out of his Nerf Guns but ended up giving himself a black eye. It had to be the same Luke.

You gathered up some strength to stand up. The battery on your phone had been roasted from too many games of Solitaire, and Luke still wasn’t answering your texts. You reached down for your sweating drink, but a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders before you could.

“Sleepy,” he said, smushing his face against your back. “Why do you smell like pancakes?”

Your body felt frozen beneath his touch. Every muscle tensed. “I don’t,” you replied. “Can we–– can we go? Is that okay?”

Luke’s arms slid off of you, and you could feel his presence now to the right of you. And for some reason, your head hurt at the thought of looking at him. Yet, you did. His curls had slicked down against his rosy, albeit shiny skin, and his eyes were red and droopy. For those few seconds, you weren’t sure why you had thought him attractive. But it quickly changed. He was looking at you, completely looking at you, and he could tell something was wrong.

“Yeah,” he said, his lips falling into a frown. “Course. You okay?”

You nodded and swallowed back the aching tears that threatened in your eyes. “Jet-lagged,” you mumbled. “That’s all.”

Luke nodded, too. “Okay. Yeah. We can go. I’ll get us an Uber.”

“What will you do about your car?”

He seemed to shrug it off, but it was hard to tell through the mass of sweaty bodies. “She’ll be fine. I’ll find a way to get her.”

“I’m sorry.” You hugged your arms close to your chest as the heat from the club transformed into the cool night air.

“No big deal,” said Luke. “Just another Uber trip to come get her. Then I can take her right back.”

“No, um, about leaving,” you responded. “I’m sorry that I wanted t’leave.”

Luke glanced at you from over his shoulder, brows furrowed and lip tugged between his teeth. “Don’t be, babe. I was gonna leave soon anyway.”

You nodded, and an uneasy silence settled in the air. You wished for the right words to say, but you brain went blank, and you found yourself counting cars that passed by.

“It’s really good to see you again,” said Luke after a while. His voice was low and hoarse, and it made you feel a new type of warmth. “Forgot what it was like t’be with you. It’s nice. Like a breath of fresh air.”

You smiled at him, but you knew that was all you could do.

“Missed you a lot.” He smiled at you, too, and through that smile, he whispered, “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

Luke thought it hurt to look at you. Because when he did, he was reminded of the person he had left behind, the person he could have been had he stayed. You reminded him of a lost potential within himself, and he didn’t like it. It made him feel dejected, like a lost cause. And looking at you caused much more pain than that. Looking at you was like looking at the world in color for the first time. He saw you differently, and he wondered if this was how he was always supposed to see you.

It was unavoidable— the dawning feeling that only worsened every day. You had only been with him for a week. A whole week of stealing glances and swallowing down irritant thoughts that a best friend shouldn’t have. A part of him felt like he couldn’t call himself that. He felt like he knew you, but he didn’t know you. He read your personality through words and not actions. Maybe it was time he opened his eyes to the person you had become.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

can u not send me tweets rn

u r literally right next to me

loser

Luke:

Can you not be rude?

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

Luke:

Fight me.

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

hehe ok

kinky

Luke:

Shut up

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

i feel the sexual tension already

Luke took a breath and glanced your way. The afternoon had been spent with his friends; a brimming beer cup soirée spent around the fire in Calum’s backyard. And for some reason, Luke felt like an anomaly. He had better luck counting the hairs on his leg than concentrating on a single conversation. Meanwhile, you cradled your first drink of the night, torso hidden behind the heavy jean jacket he once owned. Beneath it, only a floral bathing suit covered you, and it was enough to make Luke wonder why he had bothered leaving home in the first place.

He couldn’t hear what his friends said, but he could focus in on every little thing about you. From the shape of your legs, all tucked in beneath you to the small smile you wore as you listened to his friends speak. Your hair had dried from the few minutes you spent in the pool, and after a while, you pulled it out of your face and up into a bun. Luke thought you looked pretty, and he knew it wasn’t the initial heat of the fire that warmed him.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was wrong. You were quiet––timid almost––while you gazed at the palm shadows against the sunset. Even beyond the smiles, you seemed lost. Luke wanted to know why.

Luke:

You hungry?

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

fucking starving

tell cal to get better snacks

Luke:

Lol.

I want tacos

Kermit the little bitch frog 🐸:

yoooooooooooooo

can we get tacos?

Luke:

Let’s get some fucking tacos

You hadn’t realized how hard it would be.

Luke started a new life for himself seven years prior, and it messed up your world for a while. It had messed up plans and memories you wanted to make with him. You started your own life without the company of your best friend, but he was still a text message away whenever you needed. Because he was still your friend. He still told you every little detail about his life. You knew how things had changed for him, whether they were for better or worse.

You hadn’t realized you would one day face the life he chose for himself. You hadn’t realized how hard it would be. He was the same, but he was so different. Being here simply acted as a reminder that you no longer fit into his life.

It came to you in heavy waves. When the overall reality hit, it hit like a sheet of sadness. You were washed over by emotions while Luke carried on about his favorite restaurant in Italy. You had never been to Italy or France or Spain. You had never been on grandiose adventures, not like Luke. It only hurt because you wished you had been by his side.

The two of you swung by his place for a change of clothes. There was an unexplainable silence that you chose not to break. You felt as though any word from your lips would feel forced, so you kept quiet instead. When you walked back out into the living room in an old tee and leggings, Luke was already there. He was already waiting for you in the patchy jean jacket that you treasured simply because it once belonged to him.

“Still fits, I guess,” he said, and you smiled. It was like old times, so you took a picture of the moment. Luke shot a goofy grin your way, and you had to pretend like it didn’t make your stomach flutter.

“Are there are any taco places you know of that are still open?” you asked Luke after settling into the car. You kept your hands pressed between your thighs. “I’m not really feeling like shitting my pants at a Taco Bell.”

Luke laughed. “Yeah, I know a place.” He turned on the ignition, and right off the bat, a song by The Summer Set began to blast through the speakers. And it felt like a tension had been swept away with the music.

He kept the windows down as you drove, his one hand firm on the wheel and the other out against the breeze. When he sang, he sang low. You couldn’t find it in yourself to sing at all. You could hardly look at him. Yet, you had given into temptation. You gazed at him during the verses and glanced away at the choruses, letting the city lights seep in while you listened to his soft voice. Luke drummed on the wheel during the upbeat melodies, and you found yourself reminiscing on old memories no matter how much you wanted to repress them.

He had always been an awkward kid. The heart on his sleeve never faded or splintered–– it just grew with each passing day. His presence made any form of discomfort wash away, and it still felt that way now. But, as people do, he had changed, and you struggled to find the good in everything. Around you, it was the same Luke you knew. Around others, he had built up a façade for himself. It broke your heart.

Street lamps glistened against the pavement as rain drizzled down. It didn’t last long, and the droplets on the windshield soon dried, but it left an earthy petrichor in the air. A comforting scent that only came with rain. The breeze slipped through your fingers, and you soon felt the words of familiar songs bubble in your chest. They left your lips a second later just as you began to smile. There was something oddly beautiful about the melancholy moment.

So, Luke sang loudly, his hands hitting the wheel while you cried your favorite lyrics. It all came rushing back, and the sorrow melted away. You wished Luke had never left, but you were happy to have this night with him.

You unwrapped your taco on your lap. “I’m not gonna tell you you’re wrong for putting that much sour cream on your taco,” you said, kicking your feet out on the stone wall before you, “but you disgust me.”

The waves crashed along the shoreline in the distance, and the beach was dark and eerie. It didn’t matter that it was ten o’clock at night–– the nearby park was busy and loud.

“Oh, I forgot to ask,” said Luke, “is it okay if I put sour cream on my taco?”

You kicked his thigh as he broke out in hysterics, and you thought, this is it–– this is what I’ve been waiting for.

“If you get that shit on my jacket, I’ll kill you,” you responded, meanwhile taking an unattractive bite out of the hard shell of your taco. Shredded cheese fell to the ground below.

“Isn’t it technically my jacket?”

You shrugged “Maybe if you had actually bothered keeping it.”

Luke let out a small gasp, and a large dollop of sour cream plopped against the wrapping on his lap. “Maybe if you were smart enough, you’d realize I let you keep it.”

“Oh, shit. That stings.”

“Good.”

“Fuck you,” you said with a laugh. “I deserved to keep it. I was the one who added all of those patches anyway.”

Luke furrowed his brows. “Not true. I added––“ He twisted around and pointed at a small bunny patch on the shoulder. “––this one.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your tongue. “You deserve more credit for the tiny bunny patch you found on the side of the road.”

“Thank you.” Luke sighed and grinned, sending a wink your way before biting into his sour cream-coated taco.

You watched the hard-shell crack and fall apart beneath his grip, and you watched as he pouted once the food hit his lap. You stared for too long, burning the image of him in your brain until you were confident it was permanently in there. It burned a little too hot and for a little too long. It continued to burn along the highway while the waves stirred beside you. You were nestled between the hills and the ocean, a cute boy to your left and a strip of heaven laid down before you.

Luke drove for an hour, taking exit after exit until he pulled off near the mouth of a lake in the mountains. The air was stale yet breezy, and exhaustion overwhelmed you. But you kept your eyes from drooping just so you could keep looking at the person you hadn’t realized you missed.

“Come home soon,” you whispered into the dark night. Bugs and other creatures hummed in the distance, meanwhile, you kicked up the crumbled pavement and leaned back against his car. “It hasn’t been home without you.”

Luke let out a quiet laugh, but it was muffled between his lips. “Gonna get all sappy on me now, huh, babe?” he asked, but his smile soon fell when his head turned to face you. He swallowed and faced the stagnant water ahead. “I wanna come home,” he said, “but I feel like I don’t belong there anymore.”

“You’ve always belonged.”

Luke didn’t speak.

“I don’t belong here,” you said, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You had expected an outrageous reaction, something that assured you that he thought you did belong. But he stayed quiet. “This whole city, this place, it’s–– I mean it’s wonderful. I love it. But it’s not me.”

“It’s weird to have you here,” said Luke. His voice had lowered into a faint hush, yet you felt it in your bones. “Not bad weird. You’re just home. You feel like home. I’m not used to that here.”

“You’re home,” you mumbled.

Luke didn’t waste another moment. He pulled you into a hug, one that reminded you of teenage years and restless late nights. It reminded you of a warmth you lost, of strong arms that hadn’t held you in seven years. His chest expanded with each breath, and you listened closely to the air as it left his lips. And then you couldn’t help but dig your fingers into the rough denim along his back. You couldn’t help but press yourself against his chest in order to feel his heartbeat in sync with yours. You ached to embrace his scent–– you ached to embrace everything about him.

There was something in the air as you pulled away, something thicker than the hint of humidity. Whatever it was, you had trouble letting go of Luke. It felt like you had stood there for ages, just staring at his chest and holding onto his waist as if your life depended on it. You felt like crying, and you felt nervous. Something about his presence made you nervous.

When you looked up, Luke had already been looking down at you. A small smile was playing on his lips, and you could hardly see the twinkle in his eye through the dark night. But you weren’t focusing on his eyes. You focused in on that smile, the one that stretched his smooth, pink lips just slightly. The one that kindled some spark in your chest, and you couldn’t look away.

Luke placed a hand on your jaw, his long, slim fingers cradling you in a soft manner. “You okay?” he asked breathily.

You replayed his words in your head and thought about the ways his lips moved around them. No, you weren’t okay. But you didn’t mind the feeling.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. At the same time, it felt like you couldn’t breathe. The desire to kiss him was overwhelming, and it ached and ached. You tightened your grip on his waist, eyes flickering back up to where his lips had pulled into a concerned pout.

Luke let out a breath and tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. His fingers were firm on the back of your head, and then he pulled you in. His lips were on yours, hard yet passion-filled, and neither of you could move. But when he ran out of air, Luke pulled away slowly. His top lip brushed yours as he moved, yet the pressure never left. It still felt like he was kissing you.

Luke had kissed you. And you hadn’t wanted him to stop.

You smiled, fingers toying with the opening of his jean jacket as you glanced down at your shoes. “That was new,” you said lowly.

He laughed, meanwhile running his thumb along the apple of your cheek. It made you feel safe. “Sure was,” he mumbled. “Not bad, though.”

“No,” you replied, looking up. His gaze was intense, but it was the kind of intensity that summoned butterflies. You shrugged. “Not bad at all.”

“Good,” said Luke. “Cos I was plannin’ on kissing you again, but I wasn’t sure if we were on the same page, or––“

You tugged him in and leaned forward to press your lips on his again. You felt him smile against the kiss, and you had to smile, too. Luke’s opposite hand met your other cheek as the kiss deepened. You didn’t mind it–– you had no reason to mind it. In fact, you loved it. You craved it. It was warm and soft, and it made your toes curl. His lips felt like velvet. The heat crawled up into your chest, but the kiss soon ended before the moment carried on.

You felt lighter than air. Small puffs of air escaped your lips while you tried to laugh. And Luke was laughing, too. You were each other’s best friend, and you had kissed.

“Wanna keep driving?” Luke asked you, tracing your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

You grinned and nodded before pecking his lips. And then you skipped over to the passenger seat to once again fill the night with new memories to be made.

Luke grabbed your hand and laced your fingers with his while The Summer Set continued to blast throughout his car. It felt good to touch you, to finally feel you after all of these years. For some reason, he craved your touch even more now. It had only been a week, yet Luke quickly realized the effect you had on him. It had never been like this before, and he was relieved to know you felt the same way, too. He couldn’t get enough of you.

He wanted every piece of you.

“Should we head back home?” you asked at around two in the morning, lips red from the 7-Eleven slushie you were slurping.

Luke smiled at your appearance. His heart swelled at the sight of you so comfortable in his company. It made him want to hold you and never let go. “You gettin’ tired, babe?”

You giggled. “Never said that.”

Luke’s face physically ached from the weight of his grin.

“I like it when you call me that,” you said.

“Hm?”

“When you call me ‘babe’,” you spoke. “I like it.”

Luke felt a chill rush over him. He wanted to call you “babe” every single fucking day–– he never wanted to stop. “Yeah, babe?”

You hummed.

Luke’s hand instinctively reached out to place itself on your thigh, and he froze. But you didn’t react. When he looked over, your smile hadn’t left.

“Is this okay?” he asked you, fingers burning and shifting against your leggings. His eyes left the road for a split second to watch you nod. Luke smiled again and squeezed your thigh, emitting a quick squeal from you. The sound was music to his ears, and he couldn’t believe how fast he had fallen for everything about you.

The silence that fell over was comfortable.

“Is this what Brian felt like when he wrote Passenger Seat?” you asked after a while.

Luke glanced at you, smile still wide as he slowly replied, “it’s exactly what he felt.”

He took you down to a small beach off of the beaten path after that. The waves were loud, almost violent as he kept his hand firmly locked with yours. The breeze had picked up, but he could still hear your teeth chattering through the gusts.

“Gosh, sure is nice to have a jacket to keep me warm right now,” said Luke while he set himself down into the sand.

“Sh-shut the fuck up,” you muttered, plopping right beside him. “You’re such a fucking j-jackass.”

Luke laughed and took off his jacket, nevertheless. You pulled it over you before falling against him, head nestling onto his shoulder as you brought your knees up for warmth.

“It’s so dark,” you said a few moments later. “Did you come here to murder me?”

“How’d you know?” gasped Luke.

You shoved him away, he only tugged you in closer. You set your head on his lap, and the two of you sat there for thirty minutes in complete silence. He hadn’t wanted to stay quiet–– he had so many things bouncing about in his brain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say a single word. He couldn’t tell you that this week had been the best week of his entire life, and he couldn’t beg you to stay. He couldn’t keep you in a city you hated to be in.

It had hurt to hear you say that, but he didn’t disagree. Los Angeles didn’t fit you; it never would, no matter how much he wanted you to stay with him. You belonged in comforting towns, ones filled with life and love but held hopes and dreams high. You belonged with him, yet he wasn’t sure where he belonged either. It was too painful to think about.

So, Luke kissed your forehead and ran his fingers along your arm. If he could hold you forever, then he wouldn’t have to think about anything else. He wouldn’t have to think about saying goodbye to you within the next week. He wouldn’t have to think about losing all of the built-up feelings that had surfaced within the past few days. He wouldn’t have to think about losing you.

You were curled up in the passenger seat of his car on the ride home. Your eyes had succumbed to exhaustion at the beach, and he carried you all the way back without stirring you awake. It filled his heart with so much love to see you so calm and peaceful–– he wanted to take you home and hold you for the rest of his life. But he couldn’t do that. He buckled you in, kissed your forehead once more, and then drove home in silence. It left him alone with his thoughts, and he didn’t like that.

“Lu?” Your eyes fluttered open as he unbuckled you and prepared to take you into his home.

“Mornin’, darling,” he said, cracking a smile.

You hummed. “You don’t have t’carry me,” you said, “but thank you.” You rubbed at your tired eyes, and he grabbed your hands to help lift you out of the car. You fell against him and pulled him into a tight hug.

He chuckled, but he didn’t say anything. He just held you close.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you mumbled into his shirt. You leaned back to look up at him.

Luke smiled, and he felt like the luckiest man in the world. He kissed you softly before pulling you back into a hug. “I’ve missed you, too.”

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

On my way home.

Still okay with going to the party?

You:

ya i wanna black out and vomit in a pool

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

Please do not do that.

You:

don’t poop on my party

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

It’s technically not your party

You:

party pooper

stinky pooper

ur stinky

lukey “red lobster isn’t that bad” hemmings:

You’re stinky.

You:

yes

The next day was weird.

It felt like the night prior had been some drug-induced dream filled with romcom storylines inside a coming-of-age film. It was an old memory resurfaced–– a moment you had shared with him many years prior. Things changed so suddenly.

And neither of you spoke of it. You didn’t know how to. At the same time, you weren’t sure you wanted to.

It had been beautiful in the moment, but thinking back, you weren’t sure it had been a good idea. Luke was Luke, a famous rock star living among the elites in Lost Angeles, and you were a shell of a best friend, old remnants of a life he used to live. You weren’t the one for him, and you never had been. He had too many choices before him; he wouldn’t choose his best friend.

A friend was hosting a birthday party, one you assumed would involve a cake and stupid decorations, perhaps presents as well. But the house was packed upon arrival, and it felt more like a frat party than anything. You wished you had known, yet you fisted the skirt of your black dress and ambled in behind Luke, feeling more like a lost puppy than ever.

Because he had always been a people person. He had always loved people.

You lost him at some point in the night. You scoured the premises, searching for his bright red button-down amongst the sea of illustrious eyes. And then there was you, looking sad and somewhat angry while you searched for your best friend. He had done this only a week ago. He had left you to fend for yourself against a pack of B-list wolves. You hardly felt human in comparison.

Sweat had accumulated against your back while you wandered the crowded rooms. You admired the architecture through a Mike’s Hard haze, wishing you had left town when Luke did to maybe make a name for yourself in and amongst the wealthy. The guilt would have eaten you alive; it would have been all at Luke’s expense.

You found him in the kitchen at one point during the night. He stood there with his friends crowded around, a dazzling yet drunken smile etched on his features, and it seemed as though his eyes alone lit the whole room. The knot building in your stomach was uncomfortable. His laugh echoed, and you had to excuse yourself before he could glance your way.

So, you wandered again and retraced your steps, wondering if you would ever know your place in a world this big. It felt like you never would.

You hadn’t gotten black-out drunk, nor did you vomit in a stranger’s pool. Instead, you sat by that pool with your feet plunged into the illuminated water, fingers still cradling the neck of your lemonade while you listened to strangers talk. The bright blue below made you feel sick, so you stared up at the light-polluted sky and hoped for the night to be over soon.

And then there was a tap on your shoulder.

“Jesus Christ–– thought I lost ya for good,” said Luke, voice hoarse and slurred while he slumped down onto the brick beside you. He stuck his feet in the water without rolling up his pants.

“Nope,” you mumbled. “Been here.”

Luke was smiley, and the freckles on his nose seemed more prominent under the teal hue from the pool.

“Where’d you go?” you asked him, yet your heart ached at the thought of him leaving you the way he did. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Uh, y’know.” Luke shrugged. “This, there, n’ that.”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t know.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” said Luke, fingers running along the surface of the water before gently splashing your knees. “Wanted t’show my girl around. People kept asking ‘bout you.”

“Your–– your girl?” The words rattled around in your brain, but at the moment, they didn’t settle quite right. They would have sounded wonderful the night prior. But you weren’t property. You weren’t his girl.

Luke glanced at you, eyes shiny and dark, and his lips tugged into a lazy smile. He smelled of whiskey sour and bourbon, a combination that made your stomach churn. You admitted his proximity intimidated you, and you admitted that you wanted nothing more than to go back to last night.

Suddenly, Luke was leaning in to kiss you, and all you could do was push him back. It had been sloppy and wet. It had been wrong.

You couldn’t speak.

“Sorry?” he asked. His eyebrows scrunched together.

You stood quickly, reaching down to fix your dress before you walked off. Luke was hot on your tail.

“I thought you were cool with that!” he exclaimed as he stomped through the grass behind you. A few strangers turned their heads, so you faced him and kept him close. “Did last night mean anything to you?”

“Yes,” you said flatly. “Last night meant everything to me. But last night means nothing now. It has to mean nothing now.”

Luke laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Us, Luke,” you said, holding out your arms. “We’ve been best friends for like, ten years, and suddenly that changes in one night. Maybe if we were on similar paths, it would actually work. But it doesn’t work, Luke. It just doesn’t. Not for us.”

His face relaxed, and his lips pulled into a frown. “Not for us?” he whispered. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that you’re you,” you said, “and I’m me. We live on two different parts of the world, and we still don’t know where we belong. It’s not the right time–– if there’s even a right time at all.” You hugged your bare arms as a light breeze blew over.

“Who fucking cares?”

“I care,” you replied.

Luke let out an exasperated sigh. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled, laughing lightly. “Why do you have t’care? Just say fuck it. Do what you fuckin’ want.”

“No, Luke, I can’t just do that––“

“God, you’re being so annoying.”

You blinked. “I’m–– what?”

Luke blanched and swallowed. “Nothing.”

“I’m being so annoying?” you asked with a smirk. “Oh, wow. Okay. Sorry. I guess I’ll stop being so annoying then.”

“No,” said Luke. “I didn’t mean that.”

“You can’t take it back.”

“Please.” His eyes widened, and his sincerity radiated off of him. “I didn’t––“

“What did you mean?”

“What?”

You sighed. Your stomach hurt, and you wanted to just go home. “If you didn’t mean it, then what did you mean?”

Luke shrugged. “Just think you’re being kinda unreasonable.”

“What?” you questioned. “Because I don’t like it here?”

“Because you’re not open to trying!” yelled Luke.

His raised voice made your heart stop. It made every built-up emotion ache to release in an instant. But you wouldn’t let yourself cry. “I want to try,” you said weakly. “I wanna try so badly. But I wanna be happy, Lu.”

He folded his arms over his chest.

“I’m happy with you,” you continued. “But I’m not gonna be happy here. As much as I like being with you, it’s not gonna cancel any of that out.”

Luke didn’t reply. He stared at you, eyes glazed and emotionless.

“I’m gonna go home,” you said.

“Okay.”

You nodded. “I mean, home home.”

Luke’s eyes filled with another unreadable emotion. “Why?”

You sighed again, but this time, you felt annoyed as well. You felt like every feeling from the night prior had dripped from your shoulders. You felt like it had all gone down the drain. “I don’t belong here,” you said.

“Yes, you fucking do!”

“I’m going home,” you repeated, this time harsher as your eyes brimmed with tears.

Luke’s composure fell. There was silence for a moment, and then he nodded. He nodded twice. “Okay,” he mumbled. “Okay.”

Luke had been peeling the skin from around his nails.

The two days following the party had been spent in heavy tension. It took every ounce of him to not bring it up–– he wanted to talk about everything he had said, yet the more time that passed, the more he forgot. But he remembered every change in your expression, and his stomach churned at the thought of him upsetting you the way he did. He wanted to take it all back.

You didn’t mention it either. You packed up your belongings quietly, and he didn’t bother you. He didn’t bother exhausting you over words that meant little in the grand scheme of things. Because as much as he wanted you to stay, he knew that you had no choice. In a perfect world, he could drop everything for you. In a perfect world, he could settle down and be with you for the rest of his life. Nobody made decisions in the span of a week, but he wished he could.

He saw you. He didn’t want to see anyone else.

Luke drank his coffee cold on your last day. It stained his white shirt, yet he kept his feet planted against the tiles in his kitchen. He didn’t go change because you were back in the guest room, and he knew that his chest would hurt the sight of you. He knew he would try to say things to make you stay. He knew that they would fail.

He heard the wheels of your suitcase before he saw you. And then you were there, jean jacket draped over your arm while you waited for him to speak up. Luke didn’t know how to talk anymore. He only felt dejection.

“My flight leaves in four hours,” you said, grip tightening around the handle of your suitcase.

Luke nodded. He wanted to believe you were sad, too. He wanted to believe you still thought about that night only days ago.

“I can call a cab,” you continued with a shrug. A light-hearted shrug that felt out-of-place.

He shook his head. “I’ll take you,” he said, but his voice was weak.

“Okay.”

And the familiar silence clicked back into place. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It hadn’t felt like this before. Leaving you at sixteen was full of smiles and “see-you-soon”’s. But with you leaving now, it felt like you were leaving for good.

Luke nodded again. “Okay.”

The ride to the airport was quiet. It was a sickening quiet, one that brought on the urge to cry and scream. He wanted to yell at himself for being so fucking ridiculous. His fingers tensed against the steering wheel.

When Luke parked the car, the words “I’m sorry” tumbled from his lips.

You glanced over. “What for?”

A part of him wanted to laugh. You knew the exact reasons why he felt sorry.

But he just shrugged. “For throwing you into my life,” he said. “It was selfish of me. I didn’t think about how it would make you feel.”

“You didn’t mean it like that,” you replied. “I know you didn’t. You were just showing me your life.”

“But it was too much.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

You gave Luke a small, sad smile before reaching over and grabbing his hand. You intertwined your fingers with his.

“If it’s okay,” you said, “I’d still like to be a part of your life.”

Luke smiled, too. “Yeah,” he breathed out. “It’s always okay.”

You felt sick.

You held Luke’s hand on your way into the airport, and you dreaded letting go. You dreaded the idea of possibly never feeling his touch again. You weren’t saying goodbye for good, but it felt like you were.

“Here’s where I leave you,” he mumbled, voice breaking at the last few words, and his grip on your hand loosened.

You refused to let him go. When you turned around, Luke’s façade had chipped. His eyes welled with tears, and soon enough, yours had, too. You pushed yourself against him in a tight embrace, arms meeting around his neck while his wrapped around your waist. The tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them.

You wondered why it was so hard. You wondered why it hurt so much.

You held him for as long as you could before losing your balance. Yet, when you pulled away, you didn’t let go of him. You stood on your toes to brush your nose against his.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, clutching the collar of his shirt as you pressed your lips to his through tear slicked cheeks.

Luke held you closer, and this time, he didn’t let you pull away. His lips were warm and wet, but it was perfect. Everything about him was perfect. It hurt so much. You wanted to kiss him forever.

When all air ceased, Luke rested his forehead against yours, and you could feel his own tears falling against your skin. His breath was hot on your lips. And then you pulled him in again, teeth clashing in a hard yet heartbreaking kiss. You didn’t care–– you just needed to feel his lips again.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled.

Your arms weakened around his shoulders, hands soon resting on his chest as you began to move away. It hurt to smile, but you did it anyway. “Gonna miss you, Squid,” you said, and your eyes watered once more.

Luke sniffed, and as your hand cupped his cheek, he leaned into you. He let out a breath. “Gonna miss you, too,” he said.

Your hand fell back to your side. “Well,” you said, swallowing down the tears that threatened to spill. You shot him another smile. “I’ll let you know when I land.”

He nodded. “Yeah, um––“ He scratched the back of his head. “Thank you.”

So, you nodded, too. “See you soon, String Bean.”

And finally, Luke smiled, too.

You gathered your belongings and slowly made your way to the security line, stomach twisting as your thoughts invaded. You couldn’t shake the negative feelings away. Every glance over your shoulder reminded you that you didn’t want to say goodbye. Every step felt erroneous. You looked back at Luke.

He waved at you, and your chest caved in.

It was wrong. Everything was wrong.

Your eyes scanned the line and the many travelers waiting with their tickets in hand. You looked at the agents who seemed less than pleased to be there that day. And finally, you locked your gaze back on Luke again, and your heart tugged.

It was wrong.

So, you left the line and walked back over to him, and he watched you the entire time.

“I’m sure there’s a later flight,” you sputtered out, heart pounding in your chest while a grin spread on his cheeks. You smiled in return.

“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “I’m sure there is.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck again and kissed him until your head spun. It finally felt so right.

1K notes · View notes

flutteringphalanges · 4 years ago

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The Necronomicon For Babies

Sequel to the one-shot: A Soul For Two

Summary: Sequel to the one-shot, "A Soul For Two", we find Maze and the others exactly one year later after the infamous demon became a mother. As the party prepares to celebrate little Eden's first birthday, an unexpected guest shows up on Chloe's and Lucifer's doorstep. A certain someone from Maze's past. A clue as to who Eden's father could really be.

Chapters: 1/2

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: A sequel to my mini fic (two chapters) "A Soul For Two" in which we visit Maze a year after she became a mom. As everyone gathers to celebrate the now one year old Eden's birthday, an unexpected stranger from Maze's past shows up on Chloe's and Lucifer's front door step. What drama will ensue?! Here's part one! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

Part One

Bubbly. That's the one word Mazikeen Smith would use to describe her daughter's nursery. If it had been up to her, the design would be more dark. Abysmal. But in the best, loving way possible. If it had been left up to her, Eden's room would've depicted the very essence of Hell. Apparently though, according to all of her friends-even Lucifer, who took Chloe's side-said that wasn't appropriate for a child. Instead it was filled with shades of pinks and purples, toys both plush and academic, and more frilly outfits than the demon could count.

"Surely you're going to dress her in something more...well, happier than that." Linda commented as the demon struggled to put the squirming baby into a black, velveteen dress. "It's her first birthday party, not a funeral."

"The head bow has sequins on it. That's as extreme as I'm willing to go." The demon replied, finally getting her daughter situated in the outfit. "There, I see absolutely nothing wrong with that." She motioned at the baby who had taken to chewing on her own fist. "I didn't even get a birthday party as a kid. Much less dressed for one. Black is the new...well, black."

The therapist, though incredulous of her best friend's tastes, sighed in defeat. "I guess the sparkles do help." She smiled as Eden's dark eyes met hers. "It seems like only yesterday that she was born."

"You humans and your perspective of time…" Maze tutted, lifting the one year old up. "Have you heard from Chloe? I told her I didn't want her to go overboard with this. Especially since she went behind my back and told Ella of all people she could help." The demon sighed and studied her daughter carefully. "As long as those decorations are put away for the day. It's Eden's birthday, not...it's her day."

Christmas. The word Maze couldn't bring herself to say. If she had to rank human holidays from least to greatest, Christmas would be in the negatives with Halloween at the top. Perhaps she had gone a little overboard with Eden's costume that year. It wasn't as if someone told her zombie babies weren't all the rage that year. So what if she overindulged just a little with the fake blood? For someone playing the part of "the undead" she was the cutest rotting corpse in all of the cemetery. At least Trixie thought it was cool.

"I've been in contact with her this whole time." Linda assured her. "Just birthday decor, other stuff's been set aside until after you leave. Funny enough, Trixie's been more excited for all of this than opening her own presents…" The therapist paused for a moment. "I was told you gave her something...unexpected."

"Hm?" Maze inquired, fixated on stuffing the diaper bag. "Oh, you mean the tecpatl. Just an Aztec blade I found in my mother's stuff. Come to think of it, it might've been used on her. Anyway, it was one of the few things of hers I took. Thought I could do something with it and Trixie seems to appreciate my choice in weaponry more than the rest of you."

"Trixie is also thirteen and could easily get expelled from school if she accidentally left it in her pocket during class." Her friend retorted. "Knives aren't for kids, Maze."

"I know." The demon replied, rolling her eyes. "You haven't seen Eden with one yet."

"And I hope it stays that way for a long while." Linda answered, letting out a soft, nervous chuckle. "I will say though, Maze, motherhood has looked great on you. I mean, Eden has flourished. Surpassing most of her milestones. I actually feel a little guilty for the doubt I felt in the beginning." She paused before quickly adding. "Just a teeny, tiny amount of concern."

"Well, I'm not Lilith." Her friend answered, slightly insulted by Linda's comment. "I remember how I was raised and made a promise to myself that I wouldn't subject Eden to that." She grinned as she held the baby to her face. "No abandonment in Hell for you, my precious sinner."

"We seriously need to work on better nicknames." The therapist snorted as she grabbed her purse. "Most people might not take it the right way when you call a baby a sinner."

"Amenadiel already lectured me last week when he heard me call her a fallen angel despite the affection behind it." Maze muttered. "I mean, Chloe calls Trixie "Monkey". What kind of name is that? And you with Charlie…"Peanut"? Where's the creativity? Never mind," she shook her head. "I'll think of something eventually that is at least reasonably acceptable to the general public."

The drive to Chloe's was mostly quiet, Eden having fallen asleep mere moments after Linda started the car. Maze gazed out the passenger side window thoughtfully, watching as the trees whizzed by and became buildings. Something was on her mind. Something unsettling that she just couldn't quite put her finger on. Perhaps it simply was due to it being Christmas. The demon had always despised the holiday. On more than one occasion than she was unwilling to admit, she'd nearly impaled Dan's hand with a fork when he jokingly called her a Scrooge-and even the Grinch reincarnated. Though she did look good in green.

"Something on your mind?" Linda inquired, tearing Maze away from her thoughts. "You look worried."

"I'm fine." She mumbled, inhaling deeply. "Just taking the day in...it's a big one."

"Not everyday your kid turns one." Her friend agreed with a smile as they turned into the parking lot. "I remember Charlie's so well. I can't believe we went with the Cookie Monster cake. I was scrubbing blue stains out of his clothes for hours. That icing had so much dye in it, it turned his poop blue. Nearly gave Amenadiel a heart attack. He thought something was wrong."

"Amenadiel's anxiety is almost unbearable." The demon replied, folding her arms over her chest. "I don't know how you do it. I know so many women in Hell who've killed their spouses simply because they drive them mad."

"I'm a therapist." Linda chuckled as she turned off the car. "I'm equipped to deal with that sort of thing. And besides, it's kind of sweet in a way…" She stepped out of the car, eyes glancing at a set of balloons bound to a doorknob. "Even if in the beginning, he literally tried to take my son to Heaven without me. Not the best moment in our relationship."

"Well, if you ever do decide to off him." Maze said, leaving her own seat to retrieve Eden. "I'll help you dispose of the body. Trust me, when I'm done, it'll be untraceable."

"...I'll keep that in mind…" Her friend responded slowly, a little disturbed by the woman's words. "But I think I'm good."

"All the same." The demon stated, Eden's face scrunching up as the sunlight hit it. Maze pulled the canopy down and the baby seemed to drift back to sleep. "What are friends for?"

"Why don't you go on and take her inside?" Linda suggested, quickly changing the conversation. "I'll grab the presents from the trunk. Looks like Amenadiel's car is already here, you can send him out to help. I'm sure Charlie is fine in his playpen. We got him this new toy that speaks French. Fingers crossed he can start picking up some of the language."

"I told you, I'd be more than happy to teach him Lilim." Maze called over her shoulder as she lugged the baby seat towards the stairs. "Perfect for whenever he decides he wants to visit Hell."

"After what happened when he was born. I don't want him stepping a foot near that place." Her friend answered. "A trip to France when he is old enough is good enough for me...but I appreciate the offer as always."

"Well, if you decide otherwise, it's still on the table." Maze smirked. "Though, I can equally be a translator if he ever wants a trip down there. Maybe with Amenadiel. Lucifer told me how it made him squirm. How I'd love a good show."

"I love you, but you do have a way of scaring me sometimes, Mazikeen," Linda replied. "It's a good thing we're friends."

"Yes," the demon agreed. "It's a very good thing."

Black. Blue. Red. A smidge of pink. No purple. For a split second, Maze was convinced she had walked into the wrong party until a certain girl came sprinting across the floorboards. Trixie Espinoza sporting pigtails painted with blue and pink hair chalk, smudged eye makeup, a ridiculous amount of red lipstick, and a familiar costume grinned widely at her.

"I'm Harley Quinn!" She stated as if it needed to be known. "Mom thought you wouldn't want a normal birthday for Eden, so I thought this would be cool!" She motioned around the room. "Do you like it?! Harley Quinn is awesome! She kicks as-butt, like you!" Trixie peered into the carrier. "Awe, she's asleep?" There was disappointment in her voice. "She's gonna wake up, right?"

As if summoned by the girl's words, Eden's eyes slowly opened and her mouth formed a surprisingly wide yawn. Maze undid the clips that strapped the baby into the seat and lifted her up into the air. This certainly hadn't been what she was expecting, but she was not about to argue against the theme.

"Normally, I would've assumed you'd have shown her this movie. But the guilty party this time is Lucifer."

Chloe smiled as she exited the kitchen, attention fixed on her honorary niece. She wore an apron, but it didn't appear to be as messy as one might assume when someone cooks. It was only when the demon saw the Devil peer out from behind the wall and note the smudges of flour and icing on his sleeves and shirt did she realize the true chef. The mastermind behind the whole feast.

"Be thankful one of us knows how to properly bake." Lucifer smirked as he wiped his hands on a dishrag. "The Detective's cupcakes were looking a little on the failed Pinterest side."

"Cake is cake." Chloe huffed, elbowing her boyfriend lightly. "Looks can be deceiving. They might even taste better than yours...despite the melted frosting."

"Believe what you will." Her partner smiled. "But I am the ruler of the kitchen and my reign has yet to be taken over. Although, brownie points towards your egg toast."

"Uncle Luci has no idea what he's talking about." The Detective crooned, tickling one of the baby's feet. "He's just insecure about his own baking abilities and tries to hide it." She straightened up so that she was face to face with Maze. "May I?"

"Pretty sure she has a dirty diaper, but sure." The demon replied, gingerly handing the baby over. "You guys didn't have to do all of this."

"We're family, Maze." Chloe smiled. "And trust me, this is just…"

"OH MY GOD!"

The adults and Trixie turned to see Ella, her costume in much greater detail than Trixie's, standing in the doorway. Behind her Dan juggled what looked like to be a few boxes of presents and a tub of ice cream. The overly excited scientist nearly tripped over her own to feet as she made her way over to the group.

"I just saw you last week and it's like you've gotten bigger since!" Ella gushed, adjusting Eden's bow. "Stop growing up so fast! You're going to make me cry!" She looked from Chloe to Maze. "Can I hold her?! Let me hold her!"

"Gotta wait your turn," Chloe stated. "I just got her."

"You suck, Decker." Ella pouted before her attention was redirected to Trixie. "Costume buddies!" And Maze couldn't help but roll her eyes and slightly smile as the two high fived. Humans. "Anyway, Amenadiel is out there helping Linda. Can I assist in any way?"

"Charlie's in the other room in his playpen where Trixie is supposed to be watching him." The Detective said eyeing her daughter. "Maybe make sure he isn't getting into anything?"

"He's fine, Mom." Trixie said with a wave of her hand. "I put Spongebob on. Amenadiel had Discovery Channel on and it was too boring. He seems to like it better anyways."

"All the same," Chloe continued. "He's a toddler and they like to get into things. The last thing we need is for something like that to happen." Her eyes flickered over to Dan who was still trying not to drop his items. "Remember when Trixie was three and somehow got into the medicine cabinet and drank half a bottle of cough syrup?"

"Poison Control probably thought someone was murdered the way you were panicking." Dan laughed slightly out of breath. "Can I maybe put these somewhere?"

"I don't know, I'm rather enjoying watching you play circus, Daniel." Lucifer sneered, earning him a glare from Chloe. "Alright, alright, fine. I suppose the kitchen table will do for the gifts and the ice cream in the freezer obviously." He shook his head and turned to his partner once the other man was out of sight. "Did we really have to invite him?" Another glower. "Fine, fine. I'll go do something to keep myself busy. Perhaps Amenadiel and Linda need help."

"I made Linda a similar offer earlier." Maze began as Chloe bounced Eden in her arms. "If you need me to dispose of Lucifer, just say the word."

"I think Mama needs to go out on a few bounties." The Detective cooed, staring at the demon as she spoke to the infant. "You can stay here for a few nights and we'll be just fine and dandy, isn't that right, Eden?"

Maze frowned at the woman's words. "I'm perfectly fine." She informed her, reaching forward to snatch her daughter back. "Right now, I am more than happy to focus on my kid...there will always be other jobs."

Though as the weeks turned into months, she had grown weary of sitting around the house. A thought that made her feel guilty. An idea that it was wrong of her to want to work instead of staying back with her child and focusing her attention there.

"Maze," Chloe's voice was softer this time. "It's been a year. There is no shame going back to work."

"I said I'm fine!" The demon insisted almost forcefully. "I'll go when I'm ready and right now...right now, I have things to do. Important things." Her stare met Eden's and the baby smiled. She did her best to return the gesture, but the thoughts of diapers and midnight bottles crossed her mind as they often did. "We're happy."

Before the Detective could open her mouth to reply, Linda, Amenadiel, and Lucifer stepped through the front door. Eden giggled, though she most likely had no idea that the boxes the adults carried were gifts for her. The thoughts left Maze's mind as the presents were piled on to one another. This was way more than the demon had expected. Almost excessive.

"Did you guys buy an entire store?" Maze half joked as she took it all in. "The kid's favorite thing at the moment is a spoon. Really, you didn't…"

"We know." They all said in unison.

Maze just shook her head in disbelief and bounced Eden in her arms. "You're a lucky kid." She commented, looking at the others. "Why don't we get this party started?"

And, like clockwork, as if the world and fate itself knew, there came a knock at the door. A knock that caused that bubbling in the pit of Maze's stomach to start up again. Chloe looked around confused as if recounting all of the guests.

"Did someone order something?"

Curiously, the Detective made her way to the front door and opened it. Maze felt her blood run cold, arms tightening around Eden as she stared dumbfounded at the stranger who gazed back equally as shocked. A man she hadn't seen well over a year. Someone she hadn't wanted to see at all.

Ben Rivers.

#Lucifer #Lucifer Morningstar #Chloe Decker #Mazikeen #Deckerstar #Maze x Ben #Ben Rivers #The Necronomicon For Babies #Maze

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falseroar · 4 years ago

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((Abe, a monster hunter, is distracted from chasing down a particular Colonel when he hears a rumor that he can’t let go without looking into it for himself.

Based on today’s prompt for Trail 5 of the Ten Trails Whump Challenge, “Muzzle”, this sort of went off track. Like I mentioned yesterday, think of this as a sort of in between story, after ITYC but a few years short of the present day.

Warnings: mentions of blood, animal cruelty, and light swearing))

Abe knew he shouldn’t be here. He had his own leads to follow, his own personal monster to hunt down, but he also knew that as soon as he heard the rumor, as soon as he heard that single word, he had no choice but to come and check it out.

Not that he bothered to share why he was so invested, when he came to this little village out in the middle of nowhere. He barely even had to ask any questions, as the people recognized him as a hunter as soon as they saw him and were excited to share what was probably the first interesting thing that had happened here in years. A couple of guys he didn’t bother to learn the names of immediately offered to show and tell him everything.

Everything about the werewolf.

“When did you say they showed up?” Abe asked as they led him deeper into the woods outside of town. The way they jumped at every crack of a twig and hint of a shadow, he guessed the village probably already had its own stories about the place before the recent arrival.

“Not sure exactly, but three days ago is when it came into the village looking for supplies,” one guy, the taller one who walked with a swagger when he wasn’t nervous, said. “Bought normal stuff for a traveler, but the butcher noticed when it came in and put in an order for meat, a lot of meat. More than one person traveling on their own should need.”

“How did you know that they were alone?” Abe asked, ducking under a tree limb and noting that despite the recent signs of multiple people passing this way recently, they weren’t following a normal trail.

The other guy, who had a way of smiling that made Abe check to make sure his gun was within easy reach, shrugged and answered, “Because there wasn’t anyone else with it? Some of us weren’t sure if it even knew how to really talk to people, the way it mumbled and wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. First sign something was off about it.”

Abe took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying hard to rein in his always short temper. He could save what he wanted to say to that until after he didn’t need these two anymore, although he felt his fingers twitch every time they said the word “it.”

“So how did you go from ‘there’s a new stranger in town’ to ‘werewolf’, exactly?” Abe asked, already prepared to learn that this was a wild goose chase that ended with him nursing a drink and hopes so dashed it was a wonder they kept coming back.

Again.

“Well, at first we were thinking it was a witch,” the taller man said. “Because it started asking around about herbs and plants and that night some of the teens spotted it walking outside the village walls at night, picking something in the moonlight.”

The other man smiled again and added, “And then their parents had a lot of questions about what they were doing out at night themselves, like we all didn’t know the answer to that.”

The two snickered, but the noise gradually died away into an awkward silence when the hunter didn’t join in until the taller man continued his story.

“But then old Mercer remembered that a farmer out near Wayforth told him that he’d seen a big beast back at the last full moon, and three of his cows had been killed by something big, and it would have got into Wayforth if their wards hadn’t held. And wouldn’t you know it, there was a full moon coming up the next night.”

The other man looked over his shoulder at Abe and said, “Well, it didn’t take much to put two and two together from there, did it? Us and a bunch of other men in the village talked about it all night and came up with a plan on how to deal with it.

“The butcher’s wife knew where some of those wolfsbane flowers grow, and they came up with a way to sort of test it, you know? Basically, she ground up some powder, and he mixed it into one of the packs of meat it was supposed to come and pick up. Lo and behold, when it came in the next day, it immediately snuffed out something was wrong and asked about that one pack, and when they said it was just some seasoning that must have got mixed in, it wouldn’t take it.”

The two men stopped when they realized Abe wasn’t following them and looked back to find the hunter staring at them in disbelief.

“Wolfsbane is poisonous, and not just to werewolves,” he pointed out.

“Well, yeah, but they planned on switching it out if it wasn’t a werewolf,” was the answer he got. “Sure, it was a waste of meat, but we had to know, didn’t we?”

The taller man added, “It didn’t want to stick around after that, but a group of us were already set up to follow it. We had planned on figuring out where it was holed up and coming back with something to take care of it for good, maybe a fire or something, but it realized we were after it somehow and took off running.”

“Not surprising,” Abe said. “A werewolf can hear your heartbeat and catch your scent long before you have eyes on them.”

He strode ahead of the two men, eyes on the less than subtle markers from yesterday’s chase. “So you tried to chase down someone you believed to be a werewolf. How’d that go for you?”

“Followed them all the way here,” one of the men answered him, just as Abe found where the trail ended.

It was a cave, or more like a tiny hole under a large rock outcropping, that looked like it could have been home to a bear or some other wild animal except most wild animals didn’t leave a store of chopped wood and gathered stones in neat piles outside.

Abe pulled a lighter from one of his many pockets and looked in before ducking under the low stone ceiling. The small light caught the circle of stones around the cold remains of a campfire, a worn pack resting against one earthen wall, various bags of recently bought groceries, and the mounds of wrapped meat hastily thrown to the other side.

“Why would they come back here when they were being chased?” he asked aloud, only to realize that he was alone. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the two guys standing at a distance from the mouth of the cave with their hands in their pockets, slouched as though they were just waiting around and not scared to come in here.

He rolled his eyes and looked back at the meager possessions left behind. He was surprised the food was still here after an entire night, but then he doubted any animal would be brave or desperate enough to come in here while the scent of a werewolf was still hanging around. The herbs they had been so interested in gathering were carefully sorted and bundled together in separate stacks, and after identifying a couple Abe suspected he knew what they had in mind long before he started looking through the pack.

A change of clothes, barely any money, a piece of paper folded and refolded so many times that it was soft to the touch, and at the bottom of the pack, a tiny drawstring bag that was so tightly knotted that it took one of Abe’s knives to get it open.

A single silver ring fell out into the palm of his hand, the letters inside barely legible with just his lighter to see by.

It took Abe so long to come back out that the two men were visibly relieved when the hunter reappeared and leaned heavily against the rock wall. He blinked a couple of times before remember the paper in his hand, which he carefully unfolded and began to read in the sunlight.

“What’s that?” the man with the uncomfortable smile asked.

“A recipe,” Abe said after a second. “Seen it around a few times, it supposedly makes a werewolf docile if taken on the night of a full moon.”

“Really?” the taller man asked. “Never heard of anything like that.”

“Because it doesn’t work,” Abe said. “Trust me, I’ve seen every so-called remedy or cure out there, and every one is concocted by a con artist or someone desperate enough to try anything. I heard of one guy selling a brew that didn’t so much cure a werewolf as leave them too weak to stand for half a month. Would have killed anything else that drank it.”

There was that smile again as that one asked, “Wouldn’t happen to know where we could get some of that, would you?”

“Not anymore,” Abe answered. “Someone else got to him before I did.”

Abe still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. By the time he got there, there was no sign of the crook, and every note and sample of his “cure” had either been destroyed or taken with him. Just as he wasn’t sure what the man’s fate might have been if he had caught up with him first.

So, one dud recipe to keep a werewolf calm during a full moon, enough meat to keep the wolf occupied for a while, and, judging by the stones piled up nearby, a plan to temporarily seal the entrance to the cave. They were setting up to weather a full moon, and instead these stupid wannabe vigilantes had chased them off.

By the time he was finished swearing, the other two were standing at a distance and looking ready to run themselves.

“Which way did they go?” Abe asked, stepping forward as they took another step back. “What did they look like?”

The two shared a look before the taller man said, “You mean you don’t know?”

Abe led the way back to the village, not outright running but apparently walking fast enough to leave the other two breathless and barely able to point him in the direction of the blacksmith’s workshop. The blacksmith saw him coming and had enough of a sense of self preservation to unlock the door and get out of the way long before the hunter reached him.

Abe slammed the door open and immediately regretted it when he saw the creature on the other side of the room flinch and cower away. The clink of iron chains didn’t quite drown out a weak whimper from the massive wolf that tried, and failed, to stand up as he moved closer. The full moon was gone, but it was possible they either didn’t have the strength or the will to change back.

The hunter stopped short halfway across the room when his eyes adjusted to the light, the crashing disappointment of realizing that the shade of the wolf’s coat and its eyes weren’t the one he desperately, stupidly hoped to see twisting and tangling itself up in the twin ache of seeing the muzzle wrapped around the wolf’s snout and head, the straps so tight after they changed that they were cutting into the skin in some places.

Funny, how quickly those feelings could turn into barely restrained rage.

Without turning around or looking behind him, Abe gathered enough control of his voice to say, “You put a muzzle. On a werewolf.”

The men seemed oblivious to the tone in his voice, but the werewolf’s ears twitched and one tired, bloodshot eye opened to look at him.

“Great, isn’t it?” He could hear the smile in the other man’s voice as he continued, “It was my idea for Blake to grind down some silver into dust, we coated the muzzles and chains in the stuff. Still thought it might escape when it went all hairy on us, but it worked!”

Silver dust. Abe could hear the labored breathing, see the short spasms as each of the wolf’s breaths brought in a fresh dose of poison. There were broken handcuffs on the werewolf’s front legs, below the heavy leg irons that must have been added afterwards to match the pair on their hind legs, both sets clearly old, but what he had mistaken for rust before was actually dried blood. A thick chain connected the leg irons to a ring on the wall which looked one or two more pulls away from being torn off. If not for the silver, they would have been able to escape easily, and under the influence of the full moon slaughtered who knows how many in the village.

He tried to keep that in mind, he really did, but then the man kept talking.

“Silver’s really the only stuff that works on these monsters, isn’t it? We tried all kinds of stuff last night, but nothing stuck. Probably a good thing though, since Mercer talked to his farmer friend and found out the Bronsons will pay out in exchange for a monster their institute can practice on. We just didn’t expect you to get here so fast, or I would have had a little more fun. Although if you want to give it a go, that fire poker over there—”

The crack of Abe’s fist against that stupid smile stung, but it felt good to see the guy crumple to the ground and finally stop talking.

He looked up at the guy’s buddy who was too shocked to do anything and said, “We have a strict policy against...you know what, just generally being an asshole.”

“Uh…”

Before the taller guy could catch up, Abe flashed his hunter’s badge with the assurance that no one in town would know the difference between him and the institute’s employees and started talking quickly. “Right, lucky for the institute I was already in the area. You got the keys that go to these cuffs and locks?”

“They’re on the anvil, but don’t you have a cage or something you need to bring in first?” the guy asked.

“Don’t need it,” Abe said, reaching into another pocket and pulling out a small drawstring bag. “You can’t cure a werewolf, but with the right stuff a good hunter can keep it under control.”

He made a show of holding the bag near the werewolf’s snout, who looked from him to the clearly visible outline of the ring inside the fabric and then back again. This close, he couldn’t tell if it was fear or hope in their eyes, but he knew that they could hear the words just under his breath that failed to reach the other man in the room. They didn’t have a lot of time before Smiles McGee over there woke up, and more importantly before the hunters who actually worked for the institute showed up, but at least he could give them a head start.

“Play along, and don’t make me regret this. Please.”

((Thanks for reading! I do plan on picking up the Traces of Silver series, and I’ve been working on the next story that I am dangerously tempted to title “Dog Days.” Please, someone, anyone, talk me out of this.

Also, it’s been so long I forgot to add a taglist. Oops.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch ))

#markiplier #fanfiction #traces of silver #wkm au #monster hunter au #werewolf #ten trails whump challenge #tw animal cruelty

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hallmark-movie-fanatics · 4 years ago

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Aaron Tveit on His Princely Role in 'One Royal Holiday' & Hopes for a Sequel

By Mandi Bierly

Yes, this Christmas movie premieres on Halloween. But once you see the chemistry between Broadway faves — and longtime friends — Laura Osnesand Aaron Tveit in One Royal Holiday, Tveit's romantic Countdown to Christmas debut, you’ll understand why. And, just like the two stars, we hoping it's the start of a Hallmark Channel franchise

“We started joking about that the first day,” Tveit says. “The next one could be One Royal Wedding. One Royal Baby..." (They’ll have to come up with new duets too — here, they sing Winter Wonderland for the opening credits.)

Tveit plays buttoned-up James, who’s stranded in snowy New England days before Christmas. Sympathetic nurse Anna (Osnes), unaware he’s the Crown Prince of Galwick, offers him and his mother (Tony winner Victoria Clark) rooms at her family’s Connecticut inn. While reclining by the tree and taking an impromptu carriage ride, James and the unlucky-in-love Anna slowly open up to each other, and he finds inspiration for the heartfelt holiday address he must deliver to his people.

The actor — who earlier this month scored his first Tony nomination for starring as bohemian Christian in Moulin Rouge! The Musical and is now filming an untitled Apple TV+ musical comedy series set in the magical land of Schmigadoon — hadn't worked since Broadway went dark in March (and he recovered from Covid-19). Then he received the One Royal Holiday script out of the blue in June. “I thought it was so simple and straightforward and heartwarming and meaningful,” he says. “And the timing for me—I was very, very grateful for many, many reasons.”

The movie was a chance to properly work with Osnes, with whom he'd only previously done concert events. The cast and crew formed their own little bubble in July, staying at the two Woodstock, Connecticut inns that were used for shooting. “It was a wonderful thing to get right to working so early in this new world, and to see that it could work,” he says. “There was a comfort in knowing that we were all together, in the same boat. And something that I didn't realize till afterwards is that in a time that's so not normal, once the cameras are rolling, I got to do something that was very normal. It was quite a gift.”

Here, we asked Tveit to preview a few of the presents that await viewers. Bonus: the movie's costume designer, Lorraine Coppin, chimes in on her greatest finds.

Prince James' Accent

Of course he has one; Galwick is a (fictional) country in northern Europe. Tveit initially pitched a Scandinavian accent, in honor of his own ancestry. "I thought, 'How fun could that be?' I think they thought I was joking, but I was serious," he says with a laugh. Deciding it might pull a little too much focus, he opted for what he describes as a traditional, upper-class British accent. "The idea was maybe James studied in London," he reasons. "There's a heightened quality to that accent that helps sell the royalty factor."

Prince James' Dreamy Sweater

Every leading man in a Hallmark Christmas movie needs one. Bravo to this film for making it a genuine plot point. At first, James is all business, worrying about winning over his people and the prime minister back home, so he only wears suits. But then Prince (Eventually) Charming loosens up enough to borrow a cozy cable knit from his security detail, Christopher (Bradley Rose). “It definitely was a big discussion point,” Tveit admits of finding the sweater. While it may have its own Chris Evans-in-Knives Out moment, that movie wasn't Coppin's inspiration (she hadn't even seen it). She says she just wanted something that looked authentic — "sexy, but rugged and wintery, without being over the top." Her first choice was a wool fisherman's sweater that both she and Tveit thought was gorgeous, just not ideal for filming in the middle of summer. "It was meant-to-block-out-the-wind-off-the-North-Sea kind of real," he says.

Because of the bubble, Coppin wasn't allowed to shop in person, so she scoured the internet looking for a more breathable option and found the cotton J.Crew match (above). "He was so happy that he was like, 'Can I have that on my way out the door?'" Coppin remembers. Tveit went home with the sweater andJames' three-piece pinstripe Connaisseur Paris suit (below), she says.

A Fresh Take on the Traditional Festivities

A good holiday movie uses the requisite Christmas activities to advance the story, not just as set decoration. In addition to the aforementioned heart-to-hearts in front of the Kentsbury Inn's Christmas tree and during the carriage ride back from the town's parade, there's a gingerbread house contest that reveals more than James' passion for architecture (Tveit's skills were rusty: "I think the only gingerbread house I ever built was in fifth grade," he says). Even the caroling, led by the mayor/Anna's friend Sara (fellow Broadway vet Krystal Joy Brown), serves a purpose other than simply making us wonder how well James should sing. "It was definitely a question," Tveit admits. "I thought, maybe James can sing, he's just a bit reluctant to do so. So my focus was more about him being a little late to the game. I think that's what pays off: When I finally do join in, it's at a time where he's gone through some changes and Laura's character has clearly affected him in a way that he feels comfortable enough to do that now."

The Christmas Eve Ball

It all builds to this. Naturally, Osnes — who earned the first of her two Tony nominations starring in Rodgers + Hammerstein's Cinderella, with Clark as her Fairy Godmother — took lead on choreographing the climactic dance. “One afternoon, we spent about an hour out in front of our inn, in the parking lot, staging this waltz in street clothes,” Tveit recalls with another laugh. “People from the crew were walking by, turning their heads, not knowing what we were doing.” On the day they shot it, their efforts stopped the show: “It was a point of pride for us," he says.

Equally applause-worthy is Osnes' sparkly MAC Duggal gown, one of 10 options the costume department considered. Says Coppin, "It was the second dress we put on her, and we never tried the other eight. We were like, 'It's Grace Kelly. It's Cinderella. It's perfect." (That's true; it has pockets.)

A New Countdown to Christmas Classic

We predict this movie will be in rotation for years to come. "I hope so," says Tveit. He discovered just how popular Hallmark's holiday movies are when his father shared that a couple of his golf buddies were "very surprised and very excited" to hear that he'd be doing one. "That just goes to show the wide reach of these and how many people love them. Because it's a great thing, right? You get to come together and tune into these great stories with your family. If this can become a part of people's holiday experience and they want to see it [every year], that's a very special thing to be a part of." Especially if One Royal Weddingwere to get the greenlight. "We mentioned it to the writer, that we'd have the whole plot of the next film already worked out," he says. "So whenever they want to start filming, let us know."

One Royal Holiday, Movie Premiere, Saturday, October 31, 8/7c, Hallmark Channel

Link to full article at tvinsder.com HERE

#interviews #aaron tveit #link #hallmark movies #one royal holiday #countdown to christmas #hallmark channel #photo preview

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nananaptime · 5 years ago

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Necklace of fate

I’m on a roll today! xD

Masterlist Rules

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1 951

Summary: A world where you’re handed a necklace at birth which will help you find your soulmate.

The slight coldness of the incomplete locket was something I barely registered by now. Having felt it against my skin for as long as I could remember caused it to turn into a part of me. However, the fact that it had never changed in temperature was somewhat sad as that was the one sign your soulmate was near. Once it started growing warmer, all you had to do was analyse the temperature and move towards its hottest spot. That is if you want to meet your soulmate of course. As not everyone was too fond of the idea, the thought of finding my soulmate often caused a nervous knot to form in my stomach. What if they didn’t care to get to know me at all? My fate was lying in their hands, as they decided whether or not I was to be forever alone.

I touched my fingers to the locket as I made my way towards the practice room. I know I should’ve been more excited about the fact that my group was finally going to debut but having spent yesterday’s evening entertaining that feeling, the only one left was the excitement for a whole new world of people to open up in front of me. What if my soulmate was active in the music industry? That might explain why it had taken so many years before my necklace decided to increase its warmth.

Mia hooked her arm through mine once I entered the room, ready to start the dance practice, wanting it to be perfect for future variety shows as well as music performances. The energy was through the roof and I was happy to see my members so happy about the schedules for the day. Knowing that we had no more than a couple of hours before we had to be at the arena to prepare for our debut performance and then yesterday the entire day was to be spent in preparation for the MAMAs to which we were invited.

I managed to gather the girls to tell them my plan of just going through the performance and work on the parts we struggled with. They were all satisfied with the initiative and we were at it within five minutes. The excited feeling in my belly not disappearing for a second.

That evening, the girls were more excited than ever. The stylists even had to scold them a couple of times due to not being still when getting their makeup done. I just silently laughed at them, finding their giggly behaviour endearing. It took some time, but finally, we were ready to meet our fans for the first time. Mia, being extremely energetic, walked up to me, a big smile covering her features.

“Y/N! Can you believe this? Right this moment, people are filling the seats, the tickets were sold out! I am in awe!” I’ve never seen her this giggly before, it was almost like people would’ve mistaken her for the maknae of the group. I was about to answer when I felt my skin heat up. More specifically, the skin being covered by my locket. I gasped, instantly taking hold of it and lifting it from my skin, slightly startled by the sudden increase in temperature. Looking at Mia, she registered the alarm in my eyes in a moment, glancing down at my necklace and then looking at me again with a big grin on her face.

“Out of all places. I guess you have an even bigger reason to be excited now. We’re debuting and you’re about to meet your soulmate!” She grabbed my arms, forcing me to look at her and hence let go of the locket, causing the warm object to hit my skin once again. “Hey! Your soulmate is a fan of ours, that’s amazing!” I slowly pried her hands off of me.

“Yeah, which is why it will be near impossible to find them in the big group of people.” Her face fell when she realised the difficulty of the situation.

“Well…” She quickly managed to put a smile on her face once again. “Since it’s meant to be, you’ll meet them soon enough, this is just the first step.” I couldn’t help but giggle at her enthusiasm, even though I doubted it would be that easy.

I had no more time to think about that however, as our manager approached us as got us moving towards the stage.

It went perfect! Not one mistake, the high notes were on point, the rapping was as hot as fire and the dancing was as sharp as knives. Although the unusual heat of my locket acted as an uncomfortable reminder of a certain someone’s presence in the building caused some focus to slip from my mind. I was satisfied and relieved that no mistakes had been made during the most important performance of our lives. By the time we left the building, the locket was back to the familiar coldness against my skin.

The next day everyone was experiencing slight fatigue due to the lack of sleep everyone had as the excitement had been too evident. I had to force breakfast into most of my members in the morning and get them into our van on time in order not to be late to the rehearsals for the MAMAs. It came as no surprise when all of them ended up taking a nap on the way there, too tired to feel even an ounce of the excitement which had been present the day before. I took the chance myself and closed my eyes for ten minutes before ushering my members out of the car and into the building, trying to find our dressing room.

I tried paying no mind to the way my locket heated up as I entered the building, knowing that as the leader, I had to make sure my members were at the right place at the right time, no matter how much my heart protested.

Once at the dressing room, our stylist made us sit down and then act as mannequins as she dressed us for the occasion. I was very thankful to our stylist as she managed to keep it appropriate and at the same time extremely fashionable. She also understood when some of us would rather perform in flats than heels.

She was finished quickly and while the rest of my team decided to get some of the dance steps down, I opted to walk the building and look around, making sure that I knew what direction we were to go in when rehearsal began and when the time came for the award show to take place.

I rounded a corner and walked straight into someone’s chest. Looking up, I was met by a pair of shocked eyes as the person in question did not expect to be halted in his steps in such a manner. As I stepped back and took a better look I realised I had walked into the one and only NCT’s Renjun. I spluttered out an apology while bowing before trying to walk past him and find the entrance to the stage. However, a grip on my arm stopped me from walking any further.

“Wait, wait. You don’t need to apologize, it could happen to anyone.” I nodded, slightly awkward at his attempt at conversation. “I’m Renjun.” He extended his hand which I grabbed and shook.

“I know, I’m Y/N and I’m kind of a fan.” He chuckled at that.

“Well, so am I, but of your group, of course.” I gave him a shocked look, not expecting an idol to be a fan of us this early on in our career. He chuckled again. “We were at your debut showcase yesterday, Chenle, Jisung and I. You were awesome!” I couldn’t help but smile at the praise. Thanking him for his kind words, I explained my pursue for the way to the stage which he managed to be more than helpful as he offered to take me there and show me. We met up with Chenle on the way there who couldn’t stop going on about yesterday’s showcase, causing a very evident blush to appear on my face.

I touched my locket again, feeling it heat up more and more with every step and, along with it, the feeling in my stomach grew. Renjun noticed where my attention was at and commented on the obvious state of my necklace.

“Yeah, it started doing that yesterday as well, wish it would’ve started sooner and not interrupt such an important event as this. I need to concentrate.” He nodded understandingly, mentioning how he would never have the focus to perform with the knowledge of his soulmate being close by and hence, giving me props for pulling it off yesterday. All of a sudden, Chenle emitted a sound of surprise, causing both me and Renjun to jump out of our skin.

“Jisung’s necklace was also heating up yesterday at the showcase, he could barely concentrate, just looking around for someone who might be experiencing the same thing.” His shocked expression was exchanged for a happy one and he expressed certain knowledge of Jisung being my soulmate. I waved him off, not believing it to be true until it was obvious. Chenle rolled his eyes before fishing his phone out of his pocket, suddenly immersed in the contents of it.

A couple of minutes later he turned his attention back to me and announced with a smug smile that Jisung was checking out the stage as well. Then he grabbed my arm and started pulling me in the direction which we were headed.

The spotlight was already on the stage as the crew was making sure everything was working correctly. Jisung was standing with his back towards us, his outline illuminated by the light in front of him, making him look like some kind of angel. He and the other two were already clad in their outfits for Boom and hence, all ready for the award show to begin.

Jisung seemed to be frozen in shock and soon he turned towards us, his fingers on his locket and a confused look on his face. My locket went ballistic, heating up to such a temperature that it almost burned my skin, causing me to remove it with a shriek of surprise. Jisung’s eyes snapped towards mine and at the same time, Chenle decided that it was a good idea to give me a strong push in Jisung’s direction. With a small “oof” I stumbled forward, only coming to a stop when a startled Jisung caught me before I fell to the floor. Our eyes locked and before I could register what happened, my locket had lifted from my skin on its own accord and interlocked with Jisung’s in between us, connecting in a clash of heat.

Neither I nor Jisung knew what to say, all we could do was stare at each other like the love-struck fools we were. Then, acting as the perfect factor needed to ruin the moment, Chenle whispered loudly from behind us.

“Kiss, kiss!” Jisung gave him an exasperated look and shooed him off, causing Renjun to laugh and drag Chenle away, leaving me and Jisung alone on centre stage. He then glanced down towards out lockets, reached up and carefully separated them again. Now, however, as it settled back against my skin, it didn’t give away the usual cold feeling which I was so used to, but rather a comfortable warm presence. It made my heartbeat increase immensely. Jisung then looked at me again and a small, awkward chuckle left his lips, causing me to giggle.

“So?” He inquired. “Date?”

#nct #nct scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #scenarios #jisung #park jisung #nct jisung #nct Dream #nct Dream scenarios #nctzen #music #nananaptime

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cap-winter-barnes · 5 years ago

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I Almost Lost You (1/?) - Dean Winchester x Reader

This is the first time that I have wrote for Dean so I’m hoping it’s okay. Really enjoyed this one, will be writing more parts in the near future. Please let me know what you think.

Masterlist - requests are OPEN

Word Count: 2510

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Guns & Knives. (Isn’t anything with the Winchesters a warning within itself?)

Grants Pass, Oregon - a place to raise a family and to embrace the outdoors. Something the Winchesters would never be able to do safely. There was nothing that Dean wanted more than to settle down with you. To start a family with you. But this life? There was no chance of that, not after being a hunter for so long. Not since, he’d gone to hell and back. It was too risky, even if he did leave the life. But then there was you. You were a hunter too. You led a similar life to that of the brothers – raised to be a hunter, to kill the monsters and to keep people safe. That was your job.

You had met Sam and Dean back in 2006, during a case in Rockford, Illinois. Dean had saved your life after you had become trapped inside the Roosevelt Asylum by the spirits residing there. It was later that evening that you had agreed to stick with the boys, you’d spent so long working alone, that you’d forgotten what it was like to work alongside someone again. Both of them being skilled hunters made your decision even easier.

Further down the road, you and Dean had both come to the realisation that there was more between you. It was after Dean had been captured by the Djinn. You had been terrified of losing him. Terrified that you never got to admit how you felt. To tell him that you loved him. You’d become angry at Sam for not trying hard enough to find his brother, when he was trying the best he could with the resources. After you had calmed down, you had apologised to him and explained how you truly felt about the eldest Winchester.

Sam had spent hours trying to track the location of the lair down. Dean had been too stubborn and headstrong to even think to tell you both where he was headed. When you had finally found him, your heart broke. He was so pale and weak, on the brink of death when you had roused him. Sam had barely gotten him unhooked before you had pulled him tightly into your arms and held him against you. He was so cold and the warmth from your body was what he needed to give him the strength to stand. Putting his weight onto you, you guided him back to the impala whilst Sam checked on the girl inside the Djinn’s lair.

The news that the young girl that had been kept there with him had survived was in a stable condition was enough to keep Dean going until you got back to the motel off the interstate.

Back in the room, you had sat in the armchair near the window, watching as Dean got out a change of clothes and headed to the bathroom. Sam had gone to get takeout, burgers and fries at Dean’s request, and also pie. Cherry of course.

The bathroom door shut behind the man you had fallen so helplessly in love with. Taking that as a sign to do something, you began to flick through the pamphlets that were organised haphazardly on the bedside table. Whilst leafing through a brochure on rentable log cabins, you heard a wretched sob come from behind you. Instantly, you had put down the paper in your hands and stood from the chair. You had tiptoed across the room to the door and listened silently. Another sob came from Dean and your heart shattered. You had never seen him so upset, yet alone heard him sound like that.

You knocked on the door gently and entered as you heard the sobs turn into sniffles. Inside, the sight caused goose-bumps to run along your skin, your heart ached in your chest. Dean was propping himself up on the basin, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His skin was still pale, and his face was gaunt. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced underneath the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. He was stood wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts, which had allowed for you to see the mass of scars and bruises that littered his body. You would soon learn that his skin was hardly ever free of them.

Without any hesitation you grabbed him and held him close, tighter than at the Djinn lair, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other tangled in his hair. Sobs wracked his body again as he clung to you.

After a few moments of standing like that and after Dean’s sobs had subsided you pulled away slowly. He had stared at you innocently, his gaze following your eyes, silently thanking you. He had wiped a tear that had fallen halfway down your cheek and then without warning he had pulled you in for a searing kiss. His hands had stayed on either side of your face as his lips moulded with yours. He had pulled away breathless, as had you. That was when he had thanked you with words.

From that moment back in 2007, you had shared plenty more kisses through the years. A relationship had blossomed, which had led you to the day before last. An engagement ring sat pretty on your finger, glistening under the natural light of the sun. Dean was sat next to you staring in awe as you admired the diamond he had saved for. The smile on your face was something he never wanted to forget. The moment you had said ‘yes’ was the happiest of his life, and it wasn’t even five minutes ago since it had happened. Sam was waiting patiently a few meters away from them, leaning against the hood of the Impala. Dean had confided in his little brother about his plans to propose to you, and Sam couldn’t have been more onboard if he tried. He was happy for the both of you and it showed on his face.

Looking at his watch, Sam moved away from Baby, and opened the passenger door. Sliding across the leather, he waits, the door sitting open for when you and Dean return.

Another ten minutes of peaceful bliss, and you and Dean both make your way back to the Impala and Sam. He leaves his seat and stands, coming over towards you, his arms open wide. A congratulatory hug followed by a kiss to the forehead has you beaming with joy.

“I’m so happy for the both of you.” His words are laced with happiness. The smile on yours and Dean’s faces never faltering as the brothers embrace.

“Thank you, Sammie.”

You entered the Impala, taking your usual place in the backseat, directly in between the brothers.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You perk your head up at Sam’s voice.

“Do you not want to ride up front with Dean?” Shaking your head, you grab your backpack from next to you and remove the lore book that you had been looking into before you had stopped off.

“Sammie!” Dean was walking around to the driver’s side, his hand skimming across the roof of the car. “Her seat is the backseat, you know that.”

“Bu- But I just thought that since, you know, you’re engaged, that she’d want to sit up front with you?”

“If she wants to sit in the back, she can sit in the back dude.” He raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to make sure you’re not listening before he addresses Sam again. “You know full well she’ll be asleep halfway down the road anyway.” The brothers chuckle before simultaneously entering the Impala and slamming their doors closed.

--Present Day---

That all lead to here, now. Grants Pass, Oregon. Dean was entirely correct when he said you would fall asleep. The three of you hadn’t even made it off the interstate before you were sleeping peacefully on the backseat. Your lore book still clutched between your fingers.

Dean had drove through the night and then when they stopped for gas, he and Sam swapped. He watched you for most of the journey, before falling asleep himself – his back rested against the door, his head hanging forward towards his lap.

Arriving in Grants Pass, Sam parked Baby and then grabbed Dean’s shoulder to wake him up.

“Dean.” He jumped awake at the sound of his name, his eyes immediately locking onto your sleeping form. His body relaxing when saw that you were okay. A grin spread across his face as he caught a glimpse of your engagement ring on your hand.

“Earth to Dean.”

“Sorry, what?”

“We’re here. And the place looks like a ghost town.”

The brothers exit the car, leaving the doors open as to not wake you. They glance around at the desolate town. Across the parking lot, a lone truck pulls in, Bobby sat behind the wheel, Castiel to his right looking bemused as usual.

The sound of a car door slamming is what wakes you. Your eyes fly open with a start, but you relax when you realise you are still on the backseat of Baby. Lifting your head; you see Dean, Sam, Cas and Bobby conversing. The four of them look concerned. When Castiel turns to look at you, he quickly diverts his gaze. The conversation between the men and the angel ceases. Dean leaves the small huddle and walks across towards you. He props his hand on the door and peers into the car, a smile gracing his features.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?” You brush your hair from your face as you sit up, cracking your neck as you move your head around.

“Good.” You nod and smile at him; your voice is croaky from sleep.

“Well, we made it to old Grants Pass. Now we’ve just got to find this Eve.” He takes your hand as you climb over into the front seat, pecking you on the lips as you eventually manoeuvre yourself out of the vehicle.

“I need to eat first Dean.”

“That’s my girl.” He chuckles as you close the door with your hip. Shoving your hands into your jean pockets.

After grabbing lunch, the five of you try and work out the best approach at dealing with Eve. You all know that she is in the town somewhere, just the exact location is an issue.

Bobby suggests talking to someone that will know a little bit more about the situation, but Cas is one step ahead of the rest of you.

He observes movement in a diner that stands across the street from the parking lot you were all stood in.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cas turns to look at Dean, the look on his face says it all. Eve has in fact been milling around in the diner ever since you all entered the town.

“Okay, this is the plan.”

You had so desperately tried to stay hidden, you really had. But what the hell were you supposed to do when she had threatened Dean? Threatened all of you?

As you burst through door, glass shattering across the linoleum floor, a demon had grabs you from behind. Your gun spiralling across the ground, right under Eve’s shoe. She looks from you to the boys, who were sitting nursing pissed expressions. They had been played and had walked directly into a trap.

Eve leans down and grabs the gun from the floor, twirling it between her fingers. You had to admire her grace in the action.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here boys?” Her tone is drenched with malice as she approaches you. Deans face hardens as he glares at her, his jaw ticking as his Adams apple bobs in his throat.

“Let her go.”

Eve whirls around the face him, a wicked smile on her face.

“Oh Dean, it’s not going to be that easy.” She toys with the gun in her hands and turns again to face you. That’s when Dean makes the choice to stand from his seat. “Take one more step Dean and I snap her pretty little neck.”

The demon holding you moves his arms so that they’re wrapped around your neck. You choke as you struggle to take in air at the tightness of his grip.

“I said let her go.” Dean is visibly shaking with anger as he looks to you with concern.

“You boys never learn, do you?” Eve stares at you bemused. “And I see there’s another Winchester on the way too.” She steps closer to you, it’s only now that you notice the blade clutched in her palm.

“What are you talking about?” Dean chokes on his words as he stands perfectly still. He can’t risk losing you. Not now that you’re to be married.

“Are you really that stupid, Dean.”

“Dean-“ Your words are cut off by the blade at your throat. Fighting back tears you make eye contact with Dean across the room. This isn’t how you wanted him to find out.

“Baby?” He’s close to tears, you can see it. His eyes are glossy, and his lip is trapped between his teeth. Shaking his head, he looks at the linoleum beneath him.

“Oh, you didn’t know you were going to be a daddy?” She feigns shock and puts on a fake sympathetic smile. She then turns her attention back to you. A soft, sarcastic sorry leaves her lips. That is when she slowly begins to drag the tip of the blade down your neck, across your chest, to your stomach, adding a small amount of pressure, just not enough to break the skin. Yet.

“Take me instead.” Dean’s words are rough and full of anger. You struggle against the demon holding you tightly, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“Dean, no!” Your words are silenced, Eve’s power forbidding you from saying anything else.

“You take me instead; do you hear me? You take me instead, and you let her go.” His hands are held above his body in surrender.

Your body keeps fighting against the demon who still isn’t budging. Sam is still stood in shock, watching everything unfold. It’s too risky to intervene. Not when you’re in the condition you are.

“Well, that does seem like a good exchange.” Eve retracts the blade and advances towards Dean, who stands with a cold gaze. She toys with him, dragging the blade across the skin of his jaw. He doesn’t flinch, not even when the blade nicks his lower lip and blood trickles slowly down his chin. You hold your breath and hope that he doesn’t do anything stupid. “Now, Dean Winchester.” She tuts and halts directly in front of him. “Instead of taking you, as one of my children. How about we make a deal?”

“A deal?” Sam finally speaks but is soon silenced lie yourself.

“Be a good boy Sam and keep your trap shut.” Composing herself, Eve continues her offer. “I spare your life, and theirs.” She gestures to you.

“And my friends?”

“Yes, and your friends. Little Sammy too.”

“And what deal would we be talking?”

#Dean Winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagines #Dean Winchester imagine #dean imagine

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exodeuzx · 5 years ago

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You Have No Idea What I Am | Sehun

Pairing; Oh Sehun x You

Genre; Dark Romance, Thriller, High School AU, Semi-Gangster! AU

Word Count; 3.1K

Warning; Character behavior; Obsessive, School Fights, Mentions of Death (A bit brutal descriptions)

Moodboard; Gangster! Sehun made by @pororodks

Reminder; Typos and Grammars are present in this drabble. This is a drabble. Pictures used in the moodboard are not mine. They all belong to the people who own it. All events, places, time and other characters are made up— most especially Oh Sehun who is only a representation to this imagine, he doesn’t belong to the writer

You and Sehun have been in a relationship for a year and your relationship with him is pretty popular at the school you two have been attending to.

It was 2 years ago, both of you met when you were still new to the school, you were rushing your way to your classroom when you felt yourself impacting someone's chest. He was rude to you, you looked up to him, you could feel his cold eyes staring back at you like knives stabbing onto your body as you immediately apologized.

He rolled his eyes and walk passed you, roughly brushing his shoulders to yours. You knew he was annoyed and you didn't want to give someone a bad impression on your first day.

On the next day, you tried to find him during lunchtime when you came across a hallway, you then noticed him being surrounded by a group of men at the distance. You froze at your spot but immediately went to the corner to hide and peek at what they’re doing.

Your eyes widened when the group of people starting attacking him, this was bad, you could hear the sounds of grunting and groaning while you were there hiding in the corner, your hands cupped to your mouth to prevent noises.

You never felt so panicked in your entire life when Your phone then started ringing, the men at the distance were alarmed by the irritating sound of a phone call. "Who's there? Come out!" One of the men spins around to look around if someone was witnessing the scene.

You didn't have a choice but to show yourself, your body trembling at the sight of them dangerously staring at your figure. They eyed you for a couple of seconds before one of them walks up to you and grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it roughly as you shrieked at the sudden action. You whimpered, clasping your hands on the man’s wrist and struggled out of his grip on your hair.

"Looks like someone's worried," One of them snickered, watching another man walking in your direction. He smirks at your state, you were inches apart from the guy when his hands made its way to your face, squeezing both of your cheeks with only one hand.

"Is this your girlfriend, Sehun?" He smirks. Sehun only glared at him, fist-clenching tightly as he watched you struggling with the tears streaming down to your cheeks before he grabs the arm of a student if holding him in place, twisting it as he pushed him to the ground, earning a loud grunt escaped the student’s lips.

He then kicks the students who were now charging at him, he was so relentless, taking down the students so they could start to run away from him. He turns to gaze at your direction and jolts his way to you, pulling the guy in front of you away and punching the other one who was holding you in the face.

“Stop!” You pulled onto the jacket he was wearing while he punched the man too many times although he was already knocked out from all the beating. “Stop! You could kill him!” You cried out. He eventually stops and looks at your eyes filled with panic and fear. He then grabs your arm as he pulled you to somewhere where the two of you could hide.

His eyes then averted to you, "What the hell were you doing there? Do you want to get beaten?" He fired at you which made you fidget your fingers and avoided his eyes but you felt his hand grabbing onto your chin as he shifts it up for you to look at him.

You then felt your cheeks heating up, your heart was beating so fast when he moves closer to you, not breaking the eye contact.

You then felt a lump in your throat. "S-Sehun?" You called out to him as he snaps and moves away from you, he then looks out to see if the students were still there and gaze back to you, "You’re lucky I saved you, even though we barely met. You should be careful sometimes on what you are encountering."

He stands up and reaches a hand out for you stand as well. You grabbed onto his hand, pulling yourself up to stand, “You should go and attend your class.”

You nodded, you were about to turn around and leave him, however, Sehun grabbed your wrist which made you gaze at his direction again. “Meet me tomorrow at the rooftop.”

You wanted to ask why he wanted to meet you but he already left you there alone. Your heart pounding so rapidly after the whole thing that happened on the 2nd day of attending school.

You came back to your classroom with the students and the professor already inside. The professor stopped talking and turns to look at you with her hands placed on her hips. “May I have the reason why you are late today?”

You looked down, fingers fiddling and answered, “I got lost on my way here,” She sighs and points at a vacant chair at the back. “Alright, but don’t do it again or I’ll tell this to your advisor for being late on the 2nd day.” You nodded at her statement as you walked to the back and sat on the vacant seat.

The next day, it was boring as usual when the sound of a bell had rung. Students pack up their valuables and left the classroom without making noise while you quickly shoved your things to your bag and ran outside the room. You ran towards the stairs that lead to the rooftop, opening both doors to be greeted by the strong wind and beautiful blue sky. You scanned everywhere to search where the tall guy—or Sehun is until a voice was calling you.

"Looking for me?" Your eyes widened and look behind you to see him, his hands on his pockets, the first and second buttons on his uniform were unbuttoned and his bangs were hiding some part of his forehead.

His lips curved to form a smile making you smile back, eyes brightening up when he takes your hand, and walked to the other side of the rooftop to watch the beautiful scenery.

And so you would meet him every day at the rooftop to hangout. He was the only guy you could trust, and he was the person that protects what matters to him against the other people who tried to pull you down.

Students were astonished by the friendship you had, others tell you to stay away from him, others say he couldn’t be trusted but you brushed them off, thinking that were only trying to threaten you.

Some girls warned you to stay away from their Sehun, but Sehun said to ignore them because they were just jealous. It was like a typical story where the girl antagonist tells the main girl to stay away from the lover, what a deja vu.

You spending time with him went for years until the day came, he had called you to meet with him somewhere, you asked him if there were any special occasions he told you it would a secret, plus, he wanted to see your reaction.

You arrived at the school garden where Sehun told you to meet him. You eventually found him standing beside the school’s fountain, the water continuously running down the basin. You cleared your throat to get his attention as he turns around to see you standing in front of him. “So why do you want me to come here—“

A surprised expression left your face when his slim fingers trailed to cup your neck, his face leaning to yours, capturing a kiss from your lips. You couldn’t believe he was kissing you right here, right now. You didn't hesitate to give in, clutching onto the jacket he was wearing. When the kiss didn’t last long, he panted, resting his forehead against yours. “I like you.”

“Well you could’ve confessed first before kissing me out of the blue.” You chuckled, widely smiling at him, giving him a light smack on his arm.

You’ve been dating for the whole school years, but in those relationships you promised each other not to hide anything and not to be involved in any school fights. While your relationship with Sehun kept on going, the students around you start to notice. Although you don't like the sound of getting the attention, you just stayed quiet.

You placed your books in your locker, and as you were about to close it, some of the girls in school walked up to you as if you were some sort a celebrity standing on the corner, "I heard about your relationship with Oh Sehun, oh you're so lucky to be with him!" One of them exclaims.

"I know right, you two are a perfect couple!" The other squeals, looking like they were admiring a role-model. You nervously chuckled while rubbing your nape, "Thank you," You gave them a soft smile before walking away.

While walking by the hallways that were occupied by a lot of students, you could hear the chatters from every corner of the hall, you looked to a group of students laughing and sharing stories, you sighed, it would be nice if you were to have a friend, but Sehun was the only one you could trust for all your high school years.

Before you could even leave the hall and enter your next class, you then felt a sudden smack impacting to your ass as you gasp in surprise, cheeks turning red. Your eyes widened and immediately turned around to see a guy, plastering a weird at to you, "My my my, no wonder the Oh Sehun made you his girlfriend, you're quite pretty than I have expected to be since the last time we met."

Shit, it was the guy you encountered in the hallway years ago when you met Sehun.

He slithers his hands to your waist, you bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face as you moved away from the guy. "Please leave me alone," you muttered, you could feel the other students eyeing the two of you, he then chuckled as he grabbed your wrists tightly, "What about leave Oh Sehun and be with me—"

"Let go of her this instant,"

Your eyes widened when your boyfriend abruptly pushed the guy away from you as the guy stumbled on the floor, eyes dangerously glaring at the guy. You knew he was about to beat him up. "How dare you fucking lay your hands on her." he was about to punch him but you grabbed his arm and looked at him, your eyes begging him to not make a scene.

His cold eyes stare at you before turning to the guy, "You will pay for this." He says before he was being pulled to the other hallways by you. You folded your arms, placing them against your chest. “I’m begging you to stop getting involve in fights, Sehun.” You started, all he did was to look down to the floor with his fist clenching hardly.

“It's better to just confront them, I don’t care if you threaten them or curse at them but please, No fighting.” You reminded him once again. He finally looks up to stare at your eyes, his hands carefully placed on your shoulders, pulling you to him. “But I need to show them that you’re off-limits, who wouldn’t be furious of a guy who just inappropriately touched you?”

You pulled him away, swallowing hard as you turn around. “Just like I said, confront them, don’t fight them.” You said, leaving him in the echoing hallways alone.

It was about a week later, another boring weekday not until you heard about students gossiping around the campus, their eyes were quivering with fear as if the atmosphere had dropped to the lowest point in school. You were curious about what they’re talking about so you grabbed the courage to went up to some students and asked, “Is there something I don’t know about?”

You gulped, you could tell that they saw something horrible, just watching their legs shake as they glance around the hallways. One of the students eventually responds, “Donghwa, he was murdered. We saw him laying on the alley with his chest ripped open, his eyes fell out from his eye sockets and��Argh I can’t! The gore and blood just make me nauseous.” She says, tugging on her locks while shaking her head in fear.

Donghwa, you’ve seen that name before. Was he the guy who he was almost git beaten up by your boyfriend? Your eyes widening at the realization, did something happened between them? No, you shook your head. Sehun won’t do such a thing, he can’t kill a person.

You went to search for Sehun around the campus to ask if knows anything that happened to the guy who inappropriately touched you the other week. You stopped when you found him roaming around the hallways before bolted to his figure. “Sehun, can I ask something?” He turns to gaze at you, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his jacket and raised an eyebrow.

“I was wondering if knew about Donghwa’s death—“

“What? He died?” He only said, eyebrows raising in confusion. You wanted to tell more but looking at his confused look made you sigh, averting your eyes from your boyfriend. “People are talking about Donghwa’s death, do you know anything about what happened?”

“I have no idea what happened,” He answers shortly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was at home doing my business.” You raised an eyebrow at him, putting your hands on your hips. “And what business were you focusing on?” He laughs at your question and just ruffles your hair to mess it before taking your hand in his to start walking towards your destined classroom.

“My motorcycle broke so I had to fix it for the whole weekend.” He explains. When both of you arrived at your classroom, he places his hand on your back and gently pushed you inside. “We’ll talk later, Y/N.” You saw him plastering a grin, leaving the hallways alone.

The following days, numerous people would start to bother or annoy you. Men would start to hit on you and forced you to leave Sehun, however, those people in the following weeks would get injured, go missing or killed. People would talk about it around campus except for your boyfriend who has no idea what happened to them. He was never been updated by the news and it’s bothering you.

What if he was lying to you all the time? What if he knew what happened to those people. Those questions lingered around your mind and you wanted to know the truth, even if it means fighting or arguing with Sehun, you couldn’t take it anymore.

It was on the weekend when you stomped your way to your boyfriend’s apartment. You aggressively opened your bag to find the key to his apartment as you took it out from your bag, pushing the key to the hole of the knob. You didn’t even think twice but to step inside of your boyfriend’s apartment as you were greeted with a weird stench making you scrunch your nose.

"Oh Sehun! where are you?" your voice boomed, echoing in the darkroom. You looked around and clicked your tongue, closing the door as you threw your bag to the couch.

The apartment was quiet, very quiet. you were getting irritated as you began to search him around his apartment, you looked at the kitchen but there was no sign of him. You then stared at his bedroom door, just looking at his door made your heartbeat pound inside your chest.

You took small little steps towards the door, the echoing footsteps were making you tremble a bit. You were greeted with a strong scent of a perfume that he always used once you were inside the room, almost making you dizzy. The room was completely dim but the only thing that brightened a part of the room was the lamp on the nightstand, flickering.

You decided to check around his room, it was neat as usual when you always visit Sehun, however, you were told to never touch any of his things. And now you’re going to search for anything that’ll solve anything from the problem that always lingered around your mind. You walked over to the nightstand and pulled the drawers, and you gasp, stumbling down the floor.

You couldn't believe your eyes, it was pictures—pictures of the people who harassed you, annoyed you, hit on you looking distorted and badly injured on the photos. You covered your mouth to prevent from gasping. You felt nauseous, you wanted to throw up seeing the pictures displayed on the drawers

"Y/N?" Your heart drops, hearing that sickening voice calling out to you. You turned around to see him there, staring at you with that faceless expression. You tried to stand up but your muscles won’t budge by just seeing Sehun in front of you.

“No, don’t you dare take another damn step!” You screamed, watching him stepping back to his place. “You lied. You lied about everything, You were the one behind this, all of this, you did those horrible things to those students.”

“How could you? I thought you changed, I thought you’ve have become the Sehun I knew, but it seems like you pretend to be a goody-two-shoes in front of me.” You continued to spat at him. He then plastered a smile as he watches you tremble in fear. The smile on his face was creeping you out, and shivers lingered down to your spine, you couldn’t see the same Sehun anymore. "Well," He grinned, slowly taking a step towards you.

The hot substance streamed down your cheeks, feeling Sehun’s grip on your neck as be pulls you up to meet his dark gaze. “They were hurting what’s mine, they were bugging what’s mine, they were touching what’s mine, they were taking what’s mine.” Every emphasized word made his grip on your neck tighter, starting to strangle you unconsciously.

You choked out, "S-Sehun." He giggles, his other hand reached out to caress your wet face. “I did it for you, Y/N. I had to prevent them from interacting with you, so I stopped them.”

“You didn’t stop them, you hurt them to the inch of their lives.” You corrected him which he let out a deep chuckle. He then leaned over to place his lips over your temple while you cringed at the sickening feeling. “Don’t worry dearest, I always protect you from harm, even it cost their lives.”

“You monster.” You snarled, trying to struggle out of his grip with your hands pulling his hand away from your neck. “Oh,” He sighs,

“You have no idea what I truly am, dearest.”

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