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ginnsbaker · 1 year

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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (4/?)

Chapter summary: The night at the club - from your perspective. And we find out whether you came to the opening of Wanda's cafe or not

Chapter word count: 6.3k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader (heavy on this chapter)

Tags: fluff if you squint (did I just say fluff?)

AO3 | Masterlist

Next Chapter: Five

Four

The night at the club - from your perspective

The club Clint chooses for Natasha’s send-off is a drug deal away from being sleazy, despite its popularity. It’s significantly larger too, than the typical nightclubs you’ve been to in the past; there's a mezzanine for VIP members and celebrity guests; three bars are stationed at the corners of the main room, selling beverages based on a price bracket–with the most expensive ones near the steps leading to the VIP area. In here, you find all kinds of party-goers–from preppy high school kids with their daddy’s money and fake IDs to aging business men looking to score a high-end escort or a B-list actress in need of a sponsor for their lavish lifestyle.

And then there’s you–newly single, unemployed, nearing your 30s and rooming with your best friend. Just with how you’re dressed–a white, velvet sleeveless cowl neck top and skinny jeans–you wonder what other people think of you, what backstory they’ve concocted in their heads. Whatever it is, it couldn’t be worse than your actual reality.

“How did you find this place?” you ask Clint after he returns with shots of tequila to start the night with.

He glances between you and then Natasha, who finishes her shot in a single gulp the second she snatches it from Clint’s fingers.

“Did you not see how big this place is from outside? It’s hard to miss the biggest nightclub in New York, Y/N.” His breath fans over your face, and all it takes is one whiff to know he’s already had some pre-party drinks in his system.

“I prefer the dive bars we used to frequent.” you say, grimacing as the tequila burns down your throat. It immediately warms the middle of your chest, leaving you thirstier than before.

Clint raises his eyebrows at you incredulously. “We’re not here to talk and catch-up. We’re here to get trashed because our girl right here,” he playfully puts an arm around Natasha so she’s snug against his side. “Is returning to the front lines.”

“Damn right!” Natasha yells, raising her empty shot glass to no one in particular. She’s deadly as she looks for what she’s capable of–which you know very little about–and yet, astoundingly lightweight when it comes to holding her liquor. It wouldn’t take three more rounds to render her thoroughly incapacitated.

Clint looks so smug, and it doesn’t take a second more for you to realize that he gave Natasha a double. You weakly jab his side with your elbow and then proceed to swipe his credit card from his back pocket, making sure he at least pays for everything tonight.

“Come on,” you say, reaching for Natasha’s hand. “We can’t have you drinking on an empty stomach or you won’t last until midnight.”

Natasha shakes her head with a pout. “Gotta last much, much, much later than that.”

“For sure. But first, let’s–”

“Where are you taking my sister?” A voice behind you asks in a demanding but playful manner. You feel it being said right in your ear, causing goosebumps all over the back of your neck.

Whipping your head around, you find Yelena smiling at you as she staggers a step back to avoid you accidentally kissing her cheek in the process.

There’s tension from the last time you saw each other, and it becomes instantly obvious that it hasn’t gone away the moment you take in her plunge cocktail dress and the rose-colored smirk she has on. You don’t really mean to, but it’s easy to make the conclusion that anyone would easily find her the most attractive person in the room.

“Little sis,” Natasha exclaims in barely contained excitement, hastily enveloping Yelena in a bear hug. “You came!”

“Hey,” you breathe out, failing to stop your gaze from straying below her collarbone and landing on her proud cleavage.

“Hey, stranger.” she greets you back, and you catch the mischievous smile on her lips despite having half of her face squashed against Natasha’s shoulder. Yup. She’s definitely noticed.

“See you around, kid. I’ll take care of this one.” Clint says, already pulling Natasha away before she can suffocate Yelena further.

Helplessly, you watch Clint and Natasha disappear into the crowd, anxiety crippling your ability to decide what you’re going to do or where you’re going next.

Yelena lightly taps you on the shoulder to get your attention–which, for all intents and purposes–is already hers to begin with. You just don’t want to be too obvious about it.

“My sweater.” she simply says with an unreadable expression when you turn to address her.

“Sorry?”

“You still have it?”

And then it comes back to you. Your ruined shirt, borrowing’s Yelena sweater, Yelena joking about her first sexual experience, that happened to be with you–

You can always blame the tequila for the way your cheeks flush at the memories.

Biting your lip, you say, “The truth is I forgot to mail it. With everything that’s happened–”

“It’s okay. Nat just recently told me the stuff you went through the past few months,” Yelena cuts in, and the softness in her gaze gives you a sense of calm. “Do you, maybe, want to drink about it? First round’s on me.” she reluctantly offers.

“Nah,” you dismiss her intentions to pay, as you hold up Clint’s Visa. “All our rounds on this.”

Yelena orders a frozen margarita, while you opt for a more basic choice of gin and tonic. You find yourselves sitting closely together, sharing a couch with random strangers in the most relatively secluded part of the club.

“So, what exactly did Natasha tell you?” you ask, letting your index finger dance along the rim of your glass.

Yelena takes a sip of her drink and considers how she should relay what she knows.

In the end, she goes for the unfiltered narrative, given that there’s really no way of making it sound less severe than it is. “That your wife cheated on you with her student.”

You offer her a wan smile and clink your drinks togethers. “Cheers.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t imagine what it feels like to be betrayed like that by the person you–I assume–trust the most.” Yelena says after some time. She’s not used to being the one to give consolation, especially with you. Growing up, you were a steady, ever-reliable presence in her life; her place of solitude throughout the pains of her youth. It’s pathetic how she’s wishing she had gone through the same ordeal if it meant she could give you the comfort and understanding you needed.

“Me too. I don’t even remember how I was able to survive what came right after taking your sister’s call that day. Did Nat mention that I almost killed the kid? He’s only a little younger than you are.” you say.

“Yeah. It’s fucked up. But it doesn't compare to what she did.” Yelena tells you with a pained expression. “You’re okay now, though. Right?”

“I’m,” You search for the right word that perfectly describes your monotonous routine and lack of a meaningful purpose. But you figure that there’s no need for Yelena–or anyone for that matter–to worry about you. Life’s easier to live without the concern of disappointing people who care about you. “I’m better than I was yesterday.”

Yelena nods empathically, and places a hand on your knee. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Your smile is small, but genuine. Clearing your throat, she quickly puts her hand back over her lap.

“Y/N?” Yelena starts.

“Yes?”

Yelena, for all her boldness and tenacity, has to put down her glass lest it accidentally slips from her shaking hands.

“There’s something I want to say, and you can’t talk unless I say so. Understood?” she says as calmly as she can manage.

“Am I free to react?” A smile plucks at the corner of your mouth, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Yelena has grown into a woman so different from when she was just Natasha’s little sister. She carries an air of sophistication, and from what you can tell, sasses her way out of difficult situations and knows what and how to get what she wants. Which is why it’s refreshing to see her display glimpses of the shy girl who spent her summers burning through classic literature in the public library.

A husky laugh escapes Yelena’s throat. “As long as it’s a good reaction.” she says.

You playfully roll your eyes at her.

“But seriously, hear me out,” Yelena breathes steadily through her nose. “First of all, I want to apologize about what happened when you were at my apartment.

“I didn’t know why I brought up losing my virginity to you, and it was terribly awkward–for me especially because the look on your face was…” Yelena trails off, pointedly avoiding your curious eyes. “It’s like you were recalling a bad memory–a memory that’s dear to me. And to be honest, it hurt me a bit.”

“Yelena–”

Yelena shushes you with a finger. “Let me finish. I was hurt, but I understood that I crossed a line that day. I was flirting with you the whole time knowing you were married. In a way, I was no better than–well, your ex-wife.”

Yelena pauses to look at you. She can’t read your expression, but at least you haven’t run away yet. Which is more than a good sign for her to continue.

“There’s no excuse for what I did. I could dismiss it as friendly between old friends, but could we even call ourselves that? We were never just friends. We had something that wasn’t official, and then I ran off to the UK before we had a chance to talk about that thing that wasn’t official, and then when I got back, I found out you’re already with someone else.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… that was a shitty move on my part and I’m sorry. But I’d be lying if I said I didn't mean to do any of that. ‘Cause I did want to stir the pot just to see if there’s still something there.”

You wait for her to continue, but eventually Yelena vaguely signals that she’d done speaking.

You cover your mouth with your hand, thumb scratching lightly at your chin as you thoroughly digest her confession.

“Y/N?” Yelena asks when she feels you’re being silent for too long, fear lacing her voice. “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course not,” you quickly reply. “I accept your apology. And I do appreciate your candor–for not skirting around that incident like I probably would’ve, for…well, forever.”

Yelena is overwhelmed with relief.

“You were never great at confrontations.” she muses, and your minds both wander to the letter you wrote for her that she had missed, already having boarded the plane when you decided to drop by and hand-deliver it yourself.

“I’m working on it. I know I can’t keep putting things at the back of my head until I eventually forget them and then it’s too late.”

“Or maybe you just think it’s too late, and you use that as an excuse to not even try.” Yelena counters. It’s a fair point and somehow applicable to your shared history together.

“You know what? I’m just gonna shoot my shot here while I’m feeling brave,” Yelena says, keeping her eyes trained on her almost empty drink.

“Go to dinner with me next Friday.”

Before you can stop it, Wanda’s languid face in the mornings registers in your brain fleetingly. And then you blink once and the image of her is gone, replaced by Yelena’s hopeful stare.

“Dinner, as in…” you try to clarify, just in case you’re misreading it.

“As in I’m asking you out,” Yelena confirms, and proudly smiles at how your ears redden at this point. “Or if you’re not ready, say so. I’m a big girl. I can take it. Then I’ll ask you again in a few months.”

“I-I don’t know. Can I sleep on it?” you say, suddenly embarrassed.

“Take all the time you need. I just thought you should know that I’m an option.”

Your expression turns grim once you question the fact that someone like Yelena wants you.

She senses your internal conflict and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“How could you want me? I’m damaged goods. You know that, right?”

“Y/N,” Yelena chides, and she looks positively horrified. “Don’t you ever think you’re half the person you are just because somebody was stupid enough not to know your worth.”

You shrug your shoulders. There’s no point in arguing. Regardless of what other people think, it’s what you see in the mirror these days.

“Okay.” you mumble in reply and casually chug your drink to the last drop.

Yelena’s not convinced, but recognizes that it’s not the right place nor the right time to show you you’re more than just damaged goods.

“Okay.” she says, then looks over to where people seem to be under the spell of eternal bliss.

“Wanna dance with me at least? You know–as friends,” Yelena says, and then a second later adds, “For now.”

You don’t answer and merely allow yourself to be pulled towards writhing bodies moving to the beat of the music, like puppets on strings.

You don’t remember the last time you’ve thoroughly enjoyed dancing with someone.

(That’s a lie though, because you do; if twirling your wife and enthusiastically swaying to her poor singing in the kitchen counts.)

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of green eyes darts to you and your dance partner, before they shut in reprieve.

A surprisingly sober Natasha appears next to you as you’re getting the next round of drinks. You fan yourself uselessly with your hand after breaking out a sweat on the dancefloor.

“Hey! Where have you been?” you say.

“Bruce was here. But that’s not important.” Natasha says.

“Are you guys–” you begin to ask about it, but Natasha brazenly cuts you off.

“Don’t even think about it.” she says, her tone unusually stern, and you whip your head so fast in her direction your vision spins a little.

“Think about what?” you say.

“Flirting with my sister.”

“I wasn’t,” you say and Natasha lifts an eyebrow. “I swear.”

Natasha surveys you a while longer with an unreadable expression, and just as you start feeling uncomfortable, she backs off with a small nod.

It only bothers you more. “I-Is that something I’m not allowed to do?” you cautiously ask.

Natasha scratches at her nape. “Technically, you’re single now and you can flirt with whoever you want. But maybe not my sister, okay? I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“What are you implying?”

“Look, Y/N, I’m just trying to give you the big sister talk, and I hope you understand why I need to. Especially since Yelena told me not long ago about the R-rated version of your history together.”

Your mouth falls open in shock, already circling around the details of what Yelena might have shared with your best friend. “She what?”

“I wanted to smack you in the face when she told me that you were…” Natasha grimaces, trying not to imagine you in bed with her sister. “... her first.”

“God, Nat. I–” Your tongue feels heavy, and you wish you weren’t half-sober for this. “She–we–”

“Relax, Y/N. It’s not like I found out about it yesterday. I’ve known ever since she came back to New York.”

“I think I’d prefer if you’d still smack me in the face right now. But please consider how tiny I am compared to your usual sparring partners.”

Natasha lets out an airy laugh that gives you a bit of relief. “To be honest, I think I’ve always known that there was something going on between you and her. I was just too stubborn to admit it because I care about you both so much.”

“I care about you too. And Yelena.”

“I believe you,” Natasha says. “But Yelena thinks you hung the moon and stars and all that shit, and you’re–you’re kind of a mess, Y/N. No offense.”

“Do you want me to stay away from her?” you ask.

“Not really. But as her older sister, I need to remind you to think about it carefully if ever it becomes more than platonic.” she says. “I’m leaving in a few hours, so I need you to promise me not to be reckless. That's all I’m asking.”

Natasha gives and gives and gives, and rarely ever asks for anything.

And you suppose you owe it to her in some way.

“Promise.”

A couple of more shots (and an incident of restraining Natasha from punching the lights out of a guy who randomly grabbed your ass) later, you’re stumbling out of the club, reeking of smoke, sweat and alcohol.

Your phone dies just before you could confirm a ride, and you blearily stare at it like you’re expecting it to suddenly come alive again by some miracle. Yelena has left earlier, mentioning an early meeting at work, and you can’t find Natasha since Bruce’s surprise appearance. An option is to walk to your apartment, but you can’t seem to move any part of your body with the intense throbbing in your head.

You deliberate your fate for the night, until you feel an odd sensation of being watched.

Your eyes flit across the street and there she is.

Wanda Maximoff.

You get home safely with the help of your ex-wife. Once you reach your room, you don’t bother to brush your teeth or wash your face. You just mechanically strip down to your underwear before diving under the covers.

In your sleep, you dream about Wanda.

Dream Wanda resembles College Wanda, with her dirty blonde hair that falls in waves past her shoulders. She’s cradling your head on her lap, while you look up at her lovingly.

“Wands,” you whisper. “I miss you.”

She scrunches her nose as she smiles down at you. “I’m right here, baby.”

“You’re not.”

“Where did I go then?”

You shake your head and close your eyes. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Look for me, then. I only want to be found by you.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” you confess to Dream Wanda, and her brows stitch together into a frown. Then you feel something wet and cold drip on your cheeks. Your eyes flutter open but instead of seeing Wanda, you see Vision’s face covered in blood.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream. In reality, you’re alone in Natasha’s apartment, thrashing in your bed and mumbling incoherently.

The next morning, you don’t recall any of it, but you feel its echoes in your heart anyway.

You wake up to a text from Natasha, telling her that she’s already at the airport. The message came in at 1:30AM, and was followed by another text six hours later, saying that she has landed safely and that you won’t be hearing from her again in the next ten days at the minimum. A third message came in a second after that, and it simply read, “Look out for my sister. Don’t forget what you promised.” You text back a short “Take care, Nat.”, before tossing your phone somewhere on your unmade bed.

Trudging towards the kitchen, you think about Yelena.

There was a time when the blonde used to occupy your thoughts day and night, notwithstanding the thousands of miles you were apart.

But all that changed the day you met Wanda, and she never crossed your mind again except when she’d come up in conversations, and until that time you accidentally almost ran her over in Soho.

You languidly stir together the milk and cereal in your bowl. It would be a lie to say that seeing Yelena, especially in that dress, didn’t do things to you that a married woman would normally stamp out before they could spread like wildfire. Except, you’re no longer a married woman. And Yelena let you look as much as you wanted–even encouraged it.

It’s liberating more than anything, not because you’re free from the confines of marriage, but because you didn’t feel guilty having looked.

Is it time?

You’ve always thought of Yelena as your ‘right person, wrong time’.

Is it the right time?

The weekend passes in a blur of series marathons and Chinese takeouts. Wanda doesn’t text or call, neither does Yelena. You thought you had sufficient time to reconsider Wanda’s invitation, but Monday eventually comes around, bringing about an unexplainable anxiety you can’t curb and can only attribute to intuition. Even if you don’t tell Wanda the reason you won’t come, binge-watching another show instead of doing something meaningful for someone is at a level of pathetic you’re not willing to stoop towards.

Besides, you said you’d come. Being steadfast in your word is both your strength and your undoing. And so, your intent to follow through with your promise brings you to a corner gardening store, after scouring the internet for ‘grand opening gift ideas’.

None of them suggested this. Though you knew Wanda enough to know better than those online articles.

“And this pretty thing? What does it stand for?” you ask, pointing at flowers of a variety of colors resembling a pompon.

“That’s a Chrysanthemum–or just ‘mums’. Very easy to keep them alive. In Chinese culture, it represents longevity and good luck. But it also simply symbolizes friendship and happiness.” the store keeper says.

“Perfect,” you say, focusing on ‘longevity and good luck’. “I’ll get… Five of those in a pot.”

“What color would you like, dear?”

Without thinking, you pick Wanda’s favorite color. “The red ones. All of them.”

The store keeper claps her hands together. “Excellent choice. Just give me a second to prepare them for you.”

A pleased smile works its way to your lips. “Thanks a lot.”

Mums in a pot. That's a good gift right? Not too thoughtful nor impersonal. It would look good displayed anywhere in her shop should Wanda decide to keep it there. Or she can place it at her new home near a window, as it probably needs six hours of sunlight a day.

Perhaps you should also write instructions for Wanda on how to care for these mums. And will she need some fertilizers too?

You’re busy putting together a mental list when the store keeper comes out with the final product.

“Here you go,” she says and hands you over Wanda’s gift in a paper bag. “It’s $95.86.”

You pull out a hundred dollar bill from your wallet. “Keep the change.”

She does a little bow of gratitude and says, “Thank you, dear. She’s going to love it.”

“She?” you sputter, bewildered.

“The recipient’s a lady, I assume. Is it not?”

“It…is.” you hesitantly confirm.

“Good luck, ma’m.” she says with innocent cheer, unmindful of your sudden skepticism.

As you leave the shop feeling less sure of your gift choice, your phone’s ringing tone goes off in your pants. With urgency, you take your phone out of your pocket and find an unknown number calling.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” A husky voice greets you over the receiver.

“Yelena?”

“Hey. I, uh, got your number from Nat,” she says, hearing her heavy sighs in between sentences. “Is this a bad time?”

“No. Is something wrong?” you ask, swinging the paper bag back and forth as you meander about the busy alley on your way back home.

“I’m in the middle of a news article that’s due for tomorrow, and I heard that your former boss is Scott Lang?”

“You heard right.”

“I need your banking knowledge to go over some facts in my draft,” she says. “And maybe, get a quick interview with Mr. Lang?”

For a while, you don’t know how to answer. You haven’t been in touch with Scott or any of your colleagues since moving back, and it seems kind of rude to call him up out of the blue for a favor.

“Please?” you hear Yelena beg softly. You knew Yelena. Like Natasha, she almost never asks for help, not unless it’s a matter of life, death or career.

“Okay,” you finally say. “Where should we meet?”

“I’ll meet you at Nat’s in an hour? It’s where you’ve been staying, right?”

You agree on the time and place, and hurry to catch a bus instead of your original plan to walk the thirty minutes back to the apartment.

It oddly feels good to be part of a Monday’s morning rush once again.

You end up spending the whole day helping Yelena and trailing after her to visit various places and meet financial executives just to put together a 1,500-word news article on The Wall Street Journal.

“You saved me today,” Yelena tells you while you escort her to the lobby. “Let me make it up to you on Friday?”

It’s tempting, especially after discovering that you both make a great team. You actually had fun running errands with her.

But you promised Natasha.

“I’ll text you.” you answer with a small smile.

Once Yelena gets inside her ride, it hits you right away where you’re supposed to be. You check your watch and the time displayed sends you in a panic.

It’s almost ten. Wanda’s café is only open until nine. You quickly grab your gift for Wanda and hail a cab for Queens.

Your cab screeches to a halt right in front of Second Chances. You make sure to tip big for forcing your driver to beat the speed limit several times on the way.

You get off the cab, and take in your first impression of Wanda’s café. The facade of the coffee shop is simple: the signage looks obviously hand-drawn, while the black awning underneath it gives it a Parisian vibe; a string of yellow led lights hang above the glass door and the full-length window next to it.

It has Wanda written all over it. And you can’t help the teary smile that creeps its way to your lips. Carrying the potted Chrysanthemum securely under your arm, you walk to the entrance that holds a ‘Sorry, We’re Closed’ sign. The stainless shutter is lowered down just barely, and it’s pitch black inside except for a beam of light coming from the back room.

You raise your fist, about to knock, when suddenly you catch a figure from the corner of your eyes.

It’s Wanda, and she’s asleep with her arms as her pillow, hunched over the bar table facing the window. Curiously, you move over to stand right across her and push your palm against the translucent barrier.

She waited for you to show. Your heart betrays you as it thumps wildly in your chest.

For a moment you just stand there watching. There are still days when you randomly get angry at Wanda all over again. Some days, you bargain and simultaneously undergo depression. And you cycle over these stages in random orders but haven't–not even once–felt like you’re ready to accept all of it.

Somewhere in the stillness, an ambulance siren could be heard wailing in the distance. Wanda is slow to come to, and even as you realize she’s waking up, you stay frozen in your position.

“Y/N?” you read your name being spoken from her lips. Wanda looks confused in her sleepy state, still deciding if you’re actually there. You beam at her and mouth a ‘hi’ in return.

Wanda lights up right before your eyes. She hurries to unlock the door to her shop.

“Sorry I’m late.” you say.

Wanda’s smile only widens, and then she says, “Better late than never.”

You choose to sit at one of the tiny dining tables for two near the open kitchen. There are congratulatory flowers arranged neatly by the counter, making you a bit self-conscious about bringing something similar on a smaller, more insignificant scale.

“How long have you been waiting?” you ask as you survey the interior of the cafe..

“Not long.” Wanda assures you, and then proudly hands you over the menu. Her writing is almost instantly recognizable.

“Pick anything you want. On the house.” she says, tying back her apron.

There aren’t many items on the list, but you’re familiar with each of them from Wanda having made them for you over the years.

“I’ll have a Spanish latte,” you say, eyes still scanning the menu. “Do you have any cookies left?”

“Sorry, they are all sold out.”

“Wanda, that’s awesome!” You exclaim, placing the menu back on the table.

Wanda endearingly chuckles at your excitement. You’re still a customer, and it’s very unusual for one to cheer when the item they want is unavailable.

“Have you eaten? I can whip something up.” Wanda says, peeking inside the fridge.

You haven’t eaten since lunch, but you don’t want Wanda to go through the trouble of preparing something off the menu. “It’s fine.”

“I’m kinda hungry myself,” Wanda chews on her bottom lip. “Does garlic pasta sound good?”

As if on cue, your stomach rumbles and Wanda tries to suppress a smirk.

“Sounds amazing.” you mumble, somewhat flustered by the sound you just made. The thought of a warm pasta for dinner, however, is already making you drool.

Wanda grins, buzzing with childlike enthusiasm. “Coming right up!”

Right before she gets to it, Wanda puts on some music and gives you her phone. “Play anything you want.” she says. A classical piano piece starts playing in the background, and it actually matches the mood and the vibe of the room, so you choose to stay on the current playlist.

Wanda already has some minced garlic and left over pasta from earlier, so it’s just a matter of reheating and then mixing the ingredients. In less than ten minutes, she’s bringing out two plates of Aglio e Olio and your order of a hot Spanish latte.

You haven’t realized how starving you are until the aroma of Wanda’s dish reaches your nose.

“What’s that?” Wanda points to the paper bag sitting beside you after she settles in her seat across you.

“Oh!” you say. “I almost forgot. This is for you. Happy, uh, grand opening day?”

Wanda takes the bag, unintentionally brushing your fingers in the process. Her skin is warm from cooking and smells like the condiments she used to prepare your food.

You quietly eat your food, unable to keep yourself from moaning out your satisfaction. After months of living on takeouts, it’s a very welcome change.

Wanda, on the other hand, peers inside the paper bag, and her smile grows and grows until it reaches her watery eyes.

“These are gorgeous, Y/N,” Wanda comments, taking the pot out of its hiding. “I love them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Wanda stands up and walks towards the window near the entrance, the plant and a glass of water in tow. She places the mums in the corner where it will be least bothered by customers, but should receive the most sunlight at the same time. She then proceeds to water it, careful to cover the whole soil and sprinkle some on its delicate petals.

A smile graces your lips as you watch her tend to the mums.

It’s hard not to wonder if maybe this could work. Maybe healing can be possible while being friends.

“How much do I owe you?” you ask, after you finish your food. You subtly eye Wanda’s plate, which she’s barely touched.

“Like I said, on the house.” she answers.

You purse your lips in disapproval but don’t insist; the tip jar is right beside the register and you can slip some twenties later when Wanda’s not looking.

“So, any feedback? Is the latte too sweet?” Wanda asks with a devoted curiosity of a businesswoman. “For the pasta I added an extra ounce of minced garlic from the original recipe, but I’m not sure if it made the flavor too strong. And this table–don’t you think it’s too small? Cause they don’t look standard-sized to me, and I keep telling them–”

“Wanda, slow down,” you gently cut in, bringing the coffee mug to your lips for a taste test. It’s sweet but not achingly so. There’s still a hint of bitterness in the aftertaste, and the richness of the condensed milk counters it, resulting in a very comforting pick-me-up.

“It’s good. I’d say, better than the ones I always got when I was still working.”

“You’re not working anymore?”

You bite your lip at that, not really meaning for that information to slip out of you.

“I took a sabbatical,” you explain, refusing to call yourself jobless in front of your ex-wife, who somehow contrived to achieve greater heights following a divorce and a narrowly missed small town sex scandal.

You quickly try to change the subject. “Anyway, don’t worry about the furniture. As long as they’re comfy.”

“Half of your ass is barely hanging onto your seat, you know?” Wanda points out with a giggle.

There’s no denying the tinge of jealousy you feel over the fact that Wanda seems to have her shit together more than she cares to admit. But that’s overruled by the natural joy of seeing someone you care about (because you do, you really still do) thrive, no matter how much they hurt you in the past.

“Are you saying my ass is fat?” you ask, pretending to be offended.

She laughs harder, resulting in tiny hiccups that never fails to trigger you into a fit as well.

“Honestly though, it barely fits mine as well. But that's all I can afford for now.” Wanda says as she keeps twirling the pasta around her fork without any intention of actually eating.

“You shouldn’t play with your food.” you chide, still smiling.

“Do you want some of mine?”

You shake your head no. “Not when you just implied I have a fat ass.”

Wanda snorts, her laughter building up again at your poker face.

When she recovers this time, you sheepishly smile and take some from her plate and transfer it to yours.

“I haven’t thanked you for coming.” Wanda mutters in a hoarse voice. You wordlessly fill her empty glass with water.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure until this morning if I was going to.” you say.

Certain muscles on Wanda’s face visibly tighten at that.

“Why is that?” Wanda whispers, staring at her unwanted food, losing again the appetite she lied about in the first place.

You mull about it for a moment. There’s no point in denying that you feel things for Wanda. Abstract feelings that you can’t name, but feel regardless. And it’s still unclear whether they are beneficial or not to you moving forward. Just that, being in communication with Wanda again puts you at ease; brings back a sense of normalcy that you so crave. It could be because you can’t remember a time she wasn’t a part of your life, can’t remember who you were before her. Going cold-turkey only led to some impulsive decisions (not to mention, a cheap and random sex with a stranger who was spoken for).

“Because I want to do what’s right for me, this time. And I’m not sure if this is.”

“This?”

“Being in each other’s lives.” you coolly state, crossing your arms and leaning back on your chair.

Wanda blinks a couple of times when wetness gathers around her eyes. You drop your head and sigh. It goes without saying that these meetings with Wanda are always volatile. But constantly crying around someone is obviously not an indication of a healthy bond.

“I’m afraid you’re the only one who can answer your own question, Y/N.” Wanda swipes at the corner of her eyes.

You hollowly laugh. “I was kinda expecting you’d convince me that this is a good idea.”

“The fact that I invited you here and never stopped trying to contact you says alot without me having to say it.” Wanda reasons evenly.

“And me doing exactly the opposite, must also say a lot. Is that it?” you retort.

Wanda squints at your hard tone. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Well, it’s what I’m hearing.”

An impasse is reached, and Wanda wishes nothing more than to retract her statements and start all over again.

“Why do I keep fucking this up?” you’re scarcely able to hear Wanda talk, more directly to herself than you.

You release a ragged breath and speak out, “You’re not fucking up anything, Wanda. There’s nothing to fuck up in the first place because we’re not supposed to expect anything from each other anymore, remember?”

Wands nods in understanding. “It just feels like I keep saying the wrong thing.”

You consider her words for a moment. “Maybe it’s because I keep waiting for you to.”

Wanda looks up at you with wide, limpid eyes. “So I am walking on eggshells.”

“You don’t have to though. You can’t always worry about what will set me off. Let me worry about that.”

“I’m scared, Y/N,” Wanda whispers. “I’m scared I’ll say one wrong thing and I won’t hear from you again for a long time. I mean, I just… I just found you. Inadvertently, if I may add.”

“I-I get where you’re coming from, and I don’t blame you for feeling that way,” you say. “But I can’t promise that I won’t disappear when something happens.”

Wanda hums and you lick your lips.

“I have thought about it.” you say, in spite of the delicate timing.

She looks skeptical. “Thought about…?”

“Us,” you motion between yourself and her. “Being friends.”

“Oh,” Wanda tries not to sound disappointed. The problem is she wants too much too soon. And she needs to work on that or else she ruins her chance with you. “And?”

You’re nothing but truthful when you say, “And I miss the comfort of having you as a friend.”

“Me too,” Wanda whispers thickly as you both share a meaningful look.

Maybe someday, she can have everything she has lost.

Just not all at once.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #wanda maximoff #marvel #natasha romanoff #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #unbetad #my writing #my fic #angst

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luvangelbreak · 2 months

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Deprived | Seventeen

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: smut (sorry I'm addicted now), oral (fem!receiving), slight overstimulation, mentions of abuse (domestic), swearing, mentions of drugs (weed) word count: 3.1k a/n: this one is an emotional rollercoaster yall i apologise

pov: layla

“Go straight to my room. I’ll be there in a sec,” Matt whispered as he opened the front door. With a curt nod and wobbly feet, I bolted upstairs to his room and closed the door behind me.

I heard murmurs of voice downstairs and I sighed, pulling away from the door as I kicked my shoes off. The pulse between my legs hadn’t subsided and groaned, flopping back onto Matt’s bed.

My pants felt uncomfortable around my legs, the warmth of their heater making me start to sweat with the hoodie and jeans on. I decided I would take my pants off and hide under the covers till Matt was able to give me some shorts to wear.

I slid under the silky covers, mind racing with only thoughts of him as I moved my legs around, the material feeling smooth on my bare skin. The door swung open making me jump before I realised it was Matt and he closed the door behind him, locking it before turning to look at me.

“The second time you’ve been at my house and you act like you own the place already,” he teased with a smile and I shrugged, eyes heavy as I looked at him. The last of the sun was shining through his bedroom window, allowing enough light for me to see him perfectly.

“Not my fault you have a comfy bed,” I retorted as he shook his head, throwing his keys on his desk before walking over to me.

“My parents will kill me if they find out you’re high,” his tone shifted to slightly more concerned and I let my face drop, feeling bad that I was putting him through this.

“I’m sorry. I can go home,” I sat up, guilt flooding my body as his face softened before he shook his head.

“I told them you didn’t feel good and your dad wasn’t home so they won’t disturb us. Just don’t go downstairs till they fall asleep,” he answered before leaning forward, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear as my worried gaze softened again.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered apologetically as my eyes fell to his lips before scanning his face.

“I’m glad you called me,” he smiled, leaning forward and placing a kiss on my forehead. I smiled up at him before his eyes landed on my lap and I hadn’t realised the covers had slid forward from his movements, “Why aren’t you wearing pants?”

“My jeans were uncomfortable,” I whined, throwing my head back into the pillows and he smirked down at me.

“Do u want pants?” he asked and I shook my head, my eyes meeting his lips again.

“We’re just staying in here right?” I asked, sitting back up again as he hummed in response and I smiled at him, “Then there’s no need for pants.”

“Are you just trying to entice me right now?” he asked, a glimmer of teasing in his eyes and I gasped dramatically, throwing a hand to my chest.

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” I let my jaw drop and he smiled at me as he shook his head. I leaned forward, placing a kiss on his lips before mumbling, “But yes I am. Are you done being a morally right man?”

“You’re making it very hard to be one,” he whispered against my lips and I smiled, sliding the covers off of myself fully before I moved to straddle his waist, sliding my arms around his shoulders as the heat spread across my body. I trailed my lips from his, down his jawline to the spot on his neck that I sucked and bit in the car.

“Come on,” I enticed him further as I let one of my hands tangle in his hair, the other travelling down his clothes torso as his breathing quickened, “Have some fun, pretty boy.”

“Layls," he breathed hesitantly and I pursed my lips, pulling back to look at his face, "I'm not gonna fuck you right now."

"You don't have to," I leaned forward pressing a kiss to his lips, "There are lots of other options though."

"Fuck it," he mumbled, lifting me off of his lap and throwing me onto the bed with a thump as I let out a huff from the impact. He slid his hoodie over his head, discarding it on the floor aimlessly and I didn't even have a moment to register his torso before he grabbed my thighs, pulling me to the edge of the bed as he stood between them. He leaned down, placing a feverish kiss against my lips before he travelled down my neck and I sighed in content.

"Matt," I breathed out and he paused his movements, placing a hand over my mouth as he hooked his other hand under the waistband of my underwear.

"Can you stay quiet, pretty girl?" he whispered, a smirk plastered on his face and his sudden confidence had my thighs squeezing around his legs. I nodded, pursing my lips under his hand as I shifted my hips impatiently. He lifted his hand off of my mouth, still trailing his soft fingertips on the waistband of my underwear.

"Please," I whispered, grabbing his wrist that was near my underwear as he chuckled at me, dipping his head into my neck and biting across it making me let out a heavy sigh.

"So cute," he mumbled against my skin before dipping his hand under the waistband, a finger running against my core making me clench my jaw to stay quiet, "You make a sound and I stop."

"Fuck," I whispered, his dominance turning me on more than I expected. My mind was swirled as I trained my eyes on the ceiling, trying to focus on not making sounds as his fingers trailed circled around my clit bringing me pure ecstasy. As he continued his assault on my neck, he dipped a single finger into my pussy causing me to grip his wrist tightly to help myself not cry out in pleasure.

"You're doing so good, baby," he breathed against my neck heavily and I sighed, the praise making me want to moan loudly even more, "I know, pretty girl, I know."

"Matt," I whispered through gritted teeth and he hummed against my neck as he added another finger inside me as I gasped. My high was making it feel even more heavenly as his finger slid in and out of me at the perfect pace, his palm nudging my clit in the process as I gripped his wrist tightly, "Please."

"What do you want, baby?" he asked quietly against my skin before pulling up, looking at me with dilated pupils.

"I want your mouth. Please," I begged, rutting against his hand even more and he smirked down at me. Without another word, he pulled his fingers out of me making me whine from the loss of contact. It felt like he was moving at the speed of light and my brain couldn't keep up as he pulled my underwear off my legs. He grabbed my ankles as he knelt down on the floor, placing my thighs on his shoulders and he kissed along the sensitive skin.

He ran his tongue along my now dripping-wet slit and I let out a whine at the sensation, my senses being heightened to an extent I hadn't felt before because of the strain of weed. I felt the sting of a hand on my thigh before I looked down at him and he had hard eyes, scolding me for making a sound. I pursed my lips, my eyes half apologetic and half begging him to continue.

He continued holding my gaze as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive nub as I let out a heavy breath, my hand flying to his hair as my back arched at the sensation. As he swirled his tongue around me, the feeling of the knot in my stomach quickly rose as I panted into the air, convincing myself not to make a sound internally. He hummed against me as I let out a whimper, another slap to my thigh making me look down at him again and he kept his eyes trained on mine.

I admired everything about him, focusing my mind on anything but the feeling he was giving me with only his mouth as to not make a sound. I gripped his hair tightly, threading my fingers through the curls as I kept my eyes on his with my mouth hung open as pants left my mouth. I watched as his jaw clenched from his focus on giving me pleasure and his lips pressed around my soft skin, his blue eyes illuminated by the slither of sunlight peering through the bedroom window. His arms gripped my twitching thighs tightly as his fingers dug into my flesh and I sighed, feeling my climax approaching easily.

“I’m gonna-” I breathed out quickly before my back arched impossibly further off of the bed and I tugged on his hair, my high hitting me quicker than I anticipated. My legs shook on either side of his head, my heels digging into his back as he worked his mouth around me through my climax. I threw a hand over my mouth, whining into my palm from the overstimulation as he continued lapping up my wetness, “Matt!”

I squeaked out, pushing his head away as he pressed further into me as I gasped. He dragged out my orgasm as long as he could, gripping onto my thighs tightly as I squirmed in his grip, attempting to push his head away slightly but I didn’t put enough force because it felt too good to stop. When I finally decided I couldn’t take anymore, he noticed my change in body language and pulled away from me, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of my thigh as his hands unravelled from around my thighs and trailed up to my waist, giving my hips a gentle squeeze.

He caught his breath, looking up at me with heavy eyes as my wetness dripped from his mouth. He licked his lips before wiping his face with the back of his hand before I flopped my head back down on the bed. He slid my legs off of his shoulders, crawling over me and placing his hands on either side of my head.

“You okay, pretty girl?” he whispered as I peered up at him with heavy eyes and a dopey smile. I nodded lazily as he smiled down at me, “I wasn’t too harsh?”

“Nope,” I said popping the P as I sighed, wrapping my heavy legs around him as I pulled him down onto me, “Do you want me to-”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, pushing my hair out of my face before tucking it behind my ear as I wrapped my arms around his neck, “I just wanted it to be about you.”

“Are you sure?” I tilted my head, a small frown on my face as he continued smiling at me and nodding.

“Positive, baby,” he leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on my lips as I melted into his touch again. I instinctively rutted my hips into his before he trailed his hand down, pushing my waist against the bed, “Slow down there cowgirl.”

“Habit,” I shrugged with a cheeky smile and he shook his head. He pulled away from me and my face fell at the loss of contact before he picked up my underwear from the floor, gently sliding them onto my legs before I lifted my hips up to help him.

“You need anything?” he asked, leaning his hands on my bare thighs as I leaned back on my elbows.

“You,” I answered quickly and he chuckled before nodding. He climbed over to the side of the bed where it was pressed against the wall and I crawled under the covers beside him, laying my head on his chest as the fuzzy feeling in my brain subsided. The affects of my orgasm wore off as well as the weed as I listened to his steady heartbeat, his hand laying on my back as he traced circles on my skin that was exposed from the hoodie riding up.

“Can I ask you something?” Matt’s raspy voice broke the silence and I looked up at him, nodding gently before he sighed, his face serious as he looked down at me, “What uh- what really happened with your mom? I only know from rumours and I don’t know what to believe at that fuckin school.”

My breath caught in my throat at the mention of my mother and I avoided his gaze, looking down at his lips instead, “What have you heard?”

“A lot of different things. That she passed, she ran away, she got kidnapped,” he explained quietly, his voice full of hesitation as I sighed, laying my head back down on his head before he continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to overstep. I was just curious but if you don’t wanna talk about it I understand.”

He rambled on and I could feel the sympathy radiating off of him as I pursed my lips. I let my arm wrap around his torso as I stayed silent for a moment, pulling him closer to me.

“I was nine,” I whispered and I heard his breathing falter for a moment, before attempting to relax again, “I was talking to my sister on emails with my moms help when my dad came into the room. He started yelling and throwing shit everywhere, tell us we were stupid to talk to someone who doesn’t care about us.”

“Oh,” he whispered almost inaudibly and I inhaled sharply, remembering the day clearly as if it were yesterday.

“He hit me for the first time ever that night. He would always hit my mom but she said if he ever tried to hurt me she would call the police. That wasn’t true though because he beat her so badly that night that she didn’t leave the house for a week. I was so terrified of him from then on,” I explained weakly, not daring to look up at him as I spoke, pressing my cheek to his chest for comfort as he continued running his fingers along my back in silence, “I woke up a week later to a note on my bedside table from her. She said that she was leaving but she would be back for me when she knew it was safe enough for her. But she never came back.”

I chewed my bottom lip, my throat beginning to close as Matt sighed, holding me tighter against him as he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Layls.”

“I get it. I didn’t at the time, I hated her for leaving me behind but I know if she took me with her he would’ve found her and tried to get her locked up for kidnapping. Probably would’ve killed her if he was that angry,” I shrugged, tears springing to my eyes, “I just wish that she did come back, ya know? I spent the next 3 years looking out the front window every day just waiting for her to come help me but she just never did.”

I took a breath, a few tears slipping out of my eyes which I quickly wiped with the sleeve of my hoodie, embarrassed that I was crying in front of him, “I always understood why my sister left and never came back. By the time she would’ve been able to help me I was already old enough. But I just wanted my mom sometimes.”

My face was now set in a deep frown and I felt Matt’s lips press against the top of my head, his arm squeezing me against him as he mumbled, “I’m sorry, baby. I had no idea.”

“I just miss her,” I let more tears fall from my eyes, pulling him impossibly closer as the wetness traveled down my cheeks, landing on the skin of his chest as I didn’t dare look up at him.

“I know, baby. I know,” he mumbled against my hair comfortingly as he ran his hand up and down my back to soothe me, “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, quickly wiping my tears away as I sniffled, attempting to steady my breathing.

“Hey,” he said softly as his hand landed under my chin, pulling my face toward his. I looked up at him with teary eyes and I bit my lip to swallow the sadness, “Don’t you dare apologise. I’m here for you, pretty girl. Always.”

“I just hate crying in front of people. It makes me feel weak,” I whispered as a few more tears rolled down my face and he swiped his thumb across my cheeks to rid of them making me close my eyes from his gentle touch.

“You aren’t weak for having emotions. I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t express whatever you’re feeling around me,” he whispered, placing a delicate kiss on my forehead as I sighed, taking in a shaky breath before I opened my eyes again to look up at him.

“One minute I’m begging you to fuck me. Next thing you know I’m crying about my mother,” I snickered at the ridiculousness of the situation as his face broke out in a gentle smile, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“You keep me on my toes,” he chuckled, his chest vibrating under my chin as I smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” I whispered, reaching up to cradle his jaw with my hand as I ran my nails along the scruff of his cheeks.

“For what?” he asked quietly, a smile still resting on his lips as he wrapped both of his arms around my back.

“You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel safe,” I admitted, my voice shaking at the vulnerability I wasn’t adjusted to yet.

“Selfishly,” he began saying as his hand trailed under my hoodie and pressed against the warm skin of my back again, “I’m glad I can be the one to make you feel that way.”

“Selfishly,” I whispered as I leaned forward, my nose brushing against his, “I’m glad too.”

I leaned forward, a gentle kiss being held between us in a moment of pure intimacy, no external factors interrupting the moment of peace. I pulled away from the softness of his lips, a smile breaking through my lips as I gazed up at him.

This boy will be the death of me.

tags:

@ilovechrissturniolo1 @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @sturnfix @lilsstvrn @sturniololol @dsturniolo @sturniolowhore @jebbie-project-blog @jaxyy219 @chrisstankyleg @lov3bug @pinklittleflower @thatcrazybitch-69 @trinity2058 @alorsxsturn

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stvckwithaphobia · 1 year

Text

— PUNISHMENT [bang chan] 💵

content/warning. bang chan x female reader — securityguard!chan + shoplifter!reader — smut/pwp — dom/sub dynamics — rough sex — unprotected penetrative sex (don’t do this) — implied oral (m receiving) — sir kink — reader gets called slut, babygirl, good girl

word count. 1.0k

note. this is a reupload of my own post published on 22/10/02 on this blog — thank you so much for 100 followers and the generous feedback on my last post?? would have never expected it to gain so much success — I hope you will enjoy this one in case you come across this :)

important. minors do not interact, this is 18+ content — none of the characters are supposed to imitate real people, any coincidences with names and places are just for the sake of fiction — if you enjoy this content pls consider leaving a comment or reblogging this!

—

It’s all wrong. All a big fucking stupid idea and you know it. Still, you can’t help it. Almost magically, the pair of glimmery shining earrings land inside your purse. You make sure no one notices.

But you don’t make sure of it enough.

Getting behind the barrier of the exit of the store is one thing—you’ve managed that part just fine.

Whereas leaving without the security guard witnessing the guilt hiding in your face is another level of obscurity.

“Ms, could I have a look inside your purse please?”

His voice startles you, quite loud but also not loud enough for the other customers to notice.

“W-Why do you need to do that?”

He takes two steps towards you, looking right into your face and getting aware of the anxiety plastered all over it. The name on his uniform reads ‘Christopher Bang’.

“Ms, I’ve seen you put some jewelry inside your bag. You can either open the purse now or follow me to the back room and we’ll discuss it there until the police officer arrives.”

You gulp. The big lump of saliva that has built up in your throat slides down—with the last piece of hope. But you won’t give up. You can’t. You’re deeply fucked. This is a whole shitshow and you’re the protagonist.

“No,” you simply say.

“Preferring the hard way? Alright, then please follow me.”

What are your options anyway? You’ve decided to choose the less embarrassing one, after all he would have caught you anyway. You're guilty. You're guilty and he knows it. You know it, too. A fucking bad job in hiding it is what you’re doing.

Only a small desk lamp enlightens the cramped room, a table is placed in the middle with a folding chair in front of it. Your breath hitches once you realise he’s standing right behind you, carefully tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. So it’s easier to whisper to you.

“I’ll give you an option here. Like a chance of redemption if you wanna call it that.”

You swallow again. His heavy breathing is drowned out by your heartbeat pulsating up into your ears. It’s deafening.

“W-What is that?”

The security guard’s big hand lands on your front upper thigh. Roughly he squeezes the flesh through the thick material of your jeans but you don’t deny any of his actions—it’s rather the opposite. The anticipation is killing you and you’re striving for more.

“You can seek your punishment here, with me, and I’ll forget about what you did earlier.”

The idea shoots a tingling sensation straight down to your core. You’re helpless. You’re defeated. But you’re eager for what’s yet to come.

“Okay.”

Chris is surprised about you agreeing so quickly but he doesn’t mind at all. His hot breath still lingers on your skin, goosebumps erupt all over it.

“We’re gonna establish some rules beforehand. First of all, watch your manners and the way you address me.”

Whilst the words echo into your ears and you need some time to realise what he’s saying, Chris is already busy fiddling with the buttons on your shirt. He opens them one by one so the cold air can slowly hit your hot skin underneath.

“Okay, sir.”

The black fabric lands on the floor, pooling on the ground all pathetically just like the remaining bits of your pride. With one swift motion he gets rid of your bralette, as it’s being thrown down as well. Your tits now on full display he grabs them roughly, pinching the sensitive bud between two of his fingers.

“You’re a quick learner, I see. Good girl.” He spins you around, all suddenly, so he’s able to place you on top of the cold metal table. Then he gets closer until his lips brush your ear again. “If you want me to stop anytime, just say the word ‘red‘.”

You quickly nod, holding your breath before you reply all quietly, “Yes, sir.”

And that’s how you find yourself—merely a few moments later—being pushed onto the cold table, face first meeting the wooden material. Your makeup is smudged and ruined by now but your looks are the last thing you care about.

Chris is the master of his element, the way he’s thrusting his big cock in and out your tight walls drives you to oblivion. His movements are sharp but steady, his hands grab your hip and neck to keep you in place just like he enjoys.

“Naughty slut deserves to be punished for doing something so wrong,” he whispers into your ear once he lowers his weight onto you.

“You shouldn’t have let me catch you, baby, that’s what you get for it.”

You arch your back and want to answer. But with the way he brushes that certain spot inside you, the realization hits you—you’re not capable of taking any control and you don’t want to.

“Say it, babygirl, confess about what you did and I’ll let you cum, hm? How does that sound? I know you’re close, no need to try to fool me.”

Slap. His hand collides with your ass—one of Chris’s attempts to bring you back to the present again.

“Okay—yes, sir, I did s-steal those earrings. I am d-deeply s-sorry. Please, I’ll do w-whatever you want—just l-let me cum already,” you stutter as your eyes meet the back of your head in satisfaction.

“Then go on, be a good girl and show me that you’re able to follow my rules.”

So you do. Your vision gets blinded by overwhelmness and glittery stars as you come undone, creaming all over his cock. Chris lets you ride out your high whilst your cunt keeps clenching around him, almost triggering his own climax.

Once he’s made sure you’ve somehow calmed down a bit, he pulls out of you—mixtures of your liquids and his precum splashing onto the floor and slowly running down your inner thighs.

“You said you’ll do anything, hm? Then go on your knees for me, slut. Be a good girl and suck me off.”

—

🖇 taglist — @gibbysupremeacyisreal

#bang chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x you #bang chan hard thoughts

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plussizefantasia · 7 months

Text

Munson's Commentary

Flufftober Day 22: Haunted House

Modern AU: Eddie Munson x f!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

AN: This was inspired by a real-life experience I had at one of those scare experience places that are like hainted houses on steroids. I wish I had had an Eddie Munson to protect me, but alas I had to do it myself. Feedback and Reblgs are much appreciated. See y'all tomorrow!

divider credit @royallaesthetics

“You guys are fucking sick, you know that?” You spat out at Robin and Steve who were over on the sidewalk laughing their assess off.

This was their idea, doing the Scare Factor Experience ™ and you were totally not afraid to admit that when it came to shit like this you were a wimp. You had told them so right after they suggested the Saturday night outing and yet, here you were. Waiting on the sidewalk outside this warehouse-looking place with a bunch of other young adults in various states of intoxication. It was halfway to freezing out here and you were in a simple jeans and sweater-combo. Which would have been sufficient for hanging out at Steves as the plans had originally been.

Robin had seen the ad on her phone while scrolling on the couch and immediately started convincing the group that it would be “So fun” and “a great idea”. Bullshit. You didn’t consider being scared by weird people in makeup was a great way to spend your night.

But you’d been outvoted and unceremoniously shoved into the back of Steve’s car so you apparently didn’t really have a choice.

When you’d arrived and seen how long the line was you’d tried to convince the others that it would be too long and you should just go home, which only caused another round of booing at you and some minor bullying that you wouldn’t put up with form anyone except your friends.

It was obvious you were on edge, which to the dumbass duo over there meant that you were free game apparently. They’d been trying to jumpscare you in line every ten minutes for the past hour and had successfully gotten you a few times.

“C’mon guys, leave the scaring to the professionals.” Eddie had told them, wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you into his side.

“We’re just messing around Munson.” Steve had replied, sticking his tongue out at your curly-haired savior. You stuck your tongue right back out at him and turned to his your face in eddies chest. Eddie hadn’t really said much tonight, usually you can’t get him to stop talking but tonight was different for some reason.

“You okay, Eds?” You mumbled into the neckline of his shirt.

“Yeah Princess, just not thrilled about being here.”

“I thought you liked scary things?”

“I do, but you don’t. I don’t want to force you to do this but I also don’t want to leave you out here where I can’t keep an eye on you.”

“Aww Eds. I’ll be okay I promise. I’m just a little scardey cat sometimes.”

“You shouldn’t have to be okay about it. Tweedle dee and tweedle dum over there should’ve taken no for an answer and planned to go another time.

“Thank you for sticking up for me Eddie, but seriously It’s not that big of a deal.”

“If you say so, princess. Just know that I’ve got your back.”

A few more minutes went by, during which your little group shuffled closer and closer to the doors. At one point, Nancy and Jon joined your group. You don’t know who had texted them but they were here now. You loved hanging out with them but weren’t too excited at the prospect that more people were going to see you freak out in a few more minutes.

Eventually, your group made it to the doors and listened to the guy at the entrance explain the rules. No pictures, no running, and definitely no putting your hands on the scare actors. Apparently, some people punched when they were scared.

You and Eddie were smack dab in the middle of your group. Robin and Steve had locked arms and were raring to go at the front. You and Eddie were right behind them, Eddie still having his hand on your back, attempting to rub soothing circles into your skin. Nancy and Jonathon were behind you too, whispering back and forth between the two of them and giggling. You had no idea what could possibly be funny right now.

The guy who had told you the rules pulled back a thick black curtain and told you all to go ahead into the starting room.

Stepping past the curtain submerged your group into a sea of darkness. There was no light except for the faint glow of the fire exit sign right behind you.

Steve and Robin marched confidently towards the other set of doors in the room, past that was the haunted house, which didn’t have any exits you could take once you went through it.

Together they pushed the doors open and a dark red light could be seen on the other side but not much. You were trembling in your boots at this point. You could feel your tears begin to water and your breath begin to pick up and Eddie did too.

“I got you, Princess.” He whispered into your ear, and you calmed down even if it was just lightly. Slowly and with a small push from Eddie your feet began to work again and you started shuffling forward and into the first room.

This room wasn’t really a room, more like a hallway. The walls were made of some kind of metal sheeting and above your heads were red pulsating lightblubs. The hallway wasn’t very wide, meant for only one person to go through at a time. Eddie grabbed your hand and took the lead. Slowly pulling you behind him but turning his head back a couple of times to check on you. Behind you, Nancy was looking around, without the need to hold her boyfriend’s hand and you were suddenly distracted by the feeling of fear, as it was quickly replaced by embarrassment.

However, the feeling faded just as quickly as it had come when you entered another room. One modeled after a kind of run-down hospital. There was a woman behind a counter, dressed in a blood-covered nurse's outfit. In her hands was the largest needle you had ever seen, her head was tipped back and she was laughing like a maniac.

You were absolutely terrified. It was all too much, the low lights, the creepy soundtrack in the background. The fog that was being pumped into the building made it hard to breathe and you could tell you were beginning to panic. That was until you heard, “Do you take walk-ins? I don’t think I have an appointment,” come out of your boyfriend’s mouth. You couldn’t help but smile. If Eddie had a superpower it would be his humor, it was one of the many reasons you loved him.

Room after room, Eddie would make you laugh and feel better by cracking some jokes. A room that looked like a butcher, complete with fake hanging pigs? “I’m a vegetarian, do you have like a salad or something?” A dentist’s office “Will I get a sticker when I’m done?” And so on and so on. Every time an actor would jump out at you he would say “Hello!” in a cheery voice. Once or twice you heard him say “Happy birthday”.

By the last room, you were laughing more than you were screaming and your heart was warm with the love you held for your goofball. He held your hand the entire time and made you forget all about the terror that was supposed to be flowing through your veins.

The last set of doors opened up and immediately you could breathe better, the fake fog not following you into the outside air.

“That was awesome!” Robin yelled, turning to look back at the rest of you.

“It was fun, I could’ve gone without Munson’s commentary though.” Steve ribs, sending a wink your way to let you know he was just joking around.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Harrington, I’m hilarious,” Eddie replies.

“You really are.” You pipe up, placing a kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek and sticking your tongue out at Steve one more time.

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bebepac · 1 year

Text

Tornado Taylor 🌪

I am participating in @choicesflashfics prompt # 22 “I am at my wits end with you.” which will be in bold

I am also participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge prompt: Can I at least tell my side of the story, which will also be in bold.

The Book: TRR (no royals) Series: Chapter 6: School Dayz (link posted if you need to catchup) Pairings: Liam x Riley Word Count: 1575 Warning and Ratings: NONE! Mood Music Monday Song Imspiration: The Call: Regina Spektor Summary: Riley gets roped into shenanigans with her sister.

Original Post: 03/04/23 at 9:15PM EST.

“TELL ME THE TRUTH RIGHT NOW RILEY ANTONIA BROOKS!!! RIGHT NOW!!!!!!” My father’s voice boomed in anger.

This was probably the most angry I had seen him in a long time.

‘I didn’t do it! I promise!”

“I am at my wits’ end with you!”

Taylor remained silent.

“Taylor!!!!” I screamed at her. My sister had her look. Her ‘She’s pleading the 5th look where she stops answering questions.’ She wouldn’t leave me to hang out to dry like this in something I had no part of…. Would she? Her own sister - - her identical twin at that.

“Taylor please….”

“Dad, she said no. She didn't do anything wrong.”

“I don’t believe either of you right now. We’re leaving.”

“Dad, no, I already took the written test. I took it!” Taylor insisted.

Dad grabbed me by one arm and then Taylor by the other taking us up to the examiner.

“Are you able to verify which one of these girls took the written driver’s test?”

The examiner looked from Taylor to myself, and back again, The both of us were dressed identically, We looked the exact same down to my sneakers.

“No…I can't tell the difference between the two of them.”

“Didn’t think so, so we won’t be completing this driving test today.”

You may be asking yourself how I got myself into this predicament. I have two words for you. Tornado Taylor.

I love my sister, I really truly do. She’s smart and not just another ditsy popular girl.

If she put as much focus into hair-brained schemes as she put into school, she’d be on the dean’s list right now, like I am, instead of barely on A / B honor Roll. School came pretty easy to Taylor and if she actually studied…. Like I have to study, she could be running circles around me.

But I’m getting sidetracked. Here’s how Tornado Taylor sucked me up into her vortex.

Three Hours Ago:

I woke up that morning without incident. Since it was a teacher’s work day and we didn’t have school, my body is used to its routine of getting up early. I decided to make myself a bowl of cereal while the house was still quiet. Afterwards I showered and dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

She peeked her head into my room.

I lounged on my bed streaming the new series that had just debuted on the APP called The Vampires Live On. I had to share my login with Taylor but at least we watched different things. It was very rare that the two of us watched the same shows or had to restart a series.

“Ri, Breakfast.”

“I already ate.”

“Oh. You’re already up and dressed?” Taylor was still in pajamas.

“Yeah, I’m laying low today.”

“After breakfast Dad’s taking me to the DMV to get my license.”

“Good Luck!”

“I don’t need luck, I have a plan.”

I should have taken it as a warning... but I didn’t.

Two Hours Ago

Hungry from my binge watching I came into the kitchen for a snack finding Jaiden sitting on the couch about to turn on the TV.

He looked at me in an odd way.

“Hey?”

“What are you planning on watching?”

“Don’t know yet. What are you watching currently?”

“The Vampires Live On.”

“Yeah I heard that’s supposed to be good. You like it?”

“Yeah. You should check it out. I’m on episode 2 it’s really good.”

“Noted.”

“Taylor and Dad are still at the DMV?”

“Yep, Taylor had one job. To make her appointment for her driving test and exam and she didn’t. Now they’re waiting to be seen. Of course she blamed the app and not herself.”

“God… Dad is probably livid. You know he just hates sitting somewhere waiting.”

“Yep.”

“I’ll be sure not to be around when they get back, he’s going to be grumpy.”

“Yep. I’m taking Bebe to the lake.”

“Have fun.”

“We will.”

One Hour Ago

I had dozed off binge watching the show and woke up when my phone buzzed.

Taylor: Riley help!

Riley: What’s wrong?

Taylor: Can you come to the DMV right now?

Riley: Why?

Taylor: I need you.

Riley: Why?

Taylor: I need a tampon. I’m in the bathroom. I’m embarrassed to come out.

Dad, even though he could be grumpy at times, when it came to “womanly concerns” as he called them, he had no problem going to buy what we needed and even coming back with our favorite chocolate candy in tow with him without us asking. He knew I liked kit kats, Taylor, peanut butter cups, and mom likes a bag of bite size snickers. Dad tried to be sensitive to those things. He had taught Jaiden to be sensitive too, and Jaiden was just like dad in that aspect.

When I didn’t respond Taylor texted again.

Taylor: Dad is mad at me because I didn’t make an appointment on the DMV app, and I don’t want to have to send him out to get something else, or he’ll go nuclear. Can you help me please?

Riley: I'll be there in a little bit.

I put on my shoes and headed down the stairs.

Jaiden perked up when I walked in the room.

"Where are you going?"

"Taylor needs me."

"She's fine with Dad."

"It's a girl emergency.”

“Oh. You should change though.”

“No time. I won’t be gone long.”

Jaiden sighed. Now I think my brother knew exactly what I was walking right into. Tornado Taylor.

I ran out the door. It didn’t take me long to get to the DMV, I went immediately to the bathrooms.

“Taye?”

“Last stall.”

“Well open the door.”

I was surprised to see Taylor dressed identically to me.

“What are you doing?”

“I banked on the chance you wouldn’t change your clothes. So funny story.. I need your help for something else.”

“I don’t like where this is going Taye…”

“So I totally didn’t study for the written test, can you take it for me?”

“What? No!!!!”

“I will totally ace the driving part.”

“Taylor no! This has to be illegal or something. NO! Or the very least identity theft.”

“Theft is a strong word, especially if I’m letting you borrow my identity.”

“That is not how it works Taylor!! Did you even need the tampons? Stupid me of course you didn’t!!!”

There was a knock on the door.

“Taylor, they called your number, time to take your test.”

“Okay Dad, I’ll be right out.”

“Riley come on!!!”

“No.” I said in a forced whisper.

“Riley please!?!?!?!”

“NO!!!”

“Then you’re stuck in here until we can sneak you out.” Taylor commented in a matter of fact way. I couldn’t believe I got myself roped into Taylor’s shenanigans yet again.

About thirty minutes later Taylor returned.

“Dad went to the vending machine to get us drinks. Let’s get you out before he sees you or your car.”

I had almost made it to the door out of the DMV when I heard my father’s voice.

“What’s going on here?”

I turned around to face my father.

“Hey Dad.”

“Riley, what are you doing here?”

He took a moment to look at the two of us, his face turning bright red.

“Taylor Jeanine Brooks you have three seconds to tell me what’s going on.”

Taylor smiled her megawatt smile, “So Dad, funny story….”

“Nope, nevermind, that’s probably going to be a lie. Riley, tell me the truth.”

“Dad…..”

“TELL ME THE TRUTH RIGHT NOW RILEY ANTONIA BROOKS!!! RIGHT NOW!!!!!!” My father’s voice boomed in anger. This was probably the most angry I had seen him in a long time.

Annnd… we’re back to where you guys came in. Tornado Taylor got me again. I could expect nothing less than World War Brooks when we all got back home. I was able to drive myself back home, and you know what? I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for Taylor having to ride all the way home with our father who was as angry as a disturbed hornet’s nest.

The moment we got home Jaiden came into the living room when he heard all the commotion.

“Riley, give me your car keys. You’re grounded.”

“But Dad…. I didn’t do anything. Can I at least tell my side of the story?”

“She had no clue what she was walking into Dad. Look at Riley’s phone.” Jaiden spoke up for me.

At that moment, I could have completely saved myself and given my father the phone, but something was stirring in my stomach.

“Riley, give me your phone.”

“No.”

Shocked, Taylor glared at me. Even though Tornado Taylor was a mess at times, read all the time, I still loved her to the moon and back again.

“I am trustworthy, and if I say I didn’t take the test for her, you should believe me Dad. Despite the overwhelming data that says we did something shady. You should believe ME….I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me. So, if not giving you my phone right now means I’m grounded too, I guess I will be grounded too.”

I dropped my car keys on the table and walked upstairs towards my room.

In the distance I heard the equivalent of my sister falling on the sword for me.

“Dad, please don’t ground Riley. She did nothing wrong, this is all my fault.”

From that moment on, the relationship between us changed. My sister never again saw me as someone she could manipulate to get what she wanted, but let’s be honest, she should have never been looking at me that way in the first place.

#bebepac writes #school dayz #trr au fanfic #trr fanfic #trr fandom #choices fanfiction #liam x riley #choices monthly challenge #choices flashfics #play choices #choices fic writers creations

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

Text

☆ enfin, je me réveille masterlist

☆ enfin, je me réveille: college au feat. eren jaeger x reader.

☆ setting: modern day, year xx22, paradis city, autumn

☆ starring: eren jaegar, college senior (22) & y/n, college senior (21-22)

☆ feat. cameo appearances from: jean kirschtein, mikasa ackerman, armin arlert, connie springer, reiner braun, historia reiss, annie leonhart, sasha braus, zeke jaeger, & a few others.

☆ summary (of sorts): y/n is a broke college senior in desperate need of tutoring for chemistry and can’t afford to fail another class. eren jaegar is in the top 10% of their class, extremely standoffish, has an absurd amount of wealth to his name, and doesn’t have many that he considers friends. he’s your typical smart, cool, loner type that people inevitably want to befriend due to his magnetic persona, but he keeps them all at arm’s length due to issues from his past (he’s also just an ass in general). he finds himself begrudgingly intrigued by y/n and offers to tutor her in exchange for…certain favors. y/n is reluctant, but will do anything to make sure she passes. unbeknownst to them, there are bigger, more sinister things at play behind the scenes in the seemingly peaceful city of paradis.

☆ word count: currently at 20k.

☆ contains: black fem reader, nsfw (18+ mdni), profanity, arguing, corrupt politics, blood money, solo masturbation (m & f, separately), alcohol consumption, drug use, blackmail, degradation/humiliation, overstimulation, nipple play, edging, public sex, a shit ton of angst (ur welcome), a gallon of smut (idk what to tell u), oral m. receiving, oral f. receiving, a lot of betrayal, plot twists galore, & violence (not sure how much, it’s all up in the air at this point tbh).

☆ chapter 01 - conquest - (complete)

☆ chapter 02 - staccato - (complete)

☆ chapter 03 - acrimony - (complete)

☆ chapter 04 - subversive - (in progress)

☆ chapter 05 - lucent - (in progress)

☆ last updated: 08/27/22

☆ hi hi! ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ thanks for stopping by and hopefully you enjoy the story i’m crafting. i’m not sure how long this fic will be, it’s smth ambitious that i’m taking on, but i definitely will try to update it consistently (although, i am a little slow sometimes so bear with me). as i write, i’ll update the warnings list.

☆ if you want to be added to the taglist then you can drop a comment or send me a message and i’ll add you!

☆ as stated before, this is a college au/modern au fic; i try to keep as close to canon as possible with characterizations, and trying to incorporate part of the aot/snk lore into a modern world is a little tricky but i’m making it work i think.

☆ i have an idea of how i want this to end, but i don’t always stick to outlines so we’re all going to be in for a wild ride, u feel me; just know that it’s a dark romance w. a lot of drama, there isn’t going to be a happy ending (not in the traditional sense).

☆ taglist: strawhatsoraya, berriesandcrem, simpbutapimp, littlemochi

#took me forever to format but here we go #series: enfin je me réveille #aot x reader #snk x reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #x black reader #eren x black y/n #snk x black reader

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fantastic-bby · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Reader x Jinyoung

Word count: 881

Genre: Fluff | Domesticity

Summary: Life at home with your husband has never been better.

Warnings: -

[22:41]

“Why did we wait this long to do the laundry?” you sigh as you start pulling your freshly dried sheets out of the laundry basket, dumping the warm pile of various fabric onto the wooden floor of your bedroom.

“I told you to start doing your laundry earlier in the day, but you didn’t listen,” Jinyoung claims in his ‘I told you so’ voice with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches from the open doorway.

“Yeah, yeah,” you huff, “now, get your ass over here and help me.”

Jinyoung lets out a small laugh before obliging. He walks closer to where you’ve turned the floor into a makeshift folding board and joins you in folding the laundry.

It’s silent and it’s peaceful.

You find yourself feeling more joy out of the simple and domestic acts that you and Jinyoung would end up doing despite having already been married for more the past five years and having dated for almost seven.

There’s just something about simply being with him that makes your heart feel ten times calmer than it had been for the rest of the day. No words have to be exchanged; only Jinyoung’s presence being there.

“Have you done the dishes yet?” you ask softly, the question coming out rather suddenly, but only because you had remembered it so suddenly.

Jinyoung’s hands immediately freeze, his eyes widening slightly as he keeps his eyes trained on one of your jeans that he was in the middle of folding.

Your eyes narrow skeptically upon seeing his reaction, “Jinyoung…”

“I may have forgotten because I got caught up with work,” he confesses sheepishly.

“And you scolded me for choosing to fold the laundry at night,” you grumble just as you toss a jacket at his head.

The fabric lands in a way where it completely drapes over Jinyoung’s head and covers his face as he stays still and allows it to happen.

He chuckles and pulls one sleeve of it to pull it off, “I deserve that. I’ll wash them after we’re done with the laundry. I don’t want the clothes to wrinkle.”

“As long as you get them done.”

Jinyoung smiles and nods.

You both return to the same rhythm as before, grabbing clothes from the pile, folding them, and setting them aside in the white laundry basket to be put away into your closet later.

The pile slowly gets smaller and smaller as the minutes go past, until it’s half an hour later and all of your laundry is done. You think that you’re both lucky you still haven’t agreed to have children yet with how it takes more than an hour for you to fold laundry for only two people every week.

Once the pile is gone, you move to putting away the clothes as Jinyoung moves to the kitchen to start with the dishes that had piled up from dinner.

You stay in the bedroom for about ten minutes once you’re done with your chore and try to preoccupy yourself with one of the books from Jinyoung’s extensive bookshelf that sits flush against the right side of the bedroom, facing the queen sized bed.

But the compilation of poems and short stories can keep you busy for only so long before you start missing the company of your best friend.

You slide out of your bedroom in your fuzzy socks and shuffle your way down the stairs and to the kitchen where Jinyoung’s back faces the archway into the kitchen. The sleeves of his black sweater are rolled up to his elbows to avoid getting them wet as he works through the dishes at his own pace.

You approach him softly, successfully standing behind him without alerting him before you wrap your arms around his waist.

“Shit,” Jinyoung curses, jumping when he feels you. “You scared me, love,” he chuckles without turning around.

“I missed you,” you hum as you press your cheek into his shoulder blade.

“You make it sound like we’ve been separated for months,” he laughs.

“Well, we wouldn’t be separated at all if you had done the dishes when you got home, but here we are,” you scold him playfully.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’ll be done in a few minutes. We can watch a movie together after this, okay?”

Jinyoung wipes his hands dry with one of the rags before turning around to face you, a big smile on his face as his hands rest on your hips gently. The black frame of his glasses sit loosely on the bridge of his nose as a result of being unable to push them back into place in the middle of doing the dishes.

You raise your hand to gingerly adjust his glasses with your index finger which makes him scrunch his nose and purse his lips together.

“I’d love that.”

He smiles once again as he leans down to kiss the tip of your nose.

“We could also look at online stores to buy you new pairs of socks.”

“Oh! I like that idea better!” you gasp excitedly.

Jinyoung laughs, “I thought you would.”

“Can we get matching pairs of those cute fox themed socks?”

“Of course we can, honey.”

“And what about the astronaut ones?”

“We can get those, too.”

#kwritersworldnet #got7creators #got7 #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 drabbles #got7 fluff #park jinyoung #park jinyoung imagines #park jinyoung scenarios #park jinyoung drabbles #park jinyoung fluff #jinyoung #jinyoung imagines #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung drabbles #jinyoung fluff

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m0tel6mxzzy · 2 years

Text

a rant on monet de haan and “but og gossip girl was old money”

not to bitch abt racist og gossip girl fans but im gonna bitch abt them. i REMEMBER yalls tone when the show first got promo before it even aired, and weren’t even willing to give it a chance, u just made assumptions bc the entire cast wasnt white.

ppl, specifically og gg tiktok fans, were saying the old show “gives old money” and the new show doesnt, conveniently forgetting chuck’s dad wasn’t born into wealth but became wealthy when chuck was young, making him new money. his dad is worth 22 billion dollars.

monet’s parents are heirs to a new york pharmaceutical company and on her wiki its listed that her family descends from old money. johnson and johnson is one of the biggest and has a net worth 435 billion as the wealthiest pharma company in the us. bc im lazy and dont feel like counting means and stats for the top 10 pharma companies in the us relative to ny, im assuming the de haan company has a networth of 100-400+ billion. whatever her family’s networth is i will happily believe it is more than chuck bass.

and monet’s parent’s donation of the wing had to occur sometime after everyone in the og show including jenny’s grade had graduated constance bc it wasnt yet canon, but just before monet had gone there. if we’re talking as soon as jenny’s grade had graduated, thats between june 2010-aug 2018, and monet would be 5 to 13. i’m going to average that the time the wing was planned to be built was 2014 when she’d by 9 bc i love the idea of little monet dreaming of going to constance with absolute certainty, and bc 2014 is a prettier number. my theory is that greyson and camille were planning to have monet go to CB St Judes ever since she was a child, hence the early donation.

anyway her parents literally paid for wing in constance and it has their names on it w the money from an old new york pharma company they own. and yall are like,,, dying on the hill she, bc she’s part of the reboot, wasnt born into wealth??? and even if she wasnt i know yall didnt just forget the og gg had poc on the show who were also old money or otherwise so loaded rich they could afford constance, but usually they were background characters like the minions, nelly yuki, and raina. the minions who literally only served to do blair’s bidding, and nelly yuki who was opposed bc blair saw her as an academic rival and was willing to sabotage her.

and then raina thorpe whos one of the only black girls in the show w a prominence in the og series, but idk. she’s moreso there bc she was w/ nate and chuck, but also her dad is basically a “villain” in the show and raina gets the short end of the stick and has to suffer for it, which is when she leaves the show. im just saying ofc someone the same race as monet or luna or aki would be happy to see themselves represented on screen and not as a background character or recurring character there only a short amnt of time if they loved the og gg.

and if you personally aren’t? cool thats ok but let ppl who are be happy. you dont need to mount some moral high horse pretending u care abt poc to defend why u hate us being represented in media. yall complain whenever poc are shown in media even when it isnt a reboot but rather an extension of the franchise such as star wars, so i find it hard to believe ur crapping on new reboots in media for having poc bc u actually care abt us being properly represented.

like, factually racism is the only thing convincing yall the old gg is “old money” and the new one isnt. also we need to have a talk abt what yall constitute as old money, bc hf twitter stayed hating on alexa demie for her early 00s fashion for being “cheap” as if paris hilton also wasn’t dressing kinda like alexa currently does in the early 00s while also happening to be an heiress to a hotel brand. and as if hf twt doesn’t constantly worship the air bella hadid breathes for wearing low rise jeans and baby tees which is just as much y2k inspired as what alexa wears.

like,, yall think all rich people, w/in ur very narrow view of what rich old money ppl look like, only ever dress in ralph lauren polos,,,and it’s not even like yall read the gg books to know the og characters wear burberry and ralph lauren which any tiktok old money “connoisseur” would hate for being “flashy,’ but because its in the list of their weird arbitrary rules of crap all old money rich ppl apparently do. if the reboot characters wore burberry scarves and ralph lauren polos w giant logos on the front yall would complain they arent following ur made up rich ppl rules u think applies to everyone who’s an heir to fortune.

yall just forget abt raina and hated gg2021 before it even aired all bc it starred poc, and bc its weird seeing a rich it girl in a position of power who doesnt look like blair or serena. for the de haans to have the money to donate a wing to the school and pay monet’s tuition on top of that and live in the excess monet does simultaneously kinda shows like,,how fucking rich monet is. therefore the attitudes of the students make a lot of sense. and if blair was treating a teacher the way monet does bc she had a wing dedicated to her parents, yall would eat that shit up whether blair was old money or not!!!

listen im a huge gg fan but i also pay attention!!! i am not letting monet de haan slander slide!!!! im all for her being as entitled due to her wealth and carefree as blair was!!! bc blair did some f’ed up shit yet monet being snide w a teacher gets yalls feathers ruffled...and we all know why yall wouldnt have the same reaction if it were audrey doing the same but thats none of my business

#gossip girl #ggrb #monet de haan #gossip girl 2021 #gg 2021 #and if i got the math wrong on when the de haan wing was first planned idc the exact numbers and calculations arent the focus #anyway i spent an hour trying to properly articulate this

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hmslusitania · 1 year

Note

MOST CURRENT EDITING DRAFT NOVEMBER 22 ??? looks fun and scary?? <3

Blessings on your hearth, home, and any fluffy animals (surfacing neutral) you might love.

It is absolutely not scary, my folder for that story is just a Nightmare of Multiple Drafts and Editions lol. Its proper name is as yet undecided, but have the opening scene of this particular original work:

“Fun fact!” Kit shouted, hurdling over a fern that was almost as tall as she was and then vaulting the fallen log on the other side. She didn’t stumble, so she counted it as a win.

The sound of stampeding hooves got closer.

“Fun fact - skinny jeans? Not made for sprinting!”

“Just keep running!” Rhiannon yelled back. “Worry about your poor wardrobe choices later!”

Do track and field, her social worker had said. It’ll keep you out of trouble, her social worker had said.

Somehow, Kit didn’t think this was what she’d had in mind.

Kit kept running.

“Poor wardrobe choices?” Kit demanded, scrambling over the gnarled and massive root systems of the trees around them. They weren’t trees like Kit had ever seen trees before. She imagined California redwoods might be similar, except these weren’t evergreen. They were massive and stately, their deciduous leaves turning gold with the season, and the root caught against the knees of her jeans and left her bleeding. So much for none of this being real. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise my afternoon was going to be spent sprinting through a magical forest!”

If the situation had been less dire, if there hadn’t been a cavalry chasing them with spears or pikes or whatever, Kit felt sure Rhiannon would’ve paused to pick up one of the head-sized acorns and hurled it at her. As it was, there was a cavalry chasing them with spears or pikes or whatever, and Rhiannon did not.

“Halt! In the name of the emperor!”

Kit glanced at Rhiannon, who looked terrified enough that she felt less ashamed of her own fear.

Kit leapt through a smaller fern — this one only as tall as, say, a Honda Civic — and skidded to a stop. Their pell-mell sprint from the horsemen and the emperor’s sacred shrine had driven them directly to the edge of a ravine. It was too far across to jump to the other side, and too deep to survive the fall into the white-crested river down below.

“What do we do?” Rhiannon demanded, turning to Kit, eyes full of desperation. Kit was impressed she was willing to look away from the men with swords. The cavalry had them surrounded on all sides, and their choices were clear — surrender or jump.

“In the name of the emperor!” the leader of the cavalry said again, dismounting his horse. He was a tall man, but at least part of the height had to come from his honest-to-god plate mail armour. It shone in the autumnal sunlight filtering through the yellow leaves above them and sparkled with fanciful golden insets in the otherwise silver metal. It was almost pretty, but it was definitely not a good sign.

“What emperor?” Rhiannon asked, which Kit thought might be a less relevant question than “why are you chasing us?”

On the other hand, Rhiannon’s confusion gave the cavalry leader pause. That, or the fact there were two strangely dressed young women questioning him was simply baffling to a man with a beard that pointy and resplendent.

“You have breached the sacred shrine!” the cavalry leader said. “You will stand trial for your crimes and then you will be hanged!”

There was a beat of silence after his words, and then Kit grabbed Rhiannon’s arm.

“I figured out what we’re supposed to do,” she said.

“What?” Rhiannon asked. They both took a step backwards as the guard approached them with manacles. Kit had never seen manacles outside a movie before. Handcuffs? Maybe. Manacles? No.

The edge of the ravine crumbled slightly under Kit’s heel. She could hear the river rushing below them - far, far below.

“Jump!”

Please come ask me about my wips

#the ghost ship answers questions #the ghost ship scribbles #elegantlyloquacious

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iyeonjuni · 2 years

Text

casted // chapter 22: and scene!

prev / masterlist / next

word count: 1.1k

“and we’re here!” y/n pulls beomgyu’s wrist along with his, the pair meeting at a skatepark in the edge of hybe city, another one of those places beomgyu’s parents told him not to go close to.

the park was filled with slopes, graffiti on the walls and tons of people of all ages riding on their skateboards. beomgyu looked out of place, his long bangs covering his eyes to avoid anyone noticing him, along with this button up whereas everyone wore graphic tees and ripped jeans.

y/n looked at the people skating up down the slopes doing different tricks on the park, it’s been a while since y/n had gone skateboarding. usually bringing her friends taehyun and yeonjun with her who were phenomenal skaters, y/n wanted to bring beomgyu somewhere that she really liked. looking at beomgyu who kept looking at the skaters, y/n couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“look at me.” y/n taps beomgyu on the shoulder, and beomgyu turns towards y/n. y/n gestures beomgyu to face her and beomgyu bends down slightly, leaning towards y/n a little bit.

y/n ruffles beomgyu’s hair, his bangs even messier and his hair sticks out of each side. y/n laughs at his flustered expression, she couldn’t help but find it adorable.

“there you go.” y/n giggled, and beomgyu thought that it was the prettiest sound he had ever heard.

beomgyu sits by the edge of the park watching y/n skate up and down the slopes, feeling a little nervous every time y/n slides down as if she may fall. she skates towards beomgyu, halting her moves as she reached out for beomgyu’s hand.

“come on, i’ll teach you.” beomgyu holds y/n’s hand as he stood up, holding onto both y/n’s hand for balance as he stepped onto the skateboard. y/n moves slightly as beomgyu starts to move.

“okay…I’m going to let go now.” y/n slowly lets go of her hands around beomgyu’s, and beomgyu’s skateboard skates on its own, y/n jogs slightly to keep up with him. beomgyu smiles as he finds himself getting the hang of it, though he sees someone skating towards him. he tries to stop himself by touching his feet on the ground, as he does he starts to feel himself lose balance, his hands flail upwards to position himself upright, but y/n holds him at the waist to prevent him from falling.

“i got you.” y/n smiles, and beomgyu gets off the skateboard.

y/n and beomgyu sit by the bench of the skatepark, refreshing themselves with drinks they bought from the vending machine nearby. a couple of boys started approaching them, waving at y/n who seemed to be waving back.

“hey y/n it’s been a while, who’s this? your boyfriend?” the group of boys laugh at the one speaking, beomgyu sits closer to y/n feeling slightly intimidated and yet protective over y/n.

“oh my god it’s been so long, just been busy…” y/n gives a fist bump to each of the boys, y/n links her arms with beomgyu, and beomgyu grows shocked at the action. “...yeah he’s my boyfriend! don’t make fun of him, he has never skated before.”

“we could never! we were all once there. hey, you’re really lucky to have y/n, she’s helped us a lot!” beomgyu looks at the boys in confusion, they were a lot nicer than they looked.

“yeah! she basically tutored us back in middle school, if it wasn’t for her our parents would have not been happy at all.” one of the boys said. “also you look very familiar, have i seen you before?”

“oh you've probably mistaken!.” y/n cuts in, knowing beomgyu didn’t like being recognised too much.

“ah probably- y/n you got yourself a handsome boyfriend huh!” the same boy laughs as he nudges her shoulder slightly.

as y/n catches up with her friends and beomgyu joining in, they are oblivious to a certain somebody who had been taking pictures of them all along.

“sorry old friend, but you and y/n can never be together.” jaewon speaks to himself, walking away satisfied with the images he took.

beomgyu and y/n end up finishing the day by walking on the sidewalk beside the river, appreciating the night skyline and the lights reflecting against the waters, they both walk in comfortable silence, appreciating the breeze. it was late at night and beomgyu suggested walking y/n home as she didn’t live too far. though y/n insisted that she was fine, beomgyu wanted to explore the outside neighborhood more. walking slowly, not wanting to reach their destination too quick, their arms swinging back and forth and their pinky fingers brushing against each other. beomgyu couldn’t help but feel the urge to intertwine his pinky with hers. the mood around them shifts, and the air grows hotter y/n feels her palms get sweaty as she constantly glances at beomgyu wanting him to make the first move. though they both felt nervous, wanting to say something to each other. the words on the tip of their tongues.

“y/n…”

“beomgyu…” they spoke in unison, shocking the both of them.

“uh- you can go first.” beomgyu suggesting gesturing to y/n.

taking a deep breath, y/n recollects her thoughts, her heartbeat quickening as she stares at beomgyu. he looked extra beautiful tonight, along with the stars shining right behind him, it seemed like the perfect moment to tell him.

“beomgyu i li-” y/n speaks however, is interrupted by a phone call that seemed to be coming from beomgyu’s pocket.

beomgyu felt the vibration as he pulled out his phone, checking the number to see that it was soobin calling. beomgyu apologises and picks up the phone.

“soobin?”

“where are you? oh my god beomgyu this isn’t good.” soobin can be heard panicking through the phone.

“i’m with y/n remember, what’s wrong? why do you sound so-” beomgyu questions his friend, though soobin cuts him short.

“you need to check the news, you and y/n have been caught at the skatepark- your fake relationship…EVERYTHING.” beomgyu’s eyes widened, hanging up his call with soobin as he checked the local news.

y/n looks at beomgyu’s expression and grows worried, leaning towards him to see what he was so frantically searching on his phone. beomgyu pulls up an article, and there it was a picture of both beomgyu and y/n along with y/n’s friends that they had met earlier before.

“beomgyu-” y/n’s arm reaches out to him, but beomgyu seems to avoid the touch.

“i- i gotta go.” beomgyu runs in the opposite direction, leaving y/n to watch him as he grows further away from her.

taglist [OPEN]: @luvrbin @fairybinie @txitzy @love-hyuka @junityy @tulips4u @myluv-yeonjun @hoshi4k @i6hoons @minhyunct @chloracha @scintillasofbeomgyu @99swinwin @ifwtyun @pr0dbeomgyu @nyujjan @txtville @day6andetcetera @paralumanniluna @tarosaurus @pinkheadflowers @butterflx @rjsmochii @blank-velvet @nyangjjunie @odxrilove @soobin-chois @ahnneyong @yeonyeonyeonjun @rinyx @hobistigma @gyuulvr @helianthes @prettygirlchaee @milkycloudtyg @enhacolor @gorechoi @clarakyunisageek @stray-bi-kids @bubblejunnies @grassbutneo @kuuromiini @makiswrld @marsophilia @juoirs @beomkihao @nshitae @lilacarat @dekusgirl @bbhsblog @beomgyugyu

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poisonedapples · 3 years

Text

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter 2

Craft Projects and Failed Bonding

Chapter Summary: Roman plots against Patton in a way he thinks is threatening.

Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Panic, anxiety, implied past abuse, food mentions, and anxiety over being watched by cameras.

Word Count: 4,533

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22

Notes: Thanks to cornybird on Ao3 for helping me beta this one!

“Virgil, wake up, it’s time for breakfast!”

Roman cracked open his eyes to stare at the door. His security bar was still under the doorknob, and it sounded like Patton walked away to knock on the next kid's door, so Roman slowly lifted himself out of Virgil’s bed once the coast was clear. He hadn’t been asleep for the last two hours, so there was no point to continue lying down and risk Patton trying to get into the room to wake him up. So Roman rubbed his tired eyes to undo the security bar and put it in his backpack.

Though, speaking of his backpack…he had no idea where to put it. It wasn’t safe in Virgil’s room, but Virgil was still sleeping in Roman’s bedroom. He could take it downstairs with him, but that’s a strange thing to do during breakfast, and he didn’t want that to be the conversation opener of the day. Especially if they asked him what was inside. They weren’t allowed to know that.

Eventually, Roman settled on hiding the backpack underneath Virgil’s bed. It wasn’t the best hiding spot, but it’d work until Roman could come back and take it. He opened the door and headed downstairs, praying that he wouldn’t be the first kid to arrive.

The prayer wasn’t enough, because Roman looked around the kitchen and only saw Patton at the stove. Patton looked over at him and seemed confused, trying to hide it behind a chipper smile. “Morning, kiddo! How’d you get dressed so fast? I only knocked on your door a second ago!”

Don’t let him find out you weren’t in your room. “Oh, these are my pajamas, I haven’t gotten dressed yet. And I was already awake, so I just came right downstairs.”

Patton looked Roman up and down, and Roman shivered. “…Do you not have real pajamas, kiddo?”

“No. I like sweatpants better.”

Patton didn’t seem pleased, but he didn’t question it further. Roman sat down at the table and anxiously drummed his fingers while he waited. Eventually, Logan came downstairs fully dressed with his hair brushed, and Virgil followed not long after. His hair was a mess, and his pajamas were twisted like he just fell out of bed and rolled down the stairs to make it in time.

Patton took one look at him and almost gasped. “Virgil, did you sleep last night? You look…a bit rough, to put it lightly.”

Virgil grunted. “I had to clean.”

Patton sighed. “Kiddo, save cleaning for the morning, okay?”

Virgil shrugged, groggily making his way to the coffee machine to try and steal some Patton already made for himself. “Virgil,” Patton chastised, “No coffee. You can go back to sleep after breakfast if you want, but you’re too young for coffee.”

Logan raised his hand. “May I have some?”

“No.”

“Darn.”

“What kinda drink do you want, Roman?” Patton asked. “And don’t say coffee.”

Coffee sounded really nice, actually, but there was no use arguing. “I’ll take milk, then.”

Patton finished emptying the contents of his pan onto some plates before grabbing three cups from the cupboard and filling them up. Two had milk while one had orange juice, and he passed them to each seat at the table. He then passed everybody their plates, with scrambled eggs and a bagel with cream cheese. Roman took his fork and tasted a bite of the eggs.

Holy fuck, Roman hadn’t had something that tasty since his grandma last cooked for him. The eggs were so soft and cheesy, and Roman could barely contain his excitement for it. He put as many eggs as he could fit onto his fork and stuffed it all in his mouth.

Patton laughed when he noticed Roman’s reaction. “Taste good, kiddo?”

Roman hummed, and Patton smiled. “Good! I learned how to make them from my roommate in college, and I haven’t looked back since!”

Roman hoped that roommate taught him how to make a lot more things then, because this was heavenly. He’d finished his entire plate of eggs so fast it was concerning, forgetting all ability to savor his food. Maybe Roman could find the recipe and steal it when Patton wasn’t looking.

Until then, Roman moved on to eating his bagel while everyone else wasn’t even close to finishing breakfast. He guessed that was a good thing. If he finished before everyone else, he could run to Virgil’s room and grab his backpack without anyone noticing. Roman chewed faster at the possibility.

Once again, the table went very silent as everyone ate and Roman tried to make a swift escape. Patton was the one to break the silence this time. “So, Roman,” he said, “How about you and I go to the store today?”

Roman froze. “…Why?”

“I’m sure there’s some stuff you need. School starts again in two days, so we need to get you some school supplies, and maybe we can get some stuff to decorate your room with too!”

“Wait, school starts in two days? I thought it started in two weeks!”

Patton seemed apologetic. “In this district, the first day is this Wednesday. Usually I’d let you stay at home a little longer to get comfortable before school, but I think it’d be easier for you to start the first day when you have the chance. Besides, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you home alone for another week.”

You should leave me here alone, Roman thought. He was a little disappointed he had to go to school sooner than usual, but school was also the best excuse to leave home early and come back late. If he could get involved again in theater, he could hide out and blame his late return times on rehearsals. So maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

Patton interrupted Roman’s internal scheming. “Do you know what kinda supplies you might need, kiddo?”

Roman twirled his cup in his hand and watched the milk spin. “Binders, pencils, folders, notebooks…I only have a backpack, really.”

“We definitely need to stop by the store then! And while we’re there, we can look at all the bedroom stuff too!”

Everything in Roman made him want to decline, to tell Patton to buy him whatever and he’ll make do with what he has. His heart started to pound again, his hand gripping hard on his cup and thinking about his escape options. Then it dawned on him.

They would be going to a store. A store, full of cashiers and moms with kids and plenty of parents who might also need school supplies. If there was anywhere he could be safe while alone with Patton, it was there. And maybe if he agreed, Patton would leave him alone for a while…

“…We can go.” Roman said. Patton’s grin widened and his eyes lit up.

“Great! So, just get ready once you finish breakfast, and we can head out! Logan, you’ll be in charge while Virgil takes a nap.”

Logan nodded, and Virgil almost fell asleep on top of his plate.

Eventually, everyone finished breakfast and put their dishes away, Virgil dragging himself back upstairs and falling into bed without even closing his door. Roman carefully entered his bedroom, darting his eyes between where he hid his backpack and where Virgil was lying.

“What.” Virgil snapped, mumbling it into his pillow. Roman stopped in his tracks.

“I only need to grab my bag, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fuggin’ take it.” Virgil snapped.

Roman grabbed his backpack and scurried out of there, closing the door behind him. It uneased Roman to try to sleep with the door open, so he assumed someone as secluded as Virgil might be the same. It was a little way to show his gratitude for last night.

Roman walked back to his own bedroom after grabbing his backpack. However, once Roman opened the door, he finally understood what Virgil meant by “cleaning”.

The mess Roman made last night was completely gone. The bed was made, the hangers were placed back in the closet, the lightbulb was back in the lamp and the nightstand had been set back up. It was almost like last night was a bad dream that never happened, Roman’s only evidence that it had being the fact that he woke up in Virgil’s room that morning. He looked around the room again to process the change, when he noticed a piece of paper on the nightstand.

Roman picked up the piece of paper and unraveled it.

There’s no cameras in here, I checked. I also fixed your mental breakdown for you. You owe me one.

Virgil

Roman looked around the room, holding the paper tight to his chest as he examined every corner. There wasn’t a single camera in here? Not one? No, no that wasn’t possible. The camera was around here somewhere. Roman knew it.

He looked around again, three times, looking under objects and in the closet, feeling the pit in his stomach grow when all his searches came back futile. He knew it was here somewhere, and he refused to let Patton win. Roman would find it.

He’d just…have to find some other place to sleep until then.

Roman shook his head as a way to erase his thoughts. He could worry about the camera later, but for now, he needed to please Patton’s attempt at getting to know him and get out of this cursed room. Roman still wrapped a blanket around himself as he got dressed, not quite able to shake his anxiety long enough to not take precautions. He changed from his pajamas to a red shirt and baggy jeans, and ran out to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Camera or not, he’d have to find a way to pay Virgil back.

***

“Roman, what’s your favorite color?”

Roman snapped out of his distant stare to look at Patton. He was looking at a display of school binders, pausing for a moment to glance at Roman and wait for an answer. The stare was so much for Roman to process that he took a step back. “Uh…red.”

“Perfect! They’ve got lots of reds!” Patton grabbed a red binder before stopping himself with a thinking expression on his face. “Though, wait, let me check the supplies website…I don’t wanna get a wrong size, or only get one when you need multiple…”

Roman went back to staring at the floor under him. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. It seemed like a great idea at first, but now Roman was here holding himself tight and trying not to cry, feeling the exhaustion set in while his anxiety made him restless. He wanted to go home and sleep, but there was nowhere to sleep. Nowhere to hide.

He’d have to search the house for hiding spots later.

“So,” Patton eventually said, “It doesn’t say exactly, so I’ll just grab a zipper binder and one two inch just in case. If you need more, I can always stop by again and buy some. What’s your second favorite color?”

Roman swallowed to fight back the tears. “Purple.”

Patton smiled. “That’s Virgil’s favorite color! So, one red zipper binder and a purple two inch. So let’s look at the pencil cases now!” Patton caught a glimpse of Roman’s pale face and his smile dropped. “…Are you okay, kiddo?”

Roman nodded. He didn’t trust himself to talk, but it seemed like Patton didn’t trust his answer. He took a step toward Roman, and Roman took two steps back. Patton frowned. “Are you sure?”

Roman nodded again. Patton ran a hand through his hair and looked around the store. Please, let’s just get this over with already.

Patton’s head stopped as his eye caught sight of a specific aisle, and he smiled in Roman’s direction. “Say, kiddo, how about you go check out the fish? I’ll be over here getting the boring stuff if you need me!”

Roman glanced at Patton’s eyes. They were soft and forgiving, but all Roman could feel when looking at them was fear. He took this as his moment, spinning around on his heel and almost sprinting toward the fish aisle. Anywhere was better than being near Patton.

Roman looked at the walls of fish tanks with fish of all kinds of colors, watching them swim around as the filter’s bubbles reached the roof. There were some that were swimming around each other, and others that stopped in place for long periods of time. Roman held himself and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

It was more peaceful away from Patton, at least. Roman felt a little less sick and his hands weren’t shaking as badly, focusing on the fish to calm himself down. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it worked. That’s all Roman could really ask for.

He watched the fish swim around and read their species facts for a while, until he couldn’t feel tears in his eyes anymore and the nausea was tamed. Roman walked through the aisle to look at the fish tank decorations and other pet toys. He picked up a chew toy for a dog and squeaked it, awkwardly messing with the toys and trying to keep Patton in his peripheral vision. It felt odd to be standing around in a pet aisle with no plans of buying anything.

Well, Roman thought, Patton never told me I had to stay in this aisle. It was only a suggestion. I could move on to another part of the store.

Roman looked at where Patton was one more time so he could remember his spot. It seemed like he was checking the supply list on his phone and thinking hard about colored pencils, and Roman hoped he would be occupied with that for a while more. He walked out of the aisle and looked above him for ideas on where he should go next.

Bathroom, no. The bakery would be wonderful if I could buy a donut myself. Clothes, baby items, plants…wait! Roman’s eyes lit up as he read another one of the signs. Hardware!

Roman always loved searching through hardware. He was a craft person at heart, and the aisles always gave him ideas for new things to try and make. Besides, Patton told him they were going to look for decorations for his room, maybe he could get inspiration there!

Roman entered the hardware aisle and began to look around. Because this wasn’t a hardware store there wasn’t much, mostly small items like door hinges and hook sets. There was also a doorknob you could only open with a code that Roman wanted, but there was no way Patton would let him install that. But maybe he could find something else to make his room safer.

Roman passed some other items, including some lightbulbs and a security camera displaying the screen that made Roman shiver when he passed by, but eventually Roman saw it. Ideas swarmed in his head and a big grin bloomed onto his face. It was perfect!

“There you are, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the sound of Patton approaching, looking up to see him with a basket full of school supplies. Patton smiled to hide the worry in his eyes. “I noticed you left the other aisle and I didn’t know where to find you.”

Roman gripped harder onto the box he was holding. “Sorry, I got bored…but I found something I want for my room!”

“You did? What is it, kiddo?”

Roman held up the box to Patton. Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “…Curtain rods?”

“Yes! Sounds strange, I know, but I was thinking that I could make my own canopy bed with them! We could get some curtains and I could hang them up around the bed, and I could decorate the curtains to look beautiful! Please?”

Patton rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t know, kiddo…it sounds like a cool project! But you’d have to install them into the roof, and I’m not very good with a drill!”

“I can do it!” Roman begged, “I’ve installed lots of home stuff before, and I’m really good with tools! And if I mess up I promise I’ll fix any holes, or I’ll do some babysitting jobs to pay back anything that’s broken, just…please? Can I try?��

Patton seemed conflicted. He saw the desperate look in Roman’s eyes and sighed. “…You can try, kiddo. Just…don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work, okay?”

“I won’t be! Promise!” Roman grabbed three boxes of the largest curtain rods they had and tried to hold them under his arms. “Now, I just need some red curtains, and maybe some glittery star stickers, or some other craft supplies! And a hot glue gun, you can make beautiful raindrop decorations out of hot glue!”

Patton seemed like his head was spinning. “I’ll go get an actual cart for this, kiddo.”

And then, the hunt for supplies was on. Patton got a cart for Roman to pile the curtain rods on the bottom, failing to keep up with him as he ran from aisle to aisle searching for supplies for his ideas. All the curtains were too transparent for Roman’s liking, so he instead settled for a pack of red, flat sheets meant for a queen bed and a small pack of sewing supplies. Patton mentioned he had a glue gun at home, so Roman skipped that section of the crafts aisle and instead focused on some birthday decorations with crowns and stars as well as some stickers. The more Roman’s vision came into action, the more excited and bouncy he got.

With the opaque curtains, Roman thought, it doesn’t matter if he has a camera in my room or not. He won’t be able to see me sleep. And how cute, he won’t realize his mistake in letting me do this until it’s too late.

Roman was jumping on his heels at the thought. I’m a genius.

The checkout was long and the car ride was full of anticipation, but once Patton pulled into the driveway of the house, Roman opened the trunk and ran inside with all his items in tow. He didn’t even say hello as he ran past Virgil and Logan on the couch to head upstairs.

“Kiddo, do you want to organize supplies too?” Patton yelled once he entered the house.

“I will later!” Roman answered. He had work to do.

The first step was an experiment of patience. Roman took out all the flat sheets and folded them at the top, sewing the fold with a needle and red thread to make its own custom loop for the curtain rod. It was annoying and tedious, but necessary. Also a test on Roman’s skill of how fast he could hand sew.

He was almost done with the last sheet when a knock came to his door. “Who is it?” Roman asked.

“It’s lunch time, kiddo,” Patton answered, “I called you down a while ago. How about you take a break for some food?”

No. There was no time for breaks. Roman needed this to be done by tonight so he could finally get some sleep. “In a minute.”

“Roman, it’s been a while already. A little break won’t hurt.”

“I will in a minute!” It was a lie, but Roman had the door locked, so there was nothing Patton could do about it. Roman finished his final seam, so now it was onto installing the rods.

Roman was measuring where to put the hooks on the roof when another knock came to the door. Roman groaned like a spoiled brat. “I’m coming!”

“Roman, can you open the door?”

Roman froze. He just yelled at Patton, pushed his luck, now he had to open the door. Roman dropped the screw he was holding as his hands shaked. Shit, shit! “…Why?”

“I’ve got your lunch for you.”

Roman felt his throat close, but ignoring Patton would only make the situation worse. Roman dropped his hook and screws to open the door.

Patton was on the other side, smiling softly with a burrito on a plate and a glass of juice in his hands. “I had to reheat it, but maybe you can eat while you’re working.”

Roman dug his nails into his palm before taking the plate. “Thank you.”

“Can I come in?”

No. No, you can’t. You never can, ever. “…Sure.”

Roman scurried away from Patton to sit on his bed, drinking some of the juice and looking at what’s inside the burrito. Black beans, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, sour cream, onions, and green peppers. Roman took a bite and tried to calm himself by focusing on the taste.

“You like it?”

Roman nodded. “Never had this before.”

“It’s a black bean burrito. I found the recipe a few years ago, and I make them pretty often. Especially for growing kiddos.” Patton sat on the floor next to the mess Roman had laid out. “What are you doing now for your canopy bed?”

“I was gonna screw in the curtain hooks to the roof. I’ve just been sewing the sheets for now, which is the hardest part. I might have to sew them again though, since the sheets are so big I might have to cut them. Especially since I want to do two curtains on each end to make it look pretty.”

“Sounds cool! Do you need any help?”

Roman seemed to be thinking. Maybe if I satisfy him, he won’t be angry. “Do you know how to sew?”

“I know how to repair tears. That’s it.”

Roman took another bite of his burrito and jumped off the bed, picking up one of the sheets to examine the size. He jumped on his bed and held it up to the roof, seeing how far it would stretch. The sheet was much longer than his bed, so it would be perfect. “Take the sheets, measure them, and cut them in half right down the middle. Then I can show you how to do a catch stitch to hem the seam. That will save me some time.”

“You’re very good at hand stuff!” Patton complimented. A shiver went up Roman’s spine.

“…Yes.”

From then on, the environment was very tense. The only sound between either of them was the drill going through the roof and the sound of scissors cutting. When Patton finished cutting, Roman showed him how to hem the seam, but it was quiet again after that. Roman kept his distance and made sure his front was always facing Patton just in case.

“I hope you don’t mind if this is a very messy sewing job, kiddo.” Patton joked.

Roman shrugged. “You won’t be able to see it anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you gonna decorate the sheets once you’ve hung them up?”

“Yes, it’s easier that way. And I can plan it out.”

“Any reason why you chose crowns and stars?”

Roman paused long enough to drill another hook into the roof before setting the drill down to grab another hook. “I like crowns. And stars.”

“Logan loves stars.” Patton really hated silence, apparently. “I don’t know if the other kiddos showed you their rooms, but Logan’s is covered in space stuff. It was really fun to do, actually! Though, I made Logan paint the stars onto his own wall because he kept talking about how it should be accurate constellations, and I don’t know anything about stuff like that.”

“I’ve only seen Virgil’s room.”

“Oh, well, if Logan ever invites you in, know that he did lots of work for his constellation wall!”

Roman hummed and drilled the last hook into the roof. He took a curtain rod and placed it on the two hooks near the foot of his bed. “How many of the sheets have you finished?”

“Oh, I’m still on the first one. I’m learning though!”

Roman jumped off the bed to sit on the floor next to Patton, grabbing his own needle and thread to begin hemming the seam. Once he started sewing, Patton watched him with wide eyes. “You’re doing that very fast, kiddo!”

Roman shrugged. “I’ve done it a lot.”

“What do you usually sew for?”

“Clothes. To fix rips, mostly. My mom also taught me when I was younger.”

Patton seemed taken aback by his explanation. “Did…did you enjoy that time with your mom?”

“I enjoyed all my time with her.” Roman paused. “Well. Most times.”

Patton swallowed. “Most times?”

“Her and I were really close, if that’s what you're asking.” Roman’s hands sped up as he sewed. “She would take me to movies and theaters, and she taught me how to bake as good as her.”

Patton’s voice grew serious. “Well…I’m sorry for your loss, kiddo.”

“She’s not dead.”

“I’m still sorry you lost her.” Patton shook his head and focused more intently on his sewing. “But you said you can bake?”

Roman nodded. “I bake a lot, especially cake. I know how to make red velvet cake from scratch and it is lovely.”

“We should make some tomorrow, then!”

Roman tensed. “Maybe.”

Roman finished off the hem of his side and moved to cut another sheet, hemming both of their sides once he did so. The rest of the time was quiet, with Roman purposely refusing to spark conversation and Patton processing the little information Roman gave him. By the time Patton finished one end and half of another, Roman had finished all the rest and took Patton’s to quickly finish off. Roman laid them all across the floor and opened the packs of crafts he got.

“Well, kiddo, I gotta see about making dinner now.” Patton eventually said, “Tell me how the end project turns out, ‘kay?”

Roman nodded. Finally, he’s leaving. “Close the door when you leave.”

Patton smiled and closed the door on his way out. Roman focused entirely on decorating his new curtains, placing glittery stars and plastic crowns and using the hot glue gun to make crystals draping down the curtains. He repeated a similar pattern for each one, eventually hanging two on each side of the bed so they could open and close down the middle. Once the final project was finished, and the floor of his room was scattered in materials, Roman smiled wide in awe.

“Yes! I did it! I did it!” Roman jumped up and down from excitement, flopping onto his bed and closing the curtains from every side. The curtains were a bit too long and dragged too much along the floor, but he could fix that another day. For now, he’d been at it for hours, and his bed was finally a safe space.

Roman buried his face into his pillow, feeling himself relax as the exhaustion of a whole day with no sleep and debilitating anxiety finally caught up to him. He groggily checked for any cameras on the roof, but that was the only place he had to check for a camera that could see him. He was safe.

Roman crawled under the comforter and closed his eyes. It wasn’t more than five minutes of lying there before he fell asleep, curling into himself and relaxing. Finally, he slept peacefully.

Finally.

#ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #panic #implied past abuse #past abuse #food mention #royality #prinxiety #familial royality #familial prinxiety

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whywishesarehorses · 3 years

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A Mustang Crisis Looms in the West

With too many animals on public lands and too many on the public’s hands, the federal wild horse management program is short of money and palatable solutions.

By Dave Philipps Published March 22, 2020

CHALLIS, Idaho — Dawn broke over the peaks of the Lost River Range, revealing a chase in the wide open valley below. Seven wild horses crashed through the sage, dark manes billowing in the golden light, pursued by a government contractor in a glossy helicopter that dodged left and right like a mechanical Border collie, driving the band forward into a hidden corral.

Within hours, the captured mustangs had been sorted, loaded onto trucks to be stamped with an identification number and sent to the Bureau of Land Management’s wild horse storage system. And the helicopter was back out hounding the hills for more.

All over the West, similar scenes have played out as the federal government fights to control the number of wild horses roaming public lands. Managers say they need to keep the herds down so they don’t destroy delicate native species habitat and threaten the livelihoods of ranchers.

But in recent years, the Bureau of Land Management has been losing that fight on two fronts: It hasn’t been able to round up nearly enough horses to limit the wild population. And it doesn’t know what to do with the ones it has managed to capture.

The roundup operation itself is strikingly efficient — a helicopter and a few workers in jean jackets can catch scores of mustangs in a day. The bureau rounded up 7,300 in 2019.

But once they are caught, they have to be fed and cared for. And the costs and frictions of having so many animals on the government’s hands — 49,000 at last count — have pushed the whole wild horse program toward collapse.

The rented pastures and feed lots where they are kept now devour more than two-thirds of the program’s budget, leaving little money for anything else, including looking for ways to get the bureau out of its current fix.

Low on cash, the bureau cut roundups drastically in recent years. But officials acknowledge that the move just made matters worse, by allowing the population on the range to grow rapidly. There are now about 100,000 wild horses and burros on public lands — more than at any time since the days of the Old West. The government reckons the land can sustain only about 27,000.

Bureau officials warn that the mustang herds are a looming catastrophe for the land, and there is no cheap or obvious solution. Capturing all the excess horses and caring for them in storage for the rest of their lives could cost up to $3 billion. Doing nothing may prove costly, too.

“If we don’t get this controlled, it’s just going to get worse,” said Alan Shepherd, the on-range branch chief for the wild horse program. Mustangs have already destroyed fragile desert springs in some places, and the birds, snakes and butterflies that depend on them, he said: “We are going to get to the point where the public lands are going to be almost unusable by anything.”

Mr. Shepherd started his career 30 years ago working on an emergency roundup on the Nellis Air Force Base missile test range in southern Nevada, where drought and overpopulation killed thousands of mustangs.

Now, near the end of his career, he worries that more herds are headed for a similar collapse.

Wild horse welfare groups argue that the crisis is largely invented. They say the government sets its population targets artificially low to justify mass removals that serve the interests of cattle ranchers and distract from other public land policies that are far more damaging.

“It’s a bait and switch,” said Suzanne Roy, director of the American Wild Horse Campaign, a group that has lobbied against roundups. “They say wild horses are an existential threat; meanwhile, they are loosening regulation on energy extraction. We do agree that roundups are creating a crisis in management, but the claims of overpopulation and horses starving are just not borne out by on-the-ground observations. Generally, the horses are doing pretty good.”

Crisis or no crisis, the number of horses on the range has risen into uncharted territory. Mr. Shepherd estimated that while 7,300 horses were captured in 2019, 17,000 foals were born. “We’re not even keeping at status quo,” he said.

In the early frontier days, wild horses in the West were too numerous to count. Explorers saw herds running on the Great Plains, likening the sight to the roll of waves in the ocean. On early maps, vast areas were labeled simply as “wild horse desert.” Later, as the region was settled, the herds were hunted down. Many were shipped east to pull city streetcars in places like Manhattan. Others were slaughtered for dog food and fertilizer. By the 1960s, only a few thousand mustangs were left.

Congress granted federal protection in 1971 to the remaining herds, which were nearly all on Bureau of Land Management land. With few predators and no hunters to cull them, the herds began to rebound, and land managers realized in the 1980s that they were quickly outgrowing the patchwork of public land allotted to them. That is when the helicopter roundups began.

At first, the program appeared sustainable. The bureau publicized an adoption program that found homes for captured horses, and the wild population stayed relatively constant. But news reports in the 1990s revealed that most of the “adopted” horses were actually going to slaughter, often while bureau employees profited. Regulations were tightened, and a backlog of unwanted horses began to build up on rented pastures in the Midwest.

Some conservative lawmakers from rural districts have pushed the bureau to euthanize excess horses or sell them for slaughter, but those steps remain widely unpopular and have not gained traction in Congress.

The bureau has told lawmakers repeatedly that it could create a sustainable program if Congress budgeted enough money to reduce the wild population to 27,000. Three times in the past 30 years, Congress has done so. Each time, though, the efforts were tripped up by dizzying costs and lawsuits from animal welfare groups.

Now the bureau is asking again. William Perry Pendley, its acting director, is a longtime conservative activist and lawyer who sued the bureau a number of times on behalf of ranchers before entering the administration. In an interview, he said he favors a proposal to remove more than 70,000 horses from the range over five years.

“Right now, it’s the ‘Sorcerer’s Apprentice,’” he said. “We’re carrying water and not getting anywhere.”

The bureau is in talks to open two huge feedlots to hold thousands of horses. But it is unclear if Congress is willing to spend billions to store unwanted horses, especially if an economic downturn drains public funds. Bureau staff say privately that they expect the population on the range to continue to grow toward disaster.

It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. More than a decade ago, government auditors warned that the cost of storing captured horses would “overwhelm the program.” A 2013 report by the National Academy of Sciences urged the bureau to shift away from roundups and start using readily available and inexpensive fertility control drugs, which are typically administered by dart gun annually in the field.

Bureau leaders acknowledged the warnings and promised to embrace fertility control drugs, but their use actually declined in the years after the report. Less than 1 percent of the program’s current budget is spent on them.

Nearly all of the fertility control now happening on wild horse ranges is done by local volunteers, often retirees, who have learned to wield dart guns in the field.

That includes Andrea Macki, a visual artist who has been darting horses in the Challis herd for more than five years. She says the fertility control treatments have slowed reproduction rates by half, and could do more.

“It’s the obvious solution,” she said as she squinted through the dawn light to watch the helicopter rounding up horses she knew. “I wish the B.L.M. would invest in it, instead of all this.”

Bureau officials say that darting tens of thousands of horses in the field each year is not practical, and would take years to shrink the herds as much as a roundup can in a few days. Congress approved a $21 million increase in the wild horse program’s budget for this year, with the stipulation that the money would be released only when the bureau submitted a five-year plan that includes increases in both roundups and fertility control.

The bureau has also taken steps to dispose of captured horses, including deals that may be sending horses quietly to slaughter. It has ramped up sales of horses it deems unadoptable, charging $25 a head. In 2019 it sold 1,967 that way, often by the truckload in bulk sales; officials have refused to say who the buyers were.

Mr. Shepherd say the bureau tries to screen out slaughter buyers, but acknowledged that it does nothing to monitor the fate of horses after sale.

The bureau also created a program that offers $1,000 to anyone willing to adopt a horse.

Together, the sales and adoptions put about 7,000 horses into private hands last year, not enough even to keep pace with roundups, let alone draw down the number now warehoused.

On the edge of the wild horse range in Challis in central Idaho, Jackie Ingram, a rancher, has shared 168,700 acres of public land with the mustang herds for 46 years. Each spring her family drives hundreds of Black Angus cattle up a steep road through Spar Canyon to graze the high, windswept hills on Bureau of Land Management land.

In some years, she said, the wild horses left so little grass to eat that other wildlife disappeared, and her family had to cut back their cattle herd.

“We like the horses, but we also want to protect the land,” she said. “Every time they do a roundup, we’re happy. If the horses get to be too numerous, it affects the sage grouse, the elk, the antelope and us. All of us depend on the grass.”

#long post #blm mustang #mustang horse #horse news #equestrian #equine

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quicksilverownsmysoul · 3 years

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Sparks Pt. 5

It has taken me forever but I finally updated Sparks! I’m sorry for making y’all wait so long but I’ve been busy with other stuff and I keep starting series before I finish the first one (I need to stop doing that). I know it’s been a while, if you need to reread the old ones they are all linked in my masterlist, it’s pinned on my page! Anyway I hope y’all like it!

You can read Part 4 Here

Summary:

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff

Word Count: 2298

The ride there was an experience to say the least. Scott drove which meant Jean got shotgun, the rest of you were piled into the backseat. Kurt kept hitting Jubilee in the face with his tail, her hair blew into your face every time the breeze hit, and you were so cramped that you were practically sitting on Peter’s lap. Peter was thankful you couldn't move to turn around, or else you would see how red his face was. He was sitting extremely still too scared to even move. Because if you moved even an inch over, he knew his leather pants wouldn't hide what would form. Scott looked at you guys through the rear view mirror, flashing you a cocky smile. “You guys comfortable?” Jubilee flipped him off while the rest of you grumbled out a no. He laughed and turned back to face the road.

Scott pulled up to a diner and parked, hoping out to open the door for Jean. Kurt wiggled his arm free and opened the door causing you guys to fall out of the backseat. Jubilee fell onto Kurt’s back and Peter ended up falling on you, he caught himself with his hands, you guys inches from one another. You watched his eyes dart down to look at your lips before glancing back up to meet your eyes. You smirked up at him. “If you’re going to pull something like that, at least buy me dinner first.”

Peter felt his face heat up and he started to sputter. You laughed at his flustered state and after a moment he did as well. He liked how casual you were about this and how you were able to joke to ease the tension. He smirked back down at you. “Well maybe after I do buy you dinner we can continue this.” It was your turn to get embarrassed.

“Really guys?” You both looked up to see Jubilee standing with her arms crossed. “Right in front of Kurt.” Kurt was covering his face out of respect for you two and shielding himself behind her. You both turned red and scrambled to get out of the car. Peter let you get up and then hopped out of the backseat behind you. Jubilee pulled you to the back of the group with her and gave your arm a squeeze. “He likes you.”

Peter glanced back at the two of you in between bugging Scott and Jean. He saw you and Jubilee talking in hushed voices and giggling with one another. He felt himself gulp, something told him you guys were talking about him. He caught your eye and whipped his head back around, hoping you didn't catch him staring.

Scott made his way to the front of the group to announce where you were but Peter hip bumped him out of the way. Scott cussed and Peter just sent him a wink and a smile. He turned back to face the group, his eyes locked on you. “Welcome to our favorite diner, Gus’ Games and Grub.” Peter stood at the front of the group his arms held wide open, showing off the diner. You felt yourself smile as you looked around the place, there was an arcade attached to the restaurant, with a prize cabinet and about a million blinking lights and sounds.

“This place is awesome.” Peter watched as you took it all in, his heart swelling at the fact he was able to impress you with his favorite diner.

“So do you guy wanna do for dinner, do you wanna split a pizza or get-”

“Let’s play.” Peter said, cutting off Scott.

“The whole reason we came here was for dinner.”

“No, it was to have fun.” Peter smirked. “Something you wouldn't know anything about.”

“Ooooo.” Jubilee responded as her eyes darted back and forth between the boys.

Scott surged forward but Jean used her powers to stop him, pulling him back towards her by the collar of his sports jacket.

“You guys are acting like children. There is an easy way to decide this.”

“You’re right Jean, battle to the death it is.” Jean rolled her eyes at Peter’s comment.

“Let’s just take a vote. Who wants to eat first?” Jubilee, Kurt, Scott and Jean all raised their hands. “Who wants to play the arcade first?” Peter's hand shot in the air, he sent you a wide smile when he saw you agreeing with him. “Sorry Peter, looks like we’re eating first.” Jean turned toward the counter and Scott sent him a condensing smirk behind her back. Peter stuck his tongue out in response. He didn't care that he lost the vote, he had you on his side.

Dinner was filled with easy conversation and stolen glances. You and Peter kept trying to catch each other’s eye from opposite sides of the booth. He had wanted to sit next to you but Jubilee had beat him to it and she refused to move. As soon as you finished eating Peter slid into the booth next to you as Jubilee got up to throw the trash away. He slung his arm behind the booth and you scooted closer to him, making him blush. He leaned down and gently moved his hand to cup the back of your neck. “Wanna go have some fun.”

“What kind of fun is Maximoff?” You teased, loving the way it made him flush red.

“The best kind there is.” Peter sped off you with you, ditching the other guys as you made your way to the arcade. Peter stood near a dancing machine game and held his hand out towards you with a slight bow. “May I have this dance?”

You curtsied back at him. “Of course.”

You hopped up on the dance floor as Peter put coins in the machine. He used the buttons to scroll through the songs, he stuck his tongue out in concentration trying to find just the right one. He made his selection and joined you on the mini stage. The music started playing and you felt your smile widen. “Oh my god I love this song!”

“Me too!”

You guys turned back to the screen and started to dance, doing your best to coordinate with the colorful arrows on screen. But it was hard to pay attention when you both were too busy looking at one another and singing the lyrics back and forth. You saw Jubilee approaching the machine out of the corner of your eye. She leaned on the bar behind you, Kurt and the others not too far behind. “I was wondering where you guys went.”

“We went to totally dominate this game.” Peter bragged as he scored three bads in a row on the game.

“I can see that.” Jubilee watched as the song ended and the screen showed off your guys' score. It was ranked a D- with a 22% accuracy.

“Man you’re bad at this.” Scott said.

“What like you could do better?” Peter scoffed as he hopped off the stage offering you his hand. You took it and hopped off as well.

“Watch me.” Scott and Jean took your guys places on the game and inserted the coins to play. You and Peter watched with your mouths hanging open as they scored perfect on every step. The song came to an end and they stared at you guys with matching smirks.

“Okay you so totally did better than us.” You admitted. Peter just grumbled out an agreement.

“Because we are better.” Scott remarked.

“Wanna bet?” Peter asked as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“What kind of bet?”

“Not again.” Jean muttered.

“Whoever wins the biggest prize by the time the place closes gets the keys to your car for the rest of the week.” Peter smirked.

“What do I get?” Scott asked, hesitation in his voice.

“I don’t know what do you want?”

Scott scrunched his face up in concertation for a moment before he answered. Knowing exactly what he wanted if he won. “If I win I get your pac-man machine.”

Peter’s eyes widened, you could see him weighing the risks in his mind. He glanced over at you. He wanted the car so he could ask you out on a date, he wanted to do it right, with a car instead of speeding you somewhere. You gave him a smile and that made up his mind. He turned back to face Scott, a challenging look in his eyes. “I’ll take that bet.”

“Okay so how are we going to do this? Teams?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“So it’ll be me and Jean, you and (y/n) and Kurt and Jubilee.”

“What? Why are we playing? And why do I get Kurt?” Jubilee asked with her arms crossed.

“Hey!” Kurt whined.

“Sorry.”

“It’s more interesting if we all play.” Scott said.

“Plus it’s not like you guys are going to win, it’s either going to me or Scott.” Peter joked and Scott nodded in agreement.

“Really?” Jubilee narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see about that. Come on Kurt.” With that they were gone. Now it was time for the games to begin.

Peter and you sprinted over to the skeeball machines. He put a coin in each one and sped back and forth throwing the ball down the lane, getting the highest scoring points each time. You collected all the tickets, your heart pumping full of adrenaline. You played all the games you could while Peter ran around the arcade beating all the games and winning all the tickets. They made an announcement over the loudspeaker that they would be closing in five minutes, so you and Peter finished off your games and made your way to the counter. Jean and Scott were already there, their ticket pile paled in comparison to yours. Peter opened his mouth to mock them but Jean held up her hand and pointed to the right. You turned and saw Jubilee and Kurt sitting on top of the prize counter. She had three different pairs of sunglasses on and Kurt had about a million scrunchies wrapped around his tail. They were both drinking slurpees, a giant stuffed pink gorilla by their feet. Jubilee lowered her glasses as she took a long sip of her drink. ‘’’Sup losers.”

Peters was gaping at them, glancing back and forth between the giant gorilla and them. “I- huh.. How? WHAT?”

Jubilee held her arms out and slung one around Kurt. “We won.”

“How?!?” Scott asked. “You guys only played like two games!”

“Yeah we won 67 tickets!” Kurt said excitedly. “That’s how we got the sunglasses and scrunchies!” He held his tail up showing them off.

“That still doesn't explain how you won.” You asked with an amused smile on your face.

“My cousin is the manager, I bribed her into giving us the biggest prize.” She pointed down at the stuffed gorilla. “Meet Barbara.” Scott and Peter stared at her with huffy faces getting ready to protest her winning. ‘Hey you never said we couldn't cheat.” Jubilee took another sip of her slurpee.

“Yeah but you still cheated.” Scott argued.

“What like you guys didn't?.” She pointed at Scott and Jean. “I saw Jean using her powers on the basketball machine.” She motioned towards Peter. “And don’t even get me started on this one.”

“Damn you go Jubilee.” You cheered her as she gave a little bow.

“So we win!” Kurt cheered.

“Indeed we do.” Jubilee stuck her hands out in a grabby motion “Keys. Give me.” Scott reached into his pocket and begrudgingly tossed the keys to Jubilee. She caught them with a smirk. “I’ll see you guys in the car, I’m driving.”

You cheered her on as she left. “Never underestimate Jubilee.”

“Agreed.”

“So what are we going to do with all these tickets?” You asked.

Peter took them from you and came back a second later, arms full of prizes. “We can take them home to the kids at the house.”

“That’s so sweet Peter.” He smiled at your praise.

“I uh.. I also got something for you.” Peter set down the prizes in his hands and riffled through them. He pulled out a stuffed turtle from the pile and nervously brought it over to you. You took it in your hands, heart swelling at the action. “His name is Mister Dibbles.”

You looked down at the gentle face of the toy, smiling at it and then back up at peter. “I love him.” Peter gave you a wide smile.

As you guys made your way out of the diner Peter fought with himself back and forth on whether he should still ask you out. By the time he got to the car he had made up his mind. He opened his mouth to ask you but Jubilee grabbed him by the arm and pulled him off to the side.

“You can have the car after tonight.”

“What?” He asked, shock evident on his face.

“You can have the car.” She shrugged. “I know you wanted it so you could take (y/n) on a date.”

“How did you know that?”

“You’re pretty easy to read.” Peter smiled and rushed forward crushing Jubilee in a hug. “Stop that, put me down!” She giggled out.

“Thank you so much.”

“Mhmm and don’t worry I’m not going to take your pac-man machine. But you owe me.”

“Anything.”

“I wanna style your hair.”

“Anything but that.”

“Ugh fine.”

Jubilee and Peter made their way back over to the car. You smiled as you saw Peter getting closer to you. He returned it. “Hey can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Would you maybe… like to.. I don’t know...go out with me?” You felt your face split into a wide smile.

“Of course I would.”

Taglist: @chiswritingandreadingcorner @enemy-of-wonkru @xxspqcebunsxx @coffeeandteaintheevening @kitwalkerangel @xmaximoffic @livingmybestfictionallife @evanmybeloved @kaismessiahbb @bugboy-and-icegirl

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biffhofosho · 2 years

Text

Succumbing to Sybaris | Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Word Count: 7k

Cvr | Tr | Pr | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16| 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | Ep

It was deep in the heart of night by the time the manor came into view. It towered over the Willamette Valley like a home to feudal lords demanding their fair share of all who passed. Maybe that wasn’t far off, Amber laughed to herself.

“What?” Hyungwon asked as he stole a glance of his beautiful passenger.

“Just thinking about the time you told me even if I ran, I’d always end up here.”

“Pretty sure you told me to fuck off.”

“Sure did,” she beamed, “and I meant it.”

“I was right though,” he said, his hands tightening smugly on her steering wheel.

“Shut up, Chae.”

They shared a smile as the car neared the top of the street.

“Do you think any of your brothers will be home?” Amber asked as nonchalantly as she could.

“I doubt it. It's primetime, as you say. Once they know you've moved in, I doubt they'll ever leave, so enjoy it while you can. I know I will. I'm not loving the idea of Kihyun on my case 24/7.”

“Move in? Hyungwon, I thought I was just staying with you until we figure out what to do about Kai and those missing women.”

“Oh.” He nodded, his mouth stiff. “Of course. We can worry about everything else after, but we’re here now.”

Hyungwon parked Amber's car in the long gravel driveway around back and swiveled in the seat to look at her. Maybe it was the moody, sheltered setting or the hormones still flooding her veins, or maybe it was the fact that with his collar askew and his hair tousled, he looked like he’d just played a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven, but the urge to make out with him until the windows fogged and the seat recliner broke overwhelmed her.

“I can smell that, you know,” he chided with a knowing grin.

“I said shut up, Chae. Now, kiss me.”

“Yes, Detective.”

Hyungwon hooked his hand through her hair and brought her lips to his in a hurry. Their exploratory kisses on the beach had been about figuring out how they fit together, but now their passion was as fast and easy as blinking and just as natural. Amber’s skin was already bristling expectantly. It didn’t matter that she was tired in her very bones—she loved his mouth, and she’d be just as happy to pass out against it as a bed.

“The house is right there,” Hyungwon reminded her between kisses.

“But we’re already in the car,” she volleyed back as she pushed further over the console, “and I can’t wait. Need you again, baby.”

A giddy rush of lust overtook Amber’s body like a high school girl who couldn’t wait to get her hands on her boyfriend. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard a tick-tick-tick of a clock winding down, but she didn’t want to think about that when Hyungwon’s hand was already slipping under her shirt and playing with her breast so enthusiastically.

He broke from her lips to gasp, “You sure you’re ready for more?”

“Fuck yes, can’t get enough. Or maybe I’m just lightheaded from the blood loss.”

To her surprise, Hyungwon pushed her back and glared at her. “Don’t joke about that.”

With a coy grin, Amber ran a hand down his chest and grabbed his hard-on through his pants, savoring his grunt as much as the way his cock twitched in her grip. “So uptight. I can fix that, you know.”

“What happened to the hard-boiled detective who hates my guts?”

“Mm, you worried about being arrested for indecent exposure, Mr. Chae?” she purred as she slipped her hand into his pants and palmed him eagerly. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Hyungwon groaned as his head thunked against the headrest. In the tight confines of his pants, Amber built up friction quickly. His rigid length strained against her hand begging for more. It was so unbearably sexy that her arousal had already soaked through the seat of her jeans.

Just as she was trying to figure out the easiest way to slip him back inside her in the close quarters of her car, he growled, “Fuck, your smell is making my head spin.”

“Just crack a window, baby,” she murmured, smothering him with kisses. “Mm, need you so bad. Can’t wait, can’t wait.”

Amber’s hands were already at her button fly as Hyungwon scrambled to get some much-needed fresh air. The moment the window rolled down though, he stiffened, and her hands stopped. Just like that, it was clear: something was terribly wrong.

“Stay in the car,” he ordered but she just rolled her eyes.

“Like hell.”

“I mean it, Amber. Don’t move.”

She got out anyway, much to his annoyance. She may not have been a cop anymore, but that didn’t mean the instinct had left her. Besides, Hyungwon had fished her stake out of the fire no worse for wear, and it was already in her hand.

“Why do you never listen?” he snapped.

“Like a car’s going to protect me. Give me a break. We go together.”

There was no arguing that, nor was there arguing when Hyungwon took the lead and shielded her. Together, they made their way up the path toward the back porch, but before they made it there, a voice unfurled from the deepest shadow beneath the chestnut tree.

“Finally.”

It wasn’t the voice from Amber’s dream, but there was something familiar about it and something equally as foreboding. The stake inched up in her hand.

A slender figure emerged, her bright white face glowing underneath coal black hair. She had the ears and eyes of a mouse but the fierceness of a tigress in the flick of her wrist. The violet satin of her skirt enhanced the unearthly lilac cast to her gaze as she appraised the couple.

“Aisha,” Hyungwon said lowly as he thrust out his arm in front of Amber, “what are you doing here?”

The stranger glanced at her razor-sharp manicure poking through her fingerless gloves and flicked her tongue against her fang. “I was getting so bored, you know? You might consider a tire swing or pond or something to entertain your callers, Hyungwon, especially if you're going to be the kind of tacky guy who puts a ward on the house. It’s just plain rude.”

Hyungwon didn’t respond, and the hairs on the back of Amber’s neck stood up.

The other woman sighed and said, “And when you do show up, you don’t even offer good conversation. Double rude.”

“I know you…” Amber said slowly as she studied the beautiful woman. “I saw you at Empusa.”

Aisha waggled her fingers in a cheeky hello. “Mm-hm. You’re lucky I was there. That stupid bouncer almost ruined the whole thing.”

She was easy to picture now, wicked purple eyes emerging from the alley, no doubt drunk on blood as she vouched for the detective. Amber hadn’t thought of her then or ever again, and yet, here she was on the doorstep to the manor.

Hyungwon didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even bother with the reflex of breathing. He was, for all intents and purposes, a statue.

“Oh, come on,” snapped Aisha with an eyeroll. “You better not be like this when you appear before His Grace to make amends.”

“His Grace?” Amber asked with a glance up at Hyungwon’s still profile. “Kai?”

Aisha hissed.

“Mortals are not to use His name, even you. Remember that, mortal.” The woman said the word with more disdain than a fire-and-brimstone preacher said the Devil’s. With a huff, the bright-eyed vampire breezed by the pair of them toward the edge of Forest Park. She was halfway across the lawn when she whirled around and snarled, “You coming?”

“What?” Amber said, honestly dumbfounded. “Me?”

Aisha shot her a withering glare. “Is she always this difficult, Hyungwon? Come. You have to get cleaned and dressed.”

“I am dressed,” Amber retorted.

“I cannot take you to His Grace smelling like dead fish and another vampire’s cum. Move, cow.”

The blunt callousness of Aisha’s words sent blood rushing to Amber’s face and fury pulsing through her veins. She raised the stake, but Hyungwon shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Suddenly, Aisha’s sharp chin dropped as she leveled her ethereal eyes on the human. A deadly stillness settled over the yard, almost as though an invisible dome had encapsulated them from reality. “Follow me now or I will drag you by the tits and add it to Hyungwon’s list of sins.”

Hyungwon pivoted in front of Amber again, but this time his vampire mask contorted his face while every wicked tooth bared itself in the sallow porch light. “Amber’s not going anywhere without us.”

“Ugh, don’t be so tiresome, Hyungwon. You know His rules. Like you or your brothers need another black mark on your records. You’ve had decades to deliver the Chalice, and best you’ve done was deliver a fucking shot glass, a broken one at that, so cut the shit and give me the girl.”

“Chalice?” Amber asked, grabbing Hyungwon’s shoulder so he would face her, but he refused to take his eyes off Aisha. It might have been reassuring if it didn’t feel more like avoidance.

“I said no,” he challenged.

In the blink of an eye, Aisha scooped up a log that would have taken three people to carry and whipped it at the house. Amber ducked but Hyungwon didn’t flinch. With a catastrophic boom, the wood splintered into fine sawdust and drifted down like aromatic snowfall.

Aisha dusted her hands against each other and, in a voice just as well suited for a library, she continued, “I said now.”

Amber was too busy gaping between the disintegrated wood and the still in-tact house to notice the showdown between the two vampires.

“Don’t be a bigger fool than you already are, Hyungwon,” Aisha said. “I may not be able to get in your house, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t holes in your defenses. I’ll throw everything I’ve got at you until I find them. But you know that. It’s only a matter of time.

“What would happen, say, if I starved you out, hm? There’ll be nothing left to feed on but your little missus. Now, maybe you’re too principled for that—maybe you’d rather starve—but what about your brothers when you’re all trapped in there and the thirst takes hold? Think about it. That honey blood’s gonna keep calling and calling. Sooner or later, all you’re gonna see is that delicious artery under that tan skin, pulsing, beating, throbbing for you, and you’re going to have to take all you can from it.” The vampire paused to bite her lip, and he tensed. “Tell me, Hyungwon, who will she need protection from then—His Grace or your brothers?

“So, I’d appreciate it if you’d hand over the livestock so I can get on with my evening because, as fun as this has been, His Grace has long since run out of patience, and that shit rolls downhill.”

Hyungwon was rigid and silent, and Amber could tell he’d made a decision he didn’t want to make. She tossed her stake to the ground with a dramatic thud. Across the lawn, Aisha grinned.

Slowly, Amber left the safety of Hyungwon’s shadow and took a few steps forward. Every footfall was heavy and reluctant, hoping against hope that on the next one, he would stop her. He didn’t.

She looked back, her neck aching from her wound as much as her heart did from its. His face was placid and beautiful once again even if his eyes were lifeless.

Aisha stooped over and slapped her hands on her thighs while puckering her pretty lips. “Moo moo! Come, come, little cow.”

For one of the few times in her life, Amber couldn’t find any words. At least Hyungwon faced her as he turned her over to the enemy, though part of her wished he hadn’t because maybe then it would be easier to hate him. Instead, all she wanted to do was slap him and then kiss him until he begged her forgiveness and made love to her on the hood of her car before everything went back to the way it was supposed to be.

His hand twitched, and Amber waited for that vampire speed to snatch her up and run away with her, but a second later it stilled, and the coldest words she’d ever heard from him iced over her veins.

“It’ll be okay. Don’t fight it.”

As the two women trudged up the steep forest slopes, Amber agonized over Hyungwon’s last words to her. She should have been plotting her escape; instead, she was brooding.

All those tender words and love professions hadn’t changed a thing; they’d only made everything hurt more when the inevitable had come calling. So much for being safe with Hyungwon and his brothers…

At least Kai keeps his promises, Amber thought bitterly, and the metallic tang of irony lingered on her tongue.

But the longer the women walked in silence, the more polished Amber’s despair became in her chest. She wasn't mad at Hyungwon. There had been no lies between them at the beach, no mistaking the truth of what was between them when he’d been inside her. When she got down to it, Amber was only angry at herself—angry at herself for imagining of a future that didn't involve Kai. Hopes and dreams had built up in a matter of hours only to be crushed unceremoniously under the shadow of a heel.

From behind Amber, Aisha barked, “You breathe like a foghorn. It’s so damned dramatic.”

Amber ignored the barb but dove at the opportunity to think about anything other than her broken heart. “Where are we going?”

“You'll see soon enough,” Aisha replied.

“This is a long damn walk. Couldn't we have driven?”

The vampire ignored her.

“Can we at least stop for a second?”

“No.”

“Look, I'm tired and my legs hurt—"

Aisha turned her keen violet eyes to her captive and said, “I’ll bet they do since you spread them for every vampire.”

Amber wished she’d kept her stake so she could ram it through the ice queen’s frozen heart.

“Listen, Aisha—" The vampire hissed and swore, but Amber kept pushing. “I don't know what kind of hold Kai has over you that would make you kidnap a police officer, but—”

“You’re not a cop anymore,” her captor said, amused.

Amber’s voice dropped. “How do you know that?”

Aisha’s only response was a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin, and the urge for that stake was never stronger. In the meantime, Amber settled for the only weapon she had: a long history of interrogating villains.

“Hm, that’s interesting.”

The vampire ignored the bait for a full minute before she was hooked. “Nothing a human says is remotely interesting, so shut up.”

“You’re right. I’ll be quiet.”

But the silence was even shorter-lived this time. “After months of bumbling around in total darkness, you’re going to try and convince me that you know anything about anything? You’re a headless chicken running around and making a mess of things.”

Amber just hummed, and it only infuriated her captor.

“Stop bleating like a sheep. I get it. The former detective thinks she’s got something figured out. Even if you did, it would only be something His Grace wanted you to figure out. But just because I love humiliating you, why don’t you go on and tell me your big-nothing epiphany.”

“I was just surprised,” Amber said, playing dumb. “Never taken this trail before.”

Aisha’s rage was palpable, and it gave Amber strength. She couldn’t outrun a vampire and certainly couldn’t overpower one, but maybe she could outwit her. Maybe Aisha could give her a bargaining chip for later down the line.

“Don’t play with me, bitch,” the vampire warned.

“You’re right, you’re right. You know way more than I do. I guess that’s why I just figured it would be faster if you just flew us there or whatever?”

“Fuck, what does He see in you? You’re still leaking vampire seed, and you don’t even know we don’t fly? Clueless, backwater bloodbag. You think I want the stench of your decaying mortal flesh all over me?”

The vitriol spewing out of the vampire’s mouth should have been enough to silence the detective, but Aisha’s defeated hunch worsened which compelled Amber’s tongue one last time. “That’s not it, is it? You’re not allowed to touch me. Are you even allowed to talk to me?”

This time, Aisha’s fist lashed out toward a tree, punching a crater into its heart. She froze, her back to her captive, but Amber feel the full weight of the other woman's attention. She had no doubt Aisha was aware of every beat of the detective’s heart and every twitch of her nerves. In a voice as deep as the Willamette Gorge, Aisha said, “I’m going to offer you something that you don't deserve: a deal. If you promise to shut up the rest of the way, I promise not to eat you.”

Amber glared at her captor. “You won’t eat me. You can’t because Your Grace won’t allow it, so don’t bore me with empty threats.”

“Fine,” the vampire replied tersely, “I promise not to eat one of them.”

“Them?”

“Your piglets, you stupid sow.”

Despite her cool tone, Aisha’s words thundered under the canopy. There it was. They were meant to be threatening, but hope bloomed in them. The Runaways were still alive somewhere—somewhere close by the sound of it. Maybe the vampire was even taking her to them. Amber might have been at a disadvantage right now, but she was confident with the other girls at her back, she could break their hypnosis and get them all to safety; she just had to bide her time.

Meanwhile, Aisha rambled on, shattering sticks in her hand every few words to showcase just how much she resented being the delivery shuttle. “…and that disgusting sack of organs belched out that dumb fucking riddle. Worst day of my fucking afterlife.”

Amber’s body was burning up from all the questions she was forced to swallow, but she managed to stay the course until they reached a ramshackle wooden saloon at the edge of the trail, sprawling along a dusty road like some relic from a Western. It perched across on the edge of the park, offering a glimmer of city lights beyond the towering evergreens. Though it had no sign, the detective recognized it from the newspapers. She couldn’t remember its name, but it was a familiar spot to the Northern precinct, with more than its fair share of assaults and even murder. Shownu would recognize it, if only she could get a message to him.

Even from the front porch, the bar reeked of beer and body odor. A half-dozen motorcycles and trucks filled the gravel lot in front, and inside, just as many bearded men slouched along the bar with beer bottles in one hand and cigarettes in the other. Since the bartender had just called last call, none of them spared so much as a glance for the detective or her ethereal shepherd save for one grizzled soul at the end of the bar.

He smiled and tipped his head toward Amber, but before she could signal for help, Aisha leaned in, gold glinting in her eyes and gardenia wafting from her skin, and whispered in the stranger’s ear. Seconds later, the man lunged toward the biker next to him, smashing a bottle over his bandanaed head with a war cry.

“Don’t talk about my mother, you son of a bitch!”

The bar devolved into instantaneous chaos as the women coasted through the melee like they were on rails. With a curt nod to the golden-eyed bartender, Aisha glided through the backroom door and Amber followed helplessly.

Beyond the storeroom stuffed with kegs and cases of beer, a darkened staircase pointed down into deeper shadows. Aisha motioned for Amber to go first, and while the detective had descended her fair share of staircases into the unknown, for the first time, it terrified her.

What or, more likely, who waited at the bottom?

The first stair creaked under foot, louder even than the showers of glass and cracks of wood or bone in the bar above them.

“Hurry up, you witless sheep.”

The shove at Amber’s back spurred her feet down the next few steps until they met uneven concrete at the bottom. On the surface, the basement looked just as she expected one would beneath a rowdy bar—boxes of liquor piled in every corner, stacks of dusty glasses, bags of pretzels and peanuts with rodent gnaw marks along their bottoms. The walls were uneven stone that wept moldy groundwater and the ceiling drooped with knob-and-tube wiring and clumpy cobwebs. It looked more like a place to be murdered than a base of operations for some godlike vampire.

But when her eyes fell to the far left, Amber saw it. The white door. It was newer than anything down here, even the peanuts, by probably a decade. It shone brilliantly despite the single dim bulb, so she knew where she was expected to go. Aisha unlocked two slide bolts and then the door itself, which seemed like overkill for an empty room, but Amber knew it was more about the message than security.

Unlike the rest of the basement, this room had been dressed like a moon-eyed preteen girl’s dream. The stone walls had been draped in gauze and gathered in layers like palace curtains. Above them, a little brass chandelier twinkling with crystals hung from the rafter while, beneath it, a silk rug stretched from wall-to-wall. In the corner, a clawfoot tub and toilet hid behind a changing screen while the opposite corner housed a gold-leafed chaise lounge draped in blankets and pillows. The other ends of the room were anchored with a little table and single chair and a full-length mirror that reflected back the detective’s bewildered face.

“What is this hellhole?” Amber gaped.

Aisha tipped up her chin so she could better scowl at the detective over the bridge of her nose. “You are to spend the day here preparing for His Grace. He will expect you washed, shaved, dressed, and rested. He prefers loose hair and no underwear. No perfumes, no sprays, no lotions. And, for god’s sake, clean your cunt. I’m not getting yelled at for you fucking an inferior vampire.”

“Like I give a shit what Kai wants,” Amber volleyed back, but Aisha slapped her immediately.

“You will. Be grateful I’m not allowed to leave marks, or that would have been my fist.” Those cold, lilac eyes drifted down to Amber’s neck, and the vampire seethed. “Holy shit, did you actually let that mongrel bite you?”

Aisha swallowed hard, and her once-cocky hand now trembled at her side.

“You fool,” she whispered. “You’re going to get us all punished.”

“What a shame,” snarled Amber as she cradled her scalding cheek.

Aisha raised her hand again, but the moment her eyes fell back to the freshly scabbed wound, it dropped. In a voice as perilous as a glacier, she recited, “Food will be delivered twice tomorrow. You are expected to eat it. You will be dressed and adorned by servants of His Grace. You will let them do their work. Do not try and talk to the servants. Do not try to escape. There is nowhere to go and no one here who cares, and any attempts to do so will be met with retaliation. Are you clear on all these rules?”

Amber stared at the woman, and it felt as real as a high noon standoff could in the basement of a saloon in the middle of the night.

Aisha sucked her fang. “You bray like a donkey the whole way here, and now, when I expect an answer, you sit there dumb. God, I hope when He’s done with you, He lets me finish you off.”

“Don’t count on it,” Amber challenged, and the vampire took a step forward.

Her voice was low to match her brow, and the corner of her pretty mouth twitched with a menacing grin. “I wonder if you taste as bland as your sister.”

Amber charged at Aisha, but the vampire flicked her aside with a tinkling laugh. “Wash up, filthy Chalice. Unfortunately for the both of us, I’ll see you at your reckoning.”

With that, the door closed, and the click-click-click of all three locks engaging reverberated in the room. It was a long time before Amber regained enough of her senses to even realize she could move, but when she did, she sank immediately onto the lounger like a tire slowly deflating. As soon as her opponent had left, the fight left her. She had nothing to do now but stare into the mirage around her.

A bitter laugh bubbled in Amber’s chest. Kai had been surveilling her for God knew how long, but he didn’t realize how pointless this whole illusion would be on her? As soft and romantic as he’d tried to make it, this was nothing more than a gilded cage for a wounded bird.

With nothing else to do, she stared at the door. She thought Hyungwon and his brothers might break it down at any second and steal her away, but at some point, Amber realized it was a stupid fantasy. They had no idea where she was, and even if they did, every last one of them had made it clear they weren’t going to challenge Kai directly—more to the point, she had made Hyungwon promise they wouldn’t. Escape had been her only option, and she had missed her window. Now, she was left alone to deal with the consequences.

Amber turned to the tub instead and filled it. Since her ocean swim, fatigue had coiled into every muscle and joint, which made the mandated bath less outrageous. Sure enough, there were no oils or bubbles to lift her spirits, but at least the tub was deep, and when she stepped in, she sank to her shoulders.

The warm water soothed her weary bones and loosened the black hand squeezing her heart, but it couldn’t drive the chill from the pit of her stomach. Amber dipped beneath the water, eyes closed as she reveled in the weightlessness, and for a moment, she was free. Her body still echoed with the lull of the ocean current, and she could almost feel Hyungwon floating beside her again. She reached out to the memory, but it skated away immediately.

Eventually, the breath in her lungs ran out, but only when her body screamed for oxygen did she break the surface with a gasp and a splash. Her heart raced and her face burned, but as soon as that subsided, she was left only with a bland bar of soap and a pretty cage.

Amber cleaned herself as ordered despite how badly she wanted to remind Kai she would never submit to him. The truth was, he still had nearly a dozen hostages and every intent to use them. No sense in endangering them or her loved ones she’d left behind before she even faced him.

Once she was finished, Amber climbed out of the tub into an enormous towel, still sore but more in her chest than her limbs. She dressed in a chaste nightgown and sank onto the floor. The concrete was cold beneath the rug, but at least it was grounding—a reminder of where this oasis really was. Without a clock or a window, she had no idea what time it was, but the thumping and footsteps above her had stopped a while ago, so she figured it was some time in the early morning.

The confirmation came a moment later when the door cracked open and a hand slipped in holding a plate. The hand rested it on a nearby end table, and the door closed again without so much as a glimpse of the guard.

Amber found a light breakfast of a banana, toast, oatmeal, and a cup of tea, and as soon as she smelled the food, she realized how hungry she was. She ate without complaint, and when she was done, there was nothing left to do but sleep.

As reluctant as Amber was to drop her defenses, with the coming confrontation, she knew she’d need as much strength as she could muster, so she forced herself to curl up on the lounger and close her eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, she was still in the god-forsaken basement boudoir, but this time, there were seven familiar, wide-eyed vampires surrounding her. None of them moved but neither did she. She wanted to launch herself into their arms, but their faces stopped her cold. Each brother looked down at her with unmistakable regret—maybe even pity.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amber caught a glimpse of gold, and she was compelled to look away from her audience. There, she found herself in the mirror and she shuddered. She was sitting on the end of the lounger, legs crossed at the ankles and hands gathered in her lap like some 1950s housewife. Her gold dress fanned out around her while tendrils of chocolate hair dripped over her bare shoulders.

No one spoke except through desperate eyes. Amber tried to open her mouth but she couldn’t. She tried to move her head but she couldn’t. She was a portrait of a lady there for the men to admire.

At the center of the line, Hyungwon closed his eyes. His brow creased, and a finger twitched at his side. Slowly, like a daisy chain, each brother followed suit down his flanks, and one by one, their hands rose to each other’s shoulders, connecting them all to Hyungwon.

His eyes shot open, fierce and questing, studying every inch of the room until at last he found Amber. He opened those marvelous lips and mouthed each syllable of her name in slow motion.

Ambrosia…

No sound came out, but Amber heard him in her heart.

Her lip quivered as she tried to respond, but moving felt impossible. She looked to the seven brothers for help, but the three on either side of Hyungwon had their eyes closed. Only Hyungwon waited for her. His hands rose as though through sap, but at last they stretched high and open as though waiting for her to fill them.

This time, Amber closed her eyes and willed all of her strength into her feet. At last, she was able to uncross her ankles, and then she shifted her energy to her feet. With tremendous effort, she stood on stiff mannequin legs, but she kept on fighting. She pictured Hyungwon waiting for her. She pictured his arms. She burned to be in them—she’d never wanted anything more—and something snapped. Her eyes opened and found his.

Amber dove for Hyungwon, but just before their fingers touched, something wrenched her back like a chain around her neck. Her throat actually hurt, and the agony grew sharper the harder she fought, but she wouldn’t give up. She pushed forward, and at last, her fingertip grazed his. Lightning flooded her veins and she screamed, but not in pain this time.

“Hyungwon!”

“Never!” came a ferocious howl from somewhere behind her, and the light in the room flickered.

The door burst open, and Amber shot up truly awake and able to move easily once more. Again, the room was filled with vampires, but instead, it was two women, neither of whom she’d ever seen before. One was short, spunky, and platinum blond, with a childlike face and girl’s smile to match; the taller one was slender and mysterious, with pin-straight ebony tresses and lips like a geisha.

They descended on her, shucking her nightgown from her body like a husk from the cob until she was totally naked and shivering in the chilly basement air. While the blonde brushed out the knots from Amber’s hair, the raven-haired vampire daubed rouge on their captive’s nipples. Amber tried to swat them away, but the women pressed relentlessly onward in their duties without so much as a sigh.

“I can do it myself,” Amber insisted, but they didn’t acknowledge her. It was almost like they hadn’t even heard her.

Once the taller one finished adorning Amber’s breasts, she returned to her makeup palette and dressed the detective’s eyes with smoky halos and her lips with a wine-colored stain. Above her, Amber heard the blonde hum approvingly as she worked a curling iron through the frizz in her subject’s wild waves.

Makeup done, the dark-haired woman slapped Amber’s knee as she scooted over a stool with her foot. The expectation was clear, and Amber propped it up on the cushion. The vampire ran her hand from hip to toe down the detective’s leg, searching for any roughness, and if she found any, she would shave it expertly away until she was sure there were no unwanted hairs anywhere on her body.

Once their human palette was satisfactorily smooth, the vampires reviewed their efforts, but almost simultaneously, their eyes fell to the bruise and, even worse, the fresh wound on Amber’s neck. Eyes wide as spotlights, they hissed at each other, no words between them and yet they seemed to understand each other perfectly. They dug through their supplies in unison, and each came up armed with concealer and powder. Together, they dressed her brand, and when they were done, they exchanged worried glances.

Amber wanted to scream at and punch and strangle her silent servants, but there was nothing she could do. She was weaponless, hopeless, and utterly degraded. One glance in the mirror, and she knew that, while she’d never looked more beautiful—with her olive skin glowing and her contradictory eyes shining in their charcoaled frames—she’d never been more powerless.

Somewhere between the body-buffing and face-painting, Amber realized that this may have been the exact thing that they’d done with Han So Hee. Her body had been found fresh, clean, and dolled up. Maybe that was Amber’s fate after all. She’d assumed she was hunted for some special reason, but maybe that was just twisted hubris. Maybe this was how a vampire with a god-complex got his rocks off after centuries of the same old, same old.

The two vampires stood back, admiring their work with crooked smiles, until a tear slipped down Amber’s cheek that set a snarl on the one with the jet-black hair. A snake-like hiss escaped the vampire’s throat before she reset the makeup from scratch. This time, the glare she shot Amber’s way threatened violence if she messed it up again with silly emotion.

Satisfied, the blonde returned with the dress from Amber’s dream-now-turned-nightmare. It poured like liquid gold from the hanger, as though Rumpelstiltskin had sewn it himself. A collar bedecked with jewels crowned a bodice of zig-zagging sequins and crystals. From the belt at the waist, a pleated skirt of metallic fabric swished with the slightest movement.

The maidservants shimmied the dress over Amber’s head with skillful inhuman hands that ensured not a hair was out of place nor a fleck of makeup was smudged. The blonde dropped to her knees and tunneled under the shimmering skirt to guide Amber’s feet into strappy golden sandals that wound up her calves and tied around her knees.

The dress was even more striking on than in her dream. It was like it had been sewn to her exact measurements, a thought that horrified. The gold enhanced the honey in Amber’s eye, stirring it the way someone would swirl wine in a glass. Her shoulders were bare, and what she’d thought were tiers of golden pleats were actually cape-like spools of fabric dancing along the silhouette of the dress. When she moved, the dress flickered around her until she felt like she’d been touched by King Midas himself.

Beautiful wrapping aside, two eyes stared back in the mirror that Amber didn’t recognize anymore, one cold and stark as her heart now felt and the other messy like spilt cognac decanted with ice.

She was hollow and terribly, terribly alone.

The vampires grinned wordlessly at each other this time, reveling in their success.

Only moments later, Aisha appeared behind the servants, towering over them all with her lavender glower and her smug order, “Let’s go, Chalice.”

At least Aisha’s disdain galvanized Amber, and the detective stomped forward with resentment charging her wake. This tugged the lead vampire’s frown up into a smirk.

“I guess you can put lipstick on a pig,” Aisha baited. “At least now, you look worthy enough to meet His Grace.”

“I take it you won’t be seeing him then,” retorted Amber with a side eye appraisal of Aisha’s usual black leather getup. Knuckles cracked behind her as the detective trudged up the stairs.

The bar was full again with some of last night’s patrons as well as new faces. Two bar stools teetered noticeably broken from last night’s melee, but men sat on them all the same. Even the man who’d started the brawl was back talking to the same fellow he’d clubbed, whose face was now peppered with fresh scabs no one seemed to acknowledge. This time, he didn’t notice the women nor did anyone else, despite the flamboyant dress.

Aisha shoved Amber through the bar until they emerged into the late evening air. If it weren’t for the faint tinge of indigo on the horizon, Amber might not have realized that a whole day had passed. Her resentful escort nodded toward the end of the lot, where the only car waited like a bookend for the fleet of motorcycles. The detective climbed in and Aisha joined a moment later. Without a word, she piloted back toward the heart of Forest Park.

They glided down the windy road in total silence as the sun vanished in favor of moonless night. It was a short drive, but Aisha drove like a race car driver between mossy stone walls and fir-shrouded cliffs. Amber hunkered down in her seat as she tightened her seatbelt across her lap.

“You’ll call attention to us,” the detective warned, but Aisha scoffed.

“Who cares? I can make us appear and disappear with one word. No one is coming for you.”

The vampire whipped around another bend as the tires squealed for purchase on the road. Amber clung to the grab handle while Aisha laughed.

“Your heart sounds like a little jackrabbit. You know, there’s no guardrail here. If we plunge over the ledge, you’ll die. I’ll be fine though.”

“Until Kai finds out,” Amber returned.

The vampire gritted her teeth and slowed down just a touch. Not long after, they turned into a wedge-shaped gravel lot, and Aisha turned off her headlights. She drove straight off the edge of the lot and parked at the back of a field in a thicket of ferns.

“Follow me, little lamb,” she said and hopped out.

Amber emerged into the night, feeling every bit as doomed as Aisha had insinuated. The air was cooler here without the heavy humidity of the city. The night was deep, but the forest darkness was deeper, and it cooed and scratched with unknown creatures.

Over the lip of a steep cliff they went, on a path better suited for a goat than a person. It was hard to see at all until they were clear of the parking lot and Aisha turned on a flashlight. The muddy trail zigged and zagged around tree roots and boulders, down, down, down, to where an unseen brook babbled. Amber was at least grateful the servants hadn’t forced her into heels or she no doubt would have plunged headlong into the canyon.

They hiked for what felt like an eternity, yet somehow, each step felt more and more familiar. It wasn’t until they reached a moss-speckled bridge at the foot of a waterfall that Amber realized why this felt so familiar.

She’d been here before. In her dreams.

She knew what would come next. They would follow the creek until they came to the ruins of the stone house, and sure enough, Aisha turned the bend that sloped much gentler now toward Amber’s destiny.

She had told herself she was ready for this. She wasn’t—not now that she was looking straight down the black throat of Fate.

“Scared?” Aisha asked with delight.

“Fuck off.”

Aisha laughed. “You have no idea what’s waiting for you. Little clueless ex-detective who can’t detect anything. It’d be cute if I didn’t hate you so much.”

“Were you this much of a bitch when you were alive?”

“Yup.”

Amber thought about picking up a rock and chucking it at the back of the vampire’s head, but there was no point other than it would make her feel really fucking good.

They crossed another wooden bridge, swerved around a leggy fir that jutted into the trail, and the moment they’d cleared it, the stone house came into view.

It was just as Amber had pictured in her dreams. It squatted just above the trail on a little stone terrace. There was no roof, no door, no windows, just an empty shell that opened to the canopy. Lichen beards dangled like party pennants above it while moss and ferns dappled the walls and window frames. In the eerie stillness that surrounded it, the nearby brook sloshed sloppily along its banks. Everything was the same except one thing.

Candlelight ringed the terrace. Tiny tealights dotted the walls like fire ants, and in the center of the house sat an iron dinette with a candelabra blazing in all its gothic glory.

When Amber’s eyes finally slid from the terrace to the stairs, she found what she’d been fighting for months, perhaps her entire life.

She found her destiny in a tailored tuxedo and a luxurious smile.

“Welcome, Ambrosia,” he said in a voice as luscious as silk. “I’m Kai. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

#monsta x smut #novel #succumbing to sybaris #original character #shownu #wonho #minhyuk #kihyun #hyungwon #jooheon #changkyun #detective au #vampire au #enemies to lovers #reverse harem #WE GO HARD YO

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atths--twice · 3 years

Text

Autumn Blessings

Mulder arrives at Scully's apartment, believing he will find her alone and interested in the case he brings over. However, his plans go so much better than he could have planned. Tagging @fictober-event @today-in-fic @xffictober2021

I am late, so it’s a double day, two days for the price of one!

Fictober Day 21 and 22

Word Count: 3327

Rated: T

Prompt: No promises and You have no proof.

Fandom: The X-Files

October 30, 1996

Mulder walked down the hall to Scully’s apartment, his arms full of files, and his head down, paying no attention to anything around him. If he had, he would have noticed the fall decorations on the doors he passed. He would have seen the pumpkin themed welcome mat Mrs. Carson had laid out in front of her door, but he did not.

Not until he raised his hand to knock on Scully’s door did he take notice. There was a fall wreath on her door. A wreath. He actually turned his head, looking back and forth, to be sure he was at the right apartment.

The wreath had leaves of green, gold, rust, and crimson. Small pumpkins sat inside of it, green vines wrapping around the metal frame. Autumn Blessings was written on a small cream colored plaque in fancy lettering of rich orange.

Four years he had known Scully and not once had he seen a wreath on her door. It gave him pause while also filling his mind with many questions.

He heard her laughter through the door and he shook his head, knocking on it just below the wreath, still looking at it with curiosity as he waited for her to open the door.

When she did, he was once again taken aback. She had her hair up in a messy bun and her cheeks were flushed. She wore a black apron with two white smiling ghosts on it over a button up blue flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a pair of black pants. No shoes, but she wore green socks with orange pumpkins poking out from the hem of her pants.

Who was this Scully? He was sure he had never met her before.

“Mulder!” she said with a happy smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Uhh, what-”

“Auntie Dana, I washed my hands,” said a little voice and Mulder looked past Scully, finding a boy of about four with reddish blond hair standing in her kitchen, wearing a long sleeved black shirt, jeans, and a dark blue apron with many happy smiling pumpkin faces on it.

“Umm…” Mulder said, looking back at Scully in confusion and she motioned him into the apartment with a small laugh.

“Mulder, this is my nephew, Brandon. Brandon… this is my friend, Mulder,” she said, bending down to speak to him. “Can you say hello to him?”

“Hello, Mr. Mulder,” Brandon said, sticking out his small hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Scully looked at Mulder, her eyes wide as she stuck out her lower lip and placed a hand on her chest at his actions. Mulder smiled and squatted down in front of Brandon, taking his hand in his own and shaking it solemnly and then letting go.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Brandon. You can call me Mulder. Are you having fun with your aunt?”

“Yes. We watched Babe and now we’re going to make puhkins.”

“Pumpkins,” Scully said with a smile. “Yes, we are going to carve pumpkins.”

“Did you come here to help us?” Brandon asked, looking Mulder in the eye. “Do you know how to do that?”

“Well,” Mulder chuckled, glancing at Scully. “It has been awhile, so I make no promises, but I think I could try.”

“Okay, that will be good. We have big pumpkins. Auntie Dana said those are best for making jack… jack oh lam… lammers.”

“Jack-o’-lanterns, yes,” Scully laughed, stroking his cheek, and tapping his nose with her finger. “Like a light, remember?”

“Yes. Will you help us to make the jack lanterns?” Brandon asked, his bluish green eyes on Mulder.

“Sure I will,” Mulder said, standing up and setting the files in his hand onto the table behind Scully’s couch. He laid his coat beside them and rolled up his sleeves, nodding his head at Scully. “Where do I get an apron like one of those?”

“You don’t,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I only have these for me and him. Although, there is one hanging in the closet if you want to use it, but it’s not exactly… Halloween themed.”

He left to check what she meant and came back with a cream colored apron covered in flowers and butterflies. Scully pursed her lips, trying not to laugh, but he saw the mirth in her eyes.

“Don’t suppose you’ll switch with me?”

“Not a chance,” she said with a chuckle, retying the strings on Brandon’s apron in the front, as they were far too long to trail down the back.

“Well then…” he said, slipping the apron over his head and tying his own strings behind his back. Looking down, he nodded as he smoothed it down. She laughed again, seeing how it came to just below his crotch, the waist of it near his chest.

“A perfect fit,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

“Absolutely. Definitely not too short.”

“Nope.” He smiled at her as she helped Brandon up into the kitchen chair, the table covered in plastic and four large pumpkins sitting on top of it, the tops already cut.

“I want that one, Auntie Dana,” Brandon said, pointing to the one in the middle, and she nodded.

“I know. Okay. We just need to be careful, right? First, I’ll draw the face you want and we’ll trace it like you do in school to cut it out, okay?”

“Yes. I will be careful.”

“We just finished scooping all the insides out, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. They were yucky. I didn’t like it.”

“No,” Mulder said, reaching for a pumpkin. “I don’t blame you. It’s an odd texture.”

“What does testure mean?” Brandon asked, looking at Mulder with a frown.

“Texture,” Mulder said with a smile. “It’s how something feels. Like the pumpkin here, what is it’s texture? How does it feel when you touch it?” He held his pumpkin out to Brandon and waited for him to touch it.

“It’s… smooth but it’s bumpy too,” Brandon said, looking at Mulder for confirmation.

“That’s right. How did the texture of the inside of the pumpkin feel?” Mulder smiled, raising his eyebrows as Brandon furrowed his brow and gave it some serious thought, his small fingers touching the outside of the pumpkin as he did.

“It was… yucky. And not smooth.” Mulder flicked his eyes to Scully and saw she was smiling at Brandon with such a soft expression, it made his heart ache.

“I’d say that’s a good explanation,” he said, patting Brandon’s back gently. “Now how about that face, huh? Tell your aunt what you want her to draw.”

As they began to plan out their own jack-o’-lanterns, Mulder listened and watched Scully interacting with her nephew. She laughed and smiled more than he had ever seen and he reveled in it, loving seeing her so happy.

Brandon helped to carve the pumpkin until his attention began to wane and he asked to get down and play with his toys. Scully went with him into the bathroom to both wash his hands and use the toilet, leaving Mulder alone at the table.

He listened to her again, how she spoke to Brandon, the caring and kindness in her voice. Remembering their conversation on a bench in front of the police station, in a town rather ironically called Home, he stopped what he was doing and simply sat and thought.

He had not lied to her when he said he had never seen her as a mother before. Their work lives did not afford a family life, well not for him anyway, and therefore he had never thought of her living her life in that manner. But, did she want a family? Is that what she was hinting at? Speaking truthfully of her own worries while still projecting about others?

He knew she had to have her worries after her abduction. Worries about what had been done to her without her consent and how it would affect her ability for children. Christ, what if she would not be able to have children? That was a common thread with women who had been taken. But not her, right?

“Fuck,” he breathed, not wanting to think about it. She was a doctor, a woman. She had to have had tests done when she had been well enough.

But would she have told him something so personal?

“Can I have my backpack?” Brandon asked and Mulder sat up, breaking from his thoughts and reaching for his pumpkin, a forced smile on his face.

“It’s on the coffee table, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Brandon ran to the living room and Scully rejoined Mulder in the kitchen, laying Brandon’s dark blue apron along the back of a chair. She smiled and nodded toward the bottle of wine on the counter.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Sure.”

She poured them each a glass and brought it to the table, glancing at Brandon with a smile before she sat down to finish the pumpkins.

“Your brother’s still in town then obviously?”

“Until Sunday, yeah. He and his wife wanted to go out to dinner, just the two of them, so I offered to watch Brandon.”

“Hadn’t had enough of Babe yet?” he asked, smirking at her and she laughed softly.

“Apparently not. But we only watched it once tonight, so there is that.” He laughed with a nod, glancing at her before looking back at his pumpkin.

“Was there something you needed tonight?” she asked, picking up her small knife and looking at him. “A case?”

“Eh... not exactly, just something I was thinking of looking into a bit more.”

“Halloween related?”

“No.”

“Hmm… you know it’s interesting, considering the cases we do pursue, that we’ve never gone out to a pumpkin patch at midnight on Halloween.”

“While we sit around waiting for the Great Pumpkin? Come on, Scully. That’s not real.”

“But vampires, werewolves, and witches are?” she teased, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head.

“Yes,” he said firmly without thought and she laughed.

“Auntie Dana, can I watch Babe?” Brandon asked, coming over to stand beside her chair. Scully groaned under her breath, but rose from her seat to put the movie on for him, holding his hand as they walked into the living room.

Once he was engrossed, echoing the dialogue of the movie and dancing around, Scully and Mulder worked together to finish the pumpkins, though they did not speak much as they focused on their task.

“You have some small candles?” Mulder asked as he stood up a few minutes later, stretching and looking at her. She smiled as she glanced up from her pumpkin.

“I forgot you were wearing that apron. That’s hilarious.”

“Yeah, thanks for swapping,” he said sarcastically and she shrugged.

“I didn’t buy this to not wear it. You crash the party, you get the flowery apron.” He nodded and smiled, glancing down at it again.

“It’s not so bad actually, just wish it was a bit longer.” She looked up at him and he saw her mouth twitch and her eyes dancing, as he realized how sexual it sounded. “Not how I meant it.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, nodding her head with a smile. “Candles are in the cupboard behind you.”

Turning around, he took out four votive candles and put one each into the pumpkins he had finished and one into the Scully had done. She was still working on the last one, so he set the candle beside her for when she had finished.

Untying the apron strings, he took it off and laid it on top of Brandon’s as he went to use the bathroom. He looked around at the spaces he did not usually get to see, the private part of Scully that did not belong to the office. He liked to see the things she chose to display and hang on her walls, to learn about that woman, the one he still did not know very well.

“Okay, I think I’m finished,” she said as he reentered the kitchen, giving her pumpkin another look. “Yeah, that’s good. Brandon, you want to come and see the jack-o’-lanterns?”

“Yes!” He ran over and looked at them all lined up as he scrambled up on the chair for a better look. “Oh, I like them!”

“Now, we just need to add the last candle,” Scully said, lifting the top of the pumpkin and placing the candle inside.

“Why is there a candle in it?” Brandon asked, rising onto the table to look inside.

“So it makes it like a light, remember? Like a lantern. Watch.” She took a box of matches from the cupboard and lit each candle, replacing the top of the pumpkin as Mulder turned off the lights.

“Ohhhh,” Brandon exclaimed and Scully met Mulder’s eyes over his head, smiling as she blew out the match and rubbed Brandon’s back. “It’s like a nightlight.”

“Kind of, yeah,” Scully said softly, bending to look at them from his eye level.

“People used to light pumpkins like this to ward off evil spirits,” Mulder stated and Scully raised her head, glaring at him as she shook her head and looked down at Brandon in warning.

“Oh,” Brandon said. “That’s smart.”

“You think so?” Scully asked him cautiously and Brandon nodded solemnly.

“If pumpkins can take warts off, it’s smart to use them. My friend had a wart. He said it was from a frog.”

Mulder blinked his eyes, looking at Scully in confusion, her expression mirroring his own, when she suddenly smiled and covered her mouth. He shook his head, still not understanding, and she leaned close to him, exhaling a soft laugh.

“They lit pumpkins to wart off evil spirits,” she explained in a whisper. “That was what he heard.”

“Ohhh,” he whispered back, clearing his throat to cover his laugh, looking at her as she shook her head with a huge smile.

“Can I blow out the candles?” Brandon asked.

“Sure, just be careful,” Scully said, standing close to him again. “Do you want to do it through the top or through their smiles?”

“Oh, pick the smile, it’s more fun,” Mulder said and Brandon smiled, getting closer to the first pumpkin and blowing hard.

The candle went out and he laughed, moving onto the next one. Mulder watched Scully watching Brandon, keeping a hand on his back as he moved down the line of pumpkins, her tender smile once again making his heart ache.

When the last one was out, the only light in the room coming from the television, the scent of burning pumpkins in the air, she scooped Brandon off the table and squeezed him. He laughed, hugging her back, and suddenly Mulder felt as though he might cry.

It was so innocent, so simple and small, and yet it stole the air from his lungs.

Never before had he thought of himself as a family man, never wanted to have that, knowing he would most likely fuck it up somehow, given his own family’s track record. Never had he considered any of his past relationships maturing to the point of marriage or children.

But seeing Scully with her nephew, the love she felt and the ease at which she cared for him, he knew if he were to ever change his mind, it would be because of her.

With her and her alone.

And the realization of that nearly knocked him on his ass.

“Auntie Dana, it’s too tight!” Brandon said with a giggle and Mulder swallowed down the lump in his throat, forcing yet another smile to mask his feelings.

“Too tight? What? I don’t think there’s any such thing,” Scully argued, tickling his sides and making him laugh harder.

“No, it’s too tickly,” Brandon said between giggles and Scully stopped, pulling back and looking at him with a smile.

“I love you Brandon Bee,” she said, kissing his cheek.

“I love you Auntie D,” he answered, obviously something they had said many times. Kissing him again, she set him down with a smile as he ran toward the television.

“Can you get the lights?” she asked Mulder and he nodded.

Turning around once he was done, he watched her gathering things and putting them into the sink. Joining her, he helped her clean up, placing all the trash into two trash bags, the pumpkins sitting proudly in the middle of the table.

“I can take these when I go,” he offered and she looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“That’s okay, I can do it later. You sure don’t want to stay? I’m going to put him down soon. We could discuss that case you brought over.” She gestured to the table and he shook his head with a smile.

“Nah, it can wait.”

“Because it does involve a werewolf, doesn’t it? I knew it,” she teased and he smiled.

“You have no proof.”

“Not yet, but once you tell me about it and I’m standing in another forest, freezing cold and-”

“Rolling your eyes?” he teased back and she laughed.

“Most likely,” she answered with a smile and he nodded.

“I’ll let you two enjoy the rest of your evening. Thanks for this, it was fun.”

“Even the apron bit?”

“Especially that bit,” he said, picking up his coat and putting it on with a smile. “That’s my apron from now on, I’ve laid claim to it.”

“You may have to fight my mother for it if you, should both be here at the same time, but other than that, consider it yours.”

“Oh, your mom won’t ever fight me. She cares about me too much,” he said, picking up the files and winking at her.

“I know,” she said with a sigh, shaking her head. “She would get such a kick out of seeing you in that apron, she would gladly hand it over.” He smiled and looked at Brandon who was sitting on the floor with his diecast cars around him as he stared up at the television.

“Brandon,” Mulder said, squatting down beside him. “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for letting me help with the jack-o’-lanterns.”

“I like you, Mr. Mulder. You’re nice.” He got up and came to Mulder, wrapping his thin arms around his neck and hugging him tight. Mulder put an arm around him, tears threatening to choke him again.

He really needed to leave before he embarrassed himself.

Squeezing him once more, he said goodbye, smiling at him as he stood up. Nodding to Scully, he said goodnight and headed to the door. Glancing back at the pumpkins on the table, staring at their happy, big-mouthed smiles, and he nodded, glad he had made the impromptu decision to stop by.

“Goodnight, Mulder. See you tomorrow. Owoooo…” She howled softly, smiling at him as he raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, Scully… never a dull moment with you,” he said, shaking his head and walking out of the door and starting down the hallway. He turned around and saluted her with two fingers to his forehead. “Autumn blessings to you.”

“And also to you,” she said, making the sign of the cross. He laughed and she smiled.

“Goodbye, Mr. Mulder,” Brandon called, stepping into the hallway and waving with a smile. Scully bent low and wrapped her arms around him, rocking him against her, as they went back inside the apartment, the door closing on their laughter.

A part of him wanted to forget his pride, to go back and stay until she kicked him out, tired of his constant dotage, wanting to give her the world and asking nothing in return except to see her happy smile.

But the other part of him, the one that knew he had no right to ask that of her, to demand anything, was the one that walked down the hall and toward his car.

Alone, and for the first time in a long time, wishing that he was not.

#Fictober21 #The X-Files #XF Fanfic #Autumn #Pumpkin Carving #Family #Halloween #Babysitting #Teasing #Feelings Unsaid #Happy #Caring

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writing-wh0re · 3 years

Note

Hi I saw your prompt list can you do 9, 18, 22 for draco malfoy plzz. fluff & smut

All writings will be #writing-wh0re-requests.

I have so many requests in my inbox and I couldn’t be happier, a lot of blurbs and stories are coming your way so keep an eye out!

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader.

This is my first Draco Malfoy fic, a little longer that I originally thought, hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 1,574k

Prompt’s requested:

9 - “Did he do this?”

18 - “You just don’t get it, do you?”

22- “You think it’s funny to tease me?”

Warnings: Smut 18+, Fluff, Angst(?), Vaginal Intercourse, Male Recieving Oral, Explicit Language.

Walking around the Malfoy manor seems to take my breath away everytime, the grandest rooms merely lit by the windows, however being night time, it creates an eerier shadow of darkness.

“Y/n, we’re glad you came to spend the holidays with us, we have some big things planned.” Narcissa smiles, opening her arms to give me a light hug, something that shocked me the first time it occurred, not expecting to receive any affections from either of Draco’s parents.

“Yes, Y/n, tomorrow you’ll be joining us at the table with the dark lord and he is very excited to meet a fellow Slytherin.” Lucius states, looking behind me as I turn slightly, feeling a sense of comfort washing over me as Draco places his hand on the middle of my back.

“We will leave you two be.” Narcissa says, looping her arm through Lucius as they walk out of the living room.

“Come with me.” Draco whispers, pulling me behind him. We walk through the manor, going up the stairs and towards his room, one I am very familiar with.

“I’ve missed you.” Draco quickly closes his bedroom door as I smirk, pushing him against it lightly, kissing him as I start to unbutton his white dress shirt. “I think someone has also missed me.” I nod not trusting my voice as I run my hands over his bare chest as I move my lips to his neck, sucking and biting the soft skin as he lets his moans fill the air.

“Draco, your parents will hear us.” I whisper as he scoffs.

“I don’t care.”

I smirk against his skin as I kiss down his body, resting on my knees as I start to undo his belt. Draco helps me fumble with his pants zipper as I pull off my shirt, leaving me in a black lace bra.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Draco whispers, placing his hand under my chin as I feel the blush hit my cheeks. I take his long and thick cock into my hand as I start to pump him, causing him to throw his head back against the door, a pleasure filled sigh falling from his lips. I softly lick the tip, trailing my tongue down the sides as he runs his hands through my hair as I smirk, knowing he is getting fed up with this teasing.

“You think it’s funny to tease me?”

Before I can say a witty remark, he pulls my hair causing my head to fall back as my mouth opens a little wider, allowing for him to slide his dick into my mouth, our eyes never leaving each other as he softly thrusts in and out of my mouth. I swirl my tongue around him as he bites his lip holding back a few moans as I hollow out my cheeks.

“Bed, now.” Draco demands as he shuffles out of his pants and pulls off his shirt. I get onto his soft queen sized bed, attempting to wiggle out of my skirt as he stops me, shaking his head. “Keep it on.” I smirk as I pull him down to me, kissing him as he unclasp’s my bra, cupping my bare breast in his hand, kneading it as I moan for him.

“Please, I need you.”

Draco chuckles at my small beg, kissing down my body as he moves my panties to the side.

“You’re dripping baby.” I wiggle under his touch, thrusting my hips up in an attempt to get some type of contact. “Needy little thing aren’t you.”

Before I can beg again, Draco slides inside me, my walls instantly clenching around him as I hiss in pleasure. “So fucking tight.” I arch my back slightly as he thrusts into me, getting deeper every time.

Draco leans over my body, kissing my neck as I run my fingernails down his back. Wrapping my legs around him, pulling him closer to me as we both moan at the new angle.

“Just like that.” I whimper, feeling my walls start to tighten around his length.

“Cum for me baby, I’m close.”

I feel Draco’s lips attack the sweet spot on my neck, leaving a mark as I moan his name loud, my walls fluttering around his cock as he groans, thrusting a few more times before holding me close and cumming inside of me.

“I-I love you.” I stutter, being the first proper time to say it outloud. The silence that floods the air is sickening as I feel my heart pound almost out of my chest as I look over at Draco who appears to be lost in thought. I huff, not wanting the tears that prick my eyes to fall as I shuffle off the bed, picking up my disregarded clothes and attempting to get dressed.

“Y/n, baby.” Draco sighs as I stop, looking at him, his face flushed and eyes unreadable. “I-Uh, you know this is hard for me.” I nod softly, biting my lip.

“I know.” I whisper, tears starting to softly fall down my face as Draco stands, pulling me into a hug.

“I l-love you.” I gasp as he kisses my head, holding me tighter as I keep my arms wrapped around his torso. Without another word being said, Draco slips off my skirt, handing me his old quidditch jersey and pulling me into bed beside him.

-----

I wake up in the morning tucked up in Draco’s blanket as I feel his spot beside me, empty and cold. I sigh softly as I get out of the comfortable bed, throwing on a pair of black jeans and a black turtle neck as I throw my hair into a ponytail. I make my way through the manor hearing a crowd of voices, I walk into the grand dining room, all eyes falling on me. My eyes scan around the room spotting Draco next to Lucius, pain all over his features causing my heart to sink.

“And who might you be?” I hear a chilling voice say, the woman coming face to face with me as I recognise her to be none other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

“This is Y/n Y/L/N, Draco’s girl.” Narcissa quickly rushes to my side as her sister looks me up and down, a wicked smile covering her face as she pulls my turtle neck down, looking at the love bite.

Bellatrix places her hand under my chin, sucking her teeth “Quiet special then, aren't you girly.” I keep my eyes trained on hers, not wanting to cower away. As Lucius can be heard whispering, causing Bellatrix to turn and look at the scene. Lucius appears to be scolding Draco. The room fills with laughter, Bellatrix’s laughter. “Leave the boy alone! You’re acting like you and sissy are saints.” I hear Narcissa gasp rushing to Lucius and pulling him aside, leaving Draco by himself. Before I can make my way over to Draco, a chill runs down my spin as a booming voice fills the dark room.

“Sit!” I see the darklord himself, a chill filling the room as he pulls out the chair at the head of the table. I make my way over to Draco, sitting beside him as Narcissa sits on my right, Lucius on Draco’s left. The dark lord begins to talk as I zone out, slightly terrified and uncomfortable. Draco placing his hand on my thigh, his thumb running against the fabric of my jeans.

What I presume is halfway through the darklords meeting, I hear him mention Draco’s name as I start to pay closer attention.

“We must finally welcome Draco.” I feel chills hit my body as I look at Draco, his eyes looking everywhere but me.

I keep my mouth closed not wanting to start anything at this table. The meeting concluding on Lucius offering his wand to kill Harry Potter, to which the darklord wasn’t as happy about.

After everyone stands from the table, I walk out of the room, trying to make sense of the welcome Draco received.

“Y/n.” I hear a soft whisper, I turn and see Draco as he pulls me into a hug.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you.” Draco whispers as I push out of our hug.

“Tell me what Draco, you’re planning on killing our classmate, what else happened?”

“This.” Draco rolls up his sleeve showing me a fresh dark mark.

“Did he do this?”

“I wanted him to do it.”

I scoff, my face forming a frown as I step back from Draco, his decision scaring me slightly.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Draco steps closer to me as my back hits a wall. “I have to do this, he gave me an ultimatum.” I raise an eyebrow as I feel no words form.

“Ultimatum?”

“My father offered you, I did this for us, for you.” I feel my heart pound as tears fill my eyes. “I love you, I have to protect you, this war, it will kill lots of wizards and you’re not going to be one of them.” Draco places his hand on my face as he kisses me.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” I kiss Draco’s soft lips as he sighs.

“I’m sorry you’re on this side of it all.”

“I’m with you, that’s all I ask for.”

Taglist:

@andreaareynoso

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

#writing-wh0re-requests #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #anon request #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy request #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x fem!reader #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter requests #darco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy blurb #draco malfoy rec

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