#I HAD TO RUN AWAY FROM PEOPLE TO GUFFAW AND SCREAM AND NOT SCARE THEM | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theaftonswhorehouse · 2 years

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A promo post to my writing. Buckle up- my entire writing process is just Family Guy Funny Moments

ABOUT: Sun x GN! Reader

WARNINGS: Light mention of NSFW thoughts

CONTENT CONTAINS: Fluff

Part 1?

🌞Thursday mornin’ Rain🌞

Working inside the pizzaplex wasn’t your first choice. Through the murmurs of the grape vine you had heard more than enough to raise your suspicions about the ditzy place. Kids going missing? A big no thanks from you. Fuck what the others had said, you had a pretty based keen-to-survival mindset. Nonetheless, you applied to the job; a daycare attendant co-assistant. What a mouth full.

[Why you applied? The pay, of course! What’s a Freddy Fazbears Pizzeria™️ story without a desperate scrooge who needs money? Remember your roots, people. I didn’t burn my eyes into the AM on Quotev for nothing]

You had applied to the job almost as a joke, planning to never get a call back from the establishment. Figuring they were too backed up on so many teens wanting to work there for the free drinks and plot-points, you could consider your mind boggled at the phone call you received not even a week after you sent your application in. They were desperate for work in the Daycare area. Practically whining over the phone about how much they needed your help. It struck a certain string in your heart. The money string. 20 whole bucks an hour? You son of a bitch, I’m in.

It had been almost 3 months you had worked there now. Within a week, you could see why the pizzaplex was so in need of a daycare attendant co-assistant. The main attendant was fucking nuts! Who would’ve thought someone would program an animatronic to be so maniacal and anxious, especially around children. You had to give the Sun some kudos. How he hadn’t lost his shit yet blew your mind.

Other workers even guffawed at your ability to maintain your composure for so long. Some seemed even fearful of you. An ego-booster on your behalf, yet still questionable to the poor bastards who slaved away in the kitchen or worse, the nightguard duty. One particular interaction left you thinking, though.

“Yeah, yeah. Vanessa, was it? What do you want?”

The question left your mouth in a venom-like spit, fed up from your long day and ready to go home. Vanessa, the new night guard, stopped you just a few feet from the exit doors of the pizzaplex, buzzing from a ‘question she’s been meaning to ask you for a while’,

“What’s it like working with him? Them? The both of them?”

Her green eyes bore into yours, her lips formed into a straight line. A scowl grazed your upper lip as you began to walk away, flipping your hand around at her,

“Why do you want to know? It’s not your job anyways. Worry about your own-“

You were cut short when Vanessa had abruptly grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements completely. Not because she had stopped you, but because of the pure audacity she had to grab you like that,

“But don’t they, yknow, scare you? I’ve heard all the stories about the last workers there. Sun maybe a bit less than that Moon guy, but still! I’ve had a few interactions with Moon myself, not something i’d like to keep a habit of.”

She was talking out of her ass at this point, mumbling on about something you didn’t seem to be interested in anymore. You snatched your wrist away, glaring cold ice into her eyes,

“They aren’t that bad, Vanessa. They both mean well, just don’t be a prick.”

You hadn’t even noticed you were defending them until Vanessa gave you a puzzled look. You flushed at the realization, stuffing your hands in your pockets and looking away,

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

It was the final thing you said before quickly storming away from the woman and into the outside world. How cliché.

It left your mind running later that night. Why had you gotten so worked up over a simple, and well deserved, question? You were just defending your friends, right? No, nonsense. You knew better than that. You turned in your bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. The thoughts almost screamed in your mind,

“You dirty robot fucker! You like the daycare attendants!”

Placing your hands over your eyes, you groaned. The voices were right. Over the pan of the almost 3 months you’ve worked there, you had grown quite fond of the Sun and their counterpart. They treated you well, they cared for you, even dare you say, they loved you. It was sappy and gut wrenching, but man, did you enjoy the thought of being spoiled by them. That’s when you came to the conclusion as to why you stayed there for so long.

You wanted to bone the Sun robot.

Now that it had crossed your mind, it didn’t seem so bad to like the animatronic. He was sweet, he never did any harm, and every interaction you had with him left you swooning.

You slept with a smile that night.

________________________

Your morning shift had called earlier than you wanted it to. Eyes bagged and laden with crust. It was a Thursday, almost time to kiss the work place goodbye, and welcome the weekend and soap opera on your television. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. You’d been doing it since your prime. Ah, high school. You didn’t miss it.

You walked into work with a signature rbf, fixing the ruffles of your suit. [Oh, did i forget to mention? They make you wear an outfit. You look adorable, don’t worry.] You heaved a sigh, clocking in for your shift, and heading towards the daycare. The music rapidly increased in volume as you approached. It was catchy, sometimes you caught yourself nodding along to the goofy ass beat. You were doing it now, even. Shaking your head, you pushed your way into the daycare,

“Sunshine!!”

The greeting rung through the air almost immediately, your sun-clad co-worker frolicking over to greet you. He grabbed your sides, spinning you around once before sitting you back onto the stable ground,

“I missed you! We missed you! An entire night without seeing you, you! We have so many fun activities planned! Yes! If we could just-“

He frowned. If that was even capable of the robot. His energy deflated, rather,

“Star! You look absolutely exhausted!! Didn’t Moon tell you about your sleep schedule? Hm? Hm?”

You grumbled out a half-assed excuse of sorts, shrugging it off your shoulders,

“Just a long night. I’m okay, really.”

You assured him, patting his hand, that was still resting on your waist, lightly. Sun shook his head frantically in response,

“Don’t worry, nope!! I have just the right activity for us!! I do!”

You looked down at your FazWatch, provided to you by the company once you had started working there. It was 5:30 AM; 30 minutes to kill before kids would start showing up. You looked back up at him,

“I got half an hour, Sun. What do you have in mind?”

He let out a rumbling laugh of excitement, sliding his hands off of your waist to grab your wrist and drag you along the daycare. Sun settled on a play mat, getting comfortable before dragging you down with him, right into his lap. After your conclusion last night, it was obvious as to why your face got so hot so quickly. It didn’t go unnoticed, either,

“Oh! Sunshine, you’re all flushed! Are you sick? Are ya? Are ya? Is that why you didn’t sleep well?”

How clueless you truly were, you sweet thing,

“Not sick, sun. Just sleepy.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment. Thinking back to when you first worked here, you despised it. It was fishy, suspicious as fuck, and over all a death trap with hunky sentient machines. But god bless they get a law suit. Gotta keep those bad reviews under the wrap with a free dance pass and 1 year to the bowling alley. What a bummer!

Now you loved the place. Whether it be from the copious amounts of orange flavored fizzy faz seeping into your conscious brain cells, or the fact you lay snuggled up with the welcomingly warm robot, you were content with the thought of being happy here. You sighed inwardly. Sun was saying something above you, tapping his fingers against the exposed skin of your calves. Though, you didn’t listen. Instead, you drifted into a 30 minute power nap.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

#sun x reader #sun fnaf #sunrise #moon x reader #sunrise and moondrop

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deluluass · 3 years

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Attention

Since requests are open again, can i request a yan!bokuto developing a crush with one of the other teams' managers during their training camp? 👀

for: @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa. hi bestie 😔 this is late (again), but i hope u like it 😍

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; underage drinking; (slight) sub!Bokuto👀; mild footplay

Three minutes.

Three minutes and forty-five seconds, to be exact, before the truth came for you like a ball careening towards your blindside:

You’re not supposed to be here .

Granted, the thought had already slinked its way into your brain ever since you’d overheard the coach crying on his phone, his wife on the other side of the line, that if he hadn't groveled and appealed to his college friend’s sense of honor, as he’d sniffled, they wouldn’t have even considered the team ( your team) to be worthy of receiving an invitation to this training camp.

Ignoring the worries that came after that was supposed to be easy. It shouldn’t have come at all . It’s irrational and it doesn’t help anyone. What was the point in fretting? Your boys are more than deserving— more than capable in fact —of going toe to toe with some of Tokyo’s best.

It’s also a given that those people don’t know anything about your team. You do live in a town half a day’s ride away from the capital. And how could you expect city folk to recognize a team that hails from a place where the cows outnumber the people three to one?

They’re bound to not know.

But the needless unease stayed and soon took a life of its own, the weight of it becoming heavier and heavier over the course of the weeks that you waited for that dreaded day, like a hungry beast that you diligently fed with your little what-if’s.

What if that place eats us alive?

What if they make fun of us?

What if, despite trying our hardest, all we do is lose?

What if these people take a single look at us and think that we’re not good enough?

What if they’re right?

The deep chasm on the scoreboard tells you exactly that, plain and without a hint of artifice.

Shinzen High has already scored five points.

Your team is still stuck at zero.

And the clock continues to tick.

“Chance ball!”

Your captain's voice was feeble against the noise of the ball being passed from one hand to another.

Odd, that.

Itsuki's not the type to pull his punches. Especially in the middle of a game; always one to use his entire chest when launching back at his enemies with a guttural roar.

You looked at the players standing on your side of the court— really looked at them, in a way that you should have instead of wasting your time entertaining those doubts— and found nary a trace of your teammates among those too-stiff, too-quiet boys that bore an uncanny resemblance to a bunch of rabbits caught in the headlights.

A chuckle erupted from your chest, surprising even you.

"Something funny?" the coach asked, his glance turning wary when you convulsed in a fit of shrill giggles.

"Yeah," you told him, shaking your head. “There is, Coach.”

From the bored expressions on your opponents’ faces to Shigeru’s (failed) attempt to set for Koyama, all the way to an audience that wasn’t even looking, who were, frankly, much more interested in what's on their phones than what’s in front of them.

How can you not find this funny?

You were worried about... this ?

You sighed, your head the clearest that it’s ever been in a long while, and stood from your seat on the bench.

The coach called out your name in a harsh whisper. You ignored him, not even bothering to explain yourself. After all, you’ve already spent too much of your energy on the wrong things.

And so, in the most polite way that you could, you shouted:

“Hey! What the fuck is this!”

Everyone might've gawked; the coach may have pulled you back to the bench with a strength that you didn’t know he possessed. There’s something much more important than being respectable, though.

“None of us ever cared about what these assholes think!” you pressed on, staring down at Takami, whose dad never fails to remind him that he’ll waste away his life fooling around with that useless club . “So, why,” you ask with a clear voice, “Why are we starting now?!”

Of course, just like any of your spur of the moment ideas, that hadn’t ended the way you hoped it would.

They still lost (they also did in the following game). All of the coaches (including yours and excluding the one from Nekoma High; that one just patted your back) had expressed their disapproval over what you did. You couldn’t regret it, however, no matter how humiliating their rebukes made you feel.

Because you don’t think you’ve seen any of your teammates look the least bit happy since you set foot into this place. But, now— even with the fact that all they've achieved so far is keep the floors clean with their diving laps— now, they do.

With that, it seems to you then that this place isn’t so bad, after all.

A day.

A day and ten hours, approximately, had already passed when Bokuto felt your presence acutely like the stinging red imprint a hurtled ball leaves on his skin. And just like the circumstances that lead to that bloodied, angry marking, you made your existence known with just as much force as a player spiking for the kill.

Some of them guffawed, out of disbelief and sheer delight both, because in all the years that they’ve trained together in preparation for the interhigh, they don’t think anyone has ever called them a bunch of “assholes” before.

They didn’t think much about that new team that arrived too late. So, yeah, Bokuto wanted to laugh, too, just like others. ‘ What a way to make an impression, huh?’ he wanted to say.

That wasn’t what he said, though.

Bokuto wasn’t even able to say anything.

He was too busy staring at your mouth, the resoluteness in your lips as if you knew exactly what to say; the way you looked at your teammates, like there was nobody else more astounding, more unbeatable at this game than the boys before you (though, surely, even you can see that they’re far from being any of those things).

And yet, there you were, your eyes incandescent; they might as well have been on fire, blazing with so much awe and unshakable faith and it was so clear for everyone to witness and— and Bokuto did not know what to do with it.

It was so embarrassing, truth be told. Bokuto may not be the most secretive guy around, but when the others eventually pointed out that he looked scared at the thought of facing them ( you ), he just couldn’t help but sulk.

“We’re not half the cheerleader she is, Bokuto-san,” Yukie teased him, patting his shoulder as she did, “but rest easy, we’ll try our best to boost morale.”

He just groaned, immediately locking his legs at a stand still when the others hooted, ‘Look at him! He looks like he’s about to piss himself bouncing his legs like that . ’ Really, what was he supposed to say?

Because, when he finally faced your team with that net in between and as he felt the ball against his palms when he aimed for a clean hit towards the floor, it’s not even fear that rushes through him.

Not even close.

Beyond the defeated faces, of the exhaustion slathered all over your team’s barks after each point he snatched under their noses, Bokuto saw you looking at him.

Just a flicker; a passing peek before that determined gaze settled back on the others. But it was there all the same: the pause in your breath as the ball detonated against your teammate’s frail arms, clutching the edge of the bench with your fingers as if it took everything in you to keep yourself from running towards the court.

To rush towards him.

To— to what ? Exactly? To scream at his face the same way you did earlier? That he's going too rough and hurting your precious friends?

There’s a part of him that wishes to stop. A strange, alien feeling that he supposes comes from the discomfort at the sight of you so troubled and wound up.

Oh, but you're just starting to understand!

That if there's someone who's truly astounding, unbeatable, and staggeringly brilliant at this game, it's him . And Bokuto wanted to drive that point home like he's never wanted anything else in his entire life.

His body stopped feeling like his own by the second set.

His legs were too light to be his, like there were coil springs underneath his feet that carried him higher and higher he swore he could brush the roof with his fingertips.

There’s a thrumming in his flesh that propelled Bokuto to move faster, to push that ache over the edge until there’s nothing left but the breathless exhilaration of seeing his opponents kiss the ground.

The air is getting thinner, like he’s scaling towards a mountain top as he sprints towards the other side of the court, long strides eating up the floor, uncaring for the sweat pouring down his cheeks.

Bokuto was willing to let this thing go on forever and ever and ever , for as long as he feels the searing heat of your eyes on him.

Until he turned his head in your direction.

You were smiling at something a spectator said.

He couldn’t hear it, but whatever it was it had pushed you to make a teasing remark to your team.

A banter ensued.

The referee blew his whistle as a warning.

You giggled.

Why?

“The ball, Bokuto!”

Why aren’t you looking?

His hands were two weights keeping him down, made heavier by that sinking sensation in his chest.

When did you stop looking?

It was too much, too unbearable that he could cry. The indifferent way you'd removed him from your line of sight was a sucker punch that's not as painful as the shame it leaves him with.

Were you even looking at all?

And he wonders with a shuddering exhale as he finally gathered the strength to raise an arm, Bokuto wonders what would happen if, just this once, he shot the ball towards y—

“Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi was calling out to him.

“Bokuto-san, we already won."

The ball within his grasp dropped.

Bokuto watched it bounce on the floor until it rolled over to somebody else's waiting palm.

He took a deep breath— in and then out, repeated it until everything came into sharp focus —and raised his head to squint at the scoreboard.

22-3

So they did.

The other side of the court was already empty, your team assembled to one corner; you were out of sight.

Everyone started to gather around him.

They took Bokuto along with their cheers and reprimands and accusations, like a strong current that carried him from the bench to the shower room, laughing as they handed him a towel, having noticed that he’d been too out of it to do anything else but stay half-naked in front of the sink.

“Are you alright, Bokuto-san?” he heard Akaashi ask over the teeming excitement surrounding them.

Blinking, Bokuto paused from wiping his bare torso as he replied, “Me?”

Their setter only nodded.

“Yeah!” Bokuto exclaimed, a tad louder than he ought to. “Yeah, dude! Of course! Never been better!”

“You were a man possessed," Masaki, still fresh from the shower, suddenly drawled from behind him.

“You were... quiet,” Ubugawa’s captain continued, reaching for the toothpaste laid next to Akaashi. “It was unlike you.”

Bokuto was about to say something, somewhere along the lines of “Really? I didn’t notice” when Daiki made his decision to wring the wet shirt in his hand, brandish it like a belt, and strike Bokuto’s back with it, the impact cutting across the room.

“You little..!” Bokuto turned with a snarl, poised and ready to throw the boy over his shoulder.

“Let it go, let it go,” Daiki chortled, grabbing Bokuto by his damp hair. “That’s for not giving us a warning, alright? Crazy bastard.”

Daiki shook his head as he walked away. “Never seen the idiot go hard like that,” he mumbled.

“That’s our ace for ‘ya!” Haruki echoed from his cubicle, to which the others responded with wolfish howls and sharp whistles, completely transforming the shower room into a tiled rainforest.

And Bokuto wanted to join along, because although the game still felt like an abrupt, fever dream, he’s well aware that he did something that he’s going to be proud of in the days to come. But somehow— for some unknown, beguiling reason, all he could do was stand there and make himself vulnerable to Kuroo’s antics.

The Nekoma captain looked at Bokuto through the mirror, clicking his tongue before lamenting about “ those poor country boys ” and their “ ill luck ”.

“Go easy on us small fries sometimes,” he added. “You were pretty scary back there.”

Kuroo gave his nape a quick pat before he went for the lockers, leaving Bokuto to stare at his reflection, features obscured by the fog.

Scary , he said.

Scary, huh.

A man possessed.

Bokuto wonders about its meaning, what coach had meant earlier when he’d jokingly called him a beast. He contemplated what about him had led them to think that way, tried his best to be perceptible of any changes.

His eyes were the same, although the pupils in the middle were large pools of tar, widened and leaving only the slightest space for the honeyed rim.

His hair was the same platinum color and still streaked with the same black lines, although untamed and in a disarray this time, with the strands sticking to his forehead.

Although flushed, his face was the same, over all.

Everything seems to be right where they’re supposed to be.

Although he’s huffing and puffing, creating more mist to cloud the mirror with. And when he tried to reach for the glass, he realized that his fingers were still trembling. His blood still surging as if his body had never left the court.

Then, it struck him.

Bokuto holds his breath in anticipation, the truth of it right in front of him.

There’s no monster here.

No man possessed either.

Only a guy who’s helplessly, foolishly in love.

Announcing to an entire room of strangers that one is of the opinion that they're assholes, as it happened, was an effective way of making new friends.

Of course, there was that awkward day-long explanation that you had to do for Yuki and Kaori and the others. An affair that wasn’t too different from a one-woman press conference that involved you expressing your regrets, revealing that, sometimes, when backed against a wall, you can be an impulsive clown with a glaring lack of filter (like: "No, no..! I didn't think you guys were actually- you know- ass- it just spilled-" and "Ah, geez, this is embarrassing.The heat was getting to me. I didn't mean it, really!" )

But the girls had been kind enough to let bygones be bygones, assuring you that all they ever felt was a joyous combination of relief and wonder. Ubugawa's manager, Eri, (who'd shook your hand while holding back tears) even told you that seeing another girl in a veritable sausage fest that is the training camp was a miracle in itself.

"It was fun, actually," Mako once said when the two of you were assigned to carrot chopping duty. "You gave us something to talk about for a while."

And even when the novelty of being a bumpkin with the mouth of a sailor soon faded, the bond that quickly bloomed between you and the other managers hadn't.

It was unexpected, although not unwelcome.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself. How silly you'd been: coming into the city expecting a den of wolves and hunters armed to the teeth.

In the span of two days thoughts of survival were replaced by the confidence that your boys would pull through; by a sense of ease that you didn't need to win all the time and that this place is not a battlefield, but a fertile ground for growth and learning. You didn't need to constantly be on your guard— knuckles up and gearing for a fight, you realized.

Well —

For the most part, at least.

Serving spoon in one hand and potholder in another, you reluctantly paused from preparing your team’s meal to whisper under your breath. "He's doing it again," you hissed.

Kaori only gave you a preoccupied “hm?” as she plucked the ladle to fill the plain white ceramic bowls before her. “Who is?” she continued.

“Your captain,” you replied, taking care not to let him know that you're on the verge of melting under his not so subtle scrutiny.

The lovely Fukurodani manager didn’t even miss a beat; without lifting her eyes away from the food, she raised her voice, just loud enough, to address the creature (spying) standing idly by the door.

“Say, Bo-kun,” Kaori called out and you watched, amazed, as he coughed out the water that he’s been making a great show of drinking. “Your mama must not have taught you that it's bad to ogle.”

Bokuto Kotaro, Fukurodani’s ace and captain— a volleyball player that sits atop everybody else in this training camp, whose name is almost always followed by “one of the very best in the country”— quailed as his manager, the Great Kaori Suzumeda, blessed him with a smile veering on beatific.

“Oh-who-me?” he prattled, hands pointing at everything and nothing as he choked on his own words. “Didn’t see you there! What’s up! I was just passing by!”

“In the middle of practice?” Kaori snickered. “ You ?”

The boy released a laughter that resonated in the empty cafeteria.

She sighed, dropping the ladle, and told him to “Just go, Bokuto.” He obediently complied, thank the gods, but not without an overzealous goodbye to Kaori, as if he’d never see her again when lunch was just half an hour away.

He didn’t say anything to you. He didn’t need to, anyway. The lingering gaze that he directed towards you was enough.

“Thank you,” you exhaled once you made sure you’re no longer within his earshot, plopping your head against Kaori’s soft arm.

Her chuckle fluttered towards you, causing you to smile as she asked, “Is it that bad?”

You could only nod, both as an affirmation and an effort to shake those golden, hawk-eyes out of your system.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said after a few seconds of comfortable silence, the firmness in her voice making you stand upright and level with her.

Common decency tells you that you should say no, to stop her and tell her that she didn’t really have to; that you shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. But, you’d never really been one to listen to what that part of your brain dictates.

Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a light squeeze, incapable of doing anything else to convey your gratitude with a sob lodged in your throat.

“He’s not a bad guy, our Bokuto,” Kaori soothed. “And for what it’s worth, he’s never been like this with someone he likes.”

A grin lit up her face as you snorted, remembering the time someone had finally caught on to Bokuto’s newfound fixation. The uproar that it’d cause in the field when everyone was out enjoying slices of ripe watermelon. The unnecessary and, frankly, embarrassing anger that it’d pulled out of your boys after it's been revealed to the whole world. The infamous blush on Bokuto Kotaro’s face as he desperately tried to deny the accusation.

And the cold, spent feeling it left you.

“Normally, he’d be all over them,” she continued, mimicking his owl-like way of moving, bobbing her head to and fro as she circled around you.

“Kaori!” you squealed, pushing her playfully by the shoulder.

“Bokuto would be like—” Kaori pumped her fists in the air, “ Hey, hey, hey! Talk to me! Talk to me! Compliment me! Love me! ”

You simply hummed, folding your arms against your chest as you commended her spot-on performance.

She didn’t need to tell you all that, though. The guy had a personality so big it’s a miracle how this city contains him. And you’d known from the very beginning that Bokuto Kotaro doesn’t seem like the type to do the whole “pining from a distance” thing.

But, they even said that he’s half in love with you already, with the way he follows you with his eyes and flails and stutters and acts like he’s never had a mouth and a pair of hands before whenever he’s around you. And that, somehow, he plays even better than he already does when you’re in the audience ( especially when it’s against your team).

You don’t bother to correct them and say that no, this might not be a silly little crush.

Because you don’t think that anyone but you would understand that there can never be any love nor infatuation in a stare that traps you with its expectations. Even if you did tell them that, you’re the only one who knows what Bokuto’s gaze really makes you feel like: A plaything that he’s been gifted to and was told would sing and dance for him just so he’d stop crying.

And you know what temperamental children do with toys that don’t work the way they want it to, don’t you?

“Trust me.”

Kaori’s gentle voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“He’s just an idiot,” she told you. “You’ve seen him— especially last week!” Kaori’s eyes bulged out, leaning closer to you, both of you gasping at the memory.

Tears sprung out of your eyes as you laughed harder, your stomach aching when Kaori began to recount the events that had turned the entire training camp on its head, forever planting itself in its history as the worst ordeal it’s ever faced:

A piece of the wall in the girls’ sleeping room broke off, revealing a large, Lovecraftian nest of cockroaches.

“If you’d only seen his face!” Kaori cackled, struggling to finish as she clutched onto you for support. “He burs- bursted into the room only for him to- to-”

“Pass out when a roach flew to his nose! I know !” you screeched and slapped the table with her, ignoring that you’re almost knocking over the food and chortling until you were close to having a heart attack.

“Oh- oh , I can’t breathe,” she groaned. Your laughter tapered off into heaving as you fixed her mussed bangs.

You smiled.

“See,” Kaori finally said, pinching your chin a little. “Bokuto’s a meathead. Just a meathead. Guy can’t get a clue. But he’ll come around once he realizes that he’s being weird.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, giving her a weak nod. "I'm sure he will."

You didn't know if you meant to say that with a hint of irony; if that scared farm girl is rearing her ugly head again and pointing a pitchfork at a monster of her own making.

A monster that, you're convinced, would do something more than just look once you're within its reach.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Bokuto even had it all figured out in his head. C’mon, he's got the looks, doesn't he? And he's not lacking in charm. In fact, he's oozing with it! That's why Bokuto had expected that he had this one in the bag. His game plan was foolproof:

Talk to the girl. Get the girl.

After that, you’d be together for the rest of your lives and your fiery, unrelenting support for that lousy team of yours would never go in vain ever again. Because it’d all be directed to him. All that “ Good job! ” and “ You were amazing back there! ” and “ Don’t be scared! I’ll be right here rooting for you! ” would finally be given to someone who actually deserves it.

All you had to do was see what he had to offer and baby— oh baby , how you'd love him. No force on Earth could have prevented Bokuto from making you his.

So it's all the more sobering now that Bokuto’s witnessed that the said force turned out to be him of all people. And what he could actually give you was a few stumbling lines and compliments that didn't even make any sense (“ Y-your face smells nice ” for example)— all (preferably) uttered a few feet away from you.

The others teased him for looking like a jilted witch casting a spell on an indifferent lover. “What are you? Speaking in tongues or something? Is the Great Horned Owl that desperate?” they poked at him. He didn’t mind them before, but now he’s not so sure.

" Tone it down, okay? " Kaori had reminded him again earlier this afternoon. That stern talking-to from their manager was an ice-cold bucket of water that doused what’s left of his optimism.

But, tone what down? What , exactly, is left to tone down?

He couldn’t even talk to you without losing his ability to string coherent words together, let alone get close to you. Eye contact, too, he’d deliberately restrained himself from doing (if only you knew how much this is hurting him!) and not just because he’d been deemed a complete and utter creep.

Bokuto couldn’t look you in the eye ever since that incident.

“ She’s helping the other girls carry their stuff to the other room, I saw them just now ,” Yamamoto had discreetly passed on as soon as he woke up from a terrible concussion. “And if you want to redeem yourself, my friend, after that humiliating performance, you’d better go out there and lend a hand. ”

Because Yamamoto, being the love expert that he proclaimed he was, told him, “ Look, I feel for you. But it’s simple. You just gotta show her what you’re made of. That you’re a man she can depend upon, ” Bokuto then persevered to follow through.

Only for him to be met by an empty room with bits of crumbled plaster scattered across the floor. And your bag in the furthest corner just...lying there.

Maybe you’d forgotten about it. Maybe you were too busy catering to your friends' needs that you'd forgotten about yourself.

Either way, Bokuto promises that it wasn’t on purpose.

Bokuto had good intentions, really! He just wanted to take the bag with him so he could give it to you, is all! It wasn’t his fault that some of your stuff was peeking through the half-opened zipper. It’d already been in that state when he saw it.

And- and it’s not his fault that he adores you too much.

Bokuto reminds himself as much as he propped his forehead against the bathroom wall, water from the shower pouring against the taut muscles on his back as he wrapped your underwear around his cock.

The baby pink fabric, every inch of it soiled now over the days that he's used it, rubbed against his balls when he began fondling them, his other hand caressing his nipples, rubbing and pinching at the peaks until they stiffened between his calloused fingers.

His cock grew hard and heavy in his hand as he started pumping into his fist, fucking your soaked panties until precum dripped from slit.

And with nobody else in the shower room, Bokuto allowed himself to grunt and curse and call out your name, digging his nails into his skin until it stung and made him want to cry.

"Make me cum, princess," he whined, shutting his eyes to watch you on your knees, fingers between your legs as you looked up at him, never taking your eyes off of him even as you took his cock down your throat.

"Please, please ," Bokuto groaned,"Please let me cum."

Here, you don't turn away nor brush him off without even saying anything. Here, you call him your baby and you chuckle as you ask him, " Good boys deserve to cum, don't they? "

He bit his lip, pressing his cheek against the freezing tile. "Mmhmm, I-I've been-" Bokuto moaned, feeling himself creep closer and closer, the pleasure at the pit of his stomach building, "I've been so fucking good for you."

The contrast of your pretty little underwear around the thick veins of his cock made his head spin. And as he squeezed his shaft tighter, Bokuto knew that he did, in fact, deserve so much more.

Because he's endured so much just for you. Now, it's time to get what he's due.

Scouring high and low for a pair of cotton panties that have seen better days wasn’t how you wished you’d celebrate the last night with your newfound friends.

Yuki had advised that you abandon the ratty, old thing (though you did say it wasn't; ratty, that is) and leave it here as a parting gift— a mark of your impact on their lives, if you will— but you’d quickly laughed her off and set out to find it. She was drunk, anyway.

Although, so were you. If not, then just a tiny, itsy, bitsy, bit tipsy.

You hiccuped, giggling as the sound echoed through the poorly-lit hallway. The world was spinning beneath you and you prayed that it wasn’t worse for poor Yuki, having chugged half of that horrid concoction.

Kaori almost threw her out of the window after that stunt. Mako scoffed at her for being an arrogant ass. The girls who weren’t drinking sat back and chose to enjoy the unfolding chaos (while also being kind enough to be on the lookout).

And you...well...right now you’re on the verge of breaking down as you make your way to the shower room.

Mostly because you’re just realizing that you might never see them again if your team doesn’t survive the Inter High. Partly because you’ve been dumb enough to not notice that you’ve been missing an underwear for a couple of days now.

God, it's so ridiculous. You're ridiculous. You're glad that you went on your own and rejected their offer to accompany you. Imagine if they saw you like this:

Oscillating between sobs and strained laughter while swaying on your feeble legs; the very picture of a lunatic out in the streets in the middle of the night.

You only hoped that you're not scaring the living daylights out of that guy who probably just went out of the boys' room to pee. Maybe you have already spooked him, with how still he's gotten.

Cupping your palms around your mouth, you saw fit to save his sanity and cried, "Heyyyy! I'm not- hic - a ghost!"

"Oh!" you gasped, raising a pointing finger to shush yourself, "Oh, yeah, sorry, shhh-"

He didn't run the other way screaming and crying, which was good, instead he approached you hurriedly, making you squint to get a better look at him.

"Koyama?" you whispered, struggling to recognize the tall boy with a sturdy build, his navy blue hoodie casting a shadow on his face. It didn't help that your eyes were doing something funny, as if they were busted camera lenses that went uncontrollably in and out of focus.

"Good evening, my dear! I daresay you're looking quite bur- burl- blurry tonight."

You cackled, immediately following your greeting with a slurred apology.

"Why- Why are you still- um- up?" he asked. And before you could volley him with a question pointing to his weirdly different voice, he brought his head down to sniff at you. "Wait- have you b- are you drunk ?"

"What! No! Of course not!" You pouted and airily slapped his cheek, drawing a lopsided grin out of you when his skin glowed pink, bright enough to light up the entire place. It was so remarkably adorable that it made you squeal and pinch both cheeks, rocking his face as you did.

"Look at our big boy!" A sheepish, almost disbelieving chuckle shook his large chest as you resumed your baby talk, your grabby hands bringing his face towards you. "Who would've thought that our stwong, wowdy ace could bwush wike so? And what's with this siwwy hoodie, huh? Where did you get this, bunnycakes? I've never seen you wear this before!"

You wondered, also, why and how his jet black hair turned pallidly gray over the few hours you hadn't seen him. You even brushed the mildly damp locks out of his forehead, unsure if they're even real as you tried to right your smudged vision.

And you wanted to blame it all on the alcohol.

It's the reason for that dramatic change in his tone and manner of speaking and hair color and...those eyes .

The very same pair that followed you everywhere, sometimes even in your sleep.

"You love me, after all," he breathed, the statement a thin sheet of glass that could blow into smithereens at just the wrong response.

That had been enough to drain the inebriation out of your body. Like being branded, you pulled away from Bokuto with a harsh curse.

"I- I have to go," you said. "Sorry, I thought you were Ko- my teammate."

But Bokuto had already laid hold of your arm with no intent of letting go.

"Stay!" Bokuto called out, repeating it with please and listen despite your outcries, shouting for Kaori and Yuki and Mako and Shigeru and Takami and Coach and Koyoma and anyone, help me, anyone.

Until he tugged you to his chest, wrapping himself around you and turning his entire body into a concrete prison as he fervently told you, "I love you. I love you so much ever since the first time I saw you and I know, I know you feel the same so if it's the distance that's keeping you from me I can come to you I'll follo-"

"Nothing's keeping me from jackshit!" you gritted out. "I don't love you! I don't even care about you!"

He didn't say anything to that.

Bokuto had gone quiet. It wasn't only until he nuzzled your neck, pressing his face snugly down the crook, that you decided to kick him with all your strength, breaking yourself free as your heart thundered out of your chest.

You didn't look back.

You dashed through the long, endless hallway with the air in your lungs dangerously running low and keeping you from screaming.

But the remnants of the alcohol were lead that weighed your feet to the ground, betraying you further by morphing your surroundings into a hazy, dizzying scape. You teetered and wobbled, desperate to reach that staircase that will lead you out of this floor, but each step that you took was not fast enough, not nimble enough, as if you’re wading through knee-deep water.

And before you know it the monster has caught up and is ready to pounce from right behind you.

“Get your hands off me!” you wailed as Bokuto heaved you by the waist and carried you over his shoulder.

The sudden upending of your world was so nauseating, you didn’t even notice that he’d already taken you to an almost pitch black classroom, its heavy curtains drawn together and the empty chairs and tables pushed to the side.

His large, sprawling hand was gripping your ass, your stomach lurching when you felt him caress it. Yet that didn’t deter you from hitting whichever part of him that your knuckles and feet could touch, ignoring the trail of your own spit that dripped on your face as you howled and thrashed and fought to keep yourself together because no one was hearing you.

What’s left for you, now? Your captor was so strong, much stronger than you, that even when he tripped on his toes, Bokuto was able to catch himself and drop you on the nearest table in just a single breath.

“Stop fighting me..!” he panted, holding you down as he knelt before you. “I’m not gonna hurt you! I- ow! Don’t-”

Bokuto’s grip on your wrists was unbudgeable. So, you didn’t miss the chance to bite him when he covered your mouth with his palm. Teeth chattering, you broke the tough flesh, sunk them sharply until the taste of salt and iron flooded your tongue.

You expected that it would push him away. Give you the leverage to escape.

That turned out to be a mistake.

His honey-gold eyes glinted as he stared deep into yours. Every hair on your body stood on end when the corners of his lips slowly lifted, eyes still fixed on you as he released a bubbly, childlike laughter.

“I've always wanted to do this to you," he sighed giddily.

The helplessness chipped at your insides bit by torturous bit when all you could do was rock the table with your flailing, while Bokuto had already crouched lower— low enough to pull the hem of your thin shorts with his teeth.

He watched you weep with a sickening display of dejection, like he's some dog that's been shoved around by his master.

"Please don't cry," Bokuto whined, peppering soft kisses all over the insides of your thighs then licking off the beads of sweat that covered the goosebumps.

You’re not giving up.

You couldn’t give up.

You pushed and gnawed and tore skin that you’re sure every inch of his palm is littered with fresh bruises, but this only seemed to encourage Bokuto, drawing out his drugged out moans as he spat on your clothed cunt, drool leaking down to your folds before he lapped at the wet spot. The moistened fabric scratched and rubbed against your clit to the point of quivering and writhing in his clutch.

“Oh, I know , baby,” Bokuto murmured, using the tip of his tongue to flick at the swollen nub. “I’ll make you feel real good soon.”

Shaking your head, the unwiped tears gathering around your eyelids dropped to his long, calloused fingers. And you wanted to screech, to tell him to go to hell as he swirled his tongue all over your embarrassingly slick hole.

No, you wanted more than that.

You wanted to drive your bare hands into his chest.

But that’s not what you did, is it?

When Bokuto finally removed his hand from your mouth, what slipped past your lips wasn’t the sound of a woman ready to kill. Instead, you sounded like a little girl begging to be carried home. And that hadn’t been the part that scared you, really.

It was the fact that no matter how much you tried to scream, nothing was coming out.

“L-let me go,” you wheezed, your voice cracking. “Or- or else.”

“Or else?” Bokuto replied, eliciting a gasp from you as he sniffed your throbbing, wet cunt. “Look at me, princess.”

“ Look at me ,” he repeated pleadingly, frustration giving his tone a rough edge, as he brought the hand that once suppressed your attempts to call for help to skim past your thigh and stroke the sole of your feet. “Just this once. See me.”

You kept your eyes closed, even as he kissed your toes and brought it down to his crotch, forcing you to dig your heel into the bulge jutting out. He rocked his hips, gyrating slowly, his cock hardening under your feet, as he whimpered into your leg.

“Please, please fuck me, please ,” Bokuto mewled. “I’ll do any- anything for you.”

Profanities rushed out of you, but no one could hear them. Not even you. Perhaps that's why he didn’t flinch when he lugged you down to straddle on his lap.

“Use me, baby,” he whispered, grinning wide as he snaked his other hand to your back and dug his nails around your nape, laying on his back and taking you with him as he did, your tits crushed to his chest.

With your arms dying in his grip, Bokuto easily stripped his pants along with his boxers. Violent trembles wracked your body as he dragged your pussy along his thick shaft, back and forth, your damp panties riding up every time he thrusted upwards.

His hot breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine as he giggled lowly, “Wanna cum inside you so fucking bad . Will you let me, hm? Please let me.”

Of course you didn’t want to. It’s not like you’d stop struggling, either. It’s just that Bokuto would never listen to you. Even when he whimpered and babbled, “You don’t want to- fuck, your pussy’s all nice and wet - oh, you don’t want to? That's okay, that’s okay, baby,” Bokuto still slipped his cock inside your underwear.

It slid past your lips up to your clit. And you’d never hated yourself more in your entire life when all you could do was stay limp and cry as the fat tip finally nudged your twitching hole.

“No, no, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, scattering kisses on your neck, “It’s just the head- just the head.”

As Bokuto groaned and rutted against you, all you wished for, in that moment, was for dawn to peek through the curtains and signal the end of this torment. But, still it went on with Bokuto stretching you open.

And as he split you in half, you detachedly realized that you were right.

This place did eat you alive.

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x female reader #Dark content haikyuu #yandere bokuto kotaro

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blackbat05 · 3 years

Text

You don’t like me when I’m angry (Part 1)

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: Back again but I’ve decided to switch my theme a little! Reader has pyrokinetic abilities (like the human torch). Katy is still quirky and a talented archer. Shangqi... well he’s the man! Again, do like and comment if you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!

Genre: PG 13

Warnings: Maybe just watch out for a bit of detailed descriptions of injuries and the fighting.

The pub was bustling. Men were noisily gathered at the bar, eyes glued to the latest soccer match. As the match went on, the reactions became more intense. Perfect cover for a hooded figure to slip into the pub unnoticed. She quietly orders a bottle of soju, pouring it into the drinking glass that came along with it.

‘Careful there, you don’t want to loose the target,’ a voice crackles through the coms in her left ear. ‘Relax Shangqi, unlike what you think, I have a high tolerance for alcohol.’ Smirking into thin air, the girl takes another sip. Another muffled voice causes Shangqi to pry away from the surveillance footage. ‘Oh yeah, Katy’s got the picture, just sent it.’

Everything about the target screamed danger. As if his rugged look didn’t scare one away, the man had a cut that was hovering dangerously near his eye. Goran Lee, aka Gor - the biggest mob boss who holds an iron fist over the underworld of Busan. How did (y/n) ended up here? That was a very good question.

‘What’s up Wong?’ I stepped into the sanctum after Shangqi and Katy who were having trouble concealing their yawns. The man in question turns his focus away from the round table, a solemn look on his face. ‘I think it’s best if you three take a look for yourselves.’

Throwing each other puzzled looks, we decided that it was best to just follow Wong. Crowding around the table, it glows bright orange, showing several images and videos at the same time. But all had one thing in common. A man - no he couldn’t even be called a human... more like a human animal hybrid was seen terrorizing the streets.

‘What the hell is that thing?’ Katy was clearly grossed out.

‘A vampire werewolf,’ Wong replied simply, not surprised at our confused expressions. ‘A what?’ Shangqi steps forward to observe the hologram that was a bit too real for his comfort. The animal whips its large head, red eyes tearing into us. I flinch as it lunges in our direction, knocking into Shangqi. The screen turns black.

‘That’s exactly what it is,’ Wong sighs. ‘It’s a real mess out there. A few weeks ago, Oscorp industries reported fifty boxes worth of vials missing from their storage in New York,’ He pauses to see if we’re following. ‘The substance - substance KXV is strong enough to trigger the person’s metagene and apparently, it’s fallen into the wrong hands. They’ve managed to trace it down to Busan but they’re tied down.’

‘Lemme guess... something to do with preventing an international incident on the front page of the Sunday Times?’ Katy drawled. ‘Why us then? Aren’t any of the avengers available?’ We looked at Wong expectantly.

‘They’re either off world, working with the UN or on the run from the government themselves,’ Wong pauses, thinking if he should continue. ‘And that Peter boy is in school.’ Shangqi raises his hands in defeat. He thought that after coming back from Ta Lo, he had escaped from the craziness. Well, at least he had you and Katy.

‘I don’t see him, this place is god damn dark. How do people drink here? And why am I here? Shouldn’t Shangqi be here instead?’

‘Because our faces have been plastered all over the internet? We don’t want to scare him off - and I know you’re not used to it but would you stop talking before he catches up on to us?’ Katy shakes her head at Shangqi inside the van as she talks to you. You never failed to impress them with your short fuse.

You sit quietly, nursing your last cup of soju, grumbling inwardly to yourself. For a guy who runs the underworld, he sure is tardy. A greasy hand rests on the surface of your shoulders, stopping your current train of thoughts. You hear a loud and abrupt movement from your com. ‘Hi, can I help you?’ Turning to the clueless jerk who decided it was ok to touch an unsuspecting woman, you inwardly trusted Katy to prevent Shangqi from running in balls first into a situation that could easily be defused. You were no pushover.

The guy reeked of alcohol. His foreign looks and a varsity jacket told me that he was probably an exchange student. ‘Hey pretty... why not have a drink with me and my guys over there...’ His finger jabs to the other end of the pub where his friends were watching him with excitement. ‘Don’t be shy... we’ll give you a good time!’ He guffaws before stumbling slightly.

My nostrils flared - as if making myself claustrophobic with a room full of rowdy and leering men weren’t enough, I’m having to deal with a boy who can’t seem to control whatever’s going on in his pants. This would have to be quick. Taking a few large strides over, I gripped his wrist tightly, lifting 185 pounds of dead weight. Staring into his unfocused eyes, my hands turned orange. Poor guy was flapping like a fish, wincing for me to stop. Thankfully with the loud music, no one could hear him.

‘I’m not exactly in a good mood today, so I suggest you scram before I fry your arm into barbeque here.’ I got my message across as he fled back to his group who were coincidentally trying not to make eye contact with me.

‘Harsh (y/n), harsh.’ Katy sniggered in my ear. I would have made a smartass response to her but my attention was focused on the man who had just sauntered into the room. Gor. And he didn’t come alone. ‘Look sharp guys, they’re here.’

I was determined not to loose them as they walked towards where the group of university students were, disappearing behind the back entrance shortly after. I darted among the group of servers who were to preoccupied attending tables, reaching the back. Dimly lit with red lights, every inch of the hallway was covered in questionable and even vulgar portraits that made my blood boil.

‘Don’t engage alone, me and Katy are on our way.’ Shangqi signals to Katy, tossing her bag of arrows. ‘No promises there Shangqi, I have no idea what the hell their going to do. Get here fast.’ I inch closer towards the sound.

Gor is the biggest out of them, towering over his tallest henchman by half a head. He takes the red vial, drinking it in one gulp. I knew I saw the pictures at the sanctum but I wanted to bleach my eyes out there and then as I saw him transform into that monstrosity. For a moment I thought I was caught as the furry beast glances at the transparent door.

‘The ambassador?’ Gor’s voice came out in an oily snarl. The henchman nearest to him bows, ‘On his way sir, he has the cash.’

‘Good, we kill them all the moment he arrives.’

‘Including the child- sir?’ The reply came back in a stutter.

‘I have no use for useless midgets,’ Gor bares his fangs. ‘Shoot them if you must.’

So it was true, Gor was really as sadistic as they claim. Just then, A warm hand clamps over my mouth before I can react. Shangqi.

‘Thank god. Take a look for yourselves. Gor’s after the ambassador. The ambassador knows that they’re the ones behind the raid at Oscorp. So Gor gets his men to kidnap the ambassador’s family, threatens him for some hush money in return of some promise that he must have made.’

‘But Gor’s not going to follow with his promise,’ Katy narrows her eyes. ‘Do you know where they might be holding the family?’ I shook my head. She loads her first arrow into the bow. ‘Can’t wait to try these new babies out. Heard their made of dragon skin.’ She turns to Shangqi, nodding in silent agreement.

‘Just what did you guys plan without me?’

PART 2 COMING SOON...

#xu shangqi #shangqi imagine #shangqi x reader #katy shang chi

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krappykawa · 4 years

Note

Okie so Can I request some headcanons for atsumu tsukishima and kuroo who has an s/o who's more reserved and likes to read and often likes to just be comfertable like they climb into their lap while reading or using their laptop because they feel more comfortable that way in public or not,and the s/o has really dry humor and makes jokes about some of there classmates but in a super subtle way that makes you have to really think about what they said.1/2

ATSUMU, KUROO, AND TSUKISHIMA WITH A S/O THAT LIKES TO READ

atsumu x reader, kuroo x reader, tsukishima x reader

genre. fluff

warnings. language

word count. 2k

part 2 of the ask

note. there was a lot of stuff in this request so i hope i got most of what you were asking for!!

ATSUMU

— you two met because you were reading at the park when suddenly a ball came flying over your head

— like straight up WHOOSH (probably could have taken your head off lmao)

— you were just trying to finish this book you were reading, and so you were really irritated when this blonde guy runs up to you

— “oh shit sorry! did ya get hit anywhere?”

— now, of course you knew who he was because how could you not when this dude is notorious for being an asshole at your school

—you’re not really one to really judge until you meet someone though, so you didn’t immediately tell him to go away

— you mumbled something like “does he usually almost murder people on a daily basis?” under your breath

— atsumu heard you and had the nerve to smile

— “i’d never attempt to murder someone as pretty as you, darlin’”

— you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes

— you ignored him and he was like “whaaa??” cause this dude could get any girl to talk to him and you just ignored him

— at that point, he’d picked up the volleyball and was just watching you as you went back to your reading (not in a weird way or anything lmao)

— you knew he was staring, but you refused to look up

— “whatcha’ readin’?”

— “don’t you have anyone else, like literally anyone else, that you can be bothering right now?”

— he smirked and then shrugged “no, not really”

— you ended up looking up at him and then back at your book before standing up and leaving him where he was standing without saying another word

— oh man, this doof is whipped from then on

— let’s just say he warms up to you because you find out that he’s actually kind of funny (like he’ll make jokes about the classmates that he knows don’t like him and you have to fight a laugh because this man has absolutely no shame and says what you’re thinking but are too afraid to say out loud)

— you know you should be telling him off for doing so, but you agree in your head so it seems hypocritical to tell him to stop

— he’s funny in other ways too

— like he straight up guffaws with this ugly laugh and you have to wonder why exactly it is that this guy is so popular with the girls

— well it’s this guy that wormed into your heart, so really you can’t be talking

— he’s also strangely interested in your books? he never reads them, but he genuinely listens when you rant about this character or this ending that you don’t like because he likes how you don’t have a filter when absolutely bashing a character or book

— when you start talking about how annoying a character is and how you wish they’d fallen into some sort of pit ... atsumu’s on the floor with laughter

— he gets all heart eyes when you talk about something in the book that you do like because you have that cute little smile on your face that you never show him otherwise

— so when you eventually start dating him, he fully understands how much you like to read (he doesn’t mind it either because you’ll sometimes go to his practices and just read on the sidelines, or when he doesn’t have time to spend time with you because of volleyball he doesn’t feel as bad because you were gonna catch up on your current book anyway)

— LOVES it when you climb on his lap and curl up against him while you read

— he’s like a giant tsum tsum (pun intended)

— if he’s not doing anything while you’re on his lap, sometimes he’ll lay his chin on your shoulder and read along with you (which he turns into some kind of game because he has to read extra fast so that he can read the whole page before you turn the page)

— you eventually catch on to what he’s doing so you make it your personal vendetta to read faster than him

— one day he catches you reading a book on the couch while wearing his sweatshirt

— he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world

— he’s already taken a picture of you and made it his lockscreen before you even notice what’s happening

— he may or may not also have that picture on his wall just so he can smile at it before falling asleep

— this guy hates paying attention in class, so when you send him a text about how something just happened in your book in the middle of class, he eagerly responds right away

— has absolutely no clue what you’re on about because he doesn’t really pay attention to what’s happening in your books, but he’s genuinely interested in you talking about them because he likes the way you get so excited

— will text like “what?? no way” or “hell yea get him!!”

— basically really short texts because he’d much rather read about you ranting than actually contribute to the conversation

— sometimes you’ll send him updates about your book while he’s at practice or while he’s sleeping so he can’t answer right away

— he absolutely crashes no later than 12 AM because he’s tired from practice, so he doesn’t read your 1 AM screaming session until he wakes up in the morning

— he’ll laugh at his phone because there’s just this stream of messages about you freaking out over something

— osamu hits him with a pillow sometimes when he starts loudly laughing at 6 in the morning after reading your texts

KUROO

— THIS MAN IS A STRAIGHT UP NERD

— like he literally reads chemistry books for fun (i know he does. you cannot fight me on this. he does.)

— he’s best friends with kenma so he already knows what it’s like when someone he cares about is super engrossed in something that they don’t want to be bothered with

— he’ll come over to your house just to do homework while you read

— sometimes if his hand starts to cramp up while writing he’ll plop down right next to you and try to get a look at the page you’re reading

— you literally have to fight the urge to swat him away

— because HIS HAIR

— HIS HAIR GETS IN THE WAY

— like you’ll be reading and suddenly this big mess of black hair obscures your vision

— one time he did that right as you were about to get to the really good part of the story and you almost took scissors and cut all of his hair off right then and there

— after the first time he does it he realizes it annoys you

— so naturally he does it as many times as he can

— you started to catch on after he did it a few times, so now every time he gets off his bed while you’re reading, you literally sprint to your bathroom and lock yourself in

— cue his hyena laugh

— will literally stand at the door of your bathroom and bother you until you have no choice but to come out (you glare at him when you do and he thinks it’s so cute so he does this a lot)

— to get back at him you start to climb into his lap while he’s doing homework and refuse to budge

— at first it’s just for revenge purposes, but he is literally the most comfortable pillow

— you take any chance you get and crawl into his lap after that

— you stole his shirt once because it was a graphic tee of this character from one of your books

— kuroo’s eyes nearly fall out of his head when he sees you wearing it

— “take my entire closet. take it. you can keep anything forever because you look so good wow.”

— one time he was doing homework when you slammed your book shut and screamed into your pillow

— he just stared at you for a good minute while you did that

— when you stopped screaming he waited a little bit to ask what was wrong because he was kinda scared to ask

— when you told him it was because of your book he practically melted

— “literally marry me right now oh my god???”

— sometimes you’ll text him in class about the book you’re reading, but he won’t read it until after the class is over because he actually pays attention in class (which you tease him for)

— after class though he’ll greet you by asking about what happened in the book because he is literally invested in anything you text him about when it comes to what you’re reading

— like he literally yelled “WHAT??” in the middle of the gym after one of his practices because he was so distraught over you texting him to say that his favorite character died

— everyone on the team thought they got in trouble or something, so when this absolute nerd goes “oh shit sorry *insert character name here* just died in this book Y/N is reading” the team loses their shit

TSUKISHIMA

— you two met because you sat next to him once in the library

— he doesn’t usually spend time in the library, but yamaguchi was out sick that day so he decided it was his best bet since he wasn’t keen on talking to anyone that day

— he practically glared at you when you pulled on the chair across from him and sat down

— at first, you thought he was glaring at something behind you, so you turned around and there was nothing there

— you realized that he was glaring at you, but you were not phased in the slightest

— “are you alright? you look like you’re envisioning a very slow and painful death for me.”

— he actually almost smiled at that. almost.

— after that, he stopped glaring at you, but he didn’t say a word in response

— you didn’t mind because you were just there to read in silence anyway

— he came to the library more often after that

— he told himself that it was because he didn’t want to give kageyama or hinata the chance to corner him for homework help, but really he was there because of you

— he always sat at the same table and you always sat in the seat across from him

— it became like a little routine between you two

— one time he was doing his homework and you were reading when you caught him sneaking glances at you

— you kept quiet about it though because you knew he’d deny it if you asked

— after a few months of only seeing each other in the library and never talking, he’s the first one to break the silence

— “do you … do you read anywhere else?”

— at first, you’re offended

— but then you look closer and see the little blush on his cheeks and suddenly you realize what’s going on

— you don’t look up from your book when you say, “i read at the bakery down the street sometimes. i think i’ll be there this saturday at noon”

— low and behold he actually shows up at the bakery that saturday

— he’s sitting at one of the tables with a plate of strawberry shortcake and he’s picking at it like he’s angry with it

— “gee, what did the poor shortcake ever do?”

— he looks so nervous when he looks up and you think it’s the cutest thing ever

— you both consider that day in the bakery your first date (spoiler alert: it actually went really well)

— after that, you would meet at the library and one of you would state a place and a time where you would be and just hope that the other shows up

— he always shows up to yours. you always show up to his.

— you two never really have a talk about making it official, it just sort of happens??

— dates with him after you two become a “thing” consist of you reading while he watches weird documentaries about insects

— he just likes the feeling of having you around so it doesn’t bother him when you don’t want to watch the documentary with him

— you two will sometimes sit at the park during a date and just make weird assumptions about the people walking by and each assumption becomes an inside joke between the two of you (“i bet he went to a culinary school but can’t cook” or “she probably has three cats at home that she knits little sweaters for”)

— he is not very keen on physical affection (even when you’re alone)

— but he eventually warms up to you. just a little bit.

— it takes you a long time to convince him to let you sit on his lap for even a second so the second time that you decide to crawl into his lap while he’s watching another documentary he goes

— “what are you doing?”

— you’re kind of a little shit so you just smile to yourself and say “reading.”

— you can practically hear the gears turning in his brain

— for a second you think that he might actually push you off

— but then he relaxes

— he doesn’t put his hands anywhere on you while you’re in his lap but you already know that him letting you sit there for longer than a minute is one of the longest showings of affection you’ll get from him so you just snuggle further into him and he relaxes

— you also send him a lot of texts about your books

— literally his number might as well be saved as goodreads on your phone because his number is like a review dump for you

— i’m talking full-on paragraphs of analysis and little reactions that probably span as 15 messages in a row

— sometimes he replies and sometimes he doesn’t

— when he doesn’t reply, he’ll ask you about the book the next time you see each other though

— he might say it’s annoying but you know that he secretly loves it when you text him your reviews and reactions

— when he can’t sleep he’ll text you at 1 AM and ask you how the book you’re reading is going

— he falls asleep with a smile on his face after he basically gets a whole novel worth of text messages from you

requests are open!!

#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo x reader #atsumu headcanons #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu!!

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found - 13

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment, oc feels like she’s gonna puke which, honestly, same

Word Count: 5.3k

a/n: we’ve only got a few chapters left!!!! *cue the screaming*

Chapter 13. You Never Walk Alone

series masterlist

I’ve never been one to follow the rules.

In fact, I’ve wondered many times if I came into existence for the sole purpose of breaking as many rules as possible within a short amount of time.

However, as I sit here staring down at my phone and listening to it ringing without someone answering on the other end, I find myself promising whoever is listening to my prayers that I’ll obey every rule to come my way for the rest of my life as long as someone just answers me.

For hours, no one does.

By the time the moon has risen, I’ve finally dozed off on the couch with my phone still in hand and a very confused Elle on my stomach. When my phone begins to ring, I jump, nearly falling off of the couch in the process.

Without even bothering to see who is calling me, I bring the phone up to my ear.

“Yah, hyung. I’m already- oh...Jolie?”

I blink, wondering for a moment if this is all some cruel dream. “...Jimin? What’s going on- what happened?”

“You’re safe- she’s safe, hyung.” There’s chatter in the background, but my ears perk up at a familiar voice. “I’m so sorry, you must have been worried sick- hey!”

“Jolie?”

I jump off the couch, eyes wide. “Chung-hei?! What’s going on? Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I- I thought…”

I don’t quite know what I thought. Obviously, that the worst had transpired. Chung-hei knows exactly what path my thoughts have taken, as she’s quick to explain.

“I’m so sorry, Jolie. When we left your place Sunmi noticed that someone was tailing us,” my breath comes up short. “I think they thought you were with us, they might have been tailing the car for the past couple of days to make sure it was yours. And then they probably saw Christina…”

She doesn’t need to explain that to me. No doubt whoever was tailing them saw Christina with her severed thread and automatically assumed that she was Jimin’s estranged soulmate.

“So what happened? Is everyone ok? Is Christina alright?”

There’s some fumbling on the other side of the phone, and I swear I hear Chung-hei’s annoyed sigh but it’s quickly covered as another familiar voice breaks through the phone.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me!” Christina shouts a little unnecessarily.

“I- how did you hear me?” I ask, furrowing my brows. “Am I on speaker?”

There’s a long pause in which I know that I must be on speaker, especially as a voice that sounds mysteriously like Kim Seokjin shouts “Yeah you are we wanted to know what you sound like!” There’s a muffled grunt in which I can imagine someone giving him a firm elbow to the ribs.

“Hang on, let me step outside-” Christina’s suggestion is met with a load of whining, but she must ignore them because a second later all is silent save for the sound of wind. “There. I needed to get out of there- I’m freaking out. I’m so dying right now.”

“I’m sure you’re rattled, you were literally just tailed! How did you lose them?”

“Oh, yeah. That sucked, but I was talking about the fact that I literally just met BTS. I don’t want to spoil anything for you, but Park Jimin is so much more handsome in person. I couldn’t hardly think straight in there-”

“Yeah, yeah,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Save it for later. I was a mess over here, thinking you’d died or something. Can you please explain what went on?”

Once she subsides in her giggling - and I get over the strange butterflies that have somehow come to life in my stomach - Christina gets to the point.

“Right...well, we’d only made it a couple of blocks before Sumni noticed that someone was following us. She’s been trained to pick up on that kind of stuff, you know. She said that they’d been hiding out near your apartment earlier, and that it looked like they’d been waiting the entire time while we’d been inside.”

“So how’d you lose them?”

“She drove straight toward the Bighit building and contacted the security there. By the time the people tracking us knew that she was leading them into a trap, it was too late. They got pulled over, security took them over to the police department a little while ago.”

I shiver thinking about them lurking outside of my apartment, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

“And...why didn’t you answer my calls, then? I seriously was about to go running around Seoul looking for you.”

Christina barks a laugh. “That’d be a sight to see. We were told to power off our phones, they’re being looked at right now to make sure they weren’t able to somehow get a way to track us through there. We should get them back pretty soon.”

Taking a seat and then slinking down to sprawl out on the couch, I sight at the ceiling. My eyes well up tears of relief, but I close my eyes to stop them from escaping. “I’m happy you’re safe.”

“Me too. The boys were already at the Bighit building, you should’ve seen Jimin. He was-” Christina lowers her voice as though suddenly realizing that she’s not that far from the man in question, “You know how the boys say that he can be really scary when he’s angry?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I believe them now. I think it was a good thing security took those people away before he could see them. He probably would have killed them, he looked so pissed off.”

I snort out a laugh, throwing my hand over my mouth. “Let me guess, that only made him more attractive to you?”

“You know what, it totally did.”

It feels good to laugh after the stress of the day, so I let it out. Giggling up a storm with Christina who admits that she may be wavering in her undying devotion for Jimin simply because of the fact that Taehyung offered her a glass of lemonade.

“Oh, oh! He’s looking at me- oh. He’s telling me to come back inside.” I let out another guffaw at Christina’s massive crush on Taehyung. “Hey, I have to turn you back over to your soulmate now, but I’ll let you know when I get my phone back. Ok?”

“Ok,” I mumble, suddenly going quiet. There’s some static as the phone is exchanged, and suddenly Jimin’s speaking to me.

“Hey...you doing ok?”

I blink, taken aback by his question. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Then, when he doesn’t respond, “Are you...alright?”

From the way the voices in the background are fading, Jimin must be moving away to find a more private location. Indeed, I again hear Seokjin’s teasing voice in the background however it’s too muffled to understand.

“Yeah. All good over here.” I hear a door click shut. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, though. About everything that happened today. You might not like it, but...well, it’s for your own safety.”

This has me sitting up straight, bracing for whatever it is he’s about to say. “Ok…”

“We need you to stay inside, don’t leave your house. Just for a couple of days, maximum. We don’t know if these people had more that were trying to track you, and until we can round them all up…”

I stare blankly at the wall in front of me. Stay here? No work?

Honestly, it doesn’t sound that bad.

Except for one little thing.

“...Jolie?”

“I...I’m not sure, Jimin.”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry,” it makes it so much worse, because I can hear just how sorry he is. “But please, just for a few days. We need- I need you safe.”

How can I say no to that?

“Alright.”

“You’ll do it? I’ll have groceries delivered, just text me what you need-”

“I’m pretty sure I can pay for my groceries, Jimin,” I say with a strained smile, eyeing the calendar on the wall and the circled date just a couple of days from now. Hopefully all of this will blow over by then. “Don’t worry.”

“Honestly, if you don’t send me a grocery list I’ll just end up sending random food to your apartment. So take your pick, I guess.”

Rolling my eyes fondly, I give an over exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll compile a list.”

✂

The girls get their phones back not long after I finish my conversation with Jimin. Sunmi is quick to send me a play by play of Christina’s growing crush, which helps to ease the worry growing in the pit of my stomach.

The next morning there’s a pile of groceries waiting outside on my doorstep, making me smile softly. Jimin had clearly added a few items to my small list, because I don’t remember requesting a bag of chocolates or a bag of Doritos. Either way, I’ll take it.

There isn’t a whole lot to do with my day off, other than find a new show to watch and different ways to annoy Elle. Jimin texts me throughout the day, and I find myself itching to call him.

If only to just hear his voice for a moment.

However, as my fingers hover over the call button, I find myself hesitating. It scares me just how quickly I want to interact with him. After all that I did to distance myself from him, I’ve been reduced to an insatiable fangirl after a bouquet of flowers and some slipped chocolates.

Staring at my phone, I try my best to control my breathing. Then I send off a message.

Me: Ok, help. I’m freaking out.

Christina is quick to respond.

Christina 🍯: hahahahaha

Me: what.

Me: I come to you for help and I get laughed at? 😡

Christina 🍯: no, it’s just...when are you not freaking out?

Christina 🍯: think about it

Christina 🍯: you always are lol

Me: Ok. Not helping. Remember, I came to you for help?

Christina 🍯: right right, what’s up

Me: I think this is all happening too fast

Christina 🍯: I’m assuming this is about Park Jimin?? Who, might I add, looked fiiiine in his sweats yesterday

Me: QUIT IT

Me: I’M GROWING WEAK

Christina 🍯: are you feeling things?!! 😱

Me: YES OK I AM PLS HELP

Christina 🍯: I don’t see why you need help…?

Christina 🍯: isn’t this a good thing?

Me: is it?

Christina 🍯: ...yes.

Christina 🍯: what brought this on?

Me: I want to call him.

Christina 🍯: ….

Me: We just talked last night.

Christina 🍯: ….

Me: well, isn’t it all a bit much? I mean, I literally was trying to be completely separated from him just a few weeks ago and now I’m suddenly having to remind myself that I don’t need to constantly talk to him! Isn’t that like a bit...idk, a bit sketchy??

Christina 🍯: no.

Christina 🍯: idk if you remember this, but he’s your soulmate. And sometimes when people start to meet their soulmates, they want to talk all the time.

Me: isn’t it going to annoy him? I mean, I already kinda feel like a pity case…

Christina 🍯: first off, no. you’re not a pity case, so stop thinking that. If anyone’s a pity case, it’s me because I was invited to lunch today with Chung-hei nd the boys and I’m gonna ride this out for as long as possible

Christina 🍯: if I could sneak you a picture of Tae without looking like a creep, I totally would 😰

Me: ok, I don’t know how to respond to that lolll

Me: have fun at lunch though!!! Don’t drool or anything

Christina 🍯: yeah, let’s move past that 😂

Christina 🍯: just, call him. Honestly, he’s been checking his phone constantly anyways. And, don’t you think he deserves it? Call him. You know I don’t mean this in a rude way but...he’s done everything in this weird relationship-that’s-not-a-relationship so far. Time for you to return the favor.

✂

“...Jimin?”

Jimin blinks, looking around the table until his eyes land on who was just calling his name. Chung-hei smiles at him from her spot beside Namjoon.

“Yes?”

It’s when everyone starts to giggle that he realizes he must have missed something.

“How’re you doing over there?” Chung-hei asks. Jimin frowns.

“...good. How are you?”

Namjoon places his arm on the back of Chung-hei’s chair, and Jimin notices the way her cheeks automatically redden.

“You seem a little distracted today,” Namjoon croons. “That’s all.”

Looking around at everyone’s amused faces, Jimin notices one face that isn’t looking in his direction.

Christina is smiling slightly at her phone, fingers flying across the screen as she texts out a message.

“Christina’s distracted too!” Jimin points to the girl like a kindergartener, a sly smile on his face when she looks up at him with raised brows.

“Hey, it’s for a good reason,” she says.

“Oh?” Taehyung leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “And what would that be?”

Everyone notices the way Christina looks at Taehyung before quickly looking away, as though looking at him for too long could burn her. Like a moth to a candle, though, she can’t quite stay away.

“His soulmate,” she finally says, pointing an accusing finger right back at him. “I’m helping her through an existential crisis or something.”

Jimin automatically scoots forward, concern written across his face. “What’s going on? Does she need something?”

Christina snorts as a text - a text from Jolie, apparently - comes through on her phone. “No. She’s fine. Just needs to get out of her head. I suspect that sitting cooped up in the house isn’t helping.”

Ah.

It had hurt to have to order her to stay home, he knew how much that could hurt. Sure, some people might not have a problem with it. But something told him that there were only so many distractions in Jolie’s small apartment that could keep her entertained. Hopefully it would all be over soon.

And then what?

That was the question that had been plaguing him today. How long would he be forced to run this same track over and over again? How long until they were both ready to face each other?

They were going to face each other, right?

Christina sits back in her chair with a satisfied sigh, looking quite pleased with herself.

“What are you so happy about?” Jimin asks, leaning back and crossing his arms. Christina merely looks at him and then down at his phone which sits atop the table.

Just like magic, it begins to ring.

“O-oh, uh…” Jimin scrambles to his feet, nearly tipping over his water in the process. Grabbing his phone, he looks for the quickest exit.

“Why don’t you just stay in here?” Jin asks, ever the prying one. “We can all chat.”

Jimin pays him no mind, heading straight for the door and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?” He prays he sounds nonchalant.

“Aish, he’s already so over-protective,” Hobi calls out loud enough for Jolie to hear on the other side of the phone.

“Hyung! At least wait until I’m out of the room!” Jimin shouts back, finally slipping out into the hallway. Jolie’s laugh is enough to make him smile.

“Sounds like you’re having fun,” she teases.

Jimin sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. “So much. How are you? Have you gone stir-crazy yet?”

There’s a moment’s silence. “Yes. Definitely. I think by about eight o’clock this morning, actually.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

Another moment of silence, in which Jimin scrambles for something - anything to say in order to keep her on the phone.

“Did you, uh, get the groceries?” It’s a pointless question; he was notified this morning when they were dropped off.

“Oh! I did! And I saw some chocolate…? And Doritos. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Jimin grins. “Nope. No clue.”

“Huh. Interesting. I could have sworn you’d added them in there. What are you trying to do, make me fall in love with you or something?”

Of course, the answer is yes. Can he say that, though?

Aren’t they supposed to be taking this slow? Why did nobody tell him that it would be this hard to do something so simple?

“Sorry...was that awkward?”

Jimin starts at the sound of Jolie’s voice, realizing that he never responded. “Er, no. Sorry, I was just thinking.” He chuckles awkwardly. “Is chocolate all it takes, then?”

He swears he can hear a gasp on the other side of the phone, but then again that may just be wishful thinking.

Either way, he temporarily throws caution to the wind. He knows he’s toeing the line, but he can’t find it in himself to back off. Not when he can hear Jolie’s soft laugh on the other side of the phone and wonders if she’s wearing that same smile he saw for a fraction of a second all those weeks ago.

“Well, it’s a good start. Obviously the chips were a bonus.”

“Ah, yeah. I thought those might be a nice touch.” He pauses. “Hey, are your flowers still doing good? Or are they dead?”

“I feel like I’m in danger of receiving more flowers if these ones are dead,” Jolie muses.

“Danger? Really?”

“You know you don’t have to keep me in constant supply of flowers, right? Besides, I’m planning on drying the ones I have now.”

“Consider it a present for making you stay inside for so long.”

Jolie hums on the other side, and Jimin finds himself nodding along to the sound. “About that...any updates? Do I have any more stalkers?”

Jimin shivers at the thought. He’s dealt with his fair share of stalkers over the years, he’s had quite enough of them. “Nothing yet, but we should know more by tonight at the latest. I’ll be sure to call you as soon as I know.”

It’s quiet on the other side, but Jimin allows some time for the quiet to settle. When he doesn’t get a response back for a while, he quietly speaks.

“Hey, you alright over there?”

There’s a long sigh, one that he thinks he wasn’t supposed to hear. “Mm? Oh, yeah. All good. You good?”

Jimin smiles. “All good.”

✂

House arrest doesn’t suit me. It’s going on day three, and I’ve found that the thrill of television isn’t what it used to be. Especially not as the pile of empty chocolate wrappers grow.

I told Jimin as much last night before I went to bed. I also accused him of trying to make me gain weight. He only cackled and told me he’d send over healthier foods in the morning.

I should have known it sounded too good to be true. This morning I checked my porch to see a suspicious grocery bag with bananas and apples on the top. Upon further inspection I found that the fruit was only a cover for what lay underneath.

Two more bags of assorted chocolates.

Oh, and a note that Jimin must have added for the deliverer which was left on the bag. It simply said: delivery request: please hide chocolate under the fruit.

“I can’t believe it.”

“Wow, so are we past saying hello when we call? I don’t know how I feel about that.”

I try to ignore how easy - how right - it feels to just grab my phone and call Jimin up. There are still a fair amount of nerves going into it, but over the past few days we’ve grown accustomed to it.

“You sent me more chocolate!”

“Buuut I countered it with fruit. Isn’t that good?”

I roll my eyes. “Sure, but the fact that you’re forcing me to practice self-restraint is absolutely horrible.

“Ah, I see. So next time I should just send the apples?”

“No…”

I find a comfortable spot on the couch, staring at the calendar before me. Staring at the date, with a little circle around it.

Nothing to celebrate today. But certainly something to remember.

Jimin’s rambling - he rambles, I’ve come to learn this - about his day and how they have an interview coming up this weekend, however I find that I’m struggling to listen. Especially as the calendar grows larger and larger in my eyes.

I wait until it’s dark to slip out.

With my pre-ordered train ticket shining on my phone, I keep my head down and my hood up as I rush to the station. At this time of night on a weekday, there aren’t nearly as many people about. That being said, it’s still Seoul. There are still plenty of people on the sidewalks, and I can only pray that they don’t notice my lack of a red thread amidst the sea of threads adorning the roads.

Thankfully, I make it to the station without much of an issue. It isn’t long before I’m settled and holding the dried hydrangeas close to my chest.

It isn’t a long ride to my hometown, only about twenty minutes by train. Throughout the entire time I remain on high alert, knowing that if I somehow wind up in trouble that Bighit may very well murder me in my sleep.

I watch as the train rolls to a stop at my destination, and I hurry off before anyone can notice me. Once I’m outside, I let out a sigh of relief.

It’s been too long.

One year, actually.

The cemetery isn’t far from the station, and I don’t dare risk a taxi. So, with my flowers still in hand, I begin my silent pilgrimage.

✂

Not much has changed here. I peeked the same family that runs the sweet shop I used to adore, constantly begging for just enough won for some sweets. The streets even look the same, only a few small changes here and there.

It’s the fact that this was my home but that I don’t quite belong here anymore that makes my feet all the heavier. When the cemetery finally comes into view, I take a deep breath and trudge onward.

Coming to a stop before a small tombstone, I groan and kneel before it. It was a longer walk than I remembered.

“Hey Mom,” I whisper, taking care to gently separate the bouquet in half and lay some flowers on either side. “Dad.” Once the flowers are in their proper places, I lean back on my hands.

“I’m not really supposed to be outside right now...but, I promised I’d visit every year, didn’t I?” I look expectantly at the tombstone, but receive no answer. The stone is cold and unwavering, but I find that I don’t mind. The moon is bright and full, shining down enough light to see clearly. “Well, I’m here. I would have brought you some fresh flowers but...well, things are a little complicated right now.”

Inhaling deeply, I chew on my bottom lip before exhaling. As I do, my vision blurs a bit with unshed tears. Finally, bringing my left hand forward, I look down at the severed thread.

“Mom, you wouldn’t know who he is, but I met my soulmate. Well, not officially, I guess. That’s where things get complicated. But I’m trying to fix it.” Looking heavenward, I watch the stars winking down at me. “Dad, you’ll know him. His name is Park Jimin.”

✂

“What do you mean she’s not home?”

Jimin is currently pacing in the living room, listening to Sunmi’s voice on speaker. The others sit in various spaces around the room, each mirroring a look of concern.

Sunmi had been cleared to head over to Jolie’s, which Jimin had deemed a tender mercy. He felt horrible for her, knowing that she was probably going crazy. So, Sunmi had gone over to surprise her.

Except there was one little problem.

“I’m telling you, she’s not here,” Sunmi responds, struggling to maintain her composure. “I got here about ten minutes ago and knocked, but all the lights were off and it looked like nobody was home. Nobody’s answering. She’s not here, and she won’t answer her phone.”

Jimin looks around the room in horror. Automatically his mind conjures up the worst-possible scenarios. “Where would she go? There’s no sign of a break-in, right?”

Chung-hei frowns on the other side of the room, pulling her phone out. “I’ll check her location right now,” she reassures.

“No, everything looks normal. Should I ask around? See if anyone’s seen her?”

“No, not yet. That will only raise suspicion.” Jimin says, watching with bated breath and Chung-hei tries to locate his soulmate.

When Chung-hei’s expression changes from confused worry to stunned understanding, Jimin isn’t sure how to react.

“What is it?” He asks, impatient.

“I didn’t realize,” Chung-hei mumbles. “What’s the date today?” She answers the question herself, confirming it. “She’s back home.”

“What do you mean? Sunmi just said-”

“No, not that home.” Chung-hei flips the phone around to show him. “It’s been a year. And she promised him she’d visit every year.”

It takes a moment for Jimin to process the information, already thinking about how quickly he can convince someone to tail him while he drives out to Jolie. She can get in the other car to return, obviously so she doesn’t have to see him-

“One year.” Jimin blinks, suddenly remembering what Jolie mentioned in her letter. “It’s the anniversary of her father’s passing.”

Chung-hei’s solemn nod is answer enough.

Jimin stumbles back to sit in the nearest chair, rubbing his hands over his face. “I need to go out there-”

“No, you know you can’t do that,” Namjoon immediately rejects.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

Namjoon grinds his jaw, glancing at Chung-hei as the two share a silent conversation. When Namjoon’s shoulders relax, Jimin finds himself hoping. There’s no way he can leave Jolie to go through this alone.

“Bang Sihyuk will kill us if he finds out,” Namjoon begins.

“I don’t care-”

“I do.” Namjoon sighs. “So don’t get caught.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

Namjoon shrugs, looking around the room. “Don’t get caught. Make it look like you snuck out.”

Leaping to his feet, Jimin hardly has time to grab his jacket before he’s flying out the door. “Send me the location!” He shouts out before the door closes.

He doesn’t know what possesses him as he sprints down the street, but he’s reminded of the last time he went running toward his soulmate.

This time, he knows that he’s been through the heartbreak. Surely he’s been through the worst of it. Now, all that’s on his mind is the fact that his soulmate is alone and she shouldn’t be.

He’s tired of being alone.

It’s been years since Jimin last took the train, but Chung-hei explains in her text containing Jolie’s location that it might be his best bet.

Without a second thought, Jimin boards the train and heads toward his soulmate.

✂

My eyelids are drooping, but the walk back to the train station seems daunting. “I need to get going,” I mumble.

My voice is a little hoarse from all the talking I’ve done over the past hour. Even in death, my parents can’t escape my rambling.

Not that I think they mind.

I rise to my feet, taking one last look at the flowers that my soulmate gifted me before leaving them there on the tombstone.

“Goodnight, Mom and Dad.”

Despite my exhaustion, I remember to walk briskly back toward the gas station. I keep my head down with my hands in my pocket.

My heart feels a little heavy tonight. I shoot a melancholy smile toward the stars, who act as my solitary companion tonight. I can’t shake the feeling that I would really rather not be alone tonight.

Nobody deserves to mourn alone.

My fingers itch to call Jimin or Christina or anybody, but I put it off. I had my phone on silent, and the last thing I needed was bringing attention to myself by talking loud enough for everyone to hear. If Jimin found out that I was out here…

He’d probably stop sending me chocolates. At the very least.

Yes, it would be best to wait until I’m home and in the warmth of my bed before calling him.

Like a dream, my feet carry me toward the train station. It’s downhill for the most part, making it easier than I thought it would be. A tender mercy, I suppose, for a day like today.

Thankfully, it’s late enough now that the station is empty for the most part. Only a few stragglers wander about, all of which are too tired to pay me any mind. However, as I near the ticket booth, I feel it.

Almost like something pulling on my thread. It’s a similar feeling to what I felt as the thread had been cut, but there’s no reason for it to be acting up again.

“That’ll be 26,000 won,” the person on the other side of the booth drawls, looking for all the world like they’d rather walk across hot coals then have to spend another moment here.

“Oh, right.” I pull the money from my wallet, sliding it under the little window. “Sorry about that, I got distracted-”

“Here ya go,” they interrupt, clearly not very interested in what was distracting me. All the better, I suppose.

Thanking them, I pocket the ticket and make my way to a bench before the platform. The train should be here in about fifteen minutes.

But there’s that annoying tug again, nearly pulling my hand off my lap. I frown down at the thread, too tired to put that much thought into it. I’ll have to ask Christina if she’s ever known a thread to act up.

There’s a cold draft in the station, one that only gets worse as an incoming train pulls up and comes to a stop. I keep my head down as the doors open and people begin to file out.

At least, I try to until I’m practically thrown off my seat as my thread pushes and pulls at me. It’s starting to cause a scene, so I hurry off to the side and half-hide behind a pillar. Hopefully nobody will question why I gave up my perfectly nice seat.

Burying my hand in my pocket, I look around to make sure nobody is coming my way when my eyes catch on something- or rather, a lack of something.

Someone walks off the train, however the typical red thread doesn’t accompany them.

That’s not the only thing that alarms me. It’s the fact that I know them.

Park Jimin glides off of the train and looks around, trying to deduce which exit to take. He pulls his phone out to look at something when he drops it due to a sudden jolt.

I watch, utterly paralyzed as he stumbles forward. Almost as though pulled by some invisible thread.

His eyes are wide and he’s practically buried under the large, puffy jacket he wears. It’s brown, to match his brown hair, which is ridiculously ruffled. He’s chewing on the inside of his lips as he lifts his head to look around yet again.

From across the station, our eyes meet. Slowly, so slowly it burns, I see the recognition register in his eyes as he trails from my face down to my left hand and back up to my eyes again.

Jimin freezes, and I realize that it isn’t because he’s afraid or nervous.

This is my choice to make. Even now, after all that’s happened, he still allows me to choose.

So, with a tentative step forward quickly followed by another, I choose him.

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anayaahwrites · 3 years

Text

KOT Ficlet #5 (Momoya Natsu/ Yoshinaga Atsumu)

When the lights start flashing like a photo booth (And the stars exploding, we'll be fireproof.)

Warning: Themes of underage drinking and implied sexual content.

Natsu roughly based on this art by @sasukeslove

A small AU on MomoYoshi's first meeting:

...

Natsu is six when he learns about Angels.

He’s perched on mama’s lap, carrying a new storybook with tiny hands and slowly pronouncing all the words. Her proud smile encourages him to read the larger words too, the ones he’d avoid out of embarrassment—something about a pro-fe-cky and a pro-mice that He exists up there somewhere, over the pillowy clouds watching down on them.

Mama tucks him in that night and tells Natsu to close his eyes and pray because Angels only come to good boys.

He’s ten when it all sounds like bullshit to him.

Over the years, Mom’s rosy smile had withered into a fatigued sigh, a cry for help to the God that never answers no matter how much they pray. Dad was more a guest than a resident. He came around once in a while to eat lunch—with a taut smile plastered eerily over his smooth features—and swiftly vanish to not return in that week .

They’ve stopped waiting for him and Natsu stops asking questions.

He’s thirteen when he meets Sei, a child around his age, except so much more charming and calm and composed for someone that carried half the same set of genes Natsu had. He learns of his father’s betrayal and is honestly shocked at his own lack of surprise. Still, he questions his God and why why why would He let mom’s heart shatter like that?

Sei is quick to laugh and tell him that God doesn’t exist and mom is just a victim to their monster of a father.

So he goes home that day to his outraged mother, hair coloured like glittery Christmas tinsel and sapphire lenses replacing his usual shade of honey brown. She snaps at the sight, yelling at him till her throat closes up, till nothing but a harsh sob escapes her and he lets her. They both had to cope somehow.

By the fall of his fourteenth year, he gets pierced four times and stops talking to his mother almost completely.

To hell with dad. To hell with God.

Natsu is fifteen, and he doesn’t care about anything anymore.

He’s fifteen and quickly realising from his daily job as a guitarist in the club that girls aren't attractive no matter how much they flock around him. He still humours them sometimes, a touch here, a kiss there since the pay is good enough for him to add some extra service on his part.

Mom plies herself with work as often as possible, to douse her misery in the decayed scent of piled papers and clunking keyboards. She leaves Natsu to deal with everything else on his own like the obedient son he is, letting him go like dad left her.

Natsu is alright, though. He’s done this far longer than she knows.

He stops reaching out to her, stops talking to someone up in the skies, settling instead to live a tranquil life in the shadows, under the dependable shade of music. He hates people. He hates the world.

Natsu is basking in the warmth of another uneventful day in the club, when in walks a boy out of fucking nowhere and his entire world tips on its axis.

The boy takes shaky, wary steps as if he were balancing on a trapeze. Dark black bangs like thick black rain spill over the side of his face, half covering wide brown eyes. Splotches of pink and porcelain white stick out where his sweater ends and skin begins. He’s small and delicate and beautiful, Natsu’s heart skips a beat. Or two. Or maybe three.

And why should he lie? Natsu has seen beautiful, quite a few varieties of it too. But this…this was different. This was unreal.

The boy looks around nervously before he catches something and there’s a spark in those hazel eyes, sharp and electric, a smile tugging at his lips.

Natsu follows his gaze. On the stage lies his own guitar—a pre-performance habit for people to know he was next. He took great pride because this itself garnered more clusters than anyone in the entire house.

Natsu smiles. So he was a fan.

He downs the customary shot of vodka, waving at the people before hopping on stage and wrapping the sling around his neck. He scours the audience for a familiar face and it doesn’t take a lot, to spot a splatter of ink black in the crowd, batting eager eyelids at him. The smaller boy realises the attention on him and glances behind to confirm his suspicion.

By the time he swings around, eyes blown wide in a stare, Natsu plays the first chord.

In an instant, his expression shifts to a mix of awe and interest, a silent worship and a loud cheer compiled in one small, thin body. He claps more than anyone else in the room, beaming like a floodlight by the time Natsu finishes.

It was nothing strange. He played among cheers every day but none felt as satisfying with this voice hooting and clearly standing out from his regular gang of squealing girls. He throws his head back laughing back stage when no one is there to see.

By the time Natsu gets out on the floor again, a little more thrilled for the night and dressed in something less flashy, he’s gone. He screws his lips in displeasure and asks his friend to make him something stronger than the usual.

This happens more nights than not, and it was frustrating him.

The moment Angel boy—as he’s dubbed him, steps in through the door, Natsu traces his every move and quickly registers a pattern. He only comes around on days the club was the busiest—specifically during Natsu’s performance, talks to no one and leaves before he has the chance to even ask a name.

Not that Natsu was interested in him or anything. He was just curious, is all—why this boy looked like a starved pet every time he saw him on stage and if he really smelled like soft winter blankets and warm fireplaces, all angelic and pure.

Okay, so maybe he was a little interested.

Months pass like that.

The mid-November chill comes with its blistering snowstorms and the club is jam packed—winters were some of their busiest months—and Natsu’s up to perform. Instead of preparing, he watches the door resolutely from the bar, tapping impatiently at the table.

As routine, it barely opens a crack, and he sees a sliver of ebony snaking it’s way through the crowd. The boy stands on his tippy-toes which don’t give him much of a view, so he does these tiny jumps—that are so adorable, for a second Natsu forgets his own name—and scowls when he notices no guitar on stage.

He checks the time, the stage and then scans the crowd. The anticipation throbs through Natsu as he follows his eyes cross the room in slow motion, dragging dragging until they eventually land on him. Everything stills—the thundering music, the singing and all he can hear is the low thump of veins against his skin.

It’s over in a flash.

“That your Angel boy?” The bartender gestures at the figure turning tail and running, drying the pad on his prized work station. He skillfully pours two coloured liquids into an oddly shaped glass and passes it over the counter to him.

Natsu hums, swirling the absinthe stained drink in hand, eyeing the smaller boy gasp as a couple slams against the door, clearly piss drunk with her suspended over his thighs and gyrating her hips into the man.

“Hey, chief.”

“Hm?”

“You think I can get off early tonight?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Like when?”

“Like now.” Natsu answers, never letting his gaze falter from the head full of black hair slowly receding through the crowd, horrified.

The man guffaws, lifting a glass of water—since he can’t drink on duty—and clinking it with Natsu’s.

“Must be fuckin’ Christmas if you’re taking interest in anyone, so I’ll let this one pass. Don’t scare him off now. He already looks like a trembling lamb.”

Natsu knocks back the contents, swallowing the liquid till it numbs his entire mouth and smirks.

“I’ll try.”

So he follows the boy. Hands are immediately all over him from faces he recognises in passing—a girl he once kissed, someone that made him cake, but he pushes them off.

His boy of interest forces the hood of his shirt up all the way, and glances behind him once before increasing his pace. Maybe the lights are really getting to him and maybe Natsu is a little tipsy when he reaches out to grab his hand.

The boy flips around to lock eyes frantically, as if a ghost had seized him.

“Hey.” Natsu musters his sweetest smile.

“Hi..” The boy replies.

And oh, his voice. It’s sugary sweet and so so soft like—like actual rolls of smooth and silky cotton had woven them. He blushes fiercely under Natsu’s relentless gaze and stares where their hands were connected in a tight grip as if it burned holes through him.

Natsu frowns. “Don’t run.”

The boy’s gaze shoots up, and he’s pulling away.

“I-I’m sorry I really h-have to go—”

“It’s my birthday.” Goddamn, he must be really wasted to admit that. Now that he thinks about it, what did he just drink?

Twentieth November, the day he was born and incidentally also the day he found his father’s tongue down another woman’s throat, holding a child over his shoulder.

“Oh,” The boy stops, pursing his lips and letting the hood go all the way down before flashing easily one of the most ethereal smiles Natsu has ever seen.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” he replies awkwardly. “It’s not going really well.”

“No?”

Natsu nods. “It’s nothing different.”

“You want it to be special?”

The buzz in his nerves practically screamed a yes to that—he wanted something to remember, to bury the horrible memories he associated with this day, for the days he wished he was never born in the first place. He wanted to fit it all in this one boy in one night, this angel he didn’t even know, to free him from himself.

Natsu tightens his grip. “Dance with me?”

Oh boy, the alcohol was talking.

Angel boy looks at Natsu with wide doe eyes, peers back at their hands and gulps. Natsu frowns and releases his hold. He was drunk, probably a little more than he’d admit to, but he didn’t want to pressurize anyone—not when this boy already looked so out of his element, a beige hoodie and skinny jeans in a club full of scantily clad folk.

But he reverses the roles, grabbing Natsu by the fingers so delicately, he releases a soft hum of satisfaction. He rubs fingers between his own, feeling the brush of calloused fingertips on them. It reminds him of mom’s soft chest rising and falling when she slept beside him because he was her ‘perfect little angel’ and made him feel safe.

He misses it. Misses being safe. Misses being loved.

“Okay,” the boy mumbles, peering from under his natural hood of hair with a light smile. “Okay. Let’s dance.”

Natsu doesn’t really know what he’s doing anymore. The lights blink and they’re suddenly in stop motion. It tricks his brain into thinking of them as pictures trapped some place in his brain forever. So he stares and stares and captures the blush spreading like wildfire across the boy’s face, a smile widening in tandem with the soft beats.

They’re two faces among a thousand on a random winter night. The music isn’t his type nor is his attire anything to be proud of. But this boy. Holy heavens, if he isn’t the prettiest thing ever then the stars should be ashamed because damn, he’d beat them even on a bad day.

His hair sways—a steady swing of left right left right and a pleasant smile sits snug on his features like that’s where they belonged, that’s where they had always belonged and Natsu closes his eyes when their hands meet again.

This is perfect.

It’s when the music stills that they transition to a slower lull of movement, and the blaze of liquor in his blood emboldens him into yanking the boy a little closer. He lets him fall with a small plop on his chest and laughs when he rubs his nose, scowling.

“Why do you never wait back?” He asks, exhaling at the warmth the boy’s presence brings. Natsu puts his hand around his waist and he swears, it was like he wasn’t human, like someone had sculpted him out of clay, moulded to near perfection. And maybe he’s treading into dangerous waters, but his mouth had a mind of its own and there’s nothing he could do to stop it.

“I always look for you after I’m done but you’re never here.”

Pair of hazelnut eyes sheepishly peer at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just.… not good at socializing.”

“So you say,” Natsu laughs, “But you’re doing better than me.”

“No way!”

“Yes way.”

“You have to be kidding me you’re so cool—and and so beautiful I really cannot—since the beginning I haven’t been able to take my eyes off—”

He squeaks when he's dragged closer by the small of his back. Their eyes meet. Natsu sees flashes of every happy moment of his life mirrored in them; His first recital, mom’s naturally loud laugh, the first time he played the guitar. They reach into Natsu’s soul and drag out his joy like the reel of a kite.

“I thought you were an angel,” he chuckles so close, he feels the boy shiver against his cheek. “I still do. Everyone here calls you Angel boy. Score a drink from them with that name sometime. I’m sure they’ll oblige you.”

“Angel? I—” He breathes a giggle, twisting silver strands with his fingers. “If there’s any angel here, it’s you.”

But this is fake, he wants to say. It’s fake, artificial, made of desperation because he never wants to look into the mirror and see his father’s face staring back at him. He won’t be him. He won’t.

“Atsumu,�� he says. “My name is Atsumu.”

“Atsumu.” Natsu repeats in his head till it rolls naturally over his tongue. Like Atsu meaning heat and summer and everything bright and cheery.

Natsu purposefully lingers near his ear, to breathe his name in the air, smiling, content.

“ ‘Tsumu. It’s cute,” he hums. “You’re cute.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Definitely.” He chuckles.

Atsumu whispers, low and uneasy. “C-can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm.” At this point, his voice gave him a greater high than the drink he had downed fifteen minutes ago. Or was it an hour? He couldn’t really tell and decided very quickly he didn’t care, anyway.

“Why don’t you.. come to school?”

Natsu’s eyes open a crack to glimpse at the boy who trembles softly under him, as if he were admitting to a crime.

“I—” he continues in alarm, “I swear I’m not a stalker I just—Oh my god please don’t misunderstand me—”

“Calm down.” Natsu shushes, smiling apologetically at the few people around him that had been torn out of their aggressive make-out session as if they weren’t the ones that needed a room. God, if he sees another dick hanging out, he’ll have to bust out the chainsaw in the basement and go wild.

“So,” he leads them to a quieter corner with very few people and lesser eyes their way. “School,” he waves a hand dismissively, “It’s boring. Lots of people. Annoying questions. You know the drill.”

“Right,” he gulps. “Right so, I’m uhh—in your class I don’t think you noticed and I’m from an instrument club and someone asked us a question. Something about erotic sounds—wait that sounds bad—not erotic erotic but.…Ah, I’m bad at explaining.”

Natsu doesn’t keep back the dreamy giggle that leaves him, swaying lightly to the music. He’s exactly as he imagined—hell, even his name was spot on—all warm and giggly and fluttery.

“I’m still listening,” Natsu smiles. “Go on.”

Atsumu scrunches his nose and continues. “So one of my club seniors—he comes of a little rough but he’s really nice—went to one of my other seniors house who I think he really likes, and her mother told him it’s—I’m sorry am I too confusing?”

“I think I can manage.”

“Okay, so basically, her mother says it’s the pause in between his words and actions. The space that is just…there. And so I was writing about it—because I write everything—and Oka-kun saw my book.”

Natsu scowls. “Oka is annoying like that.”

The boy giggles this time. “Funny. He said you’d say that.”

“It’d be nice if he attempted to change it, then.”

“And so he told me you play music, where you work and that maybe you could do something good for once—I didn’t say that he did—So…” He moves his hand vaguely around them. “Here I am.”

Natsu hums against his head, bringing him to a slower pace as the song changes.

“I’ll have to thank him for that.”

“You’re not..angry?” He says through furrowed brows. “Oka-kun said you would be if you found out.”

He’s certain if Oka showed up here uninvited, Natsu would promptly kick him out. Because Oka is annoying. Atsumu however….

“So? Did you get your answer?” He asks instead.

The smaller boy makes a face, pulling all his features in to make his button nose stand out more than it already does and pout.

Natsu laughs. He’s been doing a lot of that today. Laughing.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Don’t get me wrong! Your performances are splendid and I really can’t get enough of them but the answer…I still haven’t reached a conclusion.”

Natsu plays with the fingers in his hand, shuffling to let them sink into the gap between his. Atsumu stares and responds by shyly tucking his fingers in.

“Want me to help you?” He whispers, tapping the side of Atsumu’s waist with his other hand.

“Can you?” He whispers back.

Can he? Yes. Should he? Probably not.

But what use is logic anyway, when a boy the embodiment of a sunny summer day amid a bitter winter stood enclosed in his arms?

Yeah. To hell with logic.

Natsu sways his hips, raking his free hand through Atsumu’s hair. He releases a pleased sigh when the tiny fingers between his tighten as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality, which was good. Natsu felt the same, like his sanity was slowly slipping through open fingers.

“Spaces…exist everywhere. In words, in voices, in time…” He draws their joined hands to his mouth, dragging wet lips over porcelain skin. Atsumu shudders, breathing in sharp, shallow exhales.

“These hands..there’s a space in between them too if you look carefully. We’re so close,” fingers tighten around his shirt. “But still never close enough.

He runs a palm down the boy’s face that angles and angles till plush, red lips are within kissing distance. They part and blow warm clouds of air that taste mint and chocolate in his mouth. Natsu smiles. “Space is where there is distance. Space is where there is intimacy. Space is where there is friction. And this exciting gap that keeps us wanting to be closer till not even an atom could squeeze in—” he leans in closer, “—is erotic.”

He backs away while he has the physical capacity to do so, before the alcohol overrides every decision in his head and they end up a tangled mess of limbs in some random hotel room, but Atsumu having none of it.

He pulls Natsu to himself, clutching the pleats of his shirt and tugging him down to his lips. Teeth knock loudly against each other and Natsu hisses lightly, parting to lick the tingle in the tip of his incisor away.

“S-sorry!” Atsumu covers his embarrassment behind shaky hands. Natsu wraps thin fingers under his chin, reeling him in slow and steady and closes the distance. It’s soft, like a snowflake on a tree, virgin snow settling on frozen water and ironically, melts him. It boils and freezes, ignites his soul into a firework of bursting flames. He’s touching, feeling, pulling until every inhale feels like fire in his lungs.

“Closer,” Atsumu murmurs, throwing nimble hands over his shoulder and locking their lips together like puzzle pieces on a gameboard. “Make the space go away.”

It’s chaotic, and it’s magical. Like every star in the galaxy twinkled around them tonight, like every blossoming flower settled wherever Atsumu touched him. He’s drunk on vodka, drunk on happiness, drunk on love.

Closer. Natsu pushes a knee in between his thighs. His mouth hangs open in a silent moan, eyes slowly rolling into the back of his head.

Closer. The hands in his air pull him in for another searing kiss, pressing for entry, to delve deeper, deeper into themselves. Atsumu nibbles lightly on his lip and Natsu lets him bruise him for tonight. To wreck him, destroy him.

Closer.

They settle for a slower casual rhythm when they part to breathe. He keeps them moving on the floor, smiling against a pair of swollen lips.

“School suddenly sounds much more interesting.” He says.

Atsumu squints incredulously. “We can’t do this at school.”

“No?”

“No!”

Natsu shrugs, pecking the tip of the boy’s nose. “Shame.”

“Then you’ll come?” Atsumu bumps his forehead against Natsu’s. “I’ll really see you tomorrow?”

“If you can walk home straight after tonight, then sure.”

Atsumu gasps and slaps him across the back, blushing as they leave the club, hand in hand, away into the wintery night.

Natsu turns sixteen—a little drunk, a lot happy—but he’s sixteen and he can pinpoint this as the day he falls in love even years later.

And every other birthday is insignificant but so much better, spent at home, in the arms of the boy that saved him in just one night, all those years ago.

Mom only ever asks where he’s going and who he’s moving in with while he packs his bags to leave. She frowns when he answers with the widest smile on his face, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“An Angel.”

Ignore the sloppy writing haha. I'm writing this while travelling back home after a god awful six hour exam.

It felt too plotless to post on my ao3 kdkcd—

If you look at the colouring of Natsu I based it on (go give @sasukeslove all the real love), I imagine the art as the morning after when Oka's annoying Natsu and Atsumu walks in through the door (≧▽≦)

#kono oto tomare!#kotedit #kot #ao3 #dailykot #fanfic #kono oto #ficlet #momoyoshi #momoya natsu #atsumu yoshinaga #Spotify

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ricksbowen · 4 years

Text

one more time | pt. 4

IN WHICH: a nighttime visit turns into a whole other session.

INSPIRATION: she — harry styles, the less i know the better — tame impala

WARNING: this series will have smut in it and is pretty sexual all around ( read with caution ). there are implications of sex right off the bat, and everyone is 18+ and in their senior year. there’s also family problems mentioned.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6

The sound of his doorbell going off terrified Ricky in more ways than he wanted to admit.

He had spent five minutes getting ready to answer the door. The metal bat in his hand and the comical hockey helmet he put on were only precautions; who would ring at 12:16 AM? It only had to be a serial killer, and Ricky Bowen wasn’t going to be one of the stupid teens in every horror movie ever.

He was smart. He’d beat them up.

“Okay, Ricky. Just open the door.” Ricky jumped on the balls of his feet, his eyes trailing up to the peephole on his door. He nodded to himself, turning his head to crack it as he continued to hype himself up. “Peephole. Right— peepholes are great,” Ricky muttered, peering through the small hole.

You were standing outside. The rain that was pouring outside didn’t seem to phase you as you stared at the red rain boots you wore.

Ricky’s shoulders slumped ( he totally wasn’t excited for a serial killer to be at his door ) at the sight of you, relief coursing through his veins as he opened the door. Leaning cooly against his doorframe, Ricky managed a smirk past the hockey helmet over his head. “You look glum.”

“And you look stupid— who did you think was at the door?” You retorted, an eyebrow raising in question.

“Freddie Krueger. Jason Voorhees,” Ricky counted the names on his fingers, and even your sadness couldn’t stop the smile that crept on your face. “Hannibal Lector, the live-action Cat in the Hat—“

“You were scared of that movie?” you asked, cocking a brow in amusement. “I should’ve known you were a pussy,” you remarked, laughing softly at the ‘hey!’ he let out. You ducked under his arm, entering his house and shaking the rain from your hair like a wet dog.

“Umbrellas are a great invention.”

“Shut up, Bowen.” You shrugged off your coat, hanging it up alongside the other coats. You knew he was looking at you; rarely did you ever come to his house without a warning. “Stop staring.”

“I’m not,” Ricky retorted, averting his eyes to anything that wasn’t you. He pulled the hockey helmet off his face, shaking the mess of hair he had on his head. He watched you from his peripheral vision, your actions less lively than usual as you made your way to his kitchen. “I’m guessing you didn’t sneak out just for the hell of it.”

“Usually I do,” you answered, eyes darting up and down his pantry for anything edible. You knew you left some chips from the last time you were here. “My parents were arguing again. They were too loud, so,” you reached up for the familiar bag of chips. “I came here.” You didn’t want to get into the details of your parents’ problems. Ricky already knew most of them, from the growing rumors of an affair to your mom’s want to leave both you and your dad. “The only time they can get along is when they’re yelling at me,” you added quietly, almost inaudible.

“Stay as long as you want,” Ricky hummed, coming up behind you and reaching for a box of cereal. You always ranted to him because you knew he understood what you were going through. After everything that happened between his parents in his junior year, how could he not? “I can put on a movie or something.”

“Horror?”

“Sure. We can pick it apart like we always do,” Ricky said with a crooked grin, one that made you smile back. “We are still allowed to do stuff like that, right?”

“Like what?” you asked, making your way to his couch and flopping down on it.

“Normal friend stuff. I mean, we’ve had sex,” Ricky paused, staring up at his ceiling in thought. “Multiple times, In a lot of places,” he turned to the couch where you sat, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Your point?”

“Wouldn’t it be weird?”

“It hasn’t been weird,” you stated, sending him a puzzled look. “Has it been weird for you?”

“No!”

“Then what’s makin’ you change your mind?” you pressed further, the overwhelming feeling of curiosity making you ask him.

Ricky let out a sigh, clicking on a random movie. It seemed cliche enough; teenagers lost in the woods. Normally, the most cliche ones were the funniest ones to pick apart. He threw the remote back onto the living room table. “This girl asked me on a date today.”

Your eyebrows raised, surprised at the lack of emotion you had as you nodded. “Who? What’d you say?” you asked with a beaming smile, shaking him gently and making him let out another loud sigh. He picked a random horror movie, not bothering to look at the summary as he put it on.

“Just this girl I got paired up with for science. I went out with her today.”

“And? You can’t just leave it at that!” you pressed on, leaning into him with a cocked brow. Why didn’t he tell you? Usually you’d help him out with everything when it came to date, from what he was supposed to wear to where he was going to take her.

“She sucked; she kept on judging every little thing I did. All the jokes I made?” Ricky sucked in a breath, feigning disappointment. “She took them too seriously. When I said that I’d kill for a burrito, I actually don’t mean it,” he said, trying to keep a straight face as he felt you hit him as you laughed.

“Holy shit, she thought you were gonna kill someone?” you forced out behind bundles of laughter, throwing your head back as more guffaws left your chest. “I’m sorry, it’s just—“ you cut yourself off, a string of uncontrollable giggles following and making him bite back a grin.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, giggles,” Ricky said, words dripping with sarcasm as he looked at you from his peripheral vision. “I hope a jumpscare bites you in the ass,” he muttered.

“Aw, Ricky,” you sing-songed, nudging him playfully with a shit eating grin. “I’m sorry,” you said, your smile anything but sorry. Ricky still refused to look at you, faking the silent treatment and making you sigh. Ricky pulled his eyes away from the movie, setting them onto you and raising a brow.

“Are you really?”

“No, not much,” you grinned, and Ricky chuckled as he shook his head. He felt you move closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder like you always did when you both had movie nights. It was nothing but platonic.

The movie was watched in silence, the beginning dragging on for longer than you liked before the first teen separated from the group.

“She’s so gonna die,” you muttered, head still on Ricky’s shoulder. You felt him nod, eyes focused on the screen, and the music from the T.V picked up. The tension grew along with the devilish idea in your head. Ricky was staring at the screen with wide eyes, goosebumps rising on his skin, and the girl opened the door—

You let out a yelp. Ricky screamed bloody murder.

Ricky’s chest heaved, hand on his chest as he stared at you with frightened eyes. You were laughing, practically falling off the couch in laughter. Ricky swore he saw tears in your eyes.

“Y/N, stop,” Ricky whined, his high-pitched voice only making you laugh harder and clutch your stomach.

“I forgot how easy you were to scare!” you giggled, trying to calm yourself by breathing deeply.

“Please don’t do it again,” Ricky muttered, face burning with embarrassment.

“Or what?” you challenged, the smile on your face contrasting your glum expression moments before. It felt nice to smile, to laugh without having to worry about people yelling at you to stop. Usually, that was how things worked at your house.

Ricky moved closer to you, your smile faltering just a bit at the slightly determined look in his eyes. You knew the game he was playing.

“What’re you gonna do about it, Bowen?” you joked, knowing fully well what you were doing with him. You saw the way he clenched his jaw, and how the movie suddenly sank into the background as his attention was focused on you.

Ricky leaned forward just as you did, your lips pressing against each other. Your hands go to the sides of his head, pulling him down over you as your back hit the couch. Ricky hovered over you, deepening the kiss and making you let out a small moan in response.

He detached his lips from yours before reattaching them to your neck, making you tilt your head back to give him more space. You felt Ricky’s lips go down, his lips sucking a mark right above where your sweatshirt started to cover your skin. You felt him bite down, making you gasp, and you could practically hear him smirk smugly at the reaction.

Ricky’s hands tugged your sweatshirt up in a silent plea for it to come off, shivers running up and down his body when he felt your hands trail underneath his shirt. Wordlessly, you sat up and tugged it over your head, throwing it somewhere in the living room. You lifted your hips, pulling your pants off and revealing the black panties you wore.

Ricky swore he forgot how to breathe.

In turn, you tugged his shirt off, tossing it behind him. You pulled his joggers down, letting out a laugh when his lanky legs got stuck in them. Ricky sent you a sheepish grin, pulling them down his legs as quickly as he could. That too was thrown behind him, and you pushed him back, making his back hit the couch.

You straddled him, listening to the groan he let out when he felt you grind onto him. Ricky was looking up at you through his eyelashes, his mouth slightly agape as he breathed heavily. It was sinful how innocent he looked under you, gazing at you as if you were a goddess on earth.

To him, you were. To him, you had to be the most beautiful person, inside and out.

You looked down at him, leaning down to his neck and attaching your lips to his skin. Ricky let out a whine when he felt you suck in a mark right under his hear, the sound influencing you in more ways than one.

“Protection?” Ricky breathed, eyes shutting tight when he felt you grind down against him again. You were teasing him, the equally teasing smile on your mouth making him melt into a puddle.

“I’m on the pill,” you mumbled, pulling away from his neck and hovering over his dace. Your eyes were hungry and dominating, sending a sense of thrill down Ricky’s spine as he looked back at you with a lustful haze. It was obvious that he was enjoying it, being under you and having you tower over him.

Your hands went up to his neck, fingers wrapping around it as you grinded down onto him. He let out a moan, hips bucking up subconsciously at your movements. Your hand pressed against his throat only spurred him on more.

You pushed your panties aside.

—

The sunlight hit you in the face, making you rub the sleep away from your eyes.

You and Ricky had made it up to his room after having a few rounds on his couch. The stamina you both had was unbelievable, even for Ricky ( who you knew secretly loved working out ).

You opened your eyes, succumbing to the bright light shining through. The cotton white sheets that covered your naked frame brought you warmth, and you gently stretched. Only when you moved did you notice the arms that were wrapped around you, pulling you close to him.

Ricky never did that. He knew that you didn’t like having arms wrapped around you after sex.

You pulled his arms off of you, heart beating rapidly in your chest as you moved to the other edge of the bed. It brought back too many painful memories of him. Ones you never wanted to remember.

“Luka!” you squealed, head thrown back in laughter when you felt the arms that were once sleepily wrapped around you poke you in the stomach. You turned to him, face-to-face with your boyfriend.

“Aw, I never knew you were ticklish, babe,” Luka said, the crooked smile on his face making you roll your eyes. The sunlight that shone through his windows hit him perfectly, showing you the freckles that littered his skin. Your finger reached up, gently touching each of the little kisses of sun that were on his face. You moved your finger between them, connecting them like dots.

“What’re you doing?” Luka asked softly, cerulean blues observing your face.

“Counting your freckles,” you replied, making a smile appear on his face as he pulled you close to him. You turned around, making yourself the little spoon as he held you closer to him.

You moved your legs to the side of his bed, letting them hang off the edge. You let out a shaky exhale, the feeling of Ricky’s hands on your waist burned into your skin. You reached for his drawer, opening it and grabbing a random shirt. You pulled it over your head, standing up and stretching the tension away.

You hated how even the little things reminded you of him.

“Y/N? Are you leaving?” You heard Ricky’s groggy voice ask, his head peeking out from his blankets. His curls were like a bird’s nest, messed up from your hands sifting and roughly tugging on his hair last night.

“No— I can’t do that to you, you know that,” your words were soft, almost pointed towards yourself as you climbed back into bed. You pulled the blankets over you, making sure you kept a distance away from him.

“You okay?” Ricky asked, voice gentle and inviting as he gazed at you. He wasn’t blind to the sudden space between you both, his choice of wrapping his arms around you not even a memory in his mind. You knew he didn’t mean it, that he had always liked holding onto others, but the feeling always left you pained.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, your eyes meeting beautiful hazel ones as he looked at you.

Ricky observed you, taking in the little details. The messiness of your hair. The small amount of mascara that was smudged under your eye. The blooming hickeys he left on your neck that led to unholy placed under his own shirt. The way your eyes drooped because it was too early for you, and how your hair was a mess of tangles thanks to his hands running through them the night before.

Something changed when he looked at you. Ricky’s mouth fell agape at that moment, and something clicked.

He didn’t know what his epiphany was, but he didn’t want to find out.

—

TAGS: @tomshufflepuff, @myrandom-fandomlife, @softpeteparker, @sarcarstic-space-weirdo, @particularcth, @lifes-a-party-youre-a-boy, @paniniirae, @supersouthy, @jointherebellion215, @gabyer0309, @hannarudick, @broken-from-fandoms, @complete-trash-101, @ssprayberrythings, @raven-waheda, @timelordtardis, @chubby-cheek-calum, @nicole-lynne, @loserr-likeme, @whoseblogsthis, @stxfxniexreads, @cherrydolan, @allaroundaddict, @of-outerspace, @blueevelvt, @kitykatnumber, @rocketdolans, @givemebooksorgivemedeath, @80sthottie

#ricky bowen imagine #ricky bowen headcannons #ricky bowen angst #ricky bowen smut #ricky bowen hcs #ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen imagines #joshua bassett #joshua bassett angst #joshua bassett hcs #joshua bassett imagines #joshua bassett x reader #joshua bassett imagine #high school musical: the musical: the series #hsmtmts

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

I signed up for this

TITLE: I signed up for this.

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her.

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: Decided to challenge myself to a speed run. Wrote this in under an hour. So, be weary of any issues with continuity. I hope you enjoy it, anyway!

Based on an Imagine by @imagine-loki.

Loki let out a weary sigh as he fell backwards onto the creaky, uncomfortable single bed. His feet peeked more than a few inches off the bottom, though his head was nearly flush to the headboard. In another life, he would have grumbled about the furnishings not being lush enough, the bed not cradling him in near weightlessness. Right now, he was just happy it was supporting his weight after that hasty repair last week.

It was no matter; he slept in a ball anyway. If he slept.

“I actually might tonight,” he muttered to himself.

The more he rested, the more he became aware of the ache in his fingers and the sting of his raw knuckles. Though years ago those injuries might have befallen him from battle, or a spar, today his pains came from scrubbing a floor clean on his hands and knees. Loki was no longer that god burdened with glorious purpose. He was just another mortal with a couple of thousand years head-start on life. After Odin’s swift (but not entirely merciful) judgement following the disaster in New York, he had been stripped of nearly every morsel of magic in his veins and hand-delivered to Neighborhood Pals, an organization designed to do tasks for those in need.

Carl had been his first assignee, helping him around the rec room of the community center. The man, bent in his old age had not been much of a fuss. In fact, Loki found that he liked talking to old codger, as irritatingly perceptive as he was.

Which was why when he went to drop off some groceries after not seeing him in the community center for a few days, and seen the lived-in grime of the floors, rotten food in the pantry and soiled linens stacked high, Loki had nearly snapped. He demanded to know why his family was not taking care of him better. Carl said that his daughter used to take care of him, but trailed off before he had relayed a full explanation. It had not taken Loki more a minute to piece it together. His daughter was dead and it was his fault. And so, he took his frustration and rage on every square inch of the property until it gleamed.

The trilling mobile in his pocket made Loki groaned. Fishing through the pocket of his trousers, he pulled the damn thing out and answered without glancing at the ID. Only one person ever called him.

“Yes?”

“Hello to you, too, Sourpuss.”

Loki groaned once more. Having Stark as liaison between Odin and the tasks he was assigned was hell. He supposed it was even more irritating because Stark had not even had the decency to be short with him this entire time and that annoyed Loki to no end. It was hard to find hatred when you were given nothing to work with. Loki sighed, sitting up and running his free hand over his shortened locks–a parting gift from some Asgardian guards that Frigga had to fix, later. The little tuft of hair at the top was reminiscent of when he was much younger.

“I was just going to inform you that Carl left a really nice review on your work today. What did you do, take him to see the hot babes?”

“Got him drunk and high. I’m surprised he didn’t die of an overdose,” he replied after a long while. Tony guffawed down the line. Loki nowadays was all bark and no bite, he would say.

“Well, I have your schedule for tomorrow. I’m going to send you an address and you will be there at 9 am, sharp.”

“And after?”

“Nope, she’s your whole day. Name’s Charlie and she is blind, so be extra careful with sudden movements.” Loki hummed his assent and hung up. Sometime later, sleep overtook him.

…

It was 8:59a when he rapped on the door. “Neighborhood pal.” He felt ridiculous every time he announced his presence that way, but it was required of him, per Tony’s rules. A lot of the time people were convalescent, and couldn’t physically get the doors themselves They needed a warning before Loki simply let himself inside.

Just beyond the door, there was movement and quiet muttering. Loki waited with bated breath for the sounds to come nearer, and instead was rewarded by a large crash and a muffled goddammit. Loki tried the doorknob to find it unlocked, and he pushed the door in, immediately gasping.

On the floor, surrounded by glass was a woman, on her knees. She was wearing mismatching purple jeans with an orange top that seemed to be inside out. Her feet were bare and it looked like she attempted a plait on her long brown hair and grew frustrated, halfway through. Next to her was an overturned coffee table from where the glass had come from and she tried to find purchase for her hands on the floor to leverage herself up and succeeding only in getting shards stuck in her palms.

“Stop!” Loki’s voice barely traveled over the sound of her gasping sobs. “Stop, I’ll help you up.” He stepped over some larger pieces of what he thought was a vase and put his hand on her shoulder, where she immediately flinched away.

“Get off me!”

Loki fought the urge to step backwards. He wanted to leave, somehow convince himself that it was in everyone’s best interest… but there was glass all around and she looked small and helpless.

“Sorry. Sorry. Should’ve warned you. I’m going to pull you up. Do not plant your feet.” Loki wrapped an arm around her torso and plucked her straight off the ground. His strength came in handy sometimes, and with a few short steps, he had deposited her on a soft grey sofa. “Don’t touch your face. You have glass in your hands. Let me clean this up and I’ll pull it out in a moment.”

He noticed she was struggling to stop her empty gaze on where she thought he might be. They were a beautiful shade of hazel, he also noted, that wouldn’t see another single sunset because of him. Tears ran tracks down her tanned skin, though she had stopped sobbing. Now, she only looked irritated? Disgusted? Angry?

“Do all monsters have such soft voices?”

Loki’s breath hitched. Definitely angry. And so skilled at finding the wound and prodding. “I’ll be back to pull the glass, Charlie.”

Wordlessly, he retreated. After a little digging, he found a broom and swept up the broken glass, righted the coffee table and tidied up the area, every so often glancing over his shoulder to look at Charlie. She seemed uncertain about moving from the spot he dropped her in, fearing another accident if she ventured further. She did, however, fiddle with her hands, grasping bits of crystal and pulling them from her skin.

“I found the Aiding kit,” he announced quietly, coming to kneel before her. “You shouldn’t pick at your hands. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Charlie scoffed. “What? Will I put my eye out? Will I be reduced to a whimpering child who can’t remember where her coffee table is anymore? Will I be forced to live off of Tony Stark’s charity because I can’t work anymore? Stop me when you hear the right reason, by the way.”

He stuttered dumbly before he found his words. “I-I am sorry.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m magically cured!” She gestured her surroundings. “All I needed was the most insincere apology on Earth from the vilest creature to have ever roamed it. Now I’m all good!”

The words and her tone stung, he had to admit. Most people avoided talking to Loki about the attack–it seemed to be human nature to avoid the pain of conflict. One or two people were angry and gave Loki an earful before he was allowed to do his work, but Charlie had been the first to actually hurt him. He was a monster. This wasn’t enough. He didn’t know how to fix it.

Loki thanked his lucky stars for one small miracle: her lack of vision meant she couldn’t see the tears that beaded onto his eyelashes. He cleared his throat, reaching for her hands. To her credit, she didn’t even flinch and he turned them palm-side up on her lap to pull jagged pieces of transparent glass out of the shallow scratches with a pair of tweezers. Her eyes had finally (though possibly not on purpose) fallen onto him and her blank gaze stayed unerringly glued to his form as if she were cataloguing him. He felt strangely pinned down by her stare.

After wiping down her palms with an antiseptic wipe, he allowed Charlie pull her hands away from his grip. The barest corner of her mouth curled in a half-snarl, clearly annoyed about having had to rely on her own personal demon for help.

“I apologize for the rough introduction–”

“Rough introduction was when you soared over the city in a battle cruiser with the hopes to enslave us. I don’t think a smile and good customer service would do much to change that, Loki.” Loki opened his mouth to interject a defense, but was cut off before any words formed. “I had a life and a job and a boyfriend. I could fucking see! You are only here because Stark insisted I do this, but how you can think that doing a few chores will ever amount to the damage you did is beyond me! Save your goddamn apologies. I don’t want them.”

The muscles on the back on his thighs were screaming from being kept in that squatting position for so long. Loki, however, found he could not move; scared stiff, as it were. The only thing he could do was stare helplessly into the wide-eyed anger before him, taking care not to distract himself on the freckles over her nose, and blink away the fresh wave of tears brewing at the corners of his eyes. Loki sniffed and her brow furrowed into a deep frown.

“Are you crying?” Charlie’s tone was halfway between irritation and disbelief.

“No, of course not.”

Her fingers jabbed him indelicately on his cheekbone. A little more traveling and they were skimming his closed eyes. He sighed as she drew them away, dampened in tears. “Oh, it has feelings.”

“Yes, it has been a surprise to everyone, including myself,” he riposted somewhat sarcastically, shoving the gnawing guilt to the back of his mind. Charlie chuckled under her breath despite herself. “Let me help you.” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. Order the monster around.“ She seemed hesitant at his turn of phrase, though it had been her who had used the name, in the first place. "Have you eaten yet? How about we start there?”

Without waiting for an answer, he stood and made for the kitchen. It was organized, though showed signs of misuse, as well as a small scorch mark on one of the counters. Apparently Charlie had tried to cook before giving up on the endeavor all together. Loki put some coffee on, and bread in the toaster, before fetching butter and jam from the refrigerator. He made a face at the contents–he would need to clean it out and buy new groceries before the day was out; something she could quickly consume.

Charlie shuffling off the couch pulled his attention. He watched as she stumbled around the coffee table again. That would need a new place to live. She seemed unsure of her steps, but was doing well to keeping to the clear space of the living room and kitchen. A growl sprang forth from her lips as she pawed the air, likely looking for the kitchen island just ahead.

“Three steps forward, two steps left,” Loki supplied, not wanting to interfere. If she was going to live on her own, she was going to have to learn the lay of the land. “Mind your feet, there’ll be a barstool right when you reach the countertop.”

“This is exhausting.”

“I think we just need to clear out some of the hurdles. You’ve got lovely knickknacks, but you need open space where you’re not afraid to run into anything.” He buttered the perfectly toasted bread and smeared a thin layer of raspberry jam atop. He lay the slices on a plate and slid it in front of Charlie while he poured coffee. “Arms’ reach. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” she replied, distractedly. Charlie placed her hands on the counter and slid them gently over the surface until they bumped against the plate. When she held the toast and took a bite, she made a sound like she was starving. It took the noise for Loki to see the slightly sunken quality of her face.

“Charlie, when’s the last time you ate?”

She slowed down her chewing, jaw tensing at the question. “I’m doing fine on my own.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” There was no response from across the counter, and so Loki dug his hand into his trouser pocket to find his mobile. The other end of the line picked up immediately. ��Stark, I need a favor.” He covered the mouthpiece on his phone and leaned forward. “I’ll be right back. Mind the coffee, it is still very hot.”

…

“Charlotte Camden, what the ever-living fuck!?” Tony had just burst in through the front door of Charlie’s apartment. Loki had just finished putting away a boatload of glass and porcelain decorations into a box in Charlie’s closet. He had pushed furniture to the sides and organized her closet by colors, to avoid being mismatched.

Charlie, who had been sitting on the floor “supervising”, turned towards Loki with eerie precision and glared. “You snitched on me?”

“This isn’t about Reindeer Games, Charlie. Have you or have you not refused the last three food deliveries sent to you?”

“Tony–”

“Have you or have you not? It’s a yes or no question.”

Her fists opened and closed with restraint. It was clear she wanted the option to storm out, but lacked the ability. “I didn’t want to do this stupid program in the first place!”

Tony scoffed. “Great! So what was the plan? Starve to death? Get hit by a car trying to get to the corner bodega?”

“Yes!” Tony instinctively stepped backwards at the roar. “I don’t want to live like this, Stark. How would having him here be of any help?”

Loki felt his skin crawl as Tony turned his attentive eyes towards him. His own jade orbs were fixated on a spot on the hardwood that was slightly discolored compared to the rest. The same thoughts echoed in his head. He was a monster. This wasn’t enough. He didn’t know how to fix it.

“Tony, he’s a monster." He was a monster. "This will never be enough." This wasn’t enough. "There’s no way to fix this." He didn’t know how to fix it.

"Come on, Charlie. He’s trying his best here,” Tony whispered, taking a knee in front of her. “He’s been working really hard to try to make up for what he’s done.” Charlie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout. “Let me call Ben. Maybe he can reason with you.”

“Ben left, Tony.” There was something broken about the way she said those three words.

“What do you mean? When?”

“Three weeks ago. It’s OK. He left a note. Because I can read that, right?” Her head turned towards Loki’s general vicinity. “It’s on my bedside table, if you’re curious.”

Slipping quietly backward, he went into Charlie’s bedroom. On the bedside table a piece of paper looked as if it had been folded and unfolded several dozen times. It was crinkled and smudged, as if constantly stroked. His fingers snatched it off the table and he brought it up to his eyes.

Charlie,

I don’t know how you do this. I don’t know how, after everything that’s happened, you can even think of taking his side. Loki is a monster and he doesn’t deserve a single iota of kindness or consideration you’ve shown him. You should have demanded his death, not his rehabilitation. He’s ruined yours and countless others’ lives and you just walk around with your “we don’t know the whole story”.

Well, I know my story. And I love you, but this life wasn’t what I signed up for. We had plans and they’ve all gone up in smoke. I can’t do this anymore.

Goodbye.

Ben

Rage roiled in the pit of his stomach, equal measures for this Ben person as it was for himself. He had well and truly fucked this woman’s life. And she had defended him. And it cost her everything.

Loki caught his breath, though he hadn’t noticed when he started panting. Forcing himself back into the living room, he watched Stark glance up in his direction before scowling. The man had patted Charlie on the shoulder and got to his feet, intent on meeting Loki in the middle. Instead, Loki shoved the note into Stark’s chest and continued over to where Charlie sat.

Sensing his presence, she raised her face to him, eyes struggling for a place to focus upon. His hands rested on her shoulders and she tensed, fists clenching. When he pulled her into his chest, her hands occupied themselves with beating at his chest, his stomach, his arms–anywhere she could reach. He remained still, teeth clenched against the pain. He welcomed the sting and the bruises that would inevitably follow. Anything if it took away her pain.

“Keep going. I know you have more in you,” he whispered. Charlie hesitated, tears starting to leak out of the corner of her clenched eyes before punching him again. “Go on. I signed up for this.” A breathless sob jarred her chest and echoed into his own. Her arms, tired and aching, twined around his middle and squeezed for all she was worth. “I promise you, I signed up for this.”

#Loki #Angst #Imagine #Submitted one shot #submission #Fanfictrashdump #i signed up for this

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trashyswitch · 4 years

Text

William's Many Secrets

William thought he had done a good job of keeping his secret. But Chris comes downstairs and starts blurting out a letter William had wrote to Henry. This domino-effects into Henry and the kids discovering another secret about Will:

William is STUBBORN AS HELL!

This is gonna be my last fanfic for a good week or so. I am heading off to a beach cottage for summer vacation, and I'm leaving this morning! I will attempt to start another fanfic (because writing fanfics is so fun that I can't just stop for an entire week), but I likely won't upload anything until after next Saturday.

Disclaimer: There is indications of cheating. If you're sensitive to that subject, then...it's not that long...so, read at your own risk.

Other than that: I hope you like this fanfic!

Henry, William and the kids were having another play date together. Charlie was at another friend’s house, so only Henry and his wife could come. While the wives hung out on the back deck, William and Henry hung out in the living room watching TV and drinking a coke each. “Some lady called the pizzeria, asking for a birthday afternoon dedicated to her 9 year old son.” Henry told William.

“Yeah?” William reacted, only partly listening to him.

“You could hear the kid in the background being all whiny. And the moment she mentioned ‘Freddy Fazbear’, you could hear his screams of excitement echoing through the phone.” Henry told him, chuckling at the memory. “The kid wouldn’t shut up after that.” Henry concluded.

“Mm hmm…Don’t blame him.” William said back.

“His party friends are coming this Saturday. I’m gonna need a little help getting the place ready.” Henry told him.

“Let’s worry about that when it gets closer to the date.” William replied.

“What? Not in the mood to talk about work or something?” Henry asked.

William smiled slightly. “Not really, no. I just wanna rest and hang out without us needing to bring up work.” William replied.

“Ooooh...So you’re agreeing with my wife, then?” Henry accused.

William chuckled. “Did your wife tell you to not talk about work when you’re supposed to be relaxing?” William asked.

“Yes.” Henry replied.

“Then yes, I agree with her.” William concluded before taking a drink of his coke.

“Alright. Play it that way. But the moment you forget there’s a kids birthday party happening this Saturday, that’s your fault.” Henry warned him.

“Aww, you meeeaaan.” William whined sarcastically before smirking at him. Henry chuckled at him before giving William a slight push on the shoulder. This caused William’s coke to spill onto his shirt and jeans a little bit. “Hey! Watch what you’re doing, you clumsy elf!” William warned with a laugh before returning the push. Henry ended up getting more coke spilled on himself than William did. So, he pushed him again to make more coke spill. This led to a slight pushing fight to see how much coke could be spilled on the other opponent.

At one point, Henry made the genius mistake of purposefully spilling his coke on William’s pants.

“Oho, that’s it!” William put his coke down and quickly stole Henry’s glasses from his face.

“What- HEY! GIVE THEM BACK!” Henry shouted.

“You gotta catch me first, Devito!” William teased.

“GIVE ME BACK MY GLASSES, YOU BLURRY BOZO!” Henry shouted at him, taking off running after the purple-colored blur.

William laughed and ran into the kitchen before stopping at the counter. “Na na na na na, you can’t see me!” William sing-songed like a child.

Henry, getting more and more fed up with him, stopped in front of William. Just to be even more mean, William put the glasses on to see what he would look like wearing them. But the prescription in the glasses overwhelmed his eyes. “WhOoOoa! Okay! Your eyesight is worse than I thought!” William joked.

“Give them back now, William. No more games.” Henry ordered.

“How do I look?” William asked, striking a pose with the weirdly shaped rectangular glasses.

“You look like a blur of purple.” Henry replied, getting increasingly fed up with him.

“Yeah? And you like a blur of beige...aaaand a little blue.” William replied.

“William, give. Them. Back. You’ll hurt your eyes.” Henry ordered and held his hand out.

“Alright, alright. But can I put them onto your face myself?” William asked.

Henry sighed. “Fine. Just don’t poke me in the eye.” He warned.

“I won’t.” William replied before bringing the glasses closer to his face. William gently started lining up the sides of the glasses with his face, and gently inserted them onto his face. The first thing Henry saw perfectly clear, was William’s gentle face. It was super rare to see William this gentle with him. Henry began to regret the attitude he gave him.

He gave William a smile.

“Daddy! Look what I found!” Chris yelled to his Father and Uncle.

William’s gentle facial expression vanished slightly as he leaned back and looked down upon his youngest. The kid was holding a piece of paper in his hand. “What is it?” William asked.

“It’s a letter! It was in the typewriter upstairs! Dear Henry;” Chris explained before starting to read the letter.

William’s eyes widened. He immediately recognized what this really was! Suddenly scared, William ran up to his kid. “HEY-heeeeyy Chris! Uh- what have I told you about going through people’s stuff?” William asked him.

Chris only ran away from him a good 3 feet and continued reading. “I wanted to tell you this-”

“Chris, no.” William warned.

Chris looked up at his father from the corner of his eye, before smirking and continuing. “-for a while now, but I was too scared to.” Chris read.

William was visibly freaking out. “Chris! Stop! Reading!” William begged before his relationship with Henry was completely blown apart by this freaking letter.

Chris giggled and ran over to Elizabeth, who was standing at the stairs. “Elizabeth! Read this!” Chris ordered, handing Elizabeth the paper and pointing to the line she had to start on.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and smirked when she saw her father all blushy. “My friendship with you has been so amazing. Being able to partner with you to make Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria a success, has been an amazing experience.” Elizabeth read.

William was restless amidst his panicking. “Elizabeth, give me the paper.” William ordered.

Elizabeth only giggled at his attempt. “You’re red like a strawberry!” Elizabeth told him.

William’s eyes widened in horror as he struggled to keep himself calm. “E-Elizabeth...give back...give back my paper. That’s Daddy’s paper.” William attempted.

“Not anymore!” Elizabeth declared before sprinting away. Elizabeth took a shortcut past the other side of the table and headed into the living room. Then, she stopped and continued reading.

“I wish I could tell you in person how much you mean to me. But for now, I must rely on a paper and pencil or a typewriter.” Elizabeth read.

“I SWEAR-” William started to sprint, but was grabbed on the wrist. “Uh- Henry?! Let me go!” William ordered.

“You’re not going anywhere. I wanna hear this.” Henry told him.

Elizabeth continued to read. “This feeling is strange. I can’t describe it. I’ve never felt this way before. Usually when I’m with my wife, I feel like a smooth talker with all the confidence in the world. But when I’m with you, my mind goes blank and I can barely keep myself together.” Elizabeth read.

“Daddy, are you broken?” Chris asked.

William awkwardly tapped his fingers. “IIIIIIII...I don’t...I don’t know. Honest. No idea.” William stuttered.

Elizabeth blinked as she looked at the letter. Then, she gasped! Everything clicked! “YOU’RE IN LOVE!” Elizabeth blurted out.

William took a deep breath, and groaned in pure embarrassment.

“You’re in love! Love love love! You love him! You love Henry! It says so in your letter! ‘I have a crush on you’! You love him!” Elizabeth cheered excitedly, jumping around in front of her father.

William covered his face with his hands and growled into his palms. This was the most embarrassing day of his life. His kids had somehow found his letter, and were now blurting out his most well-kept secret.

“Daddy and Henry, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Chris and Elizabeth taunted loudly.

The worst part was the super wide smile that was peeking through his hands.

Henry walked up to William, still in awe at the crazy confession, and put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey. You okay?” He asked. Henry tried lightly pulling on William’s hand to get his hand off of his face. And the half part of William’s face that he saw, made him literally beam from cuteness:

William’s face was visibly red and a huge toothy smile was present on his face.

“Oh my gosh- Your face is so red!” Henry reacted, unable to handle his personal excitement.

“Ihihi knohohohow...Ihihihit’s teheherriblehehehe…” William whined.

“Awww! Daddy’s all blushy! Daddy is blushy! Daddy is blushy!” Chris teased and poked his Dad’s side.

“Daddy’s in loOoOoOove! He loves Henry!” Elizabeth teased, before squeezing his other side.

“Wahahahait! Guhuhuys!” William giggled.

“Tickle tickle Daddy!” Chris teased. William grabbed his daughter’s hand and allowed Chris to poke his side. The truth was, the poking didn’t really tickle much at all. It was Elizabeth’s squeezing that seemed to surprisingly tickle.

“Awww...it’s not working.” Chris whined.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and tried tickling his side with her other hand. But, this didn’t make William react. It only made him smile in confidence. “What happened?” Elizabeth asked.

“I’m not very ticklish.” William told them.

Henry guffawed. “That’s a load of malarkey!” Henry reacted. “I used to tickle you all the time! And I got plenty of laughs out of you!” Henry reminded him.

“Those-...” William hid his nervousness very well. “That was just pity laughter. Nothing more.” William explained.

“Come on, man! It can’t be! Watch this!” Henry declared confidently before tickling his ribs. But William just sighed and let him try. His face was just monotone as he looked at his kids.

Then, Henry tried tickling the armpits. Other than William’s arm movement to give Henry more access, William wasn’t reacting at all. Chris was eagerly waiting to see if he would double over and laugh, while Elizabeth was going insane with how her father was being as calm as he was!

“Wait...What?” Henry reacted.

Next, Henry tried tickling his sides and his belly. William cleared his throat and just waited for Henry to be done tickling him. “You gotta be kidding me…” Henry muttered, before attempting to squeeze his hips.

William seemed relatively calm and composed. But, there was a slight reaction. And Elizabeth caught it. He widened his eyes and accidentally let a wobbly smile show up on his lips for 2 seconds or less. But he had quickly bit his lip and shoved the reaction down. It was here that Elizabeth realized: there was some lying going on.

Then, Henry finally stopped and crossed his arms. “Alright. I give up on the upper body region. But there’s one more spot I wanna try before I give up completely.” Henry told him. “Please sit down on the chair over here. I wanna test out your feet.” Henry ordered. Henry sat down onto the chair and spread out his arms on the armrest. “Right off the bat:” Henry pulled off one of William’s socks and tried tickling his feet. William didn’t make any reaction, besides the slight eyebrow raise he made in curiosity.

Elizabeth finally decided to confront her father. “Hey Henry: Go back to tickling his hips.” Elizabeth ordered.

Henry turned to look at her. With Henry not looking, William gave Elizabeth the index finger on the mouth to ‘shut your mouth’.

“Really? Why?” Henry asked.

“Because he smiled!” Elizabeth declared.

William narrowed his eyes and gave Elizabeth a ‘you evil’ kind of frown before resuming his normal look. “What smile? I didn’t smile.” William denied.

“Yes you did! And you just told me to be quiet!” Elizabeth told him as well.

Henry sighed and looked at Chris. “Did you see any of this?” Henry asked. William shot Elizabeth a look. He pointed at Elizabeth, before swinging his hand across the front of his neck, to say ‘you’re dead’.

“Yup. I saw the quiet thing, and I just saw Dad tell Elizabeth that she’s gonna die.” Chris told Henry.

Henry looked at William. “I think the person who’s gonna die here, is you.” Henry told him before lifting him up.

Henry stood his friend back up and started tickling his hips again. William squeezed his eyes shut this time, and started slightly squirming while attempting to push Henry’s hands off. But this only led to Henry tickling his sides instead! William turned himself to the side and widened his eyes. Scared a laugh would come out, William covered his mouth for a moment before attempting to reach back and stop him. But this just led to Henry digging his wiggly fingers into William’s armpits!

This time, William yelped and jolted before increasing his squirming dramatically! Henry began to grow more and more confident in his abilities. So, he pushed William’s knees down so he was kneeling down. “Quick kids! Tickle different spots on his body! And whatever you do: keep! Switching! Spots!” Henry ordered.

The kids didn’t waste any time! They ran up to William and tickled his belly, tickled his sides, tickled the front of his ribs, and tickled his exposed feet! Chris even tried tickling the lower part of his back while Elizabeth tried tickling his hips again. While the lower back was somewhat effective, the hips made the man double over for a couple seconds! To make things worse, the kids were teasing him and mentioning his darkening blush CONSTANTLY!

William was getting closer and closer to bursting. He had developed a wobbly smile that just couldn’t go away, and he was wiggling and squirming around like a skittish cat!

“Okay. Keep going...keeeeep going…” Henry encouraged.

“Why? What are you gonna do?” Elizabeth asked.

“You’ll find out very veeeeerrry-” Henry teased. Suddenly, Henry took in a quick deep breath and blew a gigantic raspberry on his neck!

“aaAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHENRYHYHYHYHY DOHOHOHOHON’T!” William screamed before finally breaking.

“You did it!” Elizabeth yelled.

Henry, feeling proud of himself, let William go and allowed him to just tumble his giggly body onto the ground. “Aaaaand there he goes. Get ’em kids!” Henry declared.

Elizabeth and Chris both let out big war cries and started tickling absolutely everywhere they could reach! “HehehEHEHEHEY! NOHOHO FAHAHAHAHAIR!” William yelled at them. William helplessly turned onto his back and struggled to fight the kids without hurting them.

“Ohohoho! No fair?! No FAIR?! Did I just hear that right?! You just earned yourself another tickler!” Henry declared, pulling his sleeves up with an evil smirk on his face.

“Nohohoho! NOHO! NO, DON’T EVEN THIHINK AHABOHOUT IHIT! WAHAHAIT- NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! DAHAHAHAHAHAMMIHIHIHIHIHIT!” William threw his head back and laughed hysterically! Henry was squeezing his hips like his life depended on it!

On top of that, Elizabeth had finished tickling his ribs and side, and had ran over to his lower body to tickle his feet. The moment she started scratching his left arch and heel, William squealed and pulled his foot away. “Ticklish feet, Daddy?” Elizabeth asked as she tickled the right foot next.

“PLEHEHEHEAHASE DOHOHOHON’T! IHIHIHI’M BEHEHEHEGGIHIHING YOHOHOHOU!” William pleaded.

“Wow! You’re actually begging us?! Are you really that ticklish?!” Henry exclaimed. “If that’s the case, then how in the world did you keep yourself from laughing before?!” Henry asked.

“Maybe Daddy needs more people to tickle him!” Elizabeth guessed as she sat on William’s lower legs.

“Maybe so.” Henry replied, keeping that in mind before lessening his fingers.

William did get a moment to breath slightly, but his breathing didn’t last long before he was thrown into another wicked fit of laughter. “ELIHIHIZABEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO FEEEHEHEHEHEHEHET!” William squealed.

“He has ticklish toes!” Elizabeth reacted.

“Awww! Does poor widdle Willy have ticklish toesies?” Henry teased.

Chris paused his tickling for a moment and giggled. “You sound like an anime girl.” Chris joked to Henry.

“I do?! No no no, I’m just teasing him.” Henry explained.

“NOHOHO IHIHI DOHOHOHON’T! NOHOHOHO TOHOHOHOES!” William yelled back.

“Oh! Even after all this tickling, you’re going to deny being ticklish on your toes?! Tickle him.” Henry told Elizabeth.

“Way ahead of you.” Elizabeth told him while tickling the balls of his feet and under all 10 of his toes. “Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo! Who’s a ticklish Daddy? Who’s a love-struck Daddy?” Elizabeth teased.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EHEHEHEVIHIHIL! EHEHEHEHEHEVIHIHIHIHIL!” William shouted at them.

“What in the world is all the rack-” someone asked, before widening their eyes at the sight.

“Michael!” Chris shouted, pausing his tickling before running up and hugging his big brother.

“Hihi Chris!” He said back. “Tickling Dad, I see?” Michael teased. Chris whispered something into Michael’s ear, causing Michael’s eyes to widen and for a big smile to show up on his lips. “You’re a genius! Let’s go get it!” Michael declared before running into the kitchen with Chris in his hands.

“Well, there goes one tickler.” Elizabeth said.

“Let’s give your papa here, a break.” Henry suggested. He removed his hands from his armpits and looked at William upside down. “You okay, Mr. Giggles?” Henry asked.

William chuckled at the nickname. “You...are so…*huff* getting it...when...I can...breath. Again.” William warned him.

Henry smirked at the slight threat. “You know you’re just asking for it, right?” Henry told him.

“Asking for what?...A kiss?” William teased.

Henry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well...later. But for now: More tickles!” Henry teased before tickling his armpits and upper ribs.

“NahAHAHA! Cohohohome ohohohon!” William laughed, pushing him away.

“Nope! Can’t stop me that easily!” Henry grabbed Elizabeth and held her out to him. “I have a mini tickle monster, and I’m not afraid to use her!” Henry warned.

Elizabeth giggled before showing off her ‘claws’ and saying “Rawr!” at him.

“Aww, come on! I come out with a camera, and you choose to stop?!” Michael reacted.

Henry decided to unleash the tickle monster to see what she would do. Unsurprisingly, Elizabeth crawled all over William and started squeezing his hips, tickling his belly, squeezing his sides, and even tickling his ribs. “Hahahaha! Mihihichahahael! Tuhurn thahahat ohohohoff!” William told him, lifting his arms up to try and reach the camera.

Henry, taking advantage of the moment, wiggled his fingers in his armpits. “Gotcha, Will!” Henry said quickly.

“NohohOHOHOHO! HAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHENRYHY NOHOHOHO!” William laughed.

“Awww, poor Dad! He’s getting recorded against his will! Whatever will the ticklish man do?” Michael narrated.

“IHIHI’M GOHOHOING TOHO KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU FOHOHOR RECOHOHORDIHING THIHIHIS!” William warned.

“That’s rude. Maybe a blow on your tummy will help?” Elizabeth asked. Then, Elizabeth blew a BIG raspberry right on her father’s belly.

“oHOHOHOHO JEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” William shouted and wiggled like the world depended on it.

“WOW! You nailed that perfectly!” Michael reacted.

“Oh! And by the way, Elizabeth: that’s called a raspberry.” Henry told her.

“A raspberry?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yup! Lay down.” Henry told her. As soon as she laid down, Henry lifted up her shirt and blew a raspberry on her belly next.

“EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Elizabeth giggled gleefully.

“And THAT is a big boy raspberry.” Henry told the camera.

“Do it on Daddy!” Chris told him.

William’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. “NO!” William warned.

“Oh! That’s not a bad idea!” Henry muttered.

“NO.” William warned a second time as he sat up and put a warning finger up.

“Lay yourself down.” Henry declared, pushing William back onto his back. “And let a pro handle this.” Henry said confidently.

“I’ll sit on his arm!” Elizabeth declared, before sitting herself on William’s left wrist.

William yelped. “Elizabeth! Get off!” William begged nervously. He tugged at his wrist, with zero success. He attempted to cover up his stomach with his right hand, but Henry had grabbed the wrist and held it aside.

“One…” He counted.

William gulped and widened his eyes as Henry wiped off Elizabeth’s slobber with Will’s own shirt.

“Two…” Henry counted.

Henry lifted up his shirt with a big smirk on his face.

“Three!” Henry took a deep breath, and blew a BIG raspberry onto his bare belly!

“NAHAHAHAAAAA! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T BREHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” William screamed.

Suddenly, his laughter went silent. It was here that Henry decided to cover Will’s belly and help him out. With Elizabeth out of the way, Henry lifted him up a bit and leaned him against the bottom of the couch. “I didn’t kill you, did I?” Henry asked.

William could barely speak. So, he nodded his head.

Henry chuckled and put his ear against his chest to feel his heartbeat. William, surprised by this gesture, immediately felt his face turn a scarlet red.

“Awwww!” Elizabeth cooed.

Michael lowered the camera and revealed his wide eyes and his dropped jaw. Hold up...does his father...have a thing for Henry?! Since when?!

Henry moved his head away from William again with a smile. “I can hear a heartbeat, so you must be alive.” Henry teased.

“R-Really?...That’sgood. That’s...very good.” William said, unsure of what to say at that point.

Elizabeth was clapping her hands and looking like an awestruck fangirl, while Chris was just watching in curiosity.

But Michael...was confused. Almost...hurt, but not hurt at the same time. The idea and the proof seemed to conflict him. Was his father bisexual? Wasn’t that considered a bad thing? If that’s the case, then why is his father one of them? And how did Henry feel about it? Was...was Henry bisexual as well?!

“Noooow KISS!” Elizabeth declared.

Michael jolted at the sudden declaration. Hold up, WHAT?! “Elizabeth!” Michael yelled at her.

“What? It’s true love!” Elizabeth told him.

“If that’s true love, then what was Mom and Dad?” Michael asked.

Elizabeth looked at Michael with confusion, before she gasped and looked at them. She didn’t even think about that!

William looked at Michael with a genuine guilty face. “Michael’s right. I can’t date anyone. I already chose the love of my life, and that’s your Mom.” William told Elizabeth.

Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to be conflicted. “But...But the…”

“Elizabeth...come here.” William told her. She walked up to her father and sat down beside him. He wrapped his arm around her. “We may not have a love relationship. But, we have the next best thing: an amazing friendship. If you wanna tell us to keep our friendship, then that would be amazing. But please...leave the kisses out of our friendship.” William told her. Elizabeth sighed, but nodded. “Okay.” She said.

“Don’t worry Elizabeth. Best friends can still have loads of fun.” William told her.

“Like tickling?” Elizabeth asked with a smile.

William nodded and gave her side a couple light tweaks. “Like tickling.” William replied.

Elizabeth giggled and smiled before getting up and running up to Michael. “Your turn Michael!” Elizabeth yelled, before tickling the back of his knees.

“HehEHEHEY! IHIHI’M HOHOLDIHING AHAHA CAHAHAMEHEHERA!” Michael laughed and ran away. Michael leaned over the couch and placed the camera on there, before he laid himself onto the ground.

“TICKLE PILE!” Chris declared as he ran to Michael.

While Michael was getting doggy piled and tickled by his siblings, William and Henry walked away from the living room.

Henry grabbed William’s hand and put a finger on Will’s lips. “Let’s take a detour.” Henry whispered. He walked William over to the nearby storage closet in the Afton house, and closed the door behind them. The moment the door was closed, William and Henry made every moment count. Henry treated William like the greatest treasure he has ever held in his grasp. They kissed, they touched, they made love, and they did it all in a matter of minutes. The world seemed to slow down for the two of them. And right before they opened up the closet door…William whispered this:

“Are you free this Saturday, after the birthday party?”

#five nights at freddy's #william afton x henry emily #love confessions #friendship/love #ticklefic #lee!william #ler!henry #ler!chris #switch!elizabeth

108 notes · View notes

min-youngis · 4 years

Text

i just wish that one of us would go away

gif not mine

~ Pairing : Jung Hoseok x Reader

~ Genre : Angst, Eventual Fluff

~ Rating : PG-13

~ Summary/Excerpt : It’s unconscious, the way you pick two forks, how he takes down two plates. But there’s no underlying playfulness, no jumping over extended legs, no pouted demands for kisses in exchange for cutlery, no back hugs accompanied by only half-joking whines for a bigger portion of the food.

Established Relationship

~ Word Count : 1,899

~ Warnings : swearing, sadness

~ A/N : i feel like me writing an angst fic at some point was unavoidable, is anybody really surprised?

i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!

masterlist in my description.

~~~

Hobi : Are you still mad at me?

A little bit. You?

Hobi : Same.

Wanna get lunch?

Hobi : Meet at the kitchen in 5.

Clicking your phone off, you close the novel you’ve been attempting to read in vain for the last hour, sighing as you place a worried palm on its hardcover front. The living room alcove you’re currently curled up in is usually the perfect spot for you to get lost in the pages of a book, your preferred place to forget about people and things and problems and...fights, but it’s proving to be ineffective today.

Not that you’ve had much experience with fights. Not fights with Hoseok at least. Until now.

Why can’t you be fucking sensible about this?

The backdoor creaks gently as the man in question enters the house, rubber boots in hand dripping mud on the hardwood floors, looking deep in thought but with that warm glow that follows satisfying work. Gardening does that to him. It may not fix all the issues, but it clears his head enough to think through things logically. You hope he’s managed to come up with something truly spectacular, because at this point, you don’t really see anything working.

He hasn’t noticed you sitting where you are as he distractedly places the shoes on top of some newspapers and takes off his dirty gardening gloves, laying them on the shelf.

“Hey,” you say, softly so he doesn’t startle.

Still, his shoulders give a little shake and he lets out a tiny yelp before calming down again and turning to face your still sat down form.

You’re the one being a dick right now!

He has a smudge of mud on his left cheek, and in his hands, he’s holding a small bouquet of colourful zinnias and marigolds. In a different scenario, in a familiar scenario, this is when you would get up and walk towards him, gently rubbing off the dirt on his face as he gives you the flowers with a cheeky wink and a sweet kiss. But nothing feels normal about this. You have no idea how to navigate this negativity, this post-argument stillness, this constant uncertainty and confusion about whether this is actually really serious or if you’ve just blown it up in your head by thinking and analysing too much.

He attempts a grin, but it comes out more as a grimace. Taking in your furrowed eyebrows, your worried pout and your chapped lips from all the chewing, he gives a little sigh before slowly making his way towards you, hesitantly, like he doesn’t want to scare you off. Or scare himself off.

But you’re too tired to have an adverse reaction, drained from all the feelings of the past twenty four hours. If anything, there’s a tiny glimmer of reassurance, that you both may have screamed yourselves hoarse but you’re still able to be in the same room. It’s with relief that you move your legs up further towards your chest, book and phone cradled in the nook in between, making some space for Hobi to sit on the other side of the alcove.

Been wanting to pick a fight for a while, haven’t you?

You don’t take your eyes off of him, fingers itching to reach up and wipe off the brown spot on his face, now that his body is so close to yours, but obstinately not touching. With a shrug of his shoulders, he holds out the bouquet towards you, not meeting your eyes.

“Thanks,” you mumble, knowing that this is more a perfunctory gesture than anything as you accept it from him, careful not to brush his fingers in the process. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

The silence is stifling, but welcome in the aftermath of tension and heavy emotion. You’re sure that breaking it would be worse. You continue to stare at the mud on his cheek, hands absentmindedly fiddling with the flowers as his gaze remains fixed on a spot only he knows on the floor.

“What do we do for lunch?”

“We have leftovers from last night,” you reply, tone equally blank but throat momentarily catching when you say the last two words.

Fuck off! I don’t want to talk to you anymore.

“Great,” he replies, in a voice that suggests the exact opposite, and you know he’s remembering how the mixed up dinner order started the confrontation in the first place. Deep down, you know that it’s been simmering, that spending so much time away from each other could only go one way. All it took was a small misunderstanding and suddenly, pent up frustrations from weeks were being hurled around like grenades, each one more vicious, more vile, more damaging, completely transforming what was supposed to be the first dinner the two of you were having together at home in a month into a bloodbath.

“I’ll go heat it up, then,” he says unsurely, uncertain about whether you’re going to agree with him or if he’s managed to set off another explosion.

Nodding, you turn to let the bottom of your feet graze the floor and push yourself off of the cushions without looking at Hoseok. You assume he’ll follow you. You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

As you’re taking the boxes out of the fridge, you hear him turn on the microwave, stepping as far away from you as he can in the kitchen as you keep them for reheating. It’s unconscious, the way you pick two forks, how he takes down two plates. But there’s no underlying playfulness, no jumping over extended legs, no pouted demands for kisses in exchange for cutlery, no back hugs accompanied by only half-joking whines for a bigger portion of the food. Distantly, as you place your plate down on the table opposite his already seated form, you realise that there hasn’t been in a while.

I’m tired of doing this! I’m tired of you!

You both eat in silence, concentration entirely on the plates in front of you. It’s an easier alternative than opening the can of worms that’s conversation. You try to remember the last time the two of had had a talk that lasted more than two minutes, in the gaps between waking up and rushing to his studio and to your office.

You can’t contain the scoff at the thought of the first day off that you both have in common being spent in suffocating awkwardness.

“What?”

You take in his suspicious eyes, his confusedly tilted head.

“Nothing,” you reply shortly, unable to keep the clipped tone from your voice at his accusatory manner, busying yourself with the food in front of you once again.

“You don't have to hold back. Spit it out, why don’t you?”

You feel yourself starting to get annoyed again. “If I said it was nothing, why can’t you just drop it?”

He lets the fork land on his plate with a clang of metal against porcelain, eyes beginning to shift with an anger that you’re sure is reflecting your own. “It very obviously wasn’t nothing.”

Your cutlery falls to the table too, and vaguely, you remember being in the exact same position last night, annoyed and vindictive and ready to lash out. “What’s your fucking problem?”

“I don’t have a bloody problem – God, fuck, forget it. We’re doing it again.”

You bite back the words that were about to slip from your tongue, an angry rebuttal that would have been the same regardless of his reply.

“We’re doing it again,” he repeats, softer this time, shoulders dropping from their previous fighting stance, his eyes closing wearily as he falls limp against the back of his chair emitting a long sigh.

You hiss out a deep, frustrated breath, willing the acrimony to leave your tired mind, fresh waves of exhaustion wracking your body.

“We’re some fucking pair, aren’t we?” you say through a bitter chuckle, vexed at how difficult it is to have a civil conversation between two people who have problems with everybody but each other.

His low, humourless laugh is a far cry from the guffaws he used to let out when the two of you would eat together, when you pulled a funny face or when he used to tell you the latest Bangtan shenanigans to your eager, excited ears. It’s been a while.

“Should we...should we take a break?” you ask, hesitantly, terrified of his answer. Under the table, you pluck at your finger nails.

Your heart veritably stops for a second as he nods, but you let out an internal sigh of relief when he follows it up by saying, “I think so. We should cool down a bit before dinner.”

Swallowing in simultaneous relief at how he didn’t pick up on what you were implying and apprehension that now you have to spell it out, you meet his burnt out gaze with your own trepidation filled one before slowly, mutedly saying, “I meant a little longer than a few hours, Hobi.”

He still doesn’t seem to understand what you’re hinting at, only cocking his head to the side quizzically and asking, “A few days, then?”

“If that’s how long it takes.”

In the heavy silence that follows, with you looking at Hobi, waiting with bated breath for which answer, you don’t know, his face runs through shock, aggravation and sadness, finally settling on the hard, blank mask that you’ve had the pleasure of witnessing for the last twenty four hours. It doesn’t have the usual annoyance, though. It’s just...empty. Concealed behind the façade that he normally reserves for red carpets that he has to attend even if he doesn’t want to and rude interview questions. It’s unsettling, how you can’t read him, and more than a little concerning.

“Do you want to break up?” he asks, and in that one moment, there’s a tiny crack in the statue and you catch a glimpse of the fear, the disquietude, the anxiety in his eyes before the mask is back on.

But the damage is done.

Immediately, you’re out of your seat and rounding the table, tugging one of his willing hands so he’s standing up and you’re hugging him, squeezing the very life out of him, and hoping it’s enough to hold together the hearts you very nearly just broke.

His arms wind around your waist just as insistently, and now he’s whispering things into your hair and you missed this, missed him and his love and comfort and laughter.

“It'll be fine,” you mutter, over and over into his neck, not exactly clear about whom you’re trying to reassure. “We just need to talk more, and stop sniping at each other every chance we get. It’s okay, we know the theory, we’ll be alright.”

He nods against your head as he mumbles, “I’m sorry I was a dick. It’s been stressful trying to get this album done in time and I took it out on you.”

“I'm sorry, too,” you reply, pulling away slightly so you can look him in the eye. “Next time we both have a shit time at work, we'll spend a whole weekend bitching about it, okay? No more festering.”

And at his agreeing watery snort and shaky exhale, you bring your thumb up to his face and finally, finally wipe off the damp, brown mud from his left cheek.

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stenbrozier · 4 years

Text

Blue Eyes (EMT!Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader)

Plot: You get into a car accident, and Eddie’s ambulance is the first to respond. She’s responsive at first, but when she goes into cardiac arrest, it’s Eddie’s job to save her and make sure she lives.

Warnings: descriptions of car accident, cardiac arrest, descriptions of CPR, descriptions + mentions of blood, minor character death, EMT!Eddie is a warning in itself, also maybe there’s EMT!Richie too cause he’d lowkey be so good at that + swearing

A/N: I read a fic a while ago about Nurse!Eddie, though I thought he was an EMT but that was Richie, and I just want Eddie to be an EMT. Also, I have a few more ideas with him as an EMT, so if y’all are interested please tell me 🥺☺️

——————————————————————————

Eddie sat in the waiting room of the hospital, sipping his coffee and greeting patients as he pointed them towards the front desk, asking them if they were visiting or if they needed medical attention. Out of the seven people he met, five were visiting and two were an expecting mother and her husband, tears steaming down her face as her husband gave Eddie and kind smile in acknowledgment before gesturing towards the girl in his arms. He put his coffee onto an end table and rushed them over to the front desk, calling for a stretcher to come and take her up to the maternity wing. Nurse Miller, one of the best midwives they had, rushed out, grabbing the woman from Eddie and her husband’s grasp. The man waved at Eddie as a ‘thank you’, running after his wife and the nurse with a weird dizziness in his steps.

Eddie walked back over to the sliding glass doors, grabbing his cup and finishing off the bitter, cold liquid at the bottom of the cup before getting a call on his radio.

“Kaspbrak, Tozier,” Eddie’s ears perked up as he rushed to the trash can and felt for the ambulance keys in his pocket, “accident on I-295. Truck tipped over and a car totaled. The fire department will meet you there.” Eddie ran to back of the building, rushing out the door and meeting Tozier, one of the other EMTs before hopping into the driver’s seat of the truck. Tozier replied to the call as Eddie peeled out of the parking lot, turning on the sirens and lights as they sped out to the highway.

Upon arriving at the scene, Eddie jumped out of the car, seeing that the fire department had already taken the woman out of the totaled car and dragged her from it, checking her pulse and trying to get her to talk. Tozier ran to the truck, pulling the man out as he performed CPR. Eddie kneeled next to the woman’s head, seeing the glass shards in her head and starting to take them out, hearing her wince lightly as blood poured onto the ground around them, soaking Eddie’s knees through hair pants.

“Hey, hey, I’m Eddie. Can you tell me your name?” Eddie asked calmly, trying it get the woman to open her eyes or mouth or do something else to show more signs of life than just her weak exhales of breath.

She opened her eyes slightly, their shiny, blue color searching for his face and focusing on his eyes. Eddie smiled down at her, rubbing the blood out of her hairline before moving down to the rest of her body, seeing the huge gash in her chest and bruises that littered her neck.

“Fuck,” he whispered softly. He looked up at the fire fighters, gesturing towards the ambulance. “Get me scissors, gauze, and bandages!”

He looked around for his partner, seeing Tozier stand up in defeat, running his hands through his hair as another ambulance pulled up. Tozier looked at the other EMTs solemnly, watching as they went back to get a stretcher for the now dead trucker.

“I need to cut off your clothes,” he said to the girl below him, watching her eyes as they seemed to move back and forth on their own. “Can you tell me your name?”

“It’s...it’s... (Y-Y/N),” the woman replied quietly, her eyes starting to close as the blood continued to pour out of her body. Eddie reached up, his gloved hands prying open her eyes to see the blue of them once again.

“Okay, (Y/N), stay with me,” he said softly. “Were you on your way home from work?” She nodded lightly, the movement barely noticeable as she reached up at him. “I’ve got you, don’t worry. I’ll fix you all up.”

“I-I need to get home,” she said quietly. “My-my dog needs...he needs...” Her voice trailed off as her eyes shut and her arm fell down.

Eddie reached up fast, feeling for her pulse. It was weak for the first few seconds he felt it, but when it stopped completely, he started to panic. The fire fighters came back with the supplies he asked for, and he immediately cut off her shirt, noticing that the gash was close to her heart.

“Fuck,” he screamed even louder, catching the attention of his partner who then ran over. “Cut of her shirt! I’ll give her CPR!”

Eddie lightly moved (Y/N)’s face as Tozier cut the shirt off in record time, backing away as Eddie started his compressions. Eddie did 5 cycles of CPR before he screamed for someone to get the AED. He hooked it up with shaky hands, never having someone die on his watch. He was so scared of having her die that he almost forgot to tell everyone to clear when the AED went off.

The AED sent her a shocks a few more times before it was safe for Eddie to check her pulse again. When he felt it, he smiled, unhooking the AED and immediately getting to cleaning the gash on her chest. Tozier went and got the stretcher, helping Eddie lift her up onto the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance.

“Rich,” Eddie snapped, climbing into the back of the ambulance and pointing to the front, “drive.”

Tozier nodded, scrambling to the front as Eddie climbed into the back with (Y/N), checking her pulse every minute or so to make sure she was still alive.

——————

The beeping from the heart monitor woke (Y/N) out of her sleep, her eyes squinting from the fluorescent lights that washed over the bland, white room. Someone knocked on the door and walked in, peeking their head in. (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows, the man looking vaguely familiar. He walked in with a nervous smile, wringing his hands as he shut the door behind him. He was wearing an EMT uniform, the knees on the pants looking darker then the rest of the dark blue uniform.

“H-hey,” he stuttered out, running his hand through his hair. “I’m Eddie. I, uh, well...Tozier and I saved you earlier.” He nervously laughed, letting out a breath of air through his nose. “Can-can I sit?”

(Y/N) nodded, gesturing with her head at the chair next to her bed. “Why you’d come and see me?” Her voice was weak and frail, and Eddie’s heart broke a little after he heard it.

“You’re the first patient I’ve ever almost...lost,” he softly responded. “I-I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The girl nodded, doing her best to sit up a little in her bed. Her midsection screamed, and when she winced, Eddie stood up and gently pushed her shoulders back down. He shook his head, bringing the blanket back up her.

“You shouldn’t stand,” Eddie warned. “The chest wound was pretty bad.” He looked to the crown of her head, noticing the the little bandages that riddled the holes on her head that were left by the shards of glass. “You has so much glass in your forehead.”

“Yeah...I was told,” (Y/N) whispered, watching as Eddie furrowed his eyebrows. Suddenly, she was reminded of her dog, home all alone. “Eddie, do you know if they got a hold of one of my emergency contacts? I-I have a dog at home and-“

“I...I hope you don’t mind, but I took care of it. None of your contacts were answering, so I took it upon myself to go over when my shift was finished. Your building manager gave me the key after I explained the situation.” Eddie rubbed his hands over his thighs nervously.

“Is Ralphie okay?” she asked softly. “Cause he gets scared when he’s home by himself for too long.” Eddie laughed, looking into her blue eyes for a few seconds, noticing the tears threatening to fall.

“He seemed okay,” Eddie responded, reaching over to the woman laying in the hospital bed and grabbing her hand. “Thought I was a little strange though. I actually just came from there.”

(Y/N) looked at him, noticing the way he seemed to shake like a leaf while looking at her. She took in his messy, dark hair and chocolate eyes. His stubble defined his jawline, making him look more like a man because she knew that if he was clean shaven, he would’ve looked like a 16 year old boy just hitting puberty. Eddie stared back into her eyes, taking in the shape of her nose and face and how the tiny bandages seemed to peel back the wrinkles from all of the years of furrowing her brow. He smiled at her, tentatively rubbing his thumb across her hand.

“Uh, they told me to tell you that you could be released tomorrow, after they ran some more tests. Do you have anyone to come pick you up?”

(Y/N) shrugged her shoulders. “My parents don’t live around here and I’m the only person I know who has a car.”

Now’s your chance Ed, he thought to himself. Make a move. Or as much of a move as you can make on a lady who was just in a nearly fatal car accident.

“Would-would you want me to, uh, take you home?” he asked cautiously. “I get if you don’t want to and you would rather have someone you know well, but-“

(Y/N) laughed at his nervous rambling. “You saved my life and fed my dog. If you think you’d have time, I’d appreciate it.”

Eddie smiled at her, his eyes sparkling. She smiled back, moving slowly to her side so that she could see him fully. She caught the red tint in his pants, and she suddenly had chills going down her spine. Eddie followed her line of sight.

“Is-is that-“ She couldn’t speak as she felt tears start to fall down her face. “I-I-I ruined your work pants.” Eddie guffawed at this, not at the fact that she was crying but simply because she thought that he cared about one pair of his work pants being ruined.

“Fuck the pants,” he said as he wiped tears from his eyes with his free hand. “All that matters is you’re alive.”

He let go over hand, standing up and looking down at her with a soft smile on his face.

“Do you have to go?” (Y/N) asked softly, her bottom lip jutting out in a fake pout as Eddie smiled. He ran his hand through her hair, nodding as he checked on her heart monitor out of habit.

“I just worked a twelve,” he replied, feeling his pockets to make sure he had everything and didn’t leave something in the break room. “I’ll go ask what time you release is and then I’ll come get you, okay?”

“Okay,” (Y/N) said, her voice a little stronger as she watched him walk towards the door. He turned around, giving her a small wave and a smile, before walking out. (Y/N) sat in silence for a while, thinking and smiling about the young, awkward EMT that saved her life.

#eddie kaspbrak smut #eddie kaspbrak headcanons #eddie kaspbrak x reader #richie tozier x reader #stanley uris x reader #mike hanlon x reader #ben hanscom x reader #beverly marsh x reader #bill denbrough x reader #it chapter one imagines #it chapter two imagines #masterlist

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jovialecho · 3 years

Text

Comeuppance

Rahzel decides to hit Troy up, telling him to head to the bar tonight rather than Sunday. He asks why it even matters what day, bringing up how eager and impatient Rahzel is to collect a soul.

“You might not even win the games.”

So sure of himself. It makes Rahzel’s blood boil and his eyes roll involuntarily. He urges the other to meet him at the corner of it anyway, and with enough fussing, Troy teleports over.

“Tonight,” The demon starts, walking over to Troy, grabbing his shoulder. “because tomorrow, they ain’t stay open as late. Drinks ain’t up and handed out as late either.”

Troy peels Rahzel’s hand off him, shaking his head. “We came to play, not get drunk. Stupid shit happens when you drink-”

“When I drink???” Rahzel guffaws and puts his hand on Troy’s shoulder again, leading him to the building, “Don’t be acting all innocent. You just as dumb when you blitzed.”

The other doesn’t bother with taking the hand off, walking past the double doors, immediately greeted with laughter and music. The pair head off to the new gaming side.

“Ah sick.” Rahzel latches onto an air hockey table, grinning wide. He looks up at Troy when he follows close by him.

“Been a hot fuckin’ minute since i done played this-” Troy finishes his sentence for him. “-Since the one in your room quit worker? Yeah. Funny how that one doesn’t work anymore. I don’t think we should play this one. I don’t think I’m for seeing the rage you’re always talking about.”

Rahzel watches Troy slip towards the nearest billiards table, instead.

“So we immediately going in, no drinks? No funny shit? No games for the fuck of it?” He watches Troy as he pays for the balls and places them into the rack. It doesn’t take long at all for him to get bored, “Aight, well. I’m gonna go get us some sodas or something, dude, just get the game set up.”

As Rahzel heads to the bar, he listens to passing conversations from the other few people in the booths. He heads for the barkeep, listening out the snacks and drinks he wants, taking a seat so he can wait for them.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, so he pulls it out to have a quick look, turning his head to see if Troy was texting from the pool table. Nope. Once in his device, he opens the texts, seeing it’s from...Rudy. Great. His favorite guy! What overrated nonsense is he going to spill? Deep breath, Rahzel. Alright, he’s ready for the headache.

With another roll of his eyes, Rahzel pockets his phone and collects the food he paid for, making his way back towards Troy, though now he finds himself looking around for anyone paying him any attention. Luckily, nobody has the guts to look his way, so he carries on, ready to try to win a soul, MAYBE fair and square.

~~~~~

From one game to 4, Rahzel found himself on the losing end far too many times to accept. He’s never been one to swallow his pride in anything, let alone gambling, or games in general.

Yet, as he leans against the bar, scowling, he can’t help but find a hint of amusement in the fact Troy bested him more times than not at a game Rahzel had to help him be better at. Maybe the kid his destined for something great-- Yes, Rahzel picks that up just from playing pool, because that’s definitely a useful life skill.

A hand on his shoulder pulls him out of his grouchy headspace and he turns his attention back to Troy. He’s surprised to see he isn’t smiling.

“What’s up? You won? Ain’t that enough?”

Troy pats him on the back, “As long as you aren’t going to hole up in your room for a week because of it, sure. It’s enough. I’m sure you’ll find someone better to make your first deal with. ...Maybe I’ll even change my mind down the road. Who knows, man. Just figure out what you’re best at offering first before making a mess with your words.”

Rahzel downs the last of his rum and coke before slipping off the barstool.

“Let’s go get some ice cream or something.” He walks right for the doors, ignoring whatever logic Troy decides to spew his way.

“Rahzel there’s no place open!” The brunette follows the lanky troll out of the bar, doing his best to keep up with the pace, “Dude. No place! There is noooo place!”

Rahzel stretches, groaning, “There’s ALWAYS a place, dude. Don’t worry. We going on a motherfuckin journey, dogg.”

Before he gets much further, a voice stops him. He looks ahead of himself to see a familiar face. Oh, it’s that biker again. Time for eye roll number 4 tonight...or was it 5. Rahzel puts his arms down and sighs, hearing Troy stop behind him.

He notices there are three others behind the familiar biker and he scoffs. Is this really happening?

“’ey. What’s good, man? You still pissed about that shit I TRIED to fix?”

The only response he gets at first is a scowl before the bearded biker takes a step forward, the others following in a synchronized fashion. Ew. It’s a posse.

“Yeah, I am. But this is strictly business, mostly.”

Rahzel puts a hand on his hip, raising an eyebrow to emphasize how little he cared, but also prompted him to continue, “Aight?”

He’s quick to notice any movement the biker makes and sees him pull out a handgun. Two of his lackeys follow suit, three guns aimed directly at him.

The demon can’t help but let out a laugh, both of surprise and fresh amusement. The lost deal completely forgotten now.

“Holy shit you really ain’t smart at ALL.” Rahzel can’t tell if he’s goading them or not at this point, though he surely is annoyed but what he perceives as an inconvenience more than anything else at this point.

“You’re gonna shoot me? You do. All four of ya are dead. You don’t know what the fuck ya dealing with, dude.

The lackey in the back starts to look between everyone, seemingly uncertain about what’s transpiring in front of him.

“Even one of ya own ain’t solid on this shit. Grow the fuck up.” Rahzel takes a step forward to further show his lack of concern for his own safety. “You ain’t big. You ain’t tough. You full of shit if you think you can take me on with a gun. I’ll get the fuck back up and find ya ass and rip you a new asshole. Ugly ass bitches you think-”

The leader aims, getting heated faster than Rahzel anticipated.

“I bet you goddamn drunk as shit, too. Put your gun down motherfucker. You’ll regret this shit, for sure.” Casually he reaches for the gun, only to have it immediately discharge into his arm. The sound startles him more than the actual bullet in his arm. “Gh-!”

Troy pushes himself in front of Rahzel, arms up.

“Stop! Stop! We don’t have to do this. Whoa-”

Rahzel reaches for Troy’s shoulder, hissing. “Troy st-”

The next gunshot makes Rahzel’s ears ring worse than before, but his focus is on how Troy’s head jerks back, and it’s immediately obvious where the shot landed as blood, not his own color, lands on his shirt. As if time itself slowed down, Rahzel watches as Troy drops to the ground like a ragdoll, partially falling against him.

He doesn’t breathe in that moment, the reality not quite setting in. It all happened too fast. What the Hell is even actually happening. Shot. Troy. Troy’s been shot. Rahzel glances down some, seeing the bullet hole in Troy’s forehead.

Dead? Killed.

A hue of purple colors his vision as he looks upward at the group, the lackey on the right looking the most guilty. Yet, his attention falls on the leader as his gun raises again, no remorse on his face.

Rahzel’s mouth opens and all that comes out is screaming. From being frozen in place to suddenly lunging forward, nobody suspected the guy to just fling himself right at the biker. He knocks him to his back, growling and screaming at him, another gunshot hitting him in the chest, then another. He doesn’t let that stop him as he spits out honks and drool at the same instance, face diving right into the biker’s throat. The tendons and cords don’t stand a chance against his teeth and he sinks in, ripping out flesh, muscle. A mess of red cascades down his face and chin.

It’s immediately spat back out, and another shot, though ignored again, is sent into Rahzel’s back. He stops himself from going back in for another bite, letting the shell of a man bleed out slowly, or suffocate on blood. A quick turn sends him in the direction of the next two. He gives zero fucks with how scared they look, he’s off his shit. All he can think about is Troy. How dead he is.

The demon’s running leaves the two to back away, still taking aim and firing, missing only a few times, though it doesn’t seem to slow Rahzel down at all.

“HOOOONK!”

With a quick burst of flashstepping, he ends up right in front of the two, still running. His hands grab at both of their faces,throwing them down into the asphalt at the same time.

A few more bullets are sent into him, his neck catches one for dinner later. All the pain is set aside as he kneels down with the lackeys’ heads in his hands. Simultaneously, he lifts and bashes the back of their heads into the pavement, listening to their muffled pleas and threats. He keeps going, unable to parse the difference of the bashing with the heartbeat in his ears.

Dead. Dead. He wants them all just as dead as--

He drops the two when there is no more sign of life left in them. Rahzel stands up slowly, bringing the two guns from the corpses with him as he searches for the last one. Down the street, he can see him running away, and Rahzel also notices a crowd gathering around to observe this spectacle.

He doesn’t give a fuck. He takes off running, using his flashstepping until he’s close enough to stop and aim, using a gun for the first time in either lives he recalls. He closes one eye and starts shooting, missing once with one gun and finally hitting the guy in the back with the second gun. He tosses the useless hunks of metal away, making his way over to the squirming lackey.

His hearing is coming back and he listens to the pleading and crying through the faded ringing in his ears.

“I didn’t want a- FFuuck I DIdn’T WANT ANY PART OF THIS! Please don’t. I don’t wanna die. Not like this. Not this young.”

Rahzel kneels and turns the man on his back, reveling in his scream of pain. With his claws he swipes his hand across his throat, successfully slitting it, but not enough blood comes out, so he does it once more, before standing up and hobbling over towards the pile that is Troy.

He has to be careful- He could still be- He sees Troy’s eyes open and his chest tightens.

Fuck.

He kneels, the pain starting to make its way past the numbing rage. He gently closes Troy’s eyes, noticing how bad his own hand is shaking. No, no. no. He scoops him up slowly, taking him in his arms bridal style.

No.

No, no.

He can’t decide which pain is worse, the ones in his body or the one in his heart.

Heart. He decides it’s his heart as his eyes well up with tears. The dead weight in his arms only amplifies the pain.

Distant sounds of sirens pulls his eyes off Troy for a moment. The crowd outside has grown larger, shocked faces staring at him. At what he's done. What about what they did?

Rahzel stumbles away towards an alleyway, but he doesn't fall. He can't. There's no way he can drop Troy. He has to take him home.

Troy.

He never got his soul. It's gone.

Rahzel drops to his knees, sobbing in both anger and despair, lungs fighting against this action thanks to the new holes in them.

"FF-Hhhghk!"

He gurgles on the blood coming up from his lungs, looking down at Troy again. "Mh.."

His captchalogue modus opens and he looks up at it. Troy would fit perfectly in the free slot. He looks from the slot down to Troy’s face, past the blood. He has to go in there.

Just for a while, okay?

He’s captchalogued in an instant, leaving Rahzel freedom to pull out the portable transportalizer, his vision darkening at the corners of his eyes. His focus fades in and out as he slaps the button to the last location on the device. He’s sent into another world, another universe and spat out right in front of his cave’s entrance.

Dropping to his knees in the sand, Rahzel looks around at the familiar territory, then up towards the house, Simon’s house. He crawls that way, every movement causing him to wheeze and ache. Sand sticks to his pants thanks to the collection of blood on his clothes. His lungs, filled with blood instead of air, makes it hard to really breathe, doesn’t it?

“Ghk..kkh.”

As his vision continues to darken, Rahzel becomes more frantic to get to the house. He can’t pass out, not now- No, this isn’t passing out. He knows the difference and this is most certainly dying. No way can he die on this fucking sandy hill. Pathetic. Though, seeing how he’s crying and bleeding everywhere on his way up, it’s hard not to be seen as pathetic.

C’mon Rahzel, you’re only thirty feet from the door. Twenty. Ten.

He uses the doorknob to push himself to his feet, wheezing again from the sheer effort. With his fading strength, he slaps his palm against the door repeatedly, moving to lean on the frame instead of the doorknob. Wouldn’t want to just fall right into someone, right?

Rahzel’s legs feel like rubber as he keeps himself standing for as long as he can. His ears twitch as he hears the doorknob turn. When he sees Simon, he notices the face journey she has as she looks him over. He heaves out another cry, shuddering weakly as he brings himself to stand up straighter.

His voice, hoarse and scratching from the bullet that tore into his throat as well as from the blood making its way up it, comes out barely above a whisper, and he can only push out one word, his consciousness fading in and out.

“M.. mom..?”

Everything goes black for him as he falls forward almost right on top of Simon.

Good job dropping dead in front of your mom, asshole.

#action #Action Post #death #gore #cutemoniic #(for mention)#((ART BY CICIDRAWS!! COMMISSION HIM MAYBE?))

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heartbreakgrill · 4 years

Text

The Walk Home; John Mulaney

Eyes flicker. A head to toe, the anatomy of a girl: Her hair, short yet long and unnaturally naturally curled, the sight of her late yet early morning because she snoozes her alarm at least once and considers it a huge problem. Her eyes, focusing, so harshly on the script in front of her, her eyebrows bent at a 45° angle, creating even deeper creases in her forehead from her years of focus. So many little things that reflected her persona so gracefully he wanted to vomit.

You see, John was never a romantic person. People always said it should come easy, but he couldn't believe it. Everything in life took work, ethic, time. Why would there be an exception for lové?

He couldn't fathom it all: the skin and heat and loving one person so much it physically hurt your heart if you couldn't be with them. He felt that way sometimes, like his heart was screaming because he hadn't seen you when you went home that weekend, like it was digging itself out of his chest, but lighting itself back up when you bustled into the table read.

He nearly jumped from his seat for joy, now that you were sitting across the room from him. Highlighter twirling between fingers, leg bouncing quietly up and down, lips moving so carefully when her own lines came up.

He was so, so confused. Was this love? How could it be when he hadn't done anything to gain it. To earn it. It was like money, right? You had to put in work, ignore the cogs in the machine, press on past them. And that's how the product of love would be made, right? He'd never even held your hand, only served occasional hugs after shows, in greeting, when departing one another. And it's not like the two of you were best friends: You were good friends, but it wasn't the cheesy "if I tell her I love her I'll lose her and ruin our friendship."

No. He just didn't have the right to love you when you weren't even a thing.

Bill brought him from his id, slapping a hand onto his shoulder as he exclaimed, "Wanna call a wrap on this, Mulaney?"

John flinched, "What?" The entire room of actors and other writers stared back at him, eagerly waiting for him to wrap the table read. He was lead writer for this weeks sketches, so he had total control: And it was 10:30 pm.

"Oh, yeah, let's wrap it up. Good job, everyone!" He clapped his hands in the air in mock excitement.

The entire room broke out into a loud, uncontrollable crowd. People flooded the doors, others walked across the room to talk to their preferred coworkers. You sat there for a moment, flipping through your script, with that confused expression on your brows.

"Mulaney-" bill slapped his other shoulder, and John seethed through his teeth.

"I'm a literal crack mom, Bill, my shoulders are going to wither away to absolute dust if you don't go easier on me."

The room was empty enough now that you heard this and giggled lightly. Your eyes lifted to meet his and- did your grin just widen?

John smiled as Bill replied, "Okay, Patricia. Wanna go get some drinks with Seth and I?" He motioned behind him where Seth Myers was packing up his bag.

"Oh-" he glanced over to you and your eyes quickly flickered away. You began to pack up, "No, that's okay. I'm really tired and I just wanna curl up in bed."

"Okay," Bill began to back away as Seth headed for the door, "See ya tomorrow."

"Yeah, see ya." John slowly slipped his script into his backpack followed by his water bottle, pencils, thoughts.

You slung your messenger bag over your shoulder, waving to anyone who was watching. You realized it was only you and John.

"G'night, John-" you yawned midway through his name. You were the only one who addressed him as such- which didn't help his feelings.

"Nigh- wait, you live on the other side of the city?" He interrupted his own words.

You stopped and turned in the doorway to face him, "Yeah, why?"

"Do you always walk home alone?" John pulled the backpack over his shoulders. He stepped towards you.

"No, Seth usually goes with me. But, apparently, he's getting drinks with Bill. We live in the same building," You addressed John's slight confusion.

"Okay, so I'll walk you home."

John pushes past you, out of the door, expecting you to follow. Was he being confident? Perhaps. Or maybe he just didn't wanna see a pretty girls face on the front of a newspaper tomorrow. (Not that ugly girls deserved that- God, what are his thoughts?)

You caught up to the long-legged boy at the elevator- "John, it's okay. I can handle myself- I have pepper spray!"

You showed off the can, dangling from the lanyard housing your apartment keys.

John nodded, "No, I know. But you're also 5'5" and, what? 95 pounds?"

"130." You jutted a rounded hip. Sure, you were short, slightly chubby, and had no upper body strength, but: "John, you yourself said your a crack mom. 6' and, what, 50 pounds?" You mocked just earlier statement.

"Hey, hey," he followed you into the elevator, "Together, we are a force of nature."

"Yeah, okay."

A round of gossip, about both the script and the show in general, stemmed from the elevator ride, stretched into the walk to the subway. It was, unsurprisingly, dead in the subway, save for a passed out homeless man and a group of frat-like boys making a ruckus in the back.

You took a seat on the bench closest to the front, far away from the others sat a seat over, afraid he'd overstep his boundaries.

"Aren't you glad I came?" John motioned to the men, "Smells like pig."

You giggled, "Gross. And, yes, a little bit, I am."

The doors shut and you braced yourself, an instinct that all New Yorkers knew. John forgot because he had gotten lost in your face, swimming in the old makeup beginning to oil around your nose, smudge black under your eyes. They were watery, the contacts inside tired and ready to be taken out. Your jacket was bunched at the sleeves, which were lazily falling over your forearms. The one side of it was falling off your shoulder, and the strings were uneven.

Gorgeous.

"Oh-" John fell into, his elbow crashing into your rib cage. You yelped in pain, pushing him off of you desperately.

"Sorry!" You exclaimed when you realized your reaction put him on the ground. You stood quickly, only to fall back onto the bench because of the force of motion. John began to die of laughter, and you quickly followed.

Bent at the waist, hands propped on knees, guffaws hurling from the back of your throat created lines around your eyes. Your shiny teeth framed the laughter, secondhand creases finding depth from the motion.

The frat boys whoops didn't end, and the homeless man didn't wake up. The subway didn't stop going forward, the tracks didn't stop buzzing, and rats beneath didn't stop running. The world kept spinning- but your eyes locked, and he swore the entire world was shocked by the electricity. You wanted to kiss him, and he felt like he wanted to kiss you, too.

But your stop pushed your forward, on your knees. He stood up and offered his hands to you. You quickly got off, or else you would have stranded.

"Well, that was one hell of a subway ride." You exclaimed, stopping for John to catch up, only for you to fall behind.

He slowed his pace, "Uh, I'd say so."

You grabbed onto the railing and trotted up the stairs, into the cool night of New York City, 69th street. "I don't know why we don't hang out more often."

John wasn't behind you, but he was following you because you lead the way to your apartment. It was at the end of the street, but his heart was in his throat.

"Uh, yeah," he choked.

"I mean, not unless you would want to."

"No! I mean, yeah, yes, I want to. That'd be fun! That would be coolio," He slapped his fist into his palm.

"Coolio? Ya know, for being great at comedy and writing, you suck at getting your words out sometimes."

Speechless.

You stepped through a puddle on accident, gasping as the water seeped through the holes meant to air out your Converse. John I've reacted quickly, scared you were falling and not just tripping over water.

"Oh, hey!" He grabbed you around the waist, tugging you to his other side. Your feet had completely lifted off the ground, a gasp choking itself in your throat.

You gripped onto him by his biceps, which had emitted some unknown strength out of him. He seemed surprised by his sudden reaction, too, which is probably why he attempted to pull his arms off of you subtly. However, because of the fight or flight still thickening his strength, he pushed you away from him. The gasp let itself out and you fell backwards, catching yourself on a set of steps.

John felt like vomiting- he even leaned his palms onto his knees, ready for the acid reflex to present itself on your shoes. He was sweating, small beads covering his forehead. You were crying, head in hands and shoulder shaking- wait, no. You were laughing!

You were laughing your ass at John, who had just presented his crush on you in the best way possible. You'd thought they were there, the feelings. You didn't want to say anything for fear of embarrassing him, but after that whole fiasco- he definitely liked you.

"John!" You screeched in between laughter, clutching your stomach now.

He found the strength to laugh with you, completely letting himself go. He plopped onto the step beside you. "I can't believe I just fucking did that."

"That- was- the- funniest- thing-" you shook your head, hair whipping back and forth across your forehead, "EVER!"

After many more minutes of witch-like laughter, you finally let out one big breath of air. "Oh, my God. That was the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"Ever?" John's cheeks were already red from the lack of oxygen being emitted to his head, but he surely did feel himself blush at that one. "Out of everything that has ever happened to you, that was the funniest?"

"Yes!"

"I don't know, I've seen funnier, moments that didn't include some stupid, crack addict looking, lanky ass, weirdo. Just the pretty girl was involved," he sputtered out, unaware of his words.

You smiled lightly, eyes lit with admiration. "He did it again."

John scoffed at himself, dropping his head in his hands, "He did. You must think I am the biggest idiot in the entire world."

"I don't," you scooted closer to him, leaning down so your lips were level with his left ear, "I don't think you're an idiot at all. I think you've let yourself get too tense over me. I mean, I think it's so sweet that at the first sign of trouble, you pulled me away from it all. But, you realized you were holding me and threw me away for fear of embrassement and rejection. I want you to know that there's no reason to be afraid."

John's tense shoulders relaxed and he slowly lifted his head from his hands. It tilted to the side, to face her own. Their lips were incredibly close, the air between them solely shared for the both of them.

"What?" His eyebrows scrunched up, face heating up once again. "Why?"

"Because I like you, too, John."

He wasted no time in pressing his lips into yours, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled as flush against him as he could, letting all of the emotion he'd been bottling up release into kinetic energy. You pushed back with as much of yourself as you could offer, tired but full of your own emotion.

"Hey! You two! Stop shoving your stupid love down my throat! My cats and I are trying to sleep!" A voice from the upper windows of the building behind you caused your lips to peel apart.

Laughter strewn from your lips as you carefully stood, kissing every two seconds, and made your way back down the road.

#john #johnmulaney #john mulaney #petunia mulaney #john mulaney x oc #john mulaney x reader #john mulaney x you #snl cast #saturday night live #john mulaney imagine #bill hader #seth myers #john mulaney and the sack lunch bunch

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charlettebffxiv · 4 years

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Prompt #8: Clamour

The greatest instinct any true Gridanian citizen can have, is the one that curls the hairs on the back of your neck the closer you come to the dark edge of the Shroud. The dark border cut by light that breaks through the canopy, but does not creep beyond the shadowed edge. Charlotte felt that curl, even without the dense forest in view, her back turned to the thick sprawl of trees that came to an end just shy of the pathway they had strayed from. Only a few steps, the duties of the botany guild having brought them further from the village than any of them truly wanted to be. An aged tree, long dead with it’s trunk hollowed out by the myriad of creatures that had used it as home, had finally lost the last of its strength and collapsed across the path. Willow’s Heart had the closest contingent of botanists that could be called to clear it away, and they had been hacking at the massive log for suns. This was the third, and if they were quick, would be the last.

“Quickly now, the suns is on its way down and we’re almost through.” everyone felt the strain of the work, but it was their proximity to the uncharted edge of the forest that had even Bobocufu’s usual jubilance tempered. “Stay with your partners! Dylan! The other way around!” the tree itself was massive, it had to have been an ancient oak to grow to this size, forcing them to cut their way through it to open up the path, there being little hope to move it with the numbers they had. Dylan had been walking around the eastern side of the trunk, toward the dark edge, forgetting Bobocufu’s very specific instructions to only walk around the western side and keep our distance from the ‘darkline’ as she called it. Dylan caught himself halfway, looking up at the looming trees, the forest no thicker that side of the border than it was on theirs, but the shade from the canopy gave it a looming blackness. Like it was an open maw waiting for one of them to walk in before it snapped shut. The red-headed midlander froze, then quickly turned and jogged back, knees to chest as if he was trying to keep his ankles away from grasping hands. “Sorry! I lost myself in the work there for a moment!” their lalafell leader shaking her head as he ran past, toward the correct side. “Pay attention! Or we’ll lose you at the edge!” there was no threat, the Head Botanist observing and fully believing all the tales and superstitions that kept Gridanian’s with any sense from crossing into the dark forest. All that could be heard was the constant thud of axes, several people having come from the village to help them cut through the wood. Charlette and Maxim worked at the opposite side of the tree, both grunting and cutting, neither speaking.

Dylan arrived, panting and followed by two of the volunteers that had come with them, a burly highlander named Alfred and another Wildwood Elezen named Margot. “Break time, we’ll take over for the next few bells. Get some rest.” Maxim let his arms drop, axe resting as he groaned “Finally! My hands are numb.” Charlette flexed her own fingers, feeling blood rush back into the stiff digits. The constant impact of their axes took a toll in aches and pains that ran from the middle of her back to the tips of her fingers and she was as ready as Maxim sounded to give them a rest. Even so, when she turned to follow him toward the cart they had traveled on, the darkness that sat at the edge of her vision stoked the worry within her. A nagging desire to be away from the unknown shade and surrounded again by a green that’s familiar, one that didn’t threaten to harbour the horrors from her father’s stories. Maxim reached the cart long before her, dipping around to the back of it as he called out “You want something to eat? Dylan packed sandwiches.” The young hyur was no culinarian, but his sandwiches had a good reputation among the botanists and Dylan was always happy to make a fresh batch before they took to the forest. Cold, spiced meats with crisp lettuce between the soft, light bread from his mother’s bakery. “Yes, gods, please. I could eat a full-grown morbol, teeth and all. How much water is left? I need a refill.” but when she turned around the cart, Maxim was not listening to her nor searching for sandwiches. His head was turned to the forest, to a patch where several trees had grown up in a curve, their branches curling together like lover’s fingers in the canopy and forming a pitch-black hole between them. Like a portal. “Maxim?” Charlette asked walking up beside him. He raised a hand, palm-out, to silence her and stared for what felt like a full bell before he spoke. “You hear that?” Charlette heard nothing but the surprisingly spars sounds of the forest, a far away crow calling out, the rustle of leaves and the thump, thump, thump of axes working through the tree. “Hear what?” she watched where Maxim had pointed, hearing nothing and only seeing forest. “A flute, listen. There!” she turned her ear to the trees, trying to catch what he was claiming to hear. Nothing, still, and she had to wonder if this was just Maxim pulling a highly inappropriate joke. “I don’t hear anything Maxim. This isn’t funny.” her looked at her, not an ilm of his features giving away a single drop of mirth. “I’m not joking, just listen. It’s on the wind, like it’s being carried. I swear on my ax Charlette, it’s a flute. I can’t make-out the tune. Just listen.” and she did, stepping passed Maxim, eyes to the ground and she tried to focus. Elezen were known for their excellent sense of hearing, so it was not a strange situation for them to pick something up before the others, but she heard nothing. Rustle, thump, caw, perhaps the sound of flowing water far, far away from them and a breeze, cold against her sweat-damped skin and… “I hear something!” he was right, there as if carried by the soft wind was the unmistakable tone of a flute being played. It was almost imperceptible, but when she concentrated it grew stronger, the tune was, well “Whoever it is, they can’t be very good.” surprisingly Maxim didn’t even give her a supportive guffaw at her comment. “I’ve never heard anything like that. Not even when the bards are improvising. It sounds like a dying animal, but also like a song that I Just… don’t understand.” Charlette stepped a little closer, still keeping her distance from the edge. “Gods, Maxim, is it coming from the other side of the darkline?” whoever was playing had chosen a terrible place to do so. Unless it was something else. Charlotte’s wondering was cut short however, as a new instrument joined the wailing tones of the flute; a drum. It’s beat was ponderous, with wide gaps between each one as if whoever was playing it was doing so painfully slowly. Thump… thump… thump… Charlette counted each beat with the tap of a finger against her thigh. “Maxim! The drum, do you hear it!” her voice sounded strange, high-pitched and unlike her own. She sounded scared, but she didn’t feel fear. Only the dread she had carried the entire day, the dread that grew now as those branches reached toward her. Maxim said nothing, but the drums grew louder, the flute following its example. Were they marching towards them? She watched the dark passage between the branches, waiting for them come through, a brave band of bards that thought inspiration would be found beyond the known green. But the tune never changed, a melody never appeared, the drums never found their rhythm even as the beat grew faster and louder. It thrummed in her ears, but no one passed through the portal, the only thing that grew was the black shadows that caste longer and longer out toward her. THRUM, THUMP, THRUM, THUMP, thrum, THUMP, THUMP, thrum, thrum, THRUM. “Maxim?” Charlotte’s eyes watered, her ears felt as if they might bleed from the cutting cacophony that rung all around her. But she could feel someone approach from behind her, hear the crack of steps against dry leaves. “Maxim?!” she couldn’t close her eyes, her fingers tapping against her thighs to match the unmatchable clamour of the drums. She couldn’t cease the tapping, the shadows had taken her arms from her. Maxim’s voice followed as she felt a cold chin rest against her shoulder, an icy cheek pressed against hers all while her vision never strayed from the growing black hole that wailed the song that rattled her bones. “We live within you.” the cold hands reached around her waist, pulling her close like they were hugging a spouse, the touch tender and gentle but so cold. “You can burn the house. Kill the patriarch. Forsake the lineage. But you will always be down there with us.” her heart seized, the beat suddenly silent as the drums themselves replaced it. The flute blared like she had her ear to the end of the instrument. The cold binding grip of Maxim was inescapable. Her thoughts of panic, the desperate need to call for help, the screaming animal within howling for her to lash out and run all twisted, faded away. No matter how much she tried to hold onto them, to act on them, it was fruitless. The loud song, the cold touch, and those words repeating over and over in her mind replaced every bit of sense she had of herself, of her place, all of it beaten from existence. Only the song, only the cold, only… “We live within you.” She jerked forward, a blaze of light filling her eyes as the thumping noise of crates banging against the edges of a cart sounded around her. Charlette raised a hand to protect her eyes, Maxim’s voice yelling out next to her. “Hey! Welcome back sleepy head.” he poked his elbow into her side, chuckling as Charlette struggled to orient herself, the cart she sat on jostling her around as it was pulled down the cobbled pathway. “Where are we?” she asked, the relief she felt in hearing her own voice again was pure warmth within her belly. “Nearly back. You nodded off there for a bit and the others finished up before our turn so we just let you nap it out. Poor thing, you look much less grouchy when you’re snoring, dribbling all over yourself. Like this.” and he laid back, snorting loudly with his mouth wide and his tongue out. “I don’t sleep like that.” Maxim giggling and nodding his head in protest. “Yes you do. Like a fancy hog in a skirt!” she swatted at him, Dylan laughing along with Maxim as he watched from inside the cart. The small man clambered over equipment, resting his chin on the edge of the wood panel that she and Maxim leaned against and looked up at Charlette. “Have any good dreams?” she didn’t answer, waving his question away and looking out at the far more comforting and familiar forest around them. Trying to ignore the tuneless thumping ringing in her ears.

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite

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bowieandqueen11 · 5 years

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Stick Together/ Bill Denbrough x Reader

Prompt: Hi there I love you’re writing! ❤️😍 Could you do one with Bill Denbrough where every time he tries to ask the reader out he becomes a stuttering mess until one day he is feeling confident just blurts it out? Basically just lots of fluff. If not that’s okay

Hey @disneyfan567 darling thank you so much!! This is so so cute my little Bill needs so much more fluff :’)

Sitting near the quarry, Bill swings his legs over the rocky cliff edge, peering down at the vast drop that bellows below him like a monster ready to suck him down into the depths, his heart fluctuating and almost as empty as the rugged walls that surround him. He shifts uncomfortably against the stones and sand that prick like millions of little pins against his hands, the sun shining down on this ethereal summer’s day and bouncing on thin rays over his eyes, the warming breeze tingling against the goosebumps of his arms. Richie lies next to him, a thin blade of glass clenched between his teeth as the radio blares next to his ear, slight chuckles erupting from his mouth as he listens to his favourite comedy radio show, reminding Bill of a rusty tuba being played for the first time in years every time Richie guffaws.

Glancing behind him, stray curls from his fringe whip against his widening eyes as he spots you sitting on a rock, gossiping with Beverly, your feet comfortably splaying over each other as you talk animatedly, the blazing blue of the sky illuminating the lines of your bright, free, youthful face as Bill’s heart starts performing back flips. Lost in his daydreams, his eyes trained on focusing on your cherry lips as he raises his arm, squinting, he doesn’t notice Richie sit up, a soft look lining his blank face as he elbows Bill gently in the ribs. As Bill jumps back slightly, confusion furrowing his eyebrows, Richie’s finger reaches up to push his glasses back up the brow of his nose before saying, ‘now’s your chance, Big Bill.’ Swallowing thickly, Bill climbs to his feet, moving towards you as he dusts the dirt off his knees lightly. Stopping in front of you, breaths laboured and hands shaking slightly by his side, he steps back softly as your laughter reaches his ears like the twinkling of little fairy rings.

‘Hey Billy Boy, are you okay?’ you ask with a slight giggle, turning your body away from a winking Bev and twisting to face the boy who looks like he’s either in severe pain, or is about to faint. He sways on the spot slightly, his head light as he begins to stutter out a ‘w-w-wo-wou’. He stops, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head slightly, his hands balling into fists by his side as he hears Richie burst out into light laughter behind him, shouting in his english gentleman voice, ‘get in there, mistah!’ As your soft peals of giggles at Richie’s anticts reach his ears, a slight blush rises up his cheeks like hot lava before he turns on his heel and walks away with a slight wave.

‘You’re standing in millions of gallons of Derry pee.’ Bill ignores Eddie and Richie’s little argument, turning away from Stan’s shaking head and eye roll to focus back on you, overjoyed that you had been the first to eagerly agree to look for Georgie down in the Barrens, his white shirt sticking to his chest in both the summer heat, and swelling nerves. As he drops the stick holding Betty Ripsom’s shoe, his eyes closing slightly in pain as he takes a deep shaking breath, stepping further into the concrete cylinder that seems to be growing smaller with each step, closing in on him like a collapsing tunnel as the high sound of Eddie’s squeals fade away into the safe distance. Hand clawing slightly on his throat, his sneakers splash through the muddy water, wading through the muck to come to rest next to you, his eyes confused at the intense concentration that laces your features as you step further into the darkness. Stepping hesitantly forward, a loud bang makes him jump towards you and entangle his slender fingers quickly within your own, his lips opening as you jump into his hammering chest. As the remnants of a burst red balloon reading ‘WE LOVE DERRY’ fall into the dank brown sludge of the sewer floor like little droplets of blood, his breath brushes against your forehead as he stops to gaze down at you, fingers shaking against your arm as his brain tries to comprehend how close you are to him.

‘Ar-ar-are you al-al-right, y/n’ he says, proud of himself for not stumbling over your name. As you gaze into the darkness, nodding your head slightly in disbelief as you swear you see two glowing eyes fade into the inky black behind the thick steel bars, Bill takes this as a sign to try and ask you ‘would-would you like to g-g-get out of h-’

‘Holy shitballs! Are you guys okay?!’ Bill sighs slowly, his chest deflating as he lets go of your arms, turning to shoot daggers at Richie who runs over to the two of you like a deer learning to walk for the first time, Eddie nearly slamming into his shoulder with a panic stricken look as he comes to a sudden halt. ‘We should get out of here guys! No offence Bill, but it’s summer, this is gross and disgusting and I really don’t feel like going missing two weeks before my Bar Mitzvah’ Stanley shouts from the tunnel entrance. Bill shakes his head lightly, before leading the group out of the sewers.

Silver glides through the streets as quick as a bullet, it’s rusting joints shaking lightly in the inky night with the effort of carrying Bill, it’s wheels bouncing over the slight bumps and dips of the Derry roads, spitting out pieces of gravel as Bill pedals as fast as his lanky legs could move. Gazing up at the stars that bathe his tear stricken face in silver light rippling out into the freezing night, the trees moaning and shaking in the chilly wind like the groans of tormented spirits, Bill moves his feet against the metal until he can’t feel them anymore, trying to forget all the pain that had been brewing up inside his heart. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t deal with being a ghost in his own home, his dad brushing him off anytime he asked if he could help with any electric jobs, or trying to avoid seeing his mother sitting on the edge of Georgie’s bed, his little toy turtle grasped tightly in her hand as the echoes of long lost piano notes of happier times rebound through the silent halls, guilt and pain rising inside his young and innocent frame. It isn’t fair, he’s not a leader, he’s just a scared little child like the rest of the losers club, he shouts into the night, and yet everyone looks to him for guidance, his head screaming, lost and confused as he pedals towards your house. Dumping the bike on the ground, tripping over his shoelaces before picking up soft pebbles and throwing them with surprising certainty towards your window, he waves up at you as your bedside light flicks on.

Pushing his tall frame gently onto your lumpy mattress, fear and confusion written on your face as he gazes around your room, his cheeks flushing slightly as he sees the pictures of you two from the summers before when he felt free and happy tacked to your bed frame, a sudden confidence bubbles down from deep inside him as he realises something. Life isn’t fair, sure he knows that by now, and terrible things happen to good people, but he has to move past all this anger that’s been clouding his judgement and vision for months. He knows now that no matter what happened in the coming weeks, whether he’ll grow up to stay in Derry or, with Pennywise having broken up the group, would grow up at all, he couldn’t do any of it without you by his side for a second longer.

‘He-he thrusts his f-f-fists against the p-p-post.’

‘Are you okay Billy?’

He looks up at you, eyes clouding with soft dew drop tears as he stands up, breathing lightly against your cheek as he whispers quietly, ‘can I kiss you?’

Your face lights up in shock as you nod, your mouth breaking out into a huge grin as he swoops down, his blue eyes sparkling like the limitless sky, the light reflecting like marshmallow clouds puffing by as he holds your waist so lightly and delicately he fears you may disappear from his grasp if he lets go, his lips coming down to press a chaste and sudden kiss against your lips. Pulling back, he cups your cheek gently, his hair straggling down past his forehead flecked with woven gold as you push it away from his eyes, a bliss you haven’t seen from him since Georgie’s death radiating from every fibre of his being as a grin lights up his face.

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