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hansolmates · 4 years

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remote learning (m)

summary; working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two. pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, slightly insecure mc, this is pure FILTH—use of a remote controlled vibrator, do not and i repeat DO NOT try foreplay during a zoom call in the event u get fired im not responsible, phone sex, jungkook’s a meanie in control, cum eating, doggy, and topping it off with some sweet missionary bc jk has purty eyes, unprotected (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 5.7k a/n; this fic manifested bc of work. and i!! am!! frustrated!! i think we all need a lil jk relief so here it goes! as always ty to @chillingtae / @eerieedits for this FANTASTIC fic banner, please go check vivi out if u have taste okok part 2: distance learning drabbles; 01

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“Tomorrow morning, same time at 9AM. Remember to have your reports alphabetized and itemized,” your supervisor says, but the only thing you can focus on is the abnormal amount of bonsai plants in his living room.

“Alright now it’s time for the union to talk COVID protocol,” you frown when Mr. Kim moves ownership of the Zoom call to your union rep, who pulls up a Powerpoint. You feel your eyes burn at the sight: an itinerary containing over thirty-eight slides.

“For fuck’s sake—”

You so desperately want to turn off the camera and flop in your bed. Since working remotely you haven’t been operating in the most ideal of workspaces. You live in a one-room apartment with a communal kitchen downstairs, so you really only have four square meters to stretch your limbs around between breaks. You’ve pushed your bed aside and shoved an office chair between the bed and the wall, leaving you to squirm between ten centimeters of space. You have no desk because well, the little rectangle space is prioritized for your portable stove and meals.

The meeting drones on for another hour, until your brain melts to liquid and your limbs feel like Jell-O. Furthering your anxiety as they talk about protocol that never ends up happening, delays that continue to pile up, and the anger that’s been bubbling between the higher ups and little goldfish employees like you.

When you finally shut off the camera and fling your laptop under the bed, you still feel unsettled. Probably because your work life and home life have merged together, and it’s hard for you to separate work and pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure.

Your hand blindly reaches under your bed, looking for the pretty pink oval you purchased last week. Cleaned and ready to use, the little remote-controlled vibrator sits plainly in your palm.

Needless to stay you’ve been in a bit of a dry spot these past few months. With a fear to go out and meet someone new, you’ve been left with yourself and your fantasies. That’s fine, but lately your old vibrator isn’t cutting it. It’s unfortunate, you think you’re messing up your libido by buying toy after toy, but you’re horny and lonely.

Linking your phone’s app to the remote, you ignore the messages that have been beeping your feed since early morning.

[11:21] Jeon: let’s do lunch!

[11:23] Jeon: hehe i feel like i belong in mean girls. Do lunch💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️

[2:20] Jeon: u loozer. Come eat dinner with us upstairs @6

[2:24] Jeon: dropping off a snack for u

Another element of feeling horny and lonely? Jeon Jungkook.

You two shouldn’t have even met each other. You live off crumbs on the first floor while he and his roommates are livin’ it up on top in the penthouse. One day a few months ago he crashed into you while working out, having run up and down the whole flight of stairs at least three times before deciding to collapse on you between the second and first floor.

Despite the black mask that hugged his sharp jawline, you had felt nothing but attractiveness ooze off of him. Under his hoodie was nothing but curved muscle. He smelled so soft and sweet despite the fact that he was damp with sweat.

The rest is history. After that day he seemed to show up everywhere, jogging more prominently on your floor and doing exercises at your level’s gym. He says he likes you, likes your company. He’s wormed his way intermittently, whether he’s seeing you struggle with an armful of groceries or when he hears you screaming over an Among Us match (according to Jungkook, the walls are thinner on the bottom floors.)

The idea of Jungkook doting on you doubly frustrates you. He seemingly appears as the perfect man, unaffected by the stresses of the world. Jungkook’s job lets him work from home anyway, and he definitely had enough room in the penthouse for his own office. He works out, probably has a girlfriend and enough friends for you to gradually phase out of this weird neighbor interest.

So you ignore his seemingly harmless messages, focusing on getting the settings right on the vibrator. You feel your pussy jolt a little in excitement, watching the silver and pearl pink oval shake in your grasp. You smile a bit to yourself, immediately finding your iPad for your favorite videos and some pillows to support your back.

Half an hour later however, that excitement soon goes sour.

“Fuck,” you bite your lip, frustrated tears streaming down your face, “fuck fuck fuck!”

This isn’t a set of explicatives out of pleasure, unfortunately.

No matter what you do, you won’t cum. You can’t cum. Barely wet, hardly a drop glossing your folds. You don’t even want to bother getting out the lube at this point because you are so disappointed.

The vibrator is going at the highest setting, one that your neighbors can probably hear if they were home at this time of the day. You cease to care at this point, because the job is undone because you haven’t come undone.

You don’t know why this is happening. Maybe it’s because you’ve had the liberty to touch yourself in complete silence, now that your neighbors have been confined to their homes indefinitely. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve relied only on your touch, that your body is tired of the monotony and needs more.

You bang the heels of your feet against your flimsy mattress, feeling whiny and utterly dissatisfied. Pulling the vibrator from your clit, you glare at the infuriating toy.

“You’re supposed to be helping me out of my dry spell,” you chastise, throwing the toy across the bed, sliding onto the carpet, “I get you’re not Jeon’s dick, but you gotta help a sister out.”

With a sigh, you fall into a bout of exhaustion. Not from a round of orgasms, but from the week’s stress and no way to let it out.

You wake up bleary and disoriented, practically melding through the mattress. The sky is pink and blue, washed in a sea of corals and purples. It comes from the incessant banging.

“Stop it,” you whine more to yourself than whoever dares to disturb your sleep, pulling up your panties and a pair of navy dolphin-trim shorts. “Whoever you are I’m comin’ so stop!”

Swinging the door open in two strides you’re met with a chipper Jeon Jungkook; looking all cute and sweet in his big hoodie and smelling like a rosebud.

“It’s 6:30,” he narrows his eyes playfully at you, “dinner’s in the oven.”

“You left your oven on,” you deadpan, turning around to grimace at the mess that’s your one-room apartment.

“Yes, so we have exactly ten minutes before my kitchen explodes in flames,” Jungkook chirps, closing the door behind you.

You don’t even bother to tell him to excuse the mess, ignore the pile of bras hanging on your vanity and the unpacked groceries that sit at the edge of your mini-fridge. It’s far too late to salvage your dignity and Jungkook’s too damn polite to call you out on your state of slob. Although, as you pull out a bottle of wine tucked in the back of your fridge you blurt, “I can hear your fingers tingling to clean up my mess.”

When you turn around Jungkook stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, supposedly to stop himself from cleaning up. With a pout he says, “Can’t help it, Jimin says I’m currently manifesting a strong display of Virgo energy this month. Whatever that means.”

Jabbing your feet in a pair of slides you follow Jungkook out the door. The hallways are quiet and barren, yet the silence isn’t suffocating as you two pile into the elevator. Jungkook opens the keypad underneath the regular boring buttons, revealing a sleek little set of light-up buttons that have the code to the penthouse. Faaaannnnccy.

“Tryna look?” he jokes, cupping his hands to block your vision.

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s something easy like 0000.”

“You’re wrong. It’s 1234,” he replies cheekily.

The door dings open and you’re met with yet another door. Jungkook presses his thumb to the biometric scanner, and a pleasant ringer tings in response.

The penthouse smells like a mix of tonight’s dinner, savory, combined with a cinnamon apple candle. Jungkook is a fan of scented candles, ever since he got a whiff of your lavender vanilla burner.

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, more out of your own anxiousness than anything. Taehyung’s your buffer, the hyper roommate being someone to distract you from Jungkook’s incessant aura.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, flicking on the oven light to peer inside. You see the telltale signs of a mean lasagna, the shredded cheese on top crisping to a delicious-looking golden brown, “anyway, you’re my friend first.”

As grotesque as it sounds, Jungkook always finds his way to worm his way under your skin and find homage there. “Possessive much?” you quirk a brow, folding your arms over your chest even though there’s nothing to hide.

“What can I say,” Jungkook’s legs stretch out as he squats down to your level, “I really fell for you.”

“Gross,” you try to convince yourself, ignoring the thudding in your chest, “you technically fell on me, weirdo.”

Dinner is a quick affair. He cuts slices of lasagna and brings it to the couch, where you’re pouring glasses of wine in crystal glasses. They’re so clean and shiny you can see your reflection in the gold liquid. You grimace at the bottle, normally this would be poured in a mug or your sippy cup, tonight your liquid’s getting a high-end pour.

You two pull up an old anime to fill up the room, but most of it is spent in playful banter. Jungkook prattles on about his day, showing you all the cool updates he’s achieved during work. An app developer. A very on-brand, lucrative job for him. You love your job but it isn’t nearly as exciting as Jungkook’s, so you just let yourself be supportive and ask questions when needed.

When the subject of you comes up, you shake your head and stuff your face with another cut of al dente pasta.

“Not interestin’ Jeon,” you mumble, groaning at how delicious his cooking is. What can’t he do? “Is this oregano? Is the secret ingredient toasted oregano—”

“You’re deflecting.”

Your shoulders slump, “I’m not very interesting, I tell you everything I do during the week and nothing has changed since March.”

“Oh, not everything,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You furrow your brows as his hands stuff themselves in his hoodie pocket. Is he upset you won’t tell him about your work stress? “And you’re very interesting, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah?” a small smile tugs on your lips. You sink further into his cottonball of a couch, feeling utterly soft and meldable at his words.

“Very,” Jungkook gets up from the couch, looking down at you, “want something sweet?”

The prospect of dessert has you excited. Jungkook really is the perfect man, so kind and knows exactly when you’re craving something for your sweet tooth. You move to get up, only for you to sink further between the two large cushions of the loveseat. “Help me, ’m stuck,” you pout.

Jungkook giggles, and holds out his palm, “Hand,” he says simply.

You immediately reach for his larger palm, and you gasp when you feel something cold and soft touch your palm. As if you’ve been burned, you tug your hand back. But Jungkook’s hand is massive, the large ink-painted palm curling around your own, and it’s almost painful the way he clutches your hand so fiercely.

When he’s sure you’re not going to drop it, he releases your hand.

Nestled in your palm, is the new vibrator you left on the carpet this afternoon.

“Jeon,” you laugh tonelessly, hating the way Jungkook’s neutral expression mocks you, “you found my USB? Thanks, I know—”

“Know that you’re having a hard time coming?” Carefully extracting your plate from your lap, he places it on the coffee table before Jungkook cages you between the couch. You shrink further into the plush seat, “I tried being a good neighbor, but you didn’t answer my texts. I heard you when I tried dropping off some snacks before dinner. Didn’t know you were into toys.”

“Oh, c’mon Jeon. It’s 2020 and we’re confined,” well, in this scenario you’re confined, “everyone has a sex toy.”

“Hm, I don’t have one,” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, “so, can you be my toy?”

Fuck.

It’s then that you feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. Your eyes widen, innocently surprised at the fact that Jeon Jungkook contained so much power in so few words. You snap your legs shut immediately, sealing any possibility of you dripping down your panties.

“I heard how disappointed you were, doll,” his arms have no problems as he bends down so he’s eye-level with your crotch, “it was pathetic, really. You couldn’t even cum on your own? You need someone to help you?”

“N-no,” you cross your arms defensively, frowning, “you–you’re being mean, Jeon.”

“And what, you’re gonna cry about it?” Jungkook smirks, now sitting on his knees. His hands run over the velvety fabric of the couch, making a beeline for your thighs. Gooseflesh rises to the surface, and he immediately presses down to iron out the little bumps that travel across your skin, “I do wanna make you cry, but not because you can’t cum. You’ll cry because of how good I’m gonna make you feel.”

You gape, clutching the vibrator in your hand.

A little bit of your sweet, cute Jungkook resurfaces, softening when he notices your lack of response, “If you’ll let me, of course.”

You finally drag the words from your throat, “I-it’s been a long time since I’ve… been with someone.”

He tilts his head, “Same here. I just figured we could break that spell together.”

What are you going to say? No? A dishonor to your sexuality, that would be. Jungkook’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and even though you do wish it was a little more you’ll take the sex.

You nod, forgetting to speak again. Jungkook chuckles.

“I want to hear you say it, doll.”

Doll. Like you’re his little fucktoy, malleable and bendable to all his whims. Fuck, why is that so hot to you? “Yes, I want to have sex with you,” you declare, your voice sounding more breathy than confident, “a-and, you can be mean. If you want.”

His thumbs press little light indents in your skin, over and over as if fascinated by the way your skin is so soft and gummy in his grip. “Okay,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, jabbing a few things that you don’t see, “let’s do a little test drive, then.”

In seconds, the little egg vibrates in your touch. He puts it on the lowest setting, a soft buzz echoing in the large living room, then at a bruising pace that forces you to curl your fingers around it otherwise it’d fall. Your eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s, who’s focusing entirely on the way the pink and silver egg moves, dilated in interest.

“Fuck, and you thought this thing was broken?” he asks, taking it out of your palm and turning off the app.

“Maybe I’m the broken one,” you admit softly, wringing your shirt.

Silence seeps. Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed as if he’s annoyed. “Don’t ever say that,” when you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, and you gasp when he forces you to look at him, “you’re not broken, doll. Everyone’s body is different, and we’re going to discover yours together. Got it?”

“Y-yes,” you reply immediately, mesmerized by his seriousness.

“Good,” he slaps the vibrator back in your palm, “and in case you’re wondering, this goes inside.”

“I know how it works,” you scowl, “but won’t you show me, just in case?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook gets up for good, piling the dishes in his arms and walking to the sink. You immediately miss his warmth, “but I think patience is a virtue. I have a developer meeting with some clients in America a little bit, actually. So just wait for my call, yeah?”

You frown, looking down at the vibrator in your hands. How much longer would you have to wait?

It happens at exactly three in the afternoon the next day, at the start of your staff meeting. You’re so tired of the same information being thrown back and forth, coupled with Brian and Jae having to fight over some mundane subject in the itinerary that no one cares about. For goodness sake, it’s Friday! What else would you possibly need to be meeting about?

You’re wearing a button-down dress shirt on top, no pants on the bottom. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood floor, antsy. It’s been a long day at work and your back hurts, you’re half tempted to dip out of this meeting and hope no one notices.

Your phone buzzes on your bed, and you blanch.

[3:01] Jeon: thanks for waiting, doll. It’s time

[3:01] Jeon: put it in

Shamelessly, your vibrator sits next to your phone, cleaned and ready to go.

[3:02] Jeon: need help? Answer my call

Making sure that your Zoom call is muted, you quickly answer the incoming phone call. Jungkook and you say nothing at first, waiting. The phone just ticks with the amount of time passing, one minute, two minutes, and so on.

Mr. Kim drones unknowingly, “So when we do return to live instruction, expect a strict process when returning. PPE must be enforced so our response team will—”

“How wet were you last night when you went home?” Jungkook asks languidly, speaking over your boss’ voice.

Your eyes widen, flickering back and forth between the phone and the camera displaying Mr. Kim’s boring speech.

“Doll, are you hard of hearing?”

“N-no,” your lips barely move, eyes glued to the camera and plastering an expressionless face, “I heard you.”

“Then give me an answer,” he says patiently, “how wet were you?”

“Very wet.”

“Little more detail.”

“Soaking wet,” you flush, thankful that your work laptop can only stream in 360p. “I haven’t gotten that wet in such—such a long time. My pussy was practically clinging to my underwear when I washed up that night.”

A heady, heavy groan resonates through your phone. You feel that voice straight into your panties, jolting the nerves awake.

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, “c’mon, touch yourself for me. Swirl your fingers around your clit, slowly.”

It takes a second for you to position yourself, spreading your legs in a way that your coworkers don’t question why you’re moving so much. A quick scan over all the tired faces says that you’re okay. Shyly, you press your fingers against your clit, doing as he says.

“Oh,” you say more to yourself than him, feeling the wetness already coating your fingers. This is earlier than usual.

“What?”

“I’m already wet,” you say, amazed, “I haven’t gotten wet this quickly in a long time.”

He scoffs, “If you’re so wet now, shove it in.”

You frown. You did tell him to be mean. But the idea of him telling you what to do, giving you all the porn-worthy experiences to accomplish has you relenting. Discreetly grabbing the egg from the bed, you bring it down to your panties. Swirling the cold metal around your clit, you coat it in your juices.

It’s still a little too early to be putting anything in, but you can take it. Slowly relaxing, you slip the little egg in your pussy, wiggling it a little to make sure it’s secure. It’s a strange sort of pressure, and it pokes against your clit from the inside, but you enjoy the stretch.

“It’s in,” you reply softly.

“Good.”

You wait. You listen to Jae make yet another speech about the importance of masks and gloves, and then Brian has to interject and say that gloves are literally useless because they spread germs around no matter what. Even though everyone else is muted, you can practically feel the misery seeping through the screen. For a second you almost forget about Jungkook on the line. Why isn’t Mr. Kim stopping them? This is the thin line stopping you from the weekend, unbelievable!

“Eep!” you jolt in your cheap seat, the egg buzzing in your pussy. Your hands fly out, gripping the edges of your computer.

It hits different when Jungkook is in control. Knowing that with a flick of his thumb he can have you careening, whining for more or less depending on how hard he wants you go. Your folds hug the egg, nestling it a fleshy grip as it brushes against your clit the more you squirm.

“You look so pretty, trying so hard to hold in your moans,” Jungkook says wondrously from the other line.

“W-what?” you frown, “you can see me?”

And immediately, you go to your trackpad to fish between the hundred-and-one employees also in this call. At the very end, you see a very simple name with no mic or camera: Jeon JK. He’s here.

“Worked in IT, doll. Know a thing or two,” he says, “now, tell me. What are you thinking about right now?”

“Y-you,” you mumble shyly.

“So,” Mr. Kim finally ends that part of the meeting, thank goodness, “what’s everyone’s plans this weekend? I’m going apple picking with a couple of my friends from college. Hoseok is a bright bean who loves to take long walks—”

What the hell. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat, hyperaware that Jungkook’s watching your every move. You make glossy, stubborn eyes at the camera, trying not to move when he jacks up the vibrator to a higher setting.

Jae’s of course the next employee to unmute his microphone, “Well, me and the bae are going house hunting…”

“Fuck!” you cry, moving the computer to the left so you can pretend you’re picking up something. But in fact you're leaning your head against your mattress, frustrated. “I don’t fucking care about your weekend plans, Jae! Shut the fuck up! You wanna know my weekend plans?” Jungkook’s laughing at you from the other line, but it only spurs you on, “my plans are fucking my super hot neighbor! He’s a hundred times more interesting than you and he’s going to make me come a hundred times this weekend—oh fuck!”

Your fingers latch onto your panties, drawing random squiggles and letters between the fabric. You’re damp, soaked to the core. You need some sort of friction, a reprieve from this hellish week.

“You flatter me, doll,” Jungkook is definitely grinning through the phone, you can practically hear his shit-eating grin, “I think you deserve a reward. As soon as you put the camera back on your pretty face.”

Quickly, you sit up to put the camera on you again. Once again, the employees are in a daze, listening to whatever the next person gabs about their weekend. Even though you can’t really see it, you’re sure Jungkook has a 1080p camera upstairs that shows off your blotchy face. You moan a little bit, lips closed as the egg buzzes against your pussy lips.

“You’re so cute, doll,” Jungkook praises, “you look so professional, holding it in. What could I do to make you unravel? Hm, what if you imagined the taste of my cock on your lips? Fuck, I’d love to slap your cute little face with my cock, baby doll–”

“y/n?” Mr. Kim calls your name, and you freeze, “what about you? Any plans this weekend?”

Jungkook doesn’t sound angry that your boss has inadvertently cut him off. “Answer him, doll. Be a good little employee.”

Like a zombie, you move towards the unmute button. “I–I uh,” you shake your head, trying to formulate a coherent response, “I’m going on a date this weekend.”

Jungkook jacks up the vibrator to high, and your legs are shaking.

“Awh, a date!” Mr. Park unmutes himself, practically shoving the camera in his face, “how much do you like the lucky lad or lady?”

“I like him uh—ah—” you pretend to think, covering a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you feel your orgasm fast approaching, “I like him a lot!” you finally blurt, “I’m, uh, really excited to see him.”

“Best of luck to you,” Mr. Kim says brightly, “so Jimin, any news on those investors you had dinner with this weekend? I heard a lot of positive things…”

You immediately mute your mic, and pretend to lag as you fumble around with the camera. Shoving the laptop to the side once more you groan into your sheets, “Fuck—fuck yes—” you moan, shaking your head as you dip your fingers into your panties. The vibrator still continues at its bruising pace, spurring you to a high you haven’t peaked to in months.

“Good job,” Jungkook says simply, “could barely notice that you have a little helper fiddling around your dripping pussy.”

“J-Jeon,” you cry, “I’m, ’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook eggs you on, “you’re gonna cum around that cute little vibrator? Gonna soak it in your juices?”

“W-wish it was your cock I was soaking,” you whisper truthfully, letting your orgasm take you at the thought. Your folds flutter around the vibrator, bringing you to a level of sensitivity you’ve only dreamt of, “Ah, yes, Jeon. It feels s-so good!”

“Yes baby,” Jungkook groans through the line, “feels good, huh?”

Mr. Kim interrupts for the last time, “And with that, I think our meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful weekend! Stay safe and—”

You slam the laptop shut, grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going up,” you mutter impatiently, already jabbing your feet in a pair of slippers and locking the door to your apartment behind you.

“I’m waiting,” he replies, eagerness trimming his voice.

“Password?” you ask quickly, jabbing the elevator door shut once you step inside. Thank goodness you’re alone, you think as you pull your dress shirt further down your ass.

“Did you forget already?” he teases, “I told you, it’s 1234.”

Thankfully, the doors zip you up straight to the penthouse. The connection is always a little spotty in elevators, and you sigh longingly when you feel the buzz jolt and leave it’s momentum, quickly losing its rhythm between your dripping folds. Once you get to the top and the elevator doors open the second door immediately swings open, revealing a soft but aroused-looking Jungkook. He looks fresh from the shower, absolutely radiant and delicious looking.

You don’t hesitate to run up to him, and Jungkook immediately cups his face in your hands, pressing his lips to yours.

You’re practically on your tippy-toes, and you squeak against his lips when he hooks his arms around your shoulders, immediately lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, not wanting to stop kissing him. He’s like the sweetest ambrosia, a taste you can’t get enough of.

The connection to your vibrator has resumed, and you can’t help but grind helplessly under Jungkook’s clothed abs as he carries the both of you to his bedroom.

“N-need you to fuck me,” you bury your head in the crook of his neck, pressing quick kisses to his jawline, “I want you s-so badly.”

“Hello to you too,” he husks, shutting the bedroom door with his foot.

Jungkook drops you unceremoniously, and your limbs splay out on the fresh bedsheets of his feather-soft mattress.

“You look gorgeous like this, doll.” he sighs longingly, a hand going under your buttondown to press against your soaked panties. His hand lingers on the way your pussy moves in tandem with the vibrator.

“J-Jeon please I can’t take it—”

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, hands leaving your skin.

You whine at the loss of contact, “Jeon, no. Jungkook. Kook, my Kook. Please, I need you.”

That gets him going. His pretty chocolate brown eyes zero in on you, and he immediately shucks off his shirt and sweatpants, “How much do you need me?” he asks, pulling out his phone and pressing some buttons, “how much do you need your Kook?”

The vibrator stops. You cry out in frustration, unsure if it’s because it’s off or because Jungkook’s taking too damn long. “I need you so much, Kook,” you warble with a pout, moving to undo the top buttons of your dress shirt to reveal your cleavage, “honey, you can have me all you want later today. I want you to slap my face with your dick, edge me until I cry, anything. I’m all yours, I’m your little doll. But please for now, I need to feel you inside me.”

“Say no more,” his lips latch onto your neck, and you sigh at the skin-to-skin contact. His hand fiddles under your shirt, clutching a breast and slapping it so hard it bounces back and forth, “fuck, you’re so pretty.”

His hand moves to your plain cotton panties, immediately shucking them off, “doll, you really are dripping,” he’s impressed, surprised when he has to untack the fabric from your glossy legs. He hangs the panties on his wooden headboard, a little ornament for him to jack off to later.

His fingers brush over your folds, wasting no time to slip the vibrator out. He holds it between your faces, forcing you to stare at the pearly substance that coats the entirety of the egg. “Mm, tasty tasty,” he cooes, pink tongue darting out to lick a long strip across the oval.

You tug him closer, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes a mixture of his own saliva and your arousal, and you grind helplessly against him. You feel how big his cock is, rock-hard and trying very diligently not to bust. He must have a crazy amount of control, and it drives you nuts.

“Kook,” you frown, bumping your crotch with his.

“Impatient, good thing I am too,” he shucks off his boxers while you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “knees and hands, doll.”

You don’t care how or what way he’ll take you. Fuck, he could bend you into an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and you’d comply.

Arching your back so your ass is in the air, you wiggle around, hoping he’ll take the bait. That’s when you sigh, feeling the tip of his dick brush against your wetness.

“Soaking my cock already, baby,” he says, “you’re so good to me.”

And finally, finally, he slips in. You don’t even care that it stretches you a little too far and too long, it’s been too damn long since you’ve had decent dick and Jungkooks far more than decent.

He goes at a quick pace, finally showing how impatient he’s been all this time. Your moans and groans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls to the brim. You hold a pillow to your chest, feeling woozy at the way his fat cock stretches you out.

“F-fuck yeah,” the pace is hard, you practically feel it in your belly, and you love it. “You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he’s all up in your ear, kissing the lobe briefly, “I love the way you suck my cock back in.”

“Kook,” you press your ass back, “harder, please. I’m your little doll, right? Y-you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want! Please, ah—! Use me!”

You cry out when he slips from your folds, immediately flipping you on your back. He wastes no time to wet his dick, lifting one leg over his shoulder to have you deeper. This position is far more intimate, and your noses are practically touching as he thrusts into you.

You can’t believe you’re in bed with Jeon Jungkook. This must be a dream, a really great, really long wet dream. You crumble in his grip, and you lift a shaky hand to run through his thick black strands.

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” you cry, staring right into his glittering eyes, “why couldn’t you come for me after your call last night?”

“Why’d I make you wait?” he grits, crushing the flesh between your hip bones so he can have more leverage to pound into you, “why did you make me wait? Since March, I’ve wanted you. I told you I liked you, told you I fell for you.”

“T-thought it was a joke,” you warble pathetically, breasts bouncing at his relentless rhythm.

“You think th-this is a joke?” for further emphasis, he glides slower, making you feel just how large and thick he is against your folds, “I want you, doll. Y-yeah, fu-fuck. Want to feed you every day, feed you lasagna, feed you with my cum, make you happy.”

“I—I want that too, Kook,” you’re a pile of pink mush, and you feel your eyes prick from the overwhelming emotions that have washed over both of you. “Sh-shit, Kook. I think, I think I’m gon’ cum again.”

“Good, you first,” his hand plays figure 8s with your precious pearl, seeping with arousal and coating his cock in delicious lubrication.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. You’re holding him as tight as you can, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Jungkook cums shortly after, and you keen at the sensitivity when his hot cum coats your walls. “Baby doll,” he exhales, thrusting lazily. The both of you feel your combined arousal drip between the two of you, onto your skin and onto his sheets, “y-you’re amazing.”

His softened cock slips out of you, and his hands immediately reach over to swirl around the heady cream over your engorged pussy. You moan when he brings his fingers to your lips, “Open, doll.”

It tastes salty yet sweet, and you suckle around his finger with a cute little pop. Jungkook grins brightly, feeling like he won the lottery.

“Are my walls that thin?” you pout, pressing closer to him when he pulls the blankets to your chest.

“Very,” Jungkook nods with a chuckle, tucking the two of you in, “now get some rest, doll. You presented a lot of offers to me earlier, and I intend to go through with them.”

You smile into his chest, melty and feeling utterly sated.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #goldenclosetnet #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook humor #bts fic #jungkook fic

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onechicagofanfics · 3 years

Text

Andy’s Sister ; Kelly Severide x Reader

.Chapter 13.

Severide’s sitting on his bed in his quarters when he pulls out his phone.

He dials his ex fling Anna’s number feeling like he has no choice. He’s in pain and she’s a pharmaceutical rep who could get him what he needs. It goes straight to voicemail, “Anna, hey, it’s Kelly Severide. Sorry I haven’t called you back sooner. I changed cell phone numbers, and it was a big hassle. Anyway, look forward to hearing from you. Um, give me a call back when you have a chance.”

He hangs up the phone and lays down on his bed as Darden walks through the door. “Hey.” He says, trying to hide the pain in his voice. “Matt went to Voight’s office today.” She says angry and worried. “He’s making it worse. He thinks he can handle it on his own.”

Severide runs his hand through his hair. “Shut the shades and come lay here with me.” He says. She rolls the shades down, kicks off her shoes and lays on the tight twin bed with him. He rests one hand on her belly and uses the other to rub his shoulder.

“Here.” She says as she moves his hand on his shoulder and replaces it with her own. She gently massages it giving Severide much needed relief.

“I hope it’s a girl,” he says quietly. “Really?” She asks quietly, their faces close together. “Yeah, I've always wanted a daughter.” She kisses his forehead and her heart melts thinking about him with a daughter.

Just as he’s starting to feel a little better, the alarm sounds. He groans and rolls his eyes.

“Squad 3. Truck 94. Construction accident. 6248 South Francisco.” he sits up and climbs off the bed.

“Be safe.” Darden says and gets a kiss on the forehead from him. He stumbles out of his quarters trying to put his boots on while walking. She shuts the door behind him and decides to take a nap.

After a hard call, his shoulder is killing him.

He opens his locker after lashing out at Vargas. He goes through his bag hoping some sort of medication would just appear. When he doesn’t find anything, he pulls out his phone and calls Anna again. He’s desperate. But the call goes straight to voicemail again. “Hey, Anna, it’s Kelly again. Listen, I really need you to call me back. If I don’t answer, you can just leave me a message. I’ll get back to you. Thanks.”

He hangs up the phone and sets it on the chair. He decides to take a shower for some temporary relief. He brings a chair in with him and sits under the running hot water.

The shift ends and Luci is home watching reruns of Friends and eating cookie dough ice cream out of the container. Kelly said he needed to go out and get some ibuprofen so she asked him to get more ice cream while he’s at the store.

Kelly wasn’t being honest with her though. He finally got a call back from Anna and he’s going to meet her.

He walks into the bar and sits next to her after giving her a side hug. “I about died when your name came up on my phone.” She says, turning toward him. “Yeah? Well, I’m glad you didn’t.” He jokes. “Are you still fighting fires?” She asks. “Yeah, most of the time.”

“We were good together. Am I right?” She says. “Yeah, sure. We had our moments..for a while.” He says, trying to be careful with his words. “The coat room at The Drake.” She reminds him while tussling her hair. “The coat room at The Drake,” He repeats with a chuckle, “Definitely a moment.” She looks at him with lust in her eyes.

“I have a favor to ask you, Anna.” He admits. “I knew there was gonna be a catch.” She says, putting her drink down. “I’m staying at the Peninsula. Conference B.S. for the next three days. Pick a night, and ask me for your favor then.” “I-I can’t. Listen, I got hurt on the job and I just need something to help me out.” She stands up and whispers in his ear. “Pick a night.” She kisses his cheek, grabs her bag, and walks away with her hips swaying from side to side.

He runs his hands through his hair, not knowing what to do.

Kelly returns back to the apartment.

“Hey, babe.” Luci says from the couch. “I just finished this ice cream, can you bring me the new one?” She asks. “Oh um I uh I forgot it. I’m sorry.” He says as he walks toward her. She turns around, “What?” There’s disappointment in her voice.

He sits next to her. “Did you get ibuprofen?” She asks, seeing nothing in his hands. He looks at her, he didn’t think this through. She looks closely at his face seeing a red tint on his cheek. She looks closely and rubs her thumb over the mark on his cheek. She knows she doesn’t wear red lipstick.

“What?” He asks, confused. “Kelly Severide, don’t you dare make a fool out of me.” She says and storms upstairs. He quickly gets up and goes to the downstairs bathroom. He looks in the mirror and sees the red lipstick mark on his cheek from Anna. “Fuck!” He yells and hits the wall.

He quickly runs upstairs and goes to open the bedroom door, but it’s locked. “Luic, let me in. I can explain.” He hears nothing back. “Luci, please. Listen, I just - I called her and met with her ‘cause she’s a pharmaceutical rep and I thought she could help me get something for my arm. Luci, you know I would never cheat on you.” Luci swings the door open with a bag in her hand and her shoes on. She walks right past him, but he grabs her arm.

“Let go of me, Kelly.”

“Where are you going?” He asks. “I’m going to stay at my apartment tonight.” “Luci, you know you can’t go back to your apartment.” “I’d rather be there than lay in a bed with you tonight.” She says, pulling her arm away from him. “I’ll sleep on the sofa or something. Just stay. Please.” He begs.

She huffs and walks back into the bedroom. She grabs an extra blanket and pillow and hands them to him. “I am pregnant and this is supposed to be one of the happiest times of my life. I cannot handle everything that is going on.” She says shutting the door and locking it.

She lays down on the bed and lets the tears fall from her eyes.

Why is this all happening to me? She wonders.

When Luci wakes up, she puts on her slippers and opens the door to go downstairs and get breakfast. But when she opens the door she sees Kelly sitting there looking like he hadn’t moved all night.

He looks up at her with red puffy eyes. She breaks and sits down next to him. “Nothing happened.” He says softly. “I know.” She says. She does believe him, she’s just disappointed.

“It’ll never happen again.” He says. She nods, “I know.” “I’ll get it figured out.” She nods again and stands up.

“Let’s go make breakfast.” She says and he stands up and follows her downstairs. Kelly starts the bacon while Luci starts the eggs. She hears her phone go off. “Scrambled or fried, babe?” She asks as she walks over to see who texted her. “Fried.”

She opens the message from Hallie. Matt was jumped yesterday. I don’t know what to do. Luci sighs.

“What’s up?” Kelly asks. “It’s Hallie. Matt was jumped yesterday.” “Are you serious?” He asks. “That’s what she says.” Kelly wraps his around her from behind. “Maybe we should take a few days off and just get out of town for a little.” “I can’t leave if I have to testify.” He sighs, knowing she’s right. “After?” She asks and turns around in his arms. “Promise.” He says and kisses her.

His hands slide down to her butt and he picks her up and sits her on the counter. “Turn off the stove.” She says and he quickly turns it off before returning back to her. She wraps her legs around his waist as he kisses down her neck. She lets out a soft moan.

“Wait,” She says, stopping him, “Where’s Leslie?” “She’s at Corinne’s. Don’t worry.” He says and continues kissing down her body. He pushes her back down onto the counter and pulls off her satin sleep shorts.

Kelly and Luci lay on the sofa together in their underwear with a blanket over them. Luci’s head is planted safely on his chest and his arm is wrapped around her shoulders while the other is on her belly.

“I love you.” He says softly. She looks up at him and pecks his lips. “I love you more.”

The Firehouse

Shay and Darden get called out for a head injury. “How are you and Severide?” Shay asks. Darden shrugs her shoulders. “I’m just worried about him.” She says. She nods understanding her fears.

Shay pulls the backboard out of the back of the ambo.

“What’s his name?” Darden asks the teenagers as they walk to the kid on the ground. “What the hell difference does it make?” Another kid yells at them. They’re outside of a warehouse on an abandoned industrial lot.

“His name’s Vince. Fix him!” The kid yells as he stumbles away.

“Vince, can you hear me?” Darden asks. “Alright, if you can hear me, don’t move, blink twice.” Shay says. He blinks twice ”C-collar.” “What happened?” Darden asks trying to get a better idea of the situation. “He was in the cart and rode it down the ramp,” the kid says pointing to the shopping cart on its side, “we flipped, he hit first.”

Darden wraps the c-collar around his neck. “You’re something, huh?” She asks, “What are you on?” “You need to shut up!” He yells. “Fix him. Not me.” Darden laughs to herself and they roll him onto the backboard.

They get him on the gurney and slide him into the back of the ambulance. Darden climbs in the back. “We’ll see you at the hospital. Lakeshore.”

“I’m going with him.” The kid says. “No, you’re not.” Darden responds as she begins to pull the doors closed. “This ain’t up to you lady.” He says approaching her, but she sticks her foot out and kicks the kid to the ground. His friends laugh and he stumbles to his feet.

“On behalf of the Paramedics Association of America, I offer my sincerest apologies for the forceful actions I exhibited here today.”

He tries to run to her again, but she shuts the doors in his face and Shay speeds off.

Shay and Darden return and Darden excuses herself and goes to sit out on the bench in front of the driveway. She pulls out her phone and finds Heather’s name in her contacts. They haven’t talked in a month, since the barbecue.

Luci’s feelings were still raw from the things Heather said, but since she got caught up and announced her pregnancy to everyone, she figures she needs to tell Heather herself before she hears it from someone else.

She presses call and holds the phone to her ear. The line rings multiple times before her answering machine picks up. Luci isn’t surprised. She tried to call her about two weeks prior and had the same problem.

“Hey, Heather. It’s me, Luci. I just, um, I wanted to see if you were maybe free for dinner or coffee sometime soon. There’s something I wanted to tell you...in person, before you hear it from someone else.” Luci sighs, “Anyway, give me a call back when you have a chance. Um, love you.”

Heather and Luci were thick as thieves before Andy’s death. Ever since Andy and Heather started dating, Luci loved her. She always knew Heather was the perfect match for Andy.

She hangs up the phone and makes her way into the firehouse. “Hey, Severide?” She asks, walking up to her boyfriend sitting at the Squad table. He looks up at her, “Yeah?” “Can we talk for a second?” She asks. He nods and gets up and follows her to the other side of the garage. “What’s up?” He asks as he leans against the Squad truck, arms crossed over his chest.

“I was thinking maybe since we have the weekend off we could go up to my parents and tell them about the pregnancy. We could probably stay overnight.” Severide nods and smiles. “It sounds nice. I haven’t seen your parents in a while, miss them.”

Unlike Heather, Luci and Andy’s parents were okay with her and Kelly being in a relationship. Apparently, they also knew about her and Kelly’s fling years ago. Her mom recalled how happy her daughter was, so, when she told them about their current relationship, she welcomed it with open arms. She was happy that the two had found each other after all they had gone through.

Luci crosses her arms over her chest and looks away. “Something else on your mind?” He asks, noticing her distance. “Um..I tried calling Heather. I wanna tell her before she hears it from someone else, but she won’t answer my calls.” Kelly looks down, knowing it’s mostly his fault. He sits on the bumper and rests his elbows on his knees, “I’m sorry.”

“Kelly, it’s not your fault. We’re in this together.” She says as she sits next to him. She runs her hand down his back, “You’re not the only one in love here.” He looks up at her with an endearing look in his eyes, “Love you.” “Love you more.”

She rests her head on his shoulder. “Can we get snacks?” She asks, completely off topic. “What?” He asks, confused. “For the drive. I love having yummy snacks on long drives. He laughs and shakes his head, “Yeah, babe. We can get snacks.”

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and kisses the top of her head, his lips lingering.

#kelly severide x oc #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide #chicago fire fanfic #chicago fire #one chicago #one chicago fanfiction #one chicago fanfic #matt casey #andy darden

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younghosfavewhore · 3 years

Note

if requests are open, can do you a smutty, angsty fwb!haechan i think i already requested this i'm not sure tho- my memory sucks.

fwb!au - use me - part 2

prompts; [a]12 “You shouldn’t have come, I don’t want you here.” [a]18 “So none of it was real? You didn’t mean any of it?”

dom!haechan x femsub!reader

warnings; MATURE CONTENT!!, angsty, fingering, suggestive

wc; 1k

“why aren’t you listening to me?” you whine, tears threatening to fall down your face. “you never fucking listen to me, donghyuck.”

“because you aren’t worth listening to,” he says, his tone lax. “say something i want to hear.”

“fuck donghyuck, you can’t be this cold all the time.” you spit. “what was the point of all this? you’ve wasted my time for the past fucking year. what was i supposed to think?”

he sighs, getting up from his bed and standing in front of you. “i told you what this was supposed to be,” he murmurs. “i told you we would never be anything more than two people with benefits.”

“you said you loved me, donghyuck. ‘people with benefits’, really?” you could hardly believe the words coming from his mouth.

your head spun, thinking back to just months before this argument ensued. you and haechan lie in bed, his face pressed into your chest. it was then you’d heard him mumble the words, ‘i love you, y/n.’ naturally, you’d been shocked. it was the first, and last, time he’d ever said it. ‘do you mean it?’ you had to confirm at the time. ‘yes. i mean it.’ he had replied. what changed?

“honestly, y/n, you shouldn’t even have come here. i don’t want to see you and whatever bullshit apology you want to hear, you will never get it.”

it felt like your heart dropped to your ass. “haechan... you can’t mean that.”

“i didn’t mean it when i said i loved you but you can’t seem to comprehend that,” he chuckled. “you can’t be this naive, y/n. you knew what you were getting into. you know who i am and what my rep is. why would i change for someone like you?” his hands wrap around your waist.

what is he doing? why does he have to be so fucking confusing. “so you never meant it? any of it? none of the ‘i love you’s? the ‘i miss you’s, the ‘i need you’s? none of it was real, haechan?”

he shakes his head. “how many more times will you ask me to say it again? i didn’t fucking mean it. if it’s not for your body or the sex, i want nothing to do with you.” his hands trailed up your back. “do you get it now?”

you scoff, unable to find the right words to say. his decision was final and you could tell by his tone. “but i love you, haechan.” you couldn’t believe how desperate you were. “and i mean it.” your voice cracks as the tears finally run down your face.

“that’s your own fault,” he presses a kiss to your neck. “you’d have to be an idiot to fall in love with me, and that’s your own fault.” he backs you up against his bedroom door.

“haechan, what are you doing?” you mumble as your breath hitches.

“if there was anything to love about you, it would be your body.”

“haechan, what? you cannot be trying this right now.”

he doesn’t say anything, instead he places a hand on your waist and the other slips into your pants.

“haechan-”

“tell me if you want me to stop.” he says, pausing his hands.

you weren’t sure why you let this man get away with treating you as though you’re disposable. he’s using you for your body and you know that. why can’t you be stronger when you’re with him? why can’t you say no to him?

his hands move again, rubbing against your core through your underwear. “don’t misunderstand me again, ok?” he slides off your pants and slips a finger inside you. “does arguing with me turn you on? is that why you go out of your way to piss me off? walking into my house and screaming at me over dumb shit?” his tone was aggressive and so were his fingers.

you’d hated to admit it but he was turning you on, without a doubt. “n-no haechan...fuck.. i just wanted t-to talk.” you grumble.

“you talk too much as it is. i don’t want to hear you.” he stands up, sliding a finger into your mouth. “suck it,” he growls. “and don’t say anything.”

you obey him, sucking on one finger as he fingers you with his other hand.

“do you get it now, y/n?” he hisses. “this is all you are to me.”

a moan slips out of your mouth and he smiles, pushing his fingers into you faster.

“you like when i talk to you like this,” he smiles, the innocence contrasting his lustful actions. “when i treat you like this. no one else has this much power over you.”

you whimper as his finger slides out of your mouth. he stands up in front of you, “shut up,” he mutters and places a peck on your lips. “take off your clothes.” he commands, sitting down on his bed waiting for your next move.

you go back and forth with yourself in your head, debating if going on with this would be worth it.

“what are you waiting for?” haechan scoffs.

you slowly start to unbutton your shirt, feeling uncertain as his eyes scan your bare legs.

“could you move any slower? i don’t want a strip-tease, i just want to fuck.” he stands back up and starts to pull off your clothes for you.

you’re left nude as he pushes you back onto his bed. he climbs over you, spreading your legs, though he’s still fully clothed.

“i want you to stay quiet, but realistically i know you can’t.” he smiles, still teasing at your neck.

in moments like this, your mind can’t help but wander. why is haechan so cold? why can’t he just love you the way you love him?

he sits up, takes off his shirt, and begins unbuckling his jeans. his hands trailed up and down your thighs as he admires your unclothed body. he slides off his pants, and his cock springs out; he wasn’t wearing any boxers.

“do you even respect me, donghyuck?” you mutter, still in awe of letting yourself get into this situation.

“do you respect yourself, y/n?” he chuckles and teases at your entrance. “stay quiet…”

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royivia · 3 years

Text

The Neighborhood

Sibyl Campbell wasn’t even mad when she woke up on a hot ass May morning in her room, drenched in sweat. Instead, she bypassed anger and went straight to resignation because the HVAC system in the Robert Moses Houses was broken — again — and she didn’t have the time or the energy to bitch about it. In fact, the heating and cooling stayed shutting off across Groundview Gardens. It had become a predictable kind of disappointment in the neighborhood, more so than flooding during superstorms or the fact that no matter which part of the neighborhood you were in, you could feel the rumbling of the shuttle every seven minutes.

Sibyl had spent all night coughing and turning in her bed from the claustrophobic heat that agitated her asthma. Her mother had already gone to work, otherwise, she would have heard Mildred Campbell yelling in indignant patwa over the phone at an Arcadian Realty & Management representative “to fix the damn AC” before she threatened to call 311 on their ass, and report them to the city. Both Mildred and the AR&M rep knew it was an empty threat, but to shut her up, they’d call someone who’d tinker with the system and the air would come back on for a couple of days or so, before it chipped out. And then, the routine would start again.

Sibyl checked the weather. It was already ninety-five degrees. She took a puff from her inhaler and scrolled through her timeline. The same picture of a little girl with a big bright smile captioned with different variations of “RIP Destiny’’ and prayers for her family flooded her feed. Sibyl forced herself out of bed. The sweat on her body made her feel uncomfortable. She hauled a clunky, old portable air conditioner out from her closet and plugged it into the wall. Management would fine them for the spike in their energy use, but she didn’t care. She pushed the power button on, and waited for the box to cough out some hot air before it eventually cooled the room down from a humid haze to a lackluster lukewarm.

SOIL had been trying to meet with AR&M, the neighborhood’s collective management company, about the HVAC problem with little to no success for close to three years. They had circulated petitions. Tried shaming them in the local news. They even considered organizing a rent strike, which would have done nothing because everybody who lived in Groundview Gardens received subsidies from the city that made rent practically free. And as much as people were pissed about freezing their asses off in the winter or not being able to breathe during the summer, nobody was tryna fight free rent. So, SOIL decided to annoy the shit out of their landlords instead. On their way into their coolly ventilated corporate office buildings, occupying their lobbies, picketing in front of their luxury condos, and most effectively, managing to damage one, or two, of their solar-powered generators in the hottest month New York City had ever seen. A few arrests and some pissed off rich people later, management finally agreed to hold a town hall to hear from their tenants, which meant SOIL’s next plan of action was to convince as many people as possible to show up. Nefi Ramos saw it as a challenge that they could surely accomplish. Her neighbors were like camels to water in a desert. They were thirsty, and had learned to go without for as long as they needed to, but lead them to a watering hole, and they would drink.

“It’s too fucking hot,” she shouted into her megaphone. She was standing in front of one of the many large screens around Groundview that cycled between ads for things they couldn’t afford and AR&M’s infamous “neighborhoods of tomorrow” promotional video. Most people just used the screens to check train arrival times and the air quality. The next shuttle was two minutes away, and the air was currently “unsafe for vulnerable groups.”

“Are we just supposed to take this shit?” Nefi asked. “We don’t deserve to live like this.”

Around her, the rest of SOIL handed out cold bottles of water, popsicles, and fruit cups from coolers filled with melting ice, along with flyers to people walking towards the train platform. They walked past the demonstration uninterestedly, only stopping long enough to take a bottle of water. Everyone had gotten used to Nefi shouting at them to care about things beyond their control, and learned to tune her and the rest of her angry SOILders out, taking their flyers every now and then only to chuck them into the nearest trash can. This morning, a few people did stop to listen for a second or two, the heat getting the better of them, before they saw the time flicker on the screen behind her, and realized that they’d be late for work.

Sibyl, her camera always strapped to her body, snapped a few shots of her neighbor. Nefi was like a loud older cousin who wasn’t afraid of a little trouble, or frankly anything. She both awed and terrified Sibyl.

“It’s time for these slumlords to sweat,” Nefi went on. “We need to organize. Our voices are stronger together — ”

“What makes you think anyone gives a shit about what happens to us down here?”

Mr. Solomon had been on his way to the bodega to buy his morning loosie, but stopped to sit in his walker, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“That’s exactly what they want us to think, vecino.” Nefi softened her voice in that way she did when she was trying not to shout. “The more we believe that we can’t make them pay attention to us, the longer they get away with treating us like shit.”

“I remember when they first moved people into Groundview.” In the midst of reminiscing, Mr. Solomon started coughing aggressively, prompting someone to hand him a bottle of water which he drank quickly before continuing. “We were protesting and shouting in the streets, but they didn’t care then. They’re not gonna care now.” The history lesson quickly turned into yet another heated debate about neighborhood politics between him and some of the other SOILders trying to convince him to take one of their flyers. Sibyl used the opportunity to catch Nefi’s attention, who waved her over enthusiastically.

“Yo, did you hear?” Nefi handed her a fruit cup. “We finally got a meeting with the overlords! Are you gonna come?”

“Nahhh, Nefi. You know that’s not really my thing…I’m not an activist.” Nefi was always trying to recruit her for some radical ass shit that just never seemed worth the trouble of explaining to Sibyl’s very Jamaican mother.

“Nobody said you had to be. You live in this neighborhood, and have just as much say about what happens in it as the suits who own it.” Nefi sensed Sibyl’s hesitation. “Please Sib! Come so we have more people in the room. You don’t have to say anything. We just want those dicks to see that we have power. People power!”

Nefi was very proud of the fact that she had an uncle, or it might have been a second cousin, who had been a member of the Young Lords and, drawing on their legacy of fighting for the liberation of Puerto Ricans, was always going on about the oppressive nature of renting, and self-determination for poor people, and community empowerment, and, and…

“Aight — I’ll go,” Sibyl assured her, trying to cut her sermon short. Nefi hugged her and thanked her a million times before shoving a stack of flyers into her arms to pass out and post up around the neighborhood.

The singular garden in Groundview Gardens was usually ten degrees cooler than anywhere else in the neighborhood. It was created — not by the architects who had designed New York City’s newest development, but instead — by the community out of desperation as an escape from their cramped apartments. During the days, the older folks used it to grow their herbs, medicines, and flowers for their healing practices. The local farmers grew produce that fed the community. After school and on the weekends, all the kids hung out at the community center at the heart of the garden where they learned to dance, make art, and play music.

By the time Sybil got there later that night, Groundview’s collective of artists had already transformed the greenspace into their Saturday night hangout. One of the DJs was spinning records. People were dancing, drinking, smoking, having a good time. Dante, Sage, and Felix had bottles in their hands when Sibyl joined them at their usual spot. Their clothes were covered in colorful patches of spray paint.

“Did you finish it? When do I get to see it?,” she asked them excitedly. She hadn’t seen her friends in about a week, which meant they were either done with their latest mural or were taking a break before they disappeared for another few days. “Soon.” Dante looked tired, but excitement danced in his eyes. “Shoot anything good lately?” He leaned in reaching for her camera, but she quickly pulled back from him.

He laughed at her and took a sip of beer. Dante was her oldest friend out of the trio. There was a quiet protectiveness between the two of them Sibyl hoped they could always maintain.

“It’s been a minute since I last checked.”

“How come?” Dante asked.

Sibyl usually couldn’t wait to hold herself up in the darkroom at the community center to develop her film, but she had been putting off her latest batch. She’d fallen in love with photography while taking classes at the center as a kid. So much so that one day, her mother came home with an old film camera and Sibyl never put it down. That first summer, she ran around the neighborhood asking to take people’s photos. It felt so natural to her, though it had taken a while to gain people’s trust. Take their pictures for what? What was she going to do with them? Skeptics, but curious, they eventually agreed. They’d uncomfortably pose or force a smile, and then immediately ask her to see it because if they didn’t look good, she’d have to delete it. Then she’d explain how film photography worked, and they’d cuss her out for wasting their time.

Weeks later, she’d find them again — at the corner store, or at the People’s Garden, and give them the glossy prints she’d developed. Through her lens she could see they were secretly afraid she’d see the things they’d all spent so much time and concern trying to hide. But those things would all melt away when they’d see themselves — some for the first time — with the same worth and value she saw in them. After that Sibyl didn’t have to ask. They booked her for quinces and graduation parties and engagement photos. People would stop her when they saw her around. “So you not gonna take my picture? Girl, you know I look good today. Quit playing and snap something quick,” and they’d pose with more pride than before, as if to officially celebrate the triumph of living, something they didn’t know they had accomplished until they saw proof.

After seeing so many of her neighbors’ pictures, some of which she took, circulate in online memorials, something lodged itself in the pit of Sibyl’s gut. She couldn’t fully identify what it was, but it left her with little energy to feel or do anything else outside of going to school and work. But she didn’t know how to explain that to her friends without being weird or bringing down the mood, so she just said, “Been busy with school.” She quickly changed the subject before anyone tried to press her on it.

“Are ya gonna go to the town hall?”

“What town hall?” Sage asked.

“The one with management. About the HVACs.” Sibyl handed them flyers from her bag. “I promised Nefi I’d go, but I don’t want to go by myself. Someone come with me?”

“Pass,” Felix snorted.

“I’ll go. Should be fun,” Sage said with a smirk on their face. “I wanna hear what those assholes say their excuse is for not fixing shit.”

“I’ll save ya the trip. Sorry, you’re too poor for us to care,” Felix mocked. “It’s not like they’re all of a sudden gonna have a conscience ya know.”

“You mad negative bro,” Dante said.

“What?” Felix asked animatedly. “You really trying to spend the rest of your life down here? We all need to focus on getting the fuck up outta here instead of asking them to fix some janky ass vents.”

It’s not like anybody was trying to spend any part of their lives in Groundview, but lately it seemed like the rest of their lives wouldn’t take so long. The sound of the shuttle, more muffled than anywhere else, reverberated throughout the garden.

“I’m out the first chance I get,” Dante admitted. His answer wasn’t surprising to any of them, but this was the first time Sibyl heard him say it out loud. Dante was one of the more talented and disciplined artists in the collective. It would only be a matter of time before he blew up and left.

“What happens when ya leave though?” Sage was upset. “You get out, but what about the rest of us? Not everybody can up and leave right? Shouldn’t we try and make shit better for everyone.”

“That’s a trap, Sage. Shit’s not gonna get better,” Felix said harshly. “Does it ever hit ya, like really hit ya that there’s no future for us here? Everybody’s so busy working to get by, we don’t even have time to realize how fucked up everything is.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect.” Sage shot back. “I just don’t think we have to turn our back on our community. That’s fucked up.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Sage,” Dante cut in. “Nobody’s turning their backs on anyone.”

“Besides, no offense to Nefi n ‘em,” Felix said, “but everybody’s wasting their time if they think those suits are gonna fix anything.”

Sibyl listened quietly. Groundview was all they ever knew. She had never considered leaving it, and yet she also was afraid to admit that she thought Felix might be right.

The middle school auditorium only had like fifteen people — half were members of SOIL — in there that Tuesday night, which was more than Nefi had expected. The handful of people who told her they wanted to go to the town hall, but couldn’t, were either working, or would get home too late from work and would have to cook dinner or iron school uniforms for the next day. Everyone else couldn’t be bothered; like Felix, they thought it was a waste of time. That nothing would come from it. Sibyl didn’t show. No one who attended the town hall actually thought anything would come from it either. If AR&M had wanted to do something, they would have done it a long ass time ago. The people who did show up were mostly Nefi’s elderly neighbors who were always ready to spit their anger into a mic because if they weren’t going to get a solution, they would at least get to cuss someone out, and have an audience to witness it.

Nefi worked her way around the room to thank people for coming. These things always felt like family reunions to her. Old friends hugging and catching up because they hadn’t seen each other in a minute, with work and family and life moving everybody in this or that direction, even though they all still lived in the same neighborhood. She finished up her greetings and joined the rest of SOIL, huddled at the front of the room. They went over the order of speakers, before Benjy, the group’s designated peacemaker for the evening, asked everyone to quiet down and get seated so they could start. He reminded everyone to keep it civil. Then one by one, people got up to the mic to direct their anger at the empty faces in tailored suits, sitting at the table in front of them, who could all care less about the people shouting at them. There was a lot of finger snapping, and “that’s right” and “tell-em’s” from the crowd throughout.

Finally about half an hour in, a young woman, with a little girl clutching on to the left side of her body, got up to the mic.

“My name is Mercy Brooks, and this is my daughter Angelique.” Her voice was shaking, in that soft, angry, pissed off kinda way that warranted attention. Nefi hushed the crowd down so that she could speak her peace without interruption. “My daughter’s asthma acts up almost every day. She can’t breathe. Ya should be fucking ashamed of yaselves. Our babies are dying down here. Is that what we deserve because we can’t do better? We just supposed to take that shit. You ever thought about what it’s like to live down here, huh? I’m sure ya don’t cause if you did, you wouldn’t think it was right to keep people living like this. Or do ya not care cause it’s not your kids?”

There was silence from the table, which was worse than feigning any sympathy or remorse. It set the room off into chants, which meant it was over from there. AR&M security shut that shit down quick right on cue, and if you weren’t arrested that night, you were brusquely escorted out. Management promised to set up some vague kind of task force with representatives from the neighborhood, but it led to nothing. A fucking disappointment, that’s what that shit was. And it wasn’t a surprise to Nefi or anyone else, but it hurt all the same. A few weeks later, that same woman who got up and spoke, her daughter Angelique died because they couldn’t get her to the hospital in time after she had an asthma attack. AR&M still hadn’t fixed the vents in their housing complex. And they still didn’t change the filters or fix the ducts in the other housing complexes so that it wouldn’t happen again after that. SOIL kept trying to drum up some kind of anger. Anything to get people to feel something. To do something.

Murals of Destiny, Angelique, and every other person who had died that year quietly popped up around the neighborhood. Vigils and altars with flowers and prayer candles accompanied them. But as much as people were upset or sad, no one knew what else to do except mourn and move on because it was clear to everyone that no one gave a damn about them. And so, what was the point?

They called it the Subterranean Housing and Inner-City Tunnels project, or S.H.I.T. for short. A plan to provide affordable housing for everyone who had experienced the worst housing crisis New York City had ever seen. People were evicted left and right. Families were priced out of their homes and neighborhoods. The shelter system, swelled beyond its limits for decades, finally collapsed. The streets and subway were overrun with people in sleeping bags and blankets. So nothing new, but it finally annoyed enough people to warrant action.

Naturally, the city contracted its most blood thirsty developers, AR&M, to help solve the problem, which was kinda like asking an arsonist to put out a fire they had proudly started. To no one’s surprise, they didn’t want to forfeit any of their luxury condos that sat empty while people slept on the streets. Instead, they struck a deal to create the largest scale of public housing of its kind, in exchange for absolute, unregulated freedom. The only problem was there was literally no land left for them to develop because they had already bought it all. And then one day, the chief architect of S.H.I.T. had an epiphany when he felt the uptown 6 train rumbling beneath his feet. There was an entire part of the city he had yet to consider. Where a majority of the people who needed housing were already living. Sprawling housing complexes with multi-unit apartments appeared overnight 150 feet underground, with the pilot site in the South Bronx. A new subway station and miles and miles of foot tunnels connected New York’s newest neighborhood to the world above it.

There were protests, anger, outrage! That the country’s most progressive city could so blatantly, and quickly!, shove all of its poor people out of sight only seemed to bother the poor people because everyone else praised S.H.I.T. as the most innovative solution of the 21st century. New York City had done the impossible, and housed every single person. That was grounds for celebration and federal funding. Plans were quickly announced to roll S.H.I.T. out across every major city in the country. To ease people’s concerns, the mayor at the time, eyeing a presidential run, promised that his own city’s underground neighborhood would just be temporary — transitional housing at best. Transitional to what, no one could answer. Temporary until when? Until they could think of something else. One year became five, became ten, etc., etc.

In time, AR&M and the city eventually added a couple schools, a hospital, a library, and a sad excuse for a park that residents eventually turned into the People’s Garden. Folks opened up bodegas, 99 cent and liquor stores, and made themselves at home. It didn’t take long to accept living where they did as another fact of life because they had no other choice. Over time, the plan to move everyone back aboveground disappeared from the city’s housing briefings. Then, the briefings disappeared altogether. The high rates of asthma and chronic bronchitis that seemed to come from living in Groundview occasionally made the nightly news, but not enough to cause major concern or stop neighborhoods like Groundview from popping up across the country.

There were still those who remembered life before Groundview, and vowed to move out of the neighborhood as soon as the opportunity arrived. They kept the dream close to their hearts. And if it didn’t happen during their lifetimes, they’d make sure it would happen during their children’s. More realized it was a fool’s dream and moved on. Eventually though, everyone adapted to the vibrations of the shuttle inside their kitchens. The white, fluorescent lighting that lit every corner of their world like a harsh, artificial sun. The damp, muggy air that arrested their chests if they tried to breathe too freely. And the humming of the massive ventilation systems that heated and cooled their cramped, windowless apartments — when they decided to work.

An Artist’s Treatise on Survival

I don’t know how we do it sometimes. That is, put up with all the shit that life throws at us. Work jobs that exhaust us with little in return. Take care of our families with little to no support. Do so much with so little. And still be able to smile or laugh in the midst of it all. Then, I remember: it’s because we have to. No one else is gonna pay our bills if we don’t. No one else is gonna put food on our tables for us. No one’s gonna bail us out. Naturally, you learn to hustle. To channel your frustrations into working around the way things are because trying to fix things that were built broken takes time you don’t have when you’re just trying to get by.

What gets me even more is how we’ve perfected survival itself as an artform, and created whole new types of living from abject desperation. We wasn’t supposed to, much less find reasons to enjoy life, but we did anyway. Some even take on the added challenge of trying to make life more bearable, more enjoyable, for the rest of us. For example, sometimes when it felt like there wasn’t much to appreciate. That you were resigned to the fate of being alive and not living and didn’t deserve any better. You’d see a mural. On the way to the laundromat. Or the corner store. While you were running errands. Or walking home, bone tired, from the train after another long, shitty day at work. And like all good, beautiful things, it reminded you to breathe. You didn’t always know who created it. Or couldn’t remember if it was there the day before even though you’ve walked that way millions of times. You just knew that it was, in its own way, encouraging you to make it to tomorrow. Bright bursts of color and story interrupting the mundane, tiresome every day you’d come to accept with no protest. After a while, it becomes easier to accept a simple truth about living. That we can still manage to find a reason to laugh, to enjoy life, despite it all, and that we can be the source of our own power. It’s kind of audacious of us to still try and find joy even if it means creating it for ourselves. Maybe that’s why we do it.

At first, it started off as harmless tagging, and they kept it up chasing the thrill of not getting caught. Then they tried to outdo each other. It became a sport: who could paint the better mural. Get the most buzz around the neighborhood before they got painted over. But the better they got, and the more the murals looked legit, the longer they stayed up. Until they stopped painting over them altogether because people loved them so much. They didn’t belong to the creators anymore. They belonged to the neighborhood. And before they knew it, they’d created something much bigger than any of them could have imagined.

The tunnels just seemed like the next natural step for the graffiti artists in Groundview. Miles and miles of blank walls? Dante, especially, saw something to keep him busy after his brother died. Besides, painting murals felt like the only thing he could do. He’d stopped going to school. He’d just paint. When he ran out of ideas to paint, he asked Sibyl to see her portraits, and he started replicating them across the neighborhood. He was relentless — portrait after portrait. Sage and Felix started helping him out because they worried he would lose it, spending all that time in the tunnels by himself. He was grasping for something, but he didn’t know what it was. Until he saw it, lying on the ground near a garbage can.

The Groundview Residents’ List of Demands

The People of Groundview Gardens demand financial and social restitution for all residents, especially those who developed chronic health issues from living underground and/or have lost loved ones because of it.

The People demand New York City move all Groundview residents back above ground into rent subsidized apartments.

The People demand New York City disband all underground housing policies so that no one else has to live in Groundview Gardens or any other housing project like it.

Until the first three demands are met, The People demand Arcadian Realty & Management fix the HVAC systems in every single housing complex it owns and regularly maintain them.

Once Groundview Gardens is fully evacuated, The People demand New York City turn the entire neighborhood into a public memorial to commemorate the loss of life, preserving the art and The People’s Garden.

After the town hall, and the supposed task force, proved to be a bust, SOIL had created the demands to deliver to the city. They circulated leaflets with the five bullet points, but no one would take them seriously. Dante himself, admittedly, had checked out, and had ignored SOIL’s literature, up until that point. The demands appeared overnight on the walls of the tunnels in bold white paint for everyone to see. They were the last thing everyone saw coming into Groundview and the first thing they saw from the shuttle on their commutes leaving the neighborhood.

Nefi kept waiting for the moment when her neighbors would suddenly realize that they were angry — very angry. They’d decide they were fed up once and for all and refuse to settle for less anymore. They’d riot in the streets. They’d protest in front of AR&M’s offices. They’d refuse to go into work until something changed. Their anger would get everyone’s attention. Her own rage had burned intensely inside her for as long as she knew herself. She learned to channel it through SOIL trying to make Groundview a better place, even though everyone told her it wasn’t worth it; it wasn’t possible; it was a waste of time. But it was either that or literally set some shit on fire. But, it didn’t matter how many rallies, tenant meetings, town halls, or demonstrations SOIL organized. Nefi learned that she couldn’t have a revolution without people. And the people? They were tired and overworked. They didn’t have time to overthrow anything. And, even though no one would admit it, they were also afraid — afraid of change, of what they could lose, of realizing that something greater than what they had come to know was possible. So to save themselves, and Nefi, further disappointment, they rebuffed her again, and again: Nefi you need to chill. Girl you’re doing too much. Don’t waste your time. Nothing’s gonna change. After the town hall, and years and years of holding hope, the fire inside Nefi dulled until she couldn’t recognize herself anymore. She conceded her rage for high-functioning hopelessness. She withdrew from her friends, from her neighbors, from SOIL, only tapping into enough energy to wake up, go to work, and make her way back home. The days bled into each other, so much so that when the night Nefi had been waiting for eventually came later that August, it caught her completely off guard. It caught everyone off guard because it wasn’t the HVACs or the deaths of toddlers, or even the wrath towards AR&M that finally set people off. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone who’s lived in New York City long enough because it was the one thing that could incite the level of large-scale anarchic rage Nefi had been holding out for — and that was the MTA.

The night in question, the air was hot, muggy, and heavy with potential. Like any other evening, people were heading home from work, the collective exhaustion weighing down on their bodies, stamped into their faces. They waited together, huddled in a sweaty mass on the sweltering Third Ave-138th St. platform for a train that felt like it would never come. When an empty shuttle finally did arrive in the station, the doors opened to the grating sound of a man’s voice coming through the train’s speaker system:

“Attention passengers. This is your conductor speaking. Due to unplanned construction up ahead, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview Gardens at this time. I repeat, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

This shit had happened plenty of times before. A disruption of service that made it difficult to get home. Everybody was so used to it and had even come to expect it. The inconvenience of being poor and powerless consistently working against them. It too had become a predictable kind of disappointment. Even the audible, collective disapproval was muted and slightly rehearsed, nothing more than a reflex. They would have to find their way home, some two-odd miles on foot, through the tunnels. But that night, Ms. Claudette, who had been on her feet all day at work taking care of her elderly patient and still had to go home and iron her scrubs for the next day, was fucking tired. She had paid her fare. And, she had paid her taxes. She had also paid her dues in this country — twenty-seven years worth of struggle and debasement — for what? This could not be it. Life could not just be disappointment. The least she expected was that the train would get her home like it was supposed to. She decided that she was going to let the conductor have a piece of her mind.

“This is nonsense. Tell me, just tell me, how am I supposed to get home?” Her boisterous St. Lucian accent traveled well beyond her.

Folks who heard her echoed in agreement, hyping her up. “They have the nerve to raise prices for this shitty ass service,” someone said loudly. They all collectively decided to board the empty train. The construction workers in their hard hats and massive boots, the women with their large tote bags and their tiredness neatly folded away into themselves. They were all going to sit on the train, until it started up again. It was going to take them home.

The conductor was tired too. Nothing as deep-seated as his passengers, but something not too far removed. He had no skin in this game though, and his job didn’t pay him enough to care. He was annoyed; they were keeping him from clocking out. And so, after listening to a bunch of people passionately curse him out, he told them to, and I quote:

“Write a letter.”

It happened so fast. I mean, when I say shit popped off before anyone could swallow their spit. Someone knocked over the trash cans on the platform. Someone else, set them on fire, with what to this day no one really knows, but their latent anger seemed to have ignited what they didn’t know was inside them.

The riots lasted for weeks. People boycotted the MTA and didn’t go to work.

The restaurants aboveground shuttered because they were understaffed. Construction on all the new developments stopped because the workers, a lot of whom lived in Groundview, refused to show up. People aboveground had to stay home because their nannies and house cleaners weren’t able to come and relieve them like they had come to rely on. Groundview had forced the city to come to a complete stop. The mayor held a press conference saying she didn’t condone the behavior of the vandals at the train station. SOIL led protests and demonstrations in front of city hall until she had to hold a second press conference to apologize for her statements at the first press conference. She promised she was going to make sure that it would never happen again — not just the riots, but the unnecessary deaths in Groundview, the resentment the residents felt towards the city. They were going to fix the HVACs, and the MTA! They were going to heal the great divide the city had long thrived on once and for all, if, and only if, the workers called off the strike and went back to work. It sounded so sincere, everyone wanted to believe it. Tired of holding all the power, they asked SOIL to represent them at the bargaining table. Deals were made. Hands were shaken. And things went back to a semblance of normal with a few slight adjustments.

Sibyl was heading out of her apartment when she saw a piece of yellow paper on her front door.

60 DAYS NOTICE TO INCREASE RENT

Mildred Campbell 207 167th St. (GG), Unit 10E

Beginning September 1, 2041, the monthly rent will go up an additional 5% for all units located in the Robert Moses Houses. Please make the appropriate adjustments within the AR&M digital payment system.

We appreciate your continued tenancy.

Sincerely, Arcadian Realty & Management

Pieces of yellow paper were taped to every single door she passed on her way to the train. It had been a year since the last time the heating or cooling had stopped working. Everyone held their breath celebrating, just in case that was when the heat would shut off or the air would decide to stop working again, but it never did. The number of deaths and hospitalizations went down, and everyone seemed content enough after the strikes and boycott ended, to go back to work. The trains even went back to running as efficiently as possible for the MTA, always teetering on the edge of collapse, but never actually approaching it for fear of recreating another opportunity for mass rebellion.

On her way to the shuttle, Sibyl saw a group of people congregating near one of the murals. She clutched her camera in her hand, ready to raise it to her face, when she heard a voice she didn’t recognize shouting through a megaphone. It belonged to a man she had never seen around the neighborhood before, and he was walking backwards while talking to a group of people Sibyl also didn’t recognize.

“Groundview is the latest up and coming neighborhood in the city,” his voice echoed. “Some of the most promising young artists have gotten their start in this urban — ”

She didn’t stick around to hear more.

After the riots, small groups of tourists descended regularly on Groundview like vultures to see the murals they had seen in viral photographs. They’d rudely block the paths from the train platform, or take up way too much space on the footpaths of the tunnels posing in front of the murals for pictures. Not long after that came the opportunistic hacks who had never stepped foot in Groundview before, running “culture tours’’ around the neighborhood. The residents felt like they were stuck in some sick and twisted museum. Out of annoyance, they banned the tours and non-residents from the People’s Garden, preserving their one last sanctuary in the community.

Sibyl had been in the middle of it all the first night of the riots. She was on the subway platform on her way home from classes and started snapping pictures once she realized what was going on, catching the fervent energy better than anyone could describe to everyone else who wasn’t there. She had no idea her photos would end up everywhere. But they did, and they not only helped draw attention to the plight of her neighborhood. They also drew attention to the wealth of talent germinating underneath the city. Her photos of her friends, their murals, and the other members of her neighborhood, had also attracted a lot of attention that felt good to the young artists who all of a sudden saw opportunities previously unavailable to them right at their doorsteps.

The shuttle arrived on the platform before her. Sibyl boarded the cool air-conditioned cart; the beads of sweat on her skin quickly evaporated. Nefi had warned them to be careful early on. “These things always end up having you exploit your own people for a cheap come up, and it’s never worth it.” Everyone thought she was trippin’. There Nefi was again just looking for another cause to fight now that her crusade against A&RM had seemed to come to an end. Even Sibyl thought she was overreacting at first. People were finally paying attention to Groundview. If she and the rest of the artists could help show the world how important the lives of the people who lived there were, maybe things could change for the better.

The train disappeared into the tunnel towards the 138th St. station. A lot of things had quietly changed over the last year and a half. Many of the families who had lost loved ones, including Dante’s, received settlements from the city and moved out of the neighborhood, leaving a sizable number of the apartments empty. Leading to perhaps the most visible addition to the neighborhood. AR&M had a couple of the younger artists looking for their own big break paint over SOIL’s list of demands and replaced it with a more “aesthetically inviting” message for the new visitors to the neighborhood: Welcome to the Mural District. Sibyl had only heard the tour guides call it that, in an unveiled attempt to rebrand Groundview. It didn’t take too long to find out where they got it from. The name and the welcome sign led to intense debates between the artists in the collective, including her friends, about people selling out and what they owed to each other as artists and their neighbors, which led to a few people splitting off and doing their own thing. The mural made Sibyl sick to her stomach, and she tried her best to avoid seeing it on her commutes. Then one day, someone started covering it up with black graffiti making the message unreadable.

No one knew who it was because they never got caught, but it didn’t matter to AR&M. Like clockwork the next morning, they had cleaners paint a fresh welcome message over it in time for the daily tours at noon. When the welcome message started appearing on the AR&M screens, the screens started getting covered in graffiti too. After a few months, Sibyl expected the guerilla painters to give up and move on, but they didn’t. Fresh graffiti kept appearing over the mural and on the screens, prompting AR&M to deploy their clean up crews, and then the routine would start again. Sibyl looked out the window in anticipation. “OURS.” The word, written over and over again across the mural, quickly came into view and then vanished out of sight.

#short story #original fiction #creative writing #writers of tumblr #fiction

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mediocre-writerr · 3 years

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when you love someone [leah rilke]

leah rilke x fem reader

request #1: Ahhhhh I love your Leah x reader series!!! It’s so good :) I know you have a bunch of requests but would you consider doing a part four where Leah and her are sitting up one night and the reader confesses shares more about her past, maybe something darker (like knowing the reason that Becca died, but she doesn’t blame Shelby) and that she never wants to leave Leah once they get home and they fantasize their future together. The other girls overhear and also share what they want to do when they get home. Lots of fluff because the girls deserve it, lol

hi guys! i love this series so much, honestly it’s one of my favorite ones to write! so as long as you guys keep requesting for this series to keep going and ideas for it, it’ll keep going! so if you love this series as much as i do keep requesting for it! also i have a lot of imagines queued up so stay tune!

*not my gif*

You were sat in between Leah’s legs, her arms wrapped around you. Her front pressed against your back as her head hooked onto your shoulder. You relax into her touch, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“What was life like back home?” she asks you, breaking the comfortable silence.

You shrug, staring back out at the ocean, “Um not the greatest. It was really me and Shelby against the world.”

“What about that Becca girl you and Shelby always mention? Weren’t you like the three musketeers?” Leah asks jokingly, but your whole mood seems to change, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No it’s okay, really. I trust you enough to tell you.” you say and she tightens her arms around you, giving you a soft squeeze.

Before you go on with your story, you kiss her softly. And a small smile appears on her face as the two of you pull away.

You let out a sigh, “You were right it was always me, Shelby, and Becca against the world. The three musketeers. But anyone with eyes can tell that me and Shelby were closer.”

“This is terrible!” you exclaim, your face contorting into disgust as you pushed the 7/11 hot dog away from you.

“I can’t believe you ate that!” Shelby adds on, pretending to gag.

Becca picks up the hot dog from the hood of your car, casually taking a bite, “It’s not that bad!” she says with a mouthful of gas station hot dog.

“Eww Becs!” you and Shelby say in unison, before laughing at how the two of you were in sync.

“Reputation was big at our school. If you didn’t have a good reputation, you might as well fall off the edge of the Earth. If you couldn’t tell, Shelby and I were the top of the social food chain. Popular, pretty, everything all the girls wanted to be.” you say.

“Ah, you had the classic typical movie high school.” Leah says, trying to get a better grasp on the story, “I’m assuming Becca didn’t have the best rep.”

You nod, still staring out at the big blue, “You assume correctly. She had a few mental health problems. Her parents sent her away for a little bit and it was this big uproar at the school. When she came back me and Shelby never loved her less. At the time though, I didn’t quite know the extent of how much Shelby actually loved her.”

“Wait so Shelby had feelings for Becca?” she asks.

“Mhm, that’s what caused the downfall.”

“Hey Shelb? Are you okay?” you ask her softly, you were driving her home after bowling with your two best friends.

She just looks at you with a tight-lipped smile, “Yeah...I’m okay.”

You give her a look and raise your eyebrows, “Why do I not believe you?”

“Because you worry about me too much.” she says, mocking the look you were giving her.

“I only worry when I have a reason. You’ve been quiet since we trashed the car. You didn’t even sing ‘The Climb’ with me.” you shoot back, staring at her seriously.

“I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Shelby says, giving you a hug before heading inside.

“I didn’t find out about their kiss until later. When Shelby came to me crying, the last time the two ever spoke.” you continue onto through your sob story.

There was a frantic knock on your front door. You were home alone watching Criminal Minds, so you were a little taken a back at the pounding at your door. You open the door just a tiny bit, peeking through the little hole you created.

Shelby was standing on your porch, pacing back and forth. Tears streaming down her face. You immediately open the door wider and she crashes into your arms.

“I’m ruined, everything is ruined.” she whispers softly.

You run your fingers through her hair, “Shh...it’s gonna be okay. Whatever it is we’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

“That night she told me everything. She didn’t want to admit to herself or anyone else, but with me it was like a truth serum. All of it just spilt out, her feelings for Becca. Her feelings for girls in general.” you let out another sigh.

“Why was it a big deal?” Leah asks, hesitantly, knowing it’s a bad topic.

You let out an empty laugh, “If you met our parents you would know why.”

“Y/N come down here!” your parents yell from downstairs.

You skip your way down the stairs and into the kitchen, “Yes?”

“Mr. Goodkind told us about Shelby and Becca.” they begin and you swallow tightly, “We wanted to make sure Shelby didn’t do anything like that to you. Or make sure you didn’t do anything to her.”

“No I haven’t and why would it matter if I did or if she did?” you retort and your parents look a little taken aback by that comment.

“You know why, the Bible says-” your parents say, giving you a look.

Internally you roll your eyes, “People deserve to love who they want without being judged. God loves everyone, no matter what they do. That’s what you always taught me right? Not to carry hate in your heart?” you say and your father opens his mouth, but you keep going, “But you're gonna stand her and carry hate in your heart for Shelby when you don’t even know what happened.”

“Y/N...is there something you’d like to tell us?” your mother asks.

You wanted to tell them. Just blurt it out. Maybe you and Shelby could be burnt at the stake together, but you just gave a tight-lipped smile.

“No.”

“So I’m not gonna win daughter in-law of the year.” Leah says jokingly and you laugh, thankful for the laugh in a serious conversation.

“Definitely not.” you respond, still chuckling to yourself.

“Damn...but proceed onto the story.” she says, gesturing for you to continue.

“That day, the day that Becca died I was at Shelby’s pageant. I sat with her awful parents. Who were finally okay with me being there, after a long conversation between them and my parents.” you say rolling your eyes.

Leah tightened her arms around you, probably sensing that this would take a turn. She hooked her head back on your shoulder, kissing your cheek softly. You smile softly at her sweet antics.

“Mrs. Gilroy?” you ask, stepping out of the little theater.

You could hear little sniffles on the other end of line, “Oh Y/N. Becca...she’s dead. I found her in her car, she purposefully crashed it into a street light. We called 911 and rushed her to the hospital, but she uh she didn’t make it.”

And you just dropped your phone onto the floor. Before falling softly to your knees. Frantically, picking up the phone. Tears streaming down your face at the news.

“Do you need anything Mrs. Gilroy? I’m sorry-I’m sorry you have to go through this.” you ask, trying your best to stay strong.

“We’re okay for now honey, thank you. But she left you and Shelby notes. You can swing by and grab them.” she suggests and you knew she wanted you to have them.

“Okay. I’ll be over later tonight.”

You rushed your way into the contestant’s dressing room. Desperate to find Shelby to let her know the news. When you found her, she was staring blankly at herself at the mirror. Someone already told her.

“Shelby?” you say, you voice barely above a whisper.

Her head immediately turns to you and she gets up from her seat, rushing towards you. Flinging herself into your arms, she buried her face into the crook of your neck. You could feel the tears fall upon your neck as your cheeks were stained with your own.

“She can’t be gone.” Shelby sobbed out and you shut your eyes tight, shaking your head softly.

“But she is love...she’s gone.”

“I got 31 calls from Becca that night. If I just-if I just answered one phone call. She could still be here right now. She’d be at home, practicing her bowling so she could kick me and Shelby’s ass when we got home.” you say, a small tear slipping down your cheeks.

“You can’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.” Leah reassures you and you nod, swallowing to choke back the tears.

You take your hand and wipe off the tears that were falling, “I know. But I don’t blame Shelby either. I couldn’t, maybe this new me would, but the old me couldn’t. Her parents would have done anything to stop her from feeling that way. Her reputation would be shot. And in a small town like ours, that’s a death sentence.”

“Is that why you want to save everyone?” she asks, finally understanding everything, “Because you couldn’t save Becca?”

You nod, “I can’t lose anyone else. Especially Shelby and you.”

“What’s gonna happen when we get back to the real world? With us?” she asks you.

“I’m not the girl I was before I came here. I’ve learned that reputation and what other people of you doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not gonna matter in the long run. So I don’t want to leave your side.” you tell her, turning around to be face to face with her.

She cups your cheeks softly, “Baby, we live miles and miles away from each other.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to be apart from you. We could have our own little apartment with Shelby and Toni and probably Martha.” you suggest to her and she smiles widely, “Breakfasts every morning, but don’t ask Shelby to cook she’s shit at it.”

Leah laughs softly, “It’s okay I can cook. Double dates all the time, playing UNO with Martha. Lazy mornings, twisted in bedsheets.”

“Reading together in bed quietly before bed.” you add on and she smiles and nods.

“Our perfect life.”

“Fuck you Y/N, you suck at cooking more than I do.” Shelby’s voice cuts in from her spot next to me.

You and Leah both jump at her voice. Thinking that you two were the only ones awake.

“Would we really all live with each other?” Toni asks, “I don’t want to hear Y/N and Leah go at it.”

“Us? You two literally did it under a lychee tree not too far from here.” you say firing back at Toni’s snarky remark.

“You told her about that?” Toni asks, looking at her girlfriend incredulously.

Shelby looks down at her hands, smiling coyly, “Maybe.” she says drawing out the ‘e’.

“I guess if Leah’s cooking, I’ll be fine.” Toni replies with a shrug.

“I’d love to move in with you guys too!” Martha says, “But only if Marcus could come. And we play UNO at least twice a week.”

“Is everyone awake?” Leah asks, staring at all the girl.

A murmur of yes’s fill the previous silence.

“I want to get out of my house, you know? My parents aren’t the greatest either. Maybe we could be next door neighbors!” Fatin suggests, “If any of the couples need privacy, you ladies could hop over next door.”

“I don’t think it’ll be much better with all the guys you’ll bring home.” you joke and Faitn flips you off with a smile on her face.

Dot nods in agreement, “That would be so fun! Pizza nights and watching trashy reality TV every night.”

“Roomates?” Fatin asks, extending her hand out to Dot.

“Roomates.”

“Do you guys mind adding two more roommates?” Rachel asks and Nora nods smiling.

“Of course.” Dot says with a smile.

“Yay neighbors!!” Shelby yells and all of us laugh softly.

Toni playfully rolls her eyes, “I’m not escaping any of you ever, huh?”

“Nope!” the rest of you girls say in somewhat unison, laughing together.

#leah rilke #leah rilke imagine #leah rilke x reader #the wilds #the wilds imagines

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sonnetthebard · 3 years

Note

a writing prompt maybe? A Lilo and Stitch AU where Hannah is Lilo, Lex is Nani, and Ethan is David and then Wiggly is Stitch and Hannah's trying to teach him to be good.

Ok, I feel where you're coming from and I love it! This is so cute! I'm gonna be a bit flexible with it though, stray a bit from the strict Lilo and Stitch story. It's gonna be similar, but differ a bit.

Genre: Fluff/ Comedy

Words: 1966

TL;DR: When Hannah said she wanted a pet, Lex thought she would end up with dog or a rabbit like a normal person... not an eldritch.

TW: Swearing, mention of sexual themes? I don't know how to label it but you'll know it when you see it.

______________________________________________________

"No, Wiggly!" Hannah chided. "Stop! You got to be good, otherwise Lexie isn't gonna let me keep you!"

If Lex knew half of what was going on, Wiggly would be back to the pound in before you could say "eldritch". She had told Ethan to take Hannah out to get her a dog at the shelter. Duke had said maybe giving her another friend at home would help her to be a bit less hostile towards the kids at her school. Not that she was physically aggressive, but... ever since their mom had been sent to prison, apparently she'd been a bit snippy and reserved. It concerned her teachers. While Lex was technically old enough to be her legal guardian, Hannah's teachers were concerned that maybe she wasn't emotionally ready for that kind of responsibility. They were about ready to file a case for Hannah to be put into the foster system.

So... this was a desperate last attempt on Lex's part. Because she was *not* losing her little sister. She'd been through so much shit to get her mom out of the house. So that they would be safe. She wasn't letting anyone take that away. So... even though she may not really have the money to support Hannah *and* a dog, she'd agreed to let Hannah get one. There were very few people that Lex would trust on these matters, but... Duke was one of them. He knew the system. Mostly because he was a part of it. But he also knew Lex, and he knew that she was the right person to be caring for Hannah. So... if he thought that this was going to help, she'd do it.

But... she probably should have gone with Hannah herself to get it. Because Ethan... was not the brightest, and he was prone to completely crumbling for Hannah. Which is precisely what had happened at the pet store that afternoon. He'd suggested a cute little chihuahua with a limp paw, or a sweet maltese, but... Hannah had gone right for the weird, green thing. Was it even a dog? Probably not. It had tentacles and it walked on two legs. Had the people at the shelter called it a dog anyways? Yes. Because what else were they supposed to call it? The only indication they'd gotten as to what he was was a small collar reading 'Wiggly'- which didn't help at all. Look, they'd just found it curled up behind Toy Zone one night, and it was their duty to care for him and then get him to a family.

Things had not been easy for Hannah so far. It seemed her little green friend had a thing for getting into trouble... and tastes for household furniture. He'd already eaten two of her books and one of her sock dolls. Right now, she was trying to get him to stop eating one of her pillows. He seemed to revel in tearing his prey apart before eating it. His eyes got all wild, and... he looked so happy that Hannah almost didn't want to stop him. But she had to, because if he destroyed anything noticeable he'd be gone. And Webby had told her that she needed to pick this little guy. He seemed to make 'hr' sound in disappointment. But what came next was far from anything Hannah would have expected him to do.

"But Banana... it's so yummy-wum!" A goofy, light and child-like singsong tenor voice protested.

"You talk." Hannah breathed, eyes widening.

"Only to you, Hannah Banana." Wiggly giggled. "You are the only person who can hear my voice."

"Is that why Webby told me to get you?" Hannah asked, curious. He seemed to scowl at the mention of her name.

"Stupid bitch... thinks I need to rehabilitate." Wiggly grumbled.

"What's rehabilitate?" Hannah asked.

"It means... I've been very naughty." Wiggly told her. Hannah cringed at that.

"Don't... Mom..." Hannah mumbled.

"I've been bad." Wiggly corrected himself. "So she sent me to you. She thinks you can make me good."

"Me?" Hannah blinked.

"She says we'll be good for each other." Wiggly mocked her, clearly not happy about it. "She wants me to be your fwendy-wend. Because we both need a fwendy-wend, according to her."

"I don't *need* any friends." Hannah shook her head, her mood dampened by that implication. "I got Lexie and E."

"That's not what the teachy-weachers think." Wiggly cooed, the tiniest hint of amusement in his tone.

"Yeah, well... they're dumb!" Hannah fumed, turning on her bed and putting a pillow over head in frustration. That was a sore subject for her.

Hannah knew what the teachers thought of her. She knew what everyone thought. She didn't care. She knew who she was, and... she knew what she needed. She knew that she shouldn't have to put up with the shit the kids at her school gave her. She knew that they chose her because she was the easy target. Because they could get away with blaming her for anything. She was that girl from the trailer at the edge of the Witchwood, whose mom had gone to jail. That was enough for them to paint her as the punk. But that wasn't who she was, and... she hated that it's what people thought. She didn't even do anything wrong. She never said the things they said she did. She took a few deep breaths under the pillows, trying to calm down.

"That pillow-willow isn't going to help, Banana." Wiggly sighed. "My voice is in your head. "Like Webby."

"Leave me alone!" Hannah snapped.

"Nuh uh..." Wiggly tutted. "Webby says I have to help you be happy again before I can go back to my homey-wome."

"Yeah? You're not doing a very good job!" Hannah huffed. "Don't wanna talk right now."

"But Webby says-" Wiggly started.

"Webby can be a stupid bitch!" Hannah cut him off, frustrated to the point of tears.

"Uh oh! That's not very nice!" Wiggly chided.

"Just... shut up!" Hannah groaned.

"Fine." Wiggly sighed.

He sat on the edge of her bed for a minute as Hannah remained unmoving, trying to cool off. He dangled his feet for a moment before hopping off and walking over to a bookshelf. He tipped it over, letting everything crash and giggling. He surveyed the ruins, grabbing a small clay structure. He started to nibble on it softly, satisfied with it's taste. At around that precise moment, Lex entered the room. She was immediately drawn to Hannah on the bed. Her brows furrowed, and she sat down on the edge of it, rubbing Hannah's back. She was more confused than anything. Ethan had said she was so happy after getting her dog.

"Hannah Banana... what's wrong?" Lex cooed.

"Nothing... just annoyed." Hannah sighed, pulling the pillow off her head and setting it on the bed. "Teachers think I'm bad 'cause of Mom, don't they?"

"Yeah... yeah, Mom kinda gave us a bad rep." Lex sighed. "We gotta fight hard to make people see we're not her."

"Yeah, but... I don't wanna fight." Hannah grumbled.

"I don't either." Lex admitted. "Soon... we won't need to. Soon we'll have California. We just gotta stick it out and make it through life here until I make enough money to get us out of here."

"Okay." Hannah nodded, biting her lip, staying put.

Lex sighed, looking down at her feet. Sometimes he just didn't know what to say to Hannah. It was then that she noticed Wiggly crunching on the little clay figurine, surrounded by the mess of everything Wiggly had broken. It was one of a dog that Hannah had made at a birthday party when she was younger. She'd named him Bruno. He wasn't so special to *Hannah* anymore, but... it was to Lex. Wiggly and Lex looked each other in the eye for a moment, and Wiggly seemed to freeze, already knowing he was in trouble. Lex's eyes widened both in fear and in shock.

"Hannah... what the fuck is that thing?" Lex tried to ask levelly, but her tone was shaky.

"Oh, that's Wiggly." Hannah shrugged, sitting up. "He's our new dog."

"Banana... that's not a dog." Lex chuckled nervously. "It has fucking tentacles..."

"He's cute!" Hannah giggled. And she genuinely believed that, even if it was a jab at Wiggly. She knew he wouldn't want to be seen as cute. He grumbled at that and she stuck her tongue out at him discreetly.

"Okay... I think we may need to take Wiggly back to the pound." Lex tried to ease gently. "I... don't even fucking know where to begin taking care of him, and clearly you don't either because he's eating Bruno. I mean... look what he did, Banana! Look at your stuff!"

"Wiggly! I told you to stop eating stuff!" Hannah chided.

"Sorry, Banana! I'm just so hungry!" Wiggly whined. "I need to fill my belly-well!"

"Okay... the little noises are cute." Lex chuckled softly. Hannah blinked, confused, before remembering that Lex couldn't hear him. "You can't just tell an animal to do something. You gotta train it."

"Oh." Hannah blinked. "I think... think he's hungry."

"Yeah... we gotta get him some real food." Lex agreed. "Do you know what he eats?"

"Um..." Hannah bit her lip. She gave him a look. He shrugged. She turned to Lex, shrugging. "Clay?"

"This is yummy." Wiggly nodded.

"We can't feed him clay, banana... I don't think anyone can digest it right." Lex laughed. "This is why we should go get a dog! Let the people at the pound deal with this freak of nature!"

"Well that wasn't very friendly!" Wiggly pouted.

"Webby told me this one." Hannah insisted, ignoring Wiggly.

"Really?" Lex groaned, rolling her eyes.

"I dunno why! Said... said we gotta help him get good." Hannah shrugged. "But... Webby said it, so we gotta."

"Maybe... maybe Webby can find someone else to help him get good?" Lex sighed. "Banana, this isn't Disney. We're not Lilo and Stitch."

"Nani." Hannah corrected. "Lilo and Nani. And Ethan's David."

"No, banana. We're not." Lex sighed, shaking her head. "We're Lexie and Hannah and E. And Lexie is already having enough trouble with child services *without* that thing around. I don't know what it is, and I get the feeling that no one does. I don't think he's from around here, banana. We should leave him to be taken care of by someone who knows how to do it right."

"But Webby told me!" Hannah pouted. "Please! Just a week."

"Just a..." Lex muttered, sighing again. She bit her lip. She knew she would be insane to give in. But... she'd also be insane not to. Clearly Hannah was emotionally attached to this. And hey, at the end of the week, she could take the thing back. "Fine. Fine, we can keep him for a week and see how it goes. But if you can't train him to behave in a week, then he goes back to the pound. Deal?"

"Deal!" Hannah beamed. She smirked at Wiggly. "Welcome to the family!"

Wiggly rolled his eyes, putting on the most obviously fake 'smile' Hannah had ever seen on a pet. Clearly, he didn't think he was all that bad. But Webby had thought he needed the help, and Webby was usually right about these things. So whether he wanted to or not, it was now hannah's mission to make him good. She didn't know the half of what she was getting into, or what the week ahead would entail. But neither did Wiggly. Wiggly didn't know the half of what life on earth could do to you. And maybe, just maybe, that was a good thing. Because people can find the most beautiful things right where they least expect them to be.

#hannah foster #wiggly black friday #wiggog y'wrath #webby black friday #webby nightmare time #lex foster #starkid #black friday #nightmare time #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #oneshot #one shot #starkid fanfiction #send more requests!#lilo and stitch #tw: swearing

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eberles · 4 years

Text

Together Again

Vince Dunn

A/N: long awaited second part to Do You? read that first if you haven’t yet! sorry it took so long, i hope you guys enjoy it!🥰

Warnings: angst, maybe a swear or 2

“I miss you too, but we grew apart, and at this point i’m glad.” you wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and forgive him. Truthfully, everyday your heart aches for him and you didn’t know how much longer you could take it, but you had to hold your ground. At least for now.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Vince watched you run out of the small cafe as fast as you could. He watched you plaster a fake smile to your face and hand one of the two coffees you were holding over to the guy you were with. Vince wouldn’t have believed it if he didn’t see it with his own eyes, he didn’t want to believe you had moved on from him so quickly. He knew it wasn’t fair for you to just wait around for him, but still that’s what he expected. Vince knew you were strong though and he knew if you wanted to move on and forget him then that’s exactly what you’d do.

You were walking down the sidewalk with William, coffee in hand, and trying desperately to forget about running into Vince. You’d worked so hard these past few months to let go of the sadness and the anger you felt remembering how everything ended with him. You went over all the what if’s and had several lapses of judgement wondering if you made the right decision to cut Vince out of your life completely. As the time went on it got easier, and you were making small steps to get back into your old routine including entering the cafe you once loved. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“What? Oh, yea everythings fine.” you contemplated telling William, “Actually, I saw Vince, he was inside.”

“Wow, how was that?” he looked at you sincerely and genuinely curious about your well-being. You sighed, blinking away tears, frustrated that after three months he could still get to you like this, as if it just happened yesterday.

“Horrible.” you laughed spitefully, rolling your eyes in fear of sounding completely pathetic. “He said he missed me, but what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Did you ever think maybe there was more to it than what he led on?” William asked, you didn’t know what to think at this point. You often replayed the conversation from that night in your head and you would never forget Vince saying ‘I am falling in love with you, I can feel it.’ You struggled to believe him, for all you knew he was just saying that to keep you from leaving. “Y/N, maybe it’s time to talk to him.”

A few days have passed since seeing Vince and you couldn’t stop thinking about him and what he said. Three simple words, ‘I miss you’ and you couldn’t get them out of your freaking head. Tonight it was particularly bad, tossing and turning in bed until you gave up sleeping and decided you needed to know how he felt. Once and for all. It was after midnight, but you didn’t really care as you banged on Vince’s apartment door, probably looking like a crazy person with your pajamas on and hair in a messy bun.

“Y/N? What- it’s after-”

“We both know you weren’t sleeping, so can I come in?” you cut him off, looking into his tired eyes and making your way into his apartment once he opened the door wider for you. Vince followed you, noticing how you didn’t sit on the couch and make yourself at home, instead just standing in the middle of the room looking a little lost.

“Can I get you anything?” Vince asked, making his way to the kitchen grabbing himself a water and grabbing you one too even though you shook your head no. He put them both on the coffee table before sitting on the couch and watching you pace his living room. “Does your boyfriend know you’re here?”

“My what?” you looked at Vince wondering what he was talking about before you realized he must’ve seen you leave with a guy at the coffee shop. “Vince, were you jealous? Of my brother?”

“Fuck, it was William? I only saw the back of him so I just assumed that you moved on.” Vince explained and you rolled your eyes, wishing you could move on as easily as he thought.

“This is stupid, I don’t know why I came here.” you made a move for his front door, but Vince stepping in front of you. He tilted your head up to look him in the eyes and your hardened expression softened as you backed away from him. “What did you mean?” he looked at you confused and you rolled your eyes having to spell it out for him. “When you said you missed me, what did you mean?”

Vince sighed, putting his head down rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair, contemplating how to word everything perfectly. If you were finally going to hear him out he didn’t want to take any chances and ruin it. “I meant that I miss you. I miss your voice and how you used to sing in the shower. I miss how picky of an eater you are, even though it was so annoying sometimes. I miss how you couldn’t start a new show without finishing the last one. I miss your smile and your eyes. I miss seeing you in the stands at games and I miss having you around all the time. I just miss you.”

You closed your eyes feeling the tears rolling down your cheeks. You weren’t sure what you wanted to hear anymore or what you expected to hear from him. Everything was out the door at this point and you were a blubbering mess, hiccuping through the sobs. “Why wasn’t I enough? Why didn’t you love me?”

“Y/N, I did love you!” Vince moved from the couch towards you, wrapping his arms around your body letting you cry into his chest. He felt the most pain he’s ever felt in these moments, he never wanted to hurt you. He let you walk away three months ago because he thought that was for the best and that it was what you wanted. “I know I said I wasn’t sure, but that wasn’t the truth. Baby, I- hearing you say those words scared me and I wasn’t ready to say them back, but I did anyways.”

“Why?” you pulled away from Vince, looking into his glossy eyes. He didn’t let go of you completely, still relishing in the feeling of being close to you again.

“I distanced myself because I thought it was too soon. I didn’t want to get hurt and I let you leave without fighting for you because you deserve someone who wasn’t scared of your love.” you could tell Vince was struggling with his feelings, he never wanted to come off as emotional or scared of anything. Being a professional athlete gave him a certain rep and even if it was just in front of you he didn’t want to ruin it. “I didn’t realize until after you left that I didn’t have anything to be scared of. The one thing I didn't want to lose, I lost anyways. But I still love you Y/N. Give me another chance, I won’t ruin it this time.”

You had every reason not to believe him. In anyone else’s eyes, they would’ve said he was just giving you the run of the mill excuse, ‘I was scared,’ but Vince was different and he was honest. You felt it the night you left and you feel it now, he did love you and even without the words you should’ve seen it based on how he treated you. Standing in front of him you felt the hole in your heart repairing itself, feeling his hands caressing your arms lighting the fire inside your body. Even with the tears still rolling down your cheeks, you felt more yourself around Vince than you had in months without him. He fit with you perfectly, he put the missing pieces back together and you’d be damned to let that go again. “I love you, Vince. I want this.”

Vince breathed a sigh of relief, letting his smile shine through and using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the leftover tears on your cheeks. Vince kissed your forehead mumbling an “I love you” moving down to your cheek, pressing another kiss and telling you he loves you. He moved to your other cheek following with an “I love you” before placing a kiss on your nose and ending with your lips which you were desperate for. You melted into the kiss, feeling his hands on either side of your face sending a tingle through your body as you wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his curly hair. “You’re beautiful and I love you.”

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tagging people who enjoyed part 1: @stfukie @bricksatanakinswindow @softboybarzal @bestestbenn

#vince dunn #vince dunn imagine #vince dunn imagines #st louis blues #nhl writing

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ladyreclaimer · 3 years

Text

“What’s in a name”

Pre-Halo 5 Fanfiction that just expands on an idea I can’t do anything else with. Siblings often observe more about us then we realize, and Kelly has had it up to here with her two brothers and their himbo obliviousness. It’s really rough and I just threw it all together so I hope you enjoy.

The Master Chief was not one who went into missions blind. Intel was required to keep risk of fatalities and complications low, and right now he was in desperate need of intel.

Frederic-104 was John’s second in command, and though he outranked the Chief, he had stepped back on John’s return, to ease him back into their old roles. He was a capable leader, but Fred had never thrived under the anxieties of leadership he once confided to John.

He appreciated his brother’s stability and humor more these past few months than he had anything else. Yet recently there’d been a noticeable air of agitation surrounding Fred, and though John knew he wasn’t the most up on interpersonal matters, he gathered there’d been a change in Fred’s focus. Some detective he had met and her team.

John knew on these matters the two other members of Blue Team, Kelly-084 and Linda-058 would be the best source of wisdom. Linda was away at the shooting range, and no one bothered Linda when she wanted to be alone. Kelly was, as usual between missions, in the gym, there was almost nothing else you could for R and R that did not drive a Spartan II crazy. Bed rest was out of the question even during medical recovery.

The Infinity’s gym was a cavernous and layered room, tiered with levels like many of the sections of the ship. Equipment for ODSTs and Spartans after all had some differences. Kelly stood near the weights in the Spartan section, where admiring IVs stood far away from her but watched in open admiration of the mythical Spartan II at work. He ignored them. As John approached, Kelly met his eyes through the mirror before her, the decades of familiarity meant he didn’t even have to say anything. She could tell her brother needed a talk. He heard the weight clang onto the rack as she followed him to a nearby hallway.

When they rounded the corner, John leaned onto the exposed metal girder between them, which half jutted out of the wall, shooting up like a pillar into the plastimetal ceiling above. By leaning he gave them an air of privacy, making it clear to anyone approaching they were not to be bothered. He took a deep breath and contemplated her a moment before beginning.

“Kelly, what’s your sit-rep on Fred’s current operating capacity.”

“Physically? He’s never been better.”

“Not physically. Emotionally.” John corrected.

She scoffed. “John surely you can describe someone’s emotions other than operating capacity.”

A slight smile ghosted his lips before fading, “I’ve never been taught the procedures for that.”

“No I suppose not.” Kelly joked.

“He’s mentioned Veta Lopis before, and the events on Gao briefly.” John continued. “Do you have know of any reason that this could be affecting him personally. Do you believe it to be affecting his focus?”

“As for affecting his focus that’s difficult to quantify, though he’s not the one I’m concerned about.” John ignored that swipe as Kelly moved on. “ Though I think it’s pretty obvious that she’s important to Fred.” Kelly squinted up at the gym lights, carefully phrasing her words which immediately warned John that there was something on her mind.

John nodded at her to continue.

“I knew it pretty shortly after Gao… even if he didn’t…and doesn’t.”

John sighed and though he wondered if it would affect mission performance he remained silent. He knew he had not been exactly all clear lately and it showed, it would be hypocritical of him to comment now. Instead he thought of a better question.

“How could you tell?” He asked.

Kelly paused again, which was unlike her.

“Her name, not just how often he says it but… how he says it. Haven’t you noticed?” John shook his head, and awkwardly crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall of the passage in thought. He’d been too preoccupied to notice Blue Team. They’d been through a lot these past fews years without him and had changed in his absence. He owed it to them as their leader to pay closer attention. He had lost his footing with his team and though they’d been patient with him, he needed to find it again.

“Look, don’t believe me? Make him say her name. I can not explain it but her name sounds different coming out of his mouth. I don’t know…” Kelly faded off with a laugh and shook her head in silent frustration with something. She suddenly seemed to switch topics. “I don’t like things to change, I never have… it’s like losing control.”

John remained silent, but kept his eyes locked on his sister’s trying to make it as clear as possible that he valued this rare admission from her. But it was already over, Kelly pulled the towel off her shoulders in a languid motion of casualness.

“Did you need help with analyzing anyone else’s operating capacity? Or perhaps you ought to speak with him, it might do him good having you to help him understand.”

“No. I won’t do anything further at this point, sounds like there’s no harm done if he doesn’t realize.”

A ripple of amusement crossed Kelly’s face along with some other more indignant expression. “Well I think it would do him good to come to terms with the reality of the situation.” She turned to go back to the gym, and John was just beginning to mull over her words when she spoke again.

“John,” Kelly asked, spinning on her heel suddenly. “What was the name of your ai friend, the one you lost?”

John felt a strange sensation of pain rise up in his stomach, and a slight betrayal that she would bring up something so casually. Spartan IIs were usually so careful about the pain their fellow Spartans felt.

“Cortana” He said, voice low. There was for him no harder word.

Kelly raised her eyebrows pointedly, as she turned back around. “Oh... right.”

Fred though….he deserved to know what he stood to gain or lose. John roused himself and decided to leave the gym another way so he would not have to face Kelly. After this next mission to Argent Moon, he’d get his head straight and he’d find out more about this Veta.

The Master Chief took a slight step back as he watched the other Spartan march away. Her name still on his tongue, realization hit John like a powerful electric shock, and he found that he could not move. He remembered, before she was gone, he found increasing pleasure in hearing Cortana say his name. How he found himself with her name on the tip of his tongue, and took pleasure in pronouncing it. As if everything she was was encapsulated in those syllables. Saying her name, and feeling attention turn on him generated a sensation undefinable but if he had to John might describe it as almost sacred.

All at once he understood something he’d been afraid to. Loss wasn’t so bad if you never realized what you had in the first place, but now that illusion was gone and John felt exposed. He knew he lost her… and in the back of his mind he knew that whatever it was that he’d lost, he’d never find again, but now John realized just what he had. A wave of fatigue consumed John, and he felt a sudden urge to rest.

#Halo #Halo fanfiction #Master Chief #Fred-104 #freta #Johntana #Jortana #I wrote this in an hour just on a whim so apologies for the rough state #This was just a scene idea which doesn't fit into any of my other current WIPs so I thought I'd share the ugly roughness which is this scra

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hlcreators · 4 years

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AUTHOR REC: jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

Be sure to show some love by leaving kudos and comments!

Seven Simple Words (15k)

It’s not like he and Louis were a couple. No, they might have been a lot of things—best mates and colleagues with a seemingly convenient friends-with-benefits arrangement—but never a couple. It wasn’t Louis’ fault he didn’t feel the same way and couldn’t reciprocate Harry’s feelings in the way he’d wanted, the way he’d needed. Harry had allowed himself to get in too deep, his entire being aching to be loved back by the object of his affections. But in love, as in life, you don’t always get what you want.

OR the one where you don’t always get what you want the first time around, but sometimes the universe decides to give you a second chance at getting it right.

Feels So Right (8.8k)

The emcee leans in between them, handing over his mic to the blue-eyed vision. “You know what? Someday… Someday you guys might thank me for this...”

OR the one where Louis is Troy, Harry is Gabriella, and we find out what really happened after karaoke at that ski resort...

Wonderland (4.3k)

Louis has always loved lazy mornings in bed with his mate, but now that his Omega is carrying their pup, they’ve reached a whole new level of wonderment.

OR the one where Louis loves to worship his Omega’s body and Harry loves to let him.

The Baby Whisperer (18k)

Harry’s newborn baby is having trouble sleeping and nothing he does seems to work. Tired and alone and at his wits end, Harry is at a loss until a new neighbour arrives to turn his world upside down.

OR the one where being neighbourly takes on a whole new meaning.

Fuck U Betta (11k)

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

Caves End (39k)

When a recurring injury cuts short Harry’s time as the Captain of the English Football Team, he needs to rethink his career and his future. His best mate and manager, Niall, decides that what Harry really needs is a change of scenery, time to relax, and to get some perspective on his life. What Harry doesn’t expect is for them to end up in Australia, on a farm, with the most gorgeous man he’s ever laid eyes on.

OR the one where Harry has lost his future, Louis has lost his past, but maybe together, they can find a way through the dark.

When Tomorrow Comes (11k)

When Louis and Niall are partnered up to complete a project on Omega scents and how they effect the nesting behaviours of Alphas, little does Louis know that the course of his life is about to be forever altered.

OR the one where Louis is an Omega who has been keeping himself pure for his Alpha, Harry is a traditional Alpha focusing on his studies while he waits to find his bondmate, and Niall is a sneaky bastard who keeps borrowing Louis’ clothes and never returning them.

You Drive Me WIld (5k)

Most people would think that keeping a tube of lube hidden behind the driver’s side visor of their car is foolish and completely unnecessary, but then most people don’t have to chauffeur Louis Tomlinson around for a living.

OR the one where Harry has a brilliant idea to while away the time as he waits around for his boss but fate decides to rain on his parade... or maybe it’s the universe answering his prayers.

No Going Back (56k)

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right?

This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

Strong Enough (20k)

“So…” Liam starts, and Louis instantly knows where this is going. He’s actually glad it’s Liam that's dragging the subject out from the shadows and into the light. Louis turns to face him, mirroring his position on the couch and nods, ready for him to continue. Liam takes a deep breath. “Have you spoken to Harry recently?”

Five years after Vertigo goes on hiatus, the band comes back together for a benefit concert. Can Louis and Harry work through their complicated past, or are some wounds too deep to be healed?

Shine (13k)

“How does it feel?” Harry asks, genuine curiosity evident in his voice.

Louis lets his eyes drift closed and focuses on the sensations. “It’s like… like I’ve got hands all over me, touching me, inside and out, and…” Louis tries to zone in but it’s so hard to describe. “It’s like I’m being stimulated everywhere all at once.” As if on cue, his nipples and earlobes start tingling and he arches his back. “Oh fuck, yeah.”

OR the one where Louis has a thing for the sun and Harry is more than happy to indulge his sunshine boy.

If You’re Out There (I’ll Find You Somehow) (55k)

Harry looks so intensely into Louis’ eyes it’s as though he’s reaching in and touching his very soul. “I never thought… I never… I’ve been searching for so long, Louis, but I never gave up. I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop trying,” Harry says, bottom lip trembling as he strokes the backs of Louis’ knuckles. “I just knew that if you were out there, I’d find you somehow.”

OR the story of how one man’s love changed the world.

Everything I Do (16k)

Harry’s ready, has been for a while now, and he’s fairly certain Louis is too, it just hasn’t been on the top of their priority list. There have been offhand mentions, a comment here and there, more in jest than anything, no serious discussion or consideration. Harry stands up straighter, a stomach-churning thought forming in his mind. Has Louis been waiting for him to ask?

OR the one where Harry finds a book of Elizabethan courtship rituals which sets in motion a series of events that can lead to only one conclusion.

Playing To Win (36k)

Big Brother UK alumni Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are selected for the UK vs Australia All Stars series with a massive one million dollar prize in the offing. They’re both fit and smart and would make a great alliance... if only they can stop their feelings from getting in the way.

OR the one where Louis really doesn’t want to like Harry, Harry is struggling to quell his growing fondness for Louis, but sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t fight fate.

Exposed (666)

Louis should really stop agreeing to do favours for his friends while drunk, especially when they result in him becoming a live-art model…

Forever And Always (25k)

“Right,” Harry says and slaps his hands down on the kitchen benchtop. Now he just has to get home, find this poor Niall guy who is currently camped out in his body, and have them swapped back. What could possibly go wrong?

OR the one where Harry’s neighbour is a crotchety old witch who hates vampires, Niall is the unsuspecting human who ends up inhabiting Harry’s body, and Louis is the caseworker who is assigned to swap them back. How it ends up a love story is anyone’s guess.

Going My Way (20k)

"Hey Harry. Really sorry to do this to you but an emergency has come up with Vera’s mum and we’ve had to jump a flight home. My mate Louis is going to take over my LYFT clients while I’m away. He’s got my car and my phone and everything else. Hope that’s okay. He’s a good guy and I think you two are going to get along brilliantly. Catch you soon, Benny."

OR the one where Harry gets a replacement LYFT driver, Louis is just trying to earn some extra cash before the baby arrives, and they both end up with way more than they bargained for.

Up For It (18k)

Each year, the five friends take a lads holiday; it’s tradition, and this year is shaping up to be a jam-packed, fun-filled trip with their best mates just like all the rest... or is it?

OR the one where Liam is Mr Organised, Zayn is too perceptive for his own good, Niall is a compulsive matchmaker, and Harry and Louis might just have the surprise to shock them all.

With Words Unspoken (18k)

At forty-nine, Louis hadn’t envisioned being at a crossroads in his life; kids, grandkids, an ex-wife, and completely at a loss as to what direction his future will take. When he finds himself drawn back to a cabin in the Californian wilderness that’d he’d visited fifteen years earlier, an acquaintance from his past triggers an awakening deep inside and reveals a new path that he could never have imagined.

OR The one where Louis is lost, Harry is an excellent tour guide, and age is no barrier to finding the love of your life.

Henry and Lewis (4.3k)

PART 1 SUMMARY: Louis hangs out in his local coffee shop to work on his weekly WordPlay Prompt, speaks to his beloved muse aka Harry the gorgeous barista, embarrasses himself in front of said muse, and receives a comment on AO3 from his favourite reader.

SERIES SUMMARY: Every Tuesday, Louis spends his day off holed up in his favorite coffee-come-bookshop, writing his little stories as part of the WordPlay challenge while daydreaming about the resident barista, Harry. Each week a new word prompt is revealed and Louis adds to his series of short stories about Henry, the owner of a B&B in the Cotswolds who has curly hair and dimples, Lewis, his long term guest who just happens to be a writer, and Tigger, Henry’s cat.

As Louis and Harry’s friendship develops, could his fantasy world spill out into real life? And how does that reader who leaves the lovely comments with the teacup emoji seem to be able to read Louis’ mind?

Smuturdary (4.1k)

Louis struggles with this week's WordPlay prompt before finding inspiration, and a date, in an unexpected place, and could there be more going on with his favourite reader than he originally thought.

Tea For Two (4k)

Louis grapples with what to do about his new found suspicions over his favourite readers real-life identity.

Life Imitating Art (6.8k)

Louis is taken on a very real journey through his fic back catalogue - life has never imitated art so salaciously.

Entertain Me (5.3k)

All good things must come to an end, including the WordPlay challenge. But while Louis has mixed emotions about its end, and struggling to make sense of the final prompt, he is relishing every aspect of his newly revitalised personal life.

Play Me A Memory (26k)

Louis lives with his nine-year-old son Jake in a peaceful beachside community on the east coast of Australia, working as an entertainment coordinator at the local five-star resort. Harry is a recluse who lives on millionaires row and writes musical scores for blockbuster movies. When the roots of a wayward willow tree create havoc at his home, Harry is forced to stay at the resort while repairs are carried out.

Cue matchmaking storms, muffin preferences, laughter, love, and a whole lotta music.

The Cyber Sphere (17k)

As the author of The Cyber Sphere, a series of best-selling books which have spawned seemingly limitless spin-offs, Louis Tomlinson hides away from the world in his fortress-like London penthouse. But when he decides to interact with the host of The Cyber Times radio program, Dermot O’Leary, on Twitter, it causes a fandom meltdown and offers him hope for a future he’d never imagined.

OR the one where Liam likes to think he’s Batman, Dermot has terrible taste in sporting teams, and Louis should really get a cat.

Surprise Me, Space Boy (7.1k)

Louis is a solo officer on Space Station Zeta and the isolation can present many challenges, not least of which is that it’s really bloody hard to date. He’s pinning his hopes on that changing with a fellow solo officer, Harry, from a neigbouring station who gives great banter and has a gorgeous smile. Maybe online dating has its benefits after all?

OR The Space Wank Fic.

Harry Poppins (32k)

When Louis’ best friends pass away he finds himself with an instant family. Maddie and Thomas are wonderful children but take an immediate dislike to every nanny that sets foot inside their house. After nanny number six is summarily dismissed Louis is at his wit’s end, that is until an unusual man arrives on their doorstep. Harry Styles is like nothing any of them have ever encountered before, and perhaps, exactly what they’ve been looking for all along.

My One And Only (Desire) (500)

Harry is his, only his, and Louis belongs to Harry just as completely. They consume each other, in life, in love, in every way two people can.

Take Me Down Slow (Don’t Let Me Go) (26k)

Louis has always felt different. Not necessarily on the outer realm of societal norms, but pretty damn close to the edge. As an Omega, he’s supposed to want certain things; to want to raise a family, to want to build a life with a partner, and to want that partner to be an Alpha.

Well, two out of three ain’t bad.

OR the one where Louis wants to find the right kind of partner to love, Niall hates snowboarding, Liam wants to settle down, Harry is really good with his hands, and mother nature could be the thing that changes everything.

Soup Of The Day (19k)

It had been the single minded goal for them since college and seemed simple enough. 1. Study hard. 2. Open their dream restaurant. 3. Take the culinary world by storm.

What could possibly go wrong?

Or the Restaurant AU where Louis and Niall are chefs, Chicago is windy, and cracking the big time is harder than they ever imagined. But when a mysterious man starts grading Louis' soups by leaving little piles of rocks, could it be just the thing they need to get them on the road to success?

The Clock Strikes New Year (9.6k)

Louis senses people moving around behind him and cranes his neck left to right. The store is quiet, just staff and Louis and Harry, but all of the other salespeople appear to have gravitated to where they are to watch the little runway show Harry is putting on. He can’t blame them really, Harry is a sight to behold, but it makes him chuckle anyway.

“Okay, Lou, you ready for me?” Harry calls from the change room.

“As I’ll ever be, baby. Get out here!”

Harry comes into view and Louis’ breath catches in his throat.

OR Harry was homeless, but now he has Louis. Louis was lonely, but now he has Harry. And there’s more than one way to see fireworks on New Year’s Eve.

The Bet (2.4k)

Louis Tomlinson never reneges on a bet. Ever.

He may be many things - a joker, a sometimes-wayward student, a loyal friend, a Tony Award winner in the making, and a card-carrying member of the Chad Michael Murray fan club - but never, ever, a welcher. Louis makes good on his promises and does it with flare.

OR The one where Louis misjudges Harry's ability to do TLC's Waterfall rap and finds himself having to put on a one-man show for his viewing pleasure. If Louis decides to go all-in and dress the part, then that's just a bonus for his (very appreciative) one-man audience.

Heat (2.4k)

Louis was smitten from the moment Harry had arrived a month ago. Long, curly hair which he mostly keeps up in a bun, and a sinfully deep voice. Cheeky too. Louis likes that the best. He gives good banter and laughs at Louis’ dumb jokes, adding his own woeful puns. When Louis had asked him why he was in this godforsaken dust bowl, he’d said something about a ground crew traineeship and fulfilling his visa requirements while experiencing the real Australia. Louis had been momentarily distracted by Harry’s plush, red-bitten lips so the salient details may have washed over him.

OR Drinking beer in a blow-up pool, in a backyard, in stupidly hot temperatures, in outback Australia should be ridiculous, and it would be, if Louis didn't have a curly-haired workmate to keep him company.

Whisper The Wind (36k)

Louis’ father has political ambitions and decides it’s time for Louis to step up as the company’s Chief Financial Officer. Louis thinks this is a monumentally stupid idea. After storming off in a rage he has a chance meeting with a tall, dark, curly haired stranger. A technical glitch with their shared elevator finds Louis spending twenty minutes with the most intriguing man he’s ever met. Unfortunately the man is leaving London the very next day and moving to Australia to work at his mates surf school. Timing, as they say, can fuck right off.

Fast forward three years and Louis is miserable, a shadow of the man he once was, working in his father’s company, and hating every moment. At his thirtieth birthday party, surrounded by people he doesn’t know or doesn’t like, he decides to throw it all in and follow the impossible dream. Happiness, a fulfilling life, and someone to love. The question is, will that dream be found ten thousand miles away on a sandy beach, with a curly headed surfer dude?

Or the one where Louis rides an elevator that may change his life forever, Harry loves the ocean but is a terrible surfer, Liam proves not all heroes wear capes, and Niall might actually have all the answers.

The Clock Strikes Christmas (10k)

The clock ticks over to midnight and Niall strikes the match, lighting the candle and looking expectantly at Louis. “Time to make all your dreams come true. What’s your birthday wish Tommo?”

Louis stares into the flame and wonders. Closing his eyes, he thinks of cold winter nights curled up by the fire, driving along country roads holding hands across the console, laughter and warmth and a sense of belonging. An image creeps into his mind, blurry and shimmering. Curls, green eyes, milky white skin. Louis sucks in a deep breath, opens his eyes and blows.

The lights in the pub go out and the music stops, time seems to be teetering on the edge of something, like the crest of a roller coaster before the fall.

Then the pub surges back to life. “Sorry about that folks! Damn storm must be coming.” The bartender shouts out.

Niall is staring at him, mouth agape, before regaining his composure. “Must’ve been a helluva wish Tommo.”

Louis is a little stunned himself, but blinks out of it and laughs. “Yeah, must’ve been.”

OR the one where Louis needs someone to love, Harry needs a miracle, and sometimes, wishes really do come true

The Prince Of Light (35k)

Louis was found abandoned at a hospital at six months old and adopted by an older couple who raised him. Now twenty, he studies by night and by day works as a live-in au pair for a family with three little girls. One of the girls, Holly, swears there is a Garden Fairy coming and eating treats she leaves out in the cubby house each night.

When the family goes away for a two week holiday, Louis is secretly tasked with feeding the Fairy. While laying out the food one night he falls from the cubby house and is found by Harry. Harry is different and Louis is fascinated. But as Louis learns how different Harry really is, he discovers his own true home and a very surprising past he never knew.

Cue badgers, bananas and cookies, soulmates, a whole other world, and a future he’d never imagined.

Clouds On Curtis (9.6k)

A wave of comfort sweeps over Louis like a blanket as he allows himself a moment to imagine the possibilities. His past failures and disappointments feel like they are ebbing away, like shackles falling from his limbs. The burdens he's been bearing and the guilt he’s been carrying slipping away into the ground with each step he takes.

Harry reaches for the door and pauses, holding the handle he turns to face Louis.

“Are you ready for the adventure to begin?” Harry looks at him with hope in his eyes, dimple cratering in his left cheek.

“Absolutely, I’m all yours.” Louis says, wide smile breaking across his face, feeling the crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

In that moment he is sure of it. Surer than he's been about anything for years. This is exactly where he’s supposed to be. This is his second chance.

Or the one where Louis is a chef who is looking for a chance to start over, Harry’s restaurant needs the right chef to make his dream come to life, Niall is a cook who desperately wants to be a chef, and Liam just wants to be happy. Together, can they turn their dreams into reality?

#writer appreciation week #1dsource #hljournal #fics #author rec

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lifewouldbebetteronmars · 3 years

Text

Castle Towers Fall

Chapter 12 *Major Angst*

January 1904; The Silent City

Cordelia smiled down at her new baby brother as he slept quietly in her arms. Alastair had gone to see if there’s any update on their mother, even though he was still a bit shaky from fainting earlier. Their cousin Jem, otherwise known as Brother Zachariah, had attended to him and assured her that it was just a combination of low sleep and extreme stress.

Alastair had even been forced to promise that he would take it easy and actually sleep after this whole ordeal with their mother was over. He’d done it with an eyeroll but Cordelia knew he would listen.

The baby in her arms started to fuss and stretching out his arms and legs within the swaddle. His face was all scrunched up and tears were starting to well up in his face.

“Hush, joon. It’s alright, it’s alright.” she cooed, rocking him in her arms. He calmed considerably with a small smile, opening his eyes. “You need a name, don’t you, dadash? We can’t just call you nicknames forever, you might never know you’re real name if we do that. We might just have to wait for Mâmân to tell us what you’re name is, hm?” Her brother started to gurgle, showing off his gummy smile.

Someone cleared their throat. Cordelia turned to see Alastair leaning against the door frame. “We won’t have to wait long, Mâmân wants to see all of us. The Silent Brothers just told me.” Alastair said, pushing himself off the door frame and turning on his heel.

Cordelia held their brother closer to her chest and followed behind him. “Do you think everything’s alright? With Mâmân, I mean?”

Alastair wasn’t looking at her when he replied. “I don’t know, Cordelia. I really don’t know.”

Cordelia, not Layla. That means this must be serious, a lot more serious than anyone is letting on.

Their mother was laying on a bed when they walked into the room. She looked so tired, even if she was trying not to show it. She smiled weakly at them when she heard them come in, beckoning them closer with her hand.

“Children, come here. Come sit with me.” she said in a quiet voice. Cordelia sat down first and shifted to make her brother more comfortable when she did so. Alastair was still standing in the doorway, almost like he was scared to come into the room fully. “Alastair, come sit, please.” her mother sounded desperate at the last word.

Alastair complied and sat down with his whole body riddled with tension. He was avoiding looking at any of them, preferring to pick at the skin on his hands.

Her mother made a grabbing motion with her hands, reaching out for the baby sleeping in Cordelia’s arms. “I haven’t gotten to hold him yet. How has he been, azizam?”

“Perfect, Mâmân. He’s absolutely perfect.” Cordelia gushed as she shifted her brother into her mother’s arms. He started to cry loudly, his tiny arms flailing around.

“Hush, eshgham. Mama’s here, it’s alright. You’re alright.” she cooed, looking utterly enamored with her new baby. “He looks like you did when you were a baby, Alastair. Especially with that full head of hair.” she stroked his head, soothing the little baby more.

Alastair finally looked up with a small smile on his face. “I’m sure he does, Mâmân.” he looked at their brother, looking a little shocked when his small fist grabbed Alastair’s finger.

“You both did that a lot too, you know. I remember that after you were born Cordelia, you grabbed his finger, it wasn’t much bigger than yours, but you gripped it so tight that Alastair almost fell off the bed because he jumped back so far.” their mother said fondly with a soft laugh.

Cordelia looked at Alastair with raised eyebrows. “I guess me scaring you has always been happened, eh, dadash?” Alastair rolled his eyes at her fondly.

“Oh, shush Layla.” he retorted, but his words had no heat behind them.

“Children, I need to tell you both something.” their mother was suddenly quiet, the whole room dripping in silence after the baby had finally settled to sleep. Cordelia and Alastair both focused their eyes on their mother.

“What is it, Mama?” Cordelia said, using the name she hadn’t used in years for her mother.

“It’s about your father.” their mother was avoiding their eyes, just like Alastair did when he was lying. They were all terrible liars, Cordelia was just better at hiding it than her mother and brother did.

“What about our father?” Cordelia prompted, even though she didn’t really want to know the answer to that.

“It’s not about your father, Cordelia. It’s about mine. Right, Mâmân?” Alastair said with his eyes blazing in determination. Cordelia looked at her brother in confusion. But they share the same father? Elias is their father, he always has been, even if he’s gone now.

Their mother nodded wearily before responding. “Yes, Alastair. You’re right. I wasn’t talking about Elias, I was talking about Theodor.”

Theodor? Why was Mama talking about her dead husband? Nothing was making sense right now to Cordelia.

“You see, Cordelia, Elias isn’t Alastair’s father. Theodor is.”

“That can’t be true. Alastair, tell me it’s not true.” she turned to her brother frantically, searching his eyes for an answer.

“I would be lying Layla, and I promised myself I wouldn’t lie to you after the whole ordeal with Elias.” Elias. Not baba, or papa, or even father. Just Elias. She knew he was bitter about him but she’d never heard Alastair call him by his first name, he usually referred to him as father around her.

Cordelia turned to her mother, tears burning in her eyes. “Why did you lie, Mama? Why?” she asked, close to tears.

“I didn’t know I was pregnant when Theodor died, so that was why I married Elias without hesitation. I found out after the wedding and assumed the baby-Alastair-was his.” her mother explained, looking at her and reaching a hand out to touch hers.

“How did you find out then?” Alastair asked, but he didn’t let their mother answer and kept on talking. “Is it because I look like him? Two people have pointed it out, Mâmân. Please tell me.”

She nodded. “Yes. You look exactly like my Theodor did, it’s almost like looking at a memory. You have his hair, his nose, the shape of his eyes, you even get the same determined look on your face that he did. But it’s not just that,” she hesitated, looking back down at the baby in her arms.

“What else is there?” Cordelia didn’t know what else could prove who fathered Alastair besides the way he looks.

“When Cortana chose you, Cordelia, over Alastair, I think my mind caught up with what my heart already knew. That Elias wasn’t Alastair’s father.”

She’d known for nearly five years and hadn’t said a word?

“Five years, you waited five years to say anything? Why?” Alastair beat her to it before she could even ask the question she’d been thinking.

“Cordelia, why don’t you take the baby and let Alastair and I have some time to talk?” Their mother suggested, reaching out to give the baby to her. Cordelia accepted him into her arms with a nod and left the room.

She only just got the first few words her mother said when she closed the door.

“It all started when...”

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

Translations:

Joon - Dear

Dadash - Brother

Azizam - My dear

Eshgham - My love

Tags:

@aceofjesper

@alastaircarstairsourboi

@styxdrawings

@this-person-is-a-hoe

@imchaotic-dontmindme

@devikaontheoffbeat

@banescrown

@lucie-herondale-blackthorn

@fantasy-rep

@king1pin

@the-come-n-stare-family

@lovelaces

@interestingdork

@doitforthecarstairs

#castle towers fall #the last hours fic #alastair carstairs fic #alastair verlac fic #ceo of the first alastair verlac fic #alastair carstairs #alastair verlac #sona carstairs #theodor verlac #cordelia carstairs

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asterekmess · 4 years

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Werewolves and Why I Love Them

So, hi, my name is Tali and I’m a werewolf addict.

I’ve been pretty much obsessed with werewolves since right around the time I turned twelve. The entirety of Teen Wolf aside, I’ve loved them for years. I wrote my first novel about them. I dream about them regularly (like two days ago, for instance). The majority of my original fiction is about werewolves.

For the longest time I honestly didn’t understand why I loved them so much. I mean sure, I’m in love with nighttime and am fucking entranced by full moons. I guess that helps. But it always felt like so much more than that, to the point that I used to wish desperately that I would find out I was a secret werewolf and just hadn’t changed yet, in the same way other kids wished they had magic powers. My husband and I joke pretty often about how I’m just a lil more wolfy than is probably normal. Or catlike, we can never decide.

There’s a reason for that, that I’ve found makes so much fucking sense???

I’m neurodivergent. Specifically, I have ADHD. I’ve always had it, bc that’s how it works, but you’d be surprised at how much elementary school’s strict structuring and constant supervision can keep a people-pleasing, terrified of rejection, neurodivergent kid under control. I masked most of my symptoms and I masked them well. Even at home, to the point that although I was diagnosed really young, my mother was insistent that I had no need for medication or therapy to help me deal with the altered development of my brain.

Then came middle school and my rebellious stage, where I finally stopped acting the way other people wanted me to act. Boom. ADHD symptoms galore, and my mother was flabbergasted. I was about Twelve.

Cue the werewolf obsession.

It was only once I started learning about all the symptoms I’d just assumed everybody was dealing with and figured out how to examine the ways that my neurological disorder effected my life, that it all started to make so much more sense.

Dude, werewolves are basically hyped up embodiments of ADHD.

Now, do not misinterpret me. I’m not comparing ADHD people to dogs or animals of any kind. That’s not what this is about.

This is about werewolves being almost painfully realistic representations of many ADHD symptoms from inside the ADHD person’s head.

You see ADHD people onscreen rarely, and usually when they show up they’re presented in much the same way Stiles is in the first episode. Jumpy, Distracted, Hyperactive, Addicted to meds. It sucks. And even when there is good representation, what the audience sees is almost always the neurotypical point of view rather than the pov of the actual ADHD person. You see them doing things for seemingly no reason, reacting to nothing or getting worked up over tiny things. Even the good rep doesn’t really encapsulate what it’s like to be inside that person’s head.

In my experience, werewolves get that shit right, even though it’s on accident.

There are so many things we relate to werewolves that actually express ADHD symptoms incredibly well.

Noticing sounds that other people can’t hear. (The buzz of a lightbulb or the hum of the fridge)

Getting hopeless distracted by other people’s conversations, even if they’re all the way across the room, just because you latched onto their voice.

Having strong reactions to scents and tastes and textures, that leave you nauseous around certain foods and keep you from being able to walk through the chemical aisle at Wal-mart (or is that just me?).

Impulsivity that makes you do things even you can’t fully understand, including things that you didn’t actually want to do.

Emotions that run so high you don’t know what to do with yourself.

That constant buzzing under the skin that says be more do more be more do more until you just want to run until you exhaust yourself.

Zoning out and losing literally all sense of time, occasionally with a bout of memory loss.

Constantly being on guard in public and adjusting everything from your behavior to your personality just so you can seem “normal.” Until it’s like you’re two different people.

Being unable to properly express yourself with words and it getting so fucking frustrating that you want to just growl and bite and scream (howl) to make them back off until you can think again.

Having things about yourself that some people call gifts but that others call a curse and not knowing which one to believe.

Right down to routines (wolves are on a monthly routine) and meditation or focal points (anchors) being the only way to deal with the sensory overload and calm yourself down.

Lots of ADHD people I know are really tactile. It makes perfect sense. Touch releases happy chemicals and we are perpetually lacking the happy chemicals. I myself love tactility, if only from literally one person. The concept of “puppy piles” is so fucking nice I can’t even describe it. It gives me a fucking serotonin high just thinking about it.

The reassurance that the concept of “packs” brings, a community of people just like you who accept you and let you be yourself? People who will accommodate you without blaming you for making their lives more difficult? That is so much harder to find than you think, even amongst other neurodivergent people.

Not to mention, when a werewolf freaks out about the loud noise or jumps at the slam of a door across the house? People just accept it. No one questions it, cus’ “They’re a werewolf.”

Werewolf shows or books or fanfic show a werewolf acting in a way that ‘normal’ people would find incredibly weird, but from their point of view. They let the audience hear the noise that made the wolf react. They alter the lens (sometimes really badly) so that you get a visual representation of the wolf’s vision tunneling so they only think about that one thing right now and none of the rest of the world matters.

No calling them ‘obsessed’ or ‘sensitive’ or ‘paranoid.’ No viewing them as ‘That annoying character who freaks out at nothing.’ Now the audience can see the cacophany of having that mindset and those feelings. They actually understand.

When I read about werewolves, I feel like I’m reading my own fucking thoughts. Yes, my dude, I totally feel you. The squeak of that person’s brakes might not bother anyone else because they can tune it out, but you can’t and it feels like the loudest sound in the world. No one else can smell that scent on the bed or the couch from like three weeks ago, but by god it’ll give you a fucking headache when you’re trying to sleep. Running off all that energy must be nice. I too lose my temper at the tiniest things for no discernible reason and have feelings so intense that I can’t breathe. I feel you about there being too much going on all the time, and I can’t get my homework done either.

It’s no fucking wonder that Stiles fits in so well with werewolves.

For ages I thought I was a total freak for being so obsessed with werewolves, but it’s just because I relate to them so damn much. Mystery solved, I can go back to my fanfic in peace.

Tldr; Werewolves are good ADHD rep and you won’t change my mind.

#personal #rant #ADHD #Oh and Yes this does also explain why I have a weird kinship with the Witcher #and literally any other character with heightened senses #impulsivity #and a Lot of feelings #with a bad temper to boot #sorry for the #long post #werewolves

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trifoliumrex · 3 years

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Fresh Blood Chapter 1

Your money troubles drive you to make a someone what desperate move. For a quick buck you decide to take advantage of the newly revealed vampires and sell your blood at a more reputable clinic. What could go wrong? Especially when you catch the eye of a beautiful Stanger.

Word count : 4532

updates Fridays, tags will update each chapter.

Unfortunately RM, V, and JK are not in this fic though they may be alluded to

Thanks to @slaughter-mama for all her incredible work as beta

A03 link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31734712

https://trifoliumrex.tumblr.com/post/653732705819869184/fresh-blood-chapter-2

The clinic is clean and mind numbingly quiet, the smell of cleaner making the air stuffy with its sterile scent. You look down at your hands and are tempted to bite your nails, a habit you thought had long been a part of your past. Your teeth chew on the soft flesh of your cheek, doing nothing to dissuade the nervous itch, the idea more tempting than ever given your current situation. Shoving them under the crooks of your knees, you sit on them not wanting to damage the nail beds like you had in your careless youth. You weren't going to let your nerves take away from your hard-won victory, even as cool sweat ran down your back in anticipation.

Donating blood was something you were quite nervous about. Well, being a live donor, anyway. The old fashioned way of needles, tubes and the works were no problem for you, in the rare occasions you had blood work done. This way of donating blood though, you hadn't ever done, not once in your adult life. The thought of letting someone, a stranger, from a different species at that, bite you, and more concerning, taste you? You weren't scared of vampires like most of your peers but it just seemed so intimate and so personal.

It wasn’t dangerous, you assured yourself again, you knew the rules, just about everyone did now, and this clinic was as reputable as they came. You had heard about back alley clinics where girls went in and agreed to all sorts of “special requests”. Clinics that were shut down the next day with donors found in the back allies with marks from differing sets of teeth. You had doubted that such places were even real and if they were this wasn’t one of those places, so it didn't matter. You give your head a little shake to dispel the notion. This one would have someone come check before, during and after the procedure. They vetted donors and recipients. They had organic orange juice and a cookie waiting for you! Besides all that, the fact was you needed the money.

Your manager, Craig, the source of all your problems, had been cutting back on your hours lately. Not only did he play favorites, he was the self-appointed office creep, everyone knew it and no one seemed to care. You had complained to the HR department about various incidences; when his hand on your shoulder started to linger just a bit too long, when he would come too far into your cubicle essentially trapping you, looking down like you were prey. Unsurprisingly, no help came, no investigations, no other witnesses. As a customer service rep, you were the lowest rung on the ladder and no one higher up gave a shit. It was hard to be afraid of the idea of vampires who for the most part didn't seem to get up to much when the mundane creeps were already so prevalent.

So now here you are, struggling financially. You had burned through what modest savings you had managed to gather before your manager had taken a little too much notice of you. Blood clinics like this offered good, quick pay and you were getting desperate.

You didn't live an extravagant lifestyle, far from it, but working at Park Industries you did have to meet a specific dress code and needed a place close to work in the downtown area since you didn't have a car and needed quick access to the subway. Your apartment was shit and still almost out of your budget. It was a scam in your option but you craved the independence that working in the city afforded you. You haven't lived there long but you would do what you needed to avoid moving back to your home town. Your manager sucked but the work, though difficult at times, didn't worry you.

You look up with a start realizing the nurse was calling your name. You flush and smile at her apologetically hoping she only called the once and stand up on, you are happy to note, legs that are only slightly shaky. She seems annoyed but she is trying to hide it for you, or at least trying to appear like she's hiding it from you.

She leads you back to what could be a doctor's office save for the couch on one end and the lack of the exam table. But the sinks there and even the little jar of cotton balls. It's almost comforting how mundane the room is. The couch is leather and you wonder if that makes it easy to clean. You let out a nervous giggle preferring to stand in the corner across from the couch, watching as the nurse ignores your anxious body language.

“The client will be by, in a moment,” she says putting a clip style monitoring device on your finger. She flashes what seems like a practiced smile, with teeth that are too white, but you offer her a smile anyway. You were here kind of late after your shift and maybe you were the last client of the day keeping her from going home. Or maybe she was just unpleasant, hard to say. “They will knock first and once you give permission they will enter. If at any point you would like to stop just take the monitor off your finger, alright? We’ll have someone come right in.” You hadn't noticed anyone else when you came to the clinic but maybe you just hadn’t been looking in the right place.

You swallow and nod. She puts a hand on your shoulder. You can tell it’s meant to be comforting, but it comes across a bit condescending. She seemed to be able to tell how nervous you were though so you try and at least appear calmer. You don’t think you are successful. “Anything happens and this will let us know right away.” She taps the monitor and flashes you another phony smile “Just remember that the act itself makes your blood more attractive to other potential clients.” Vampires, you think derisively, she should just say the word. “It also forms a temporary bond that can become permanent from repeated donation. We highly recommend that you return to this clinic if you wish to donate again to avoid accidental repeat donation to the same client and to make sure you get any open wounds sealed before leaving.” Her speech was well rehearsed, easy and almost natural. “You’ll do fine” she winks in a distinctly unfriendly way as she walks out the door gently shutting it behind her.

You shudder slightly. She didn’t tell you anything the forms you had just signed didn’t tell you or the multiple brochures you had read in the lobby didn’t spell out in a variety of clip art presentations. You knew about the blood bond side effects but weren’t particularly worried. Whoever you donated too would be able to hear your heartbeat after one feeding, but only if they were relatively close. The other part though, other vampires being more attracted to you? Even with where everything was now with rouge attacks almost unheard of, it was still a bit frightening even if you knew that most vampires as a whole were pretty much like normal people. It was almost negligible anyway as they needed to be right on you to smell the other vamps on you unless you were actively bleeding.

There was a knock at the door. Two raps in quick succession. Confident and sure unlike your repose. “Uhm, you can come in?”

An hour before his appointment slot at the clinic, Jimin loosened his tie slightly, glaring into his reflection in the window, glancing down at his watch. It was getting late, and the clinic (for fucking vampires no less) wasn’t open for 24 hours, not even dusk to dawn hours. He didn’t want to miss his appointment after the day he had had. He had put off his feeding for too long and was becoming a bit testy. He let out an angry huff making his way to his private elevator and to his car. His driver had it pulled around, so at least that was going well tonight. Truly, Jin was almost always dependable but with a day like today it was a nice surprise.

He was in the business of business, as he liked to say. His portfolios were diversified and Park Industries had its fingers in many pies but he had started as a shipping company way back when the world still needed candles to see at night. He had a knack for it and at the time he needed something to eat up the long hours spent alone. He started as a captain and eventually one ship turned into a fleet, then into a fully fledged company. Much had changed but it was still something to distract him. He had been a vampire capable of adapting unlike so many of his day and it often gave him a competitive edge. It also made him a target, especially from those who did not take so kindly to the shifting centuries. He worked long hours and enjoyed his life to its fullest not sparing any expense on himself. Jimin was hard working, but today had been trying to say the least.

Today he had been reminded of a blunder he had made years ago by some annoying rival company. He needed access to one of their shipping ports but The Twins, the owners and the namesake of their shared company were not having any of it. They owned most of the ports that were closed to Park Industries and he had expected them to approve the request to use the ports as it would be mutually beneficial, but apparently long ago he hadn't brought them a blood sacrifice or some dumb shit like that. Who even cared anymore? The Twins had refused to modernize and resented those of their kind who had. Preferring to be kings if not gods among men rather than live amongst them, collecting power and money in a modern way.

He was tired of the hassle. Of working around ancient idiots but also of the new regulations imposed on his kind. When vampires had become public, feeding had become such an ordeal. He had considered contracting a donor privately which was legal but had the disadvantage of forming a strong blood bond. He didn’t want to know his foods’ feelings. He missed the dark, the days he could just take as he pleased but those days were long gone. The government was strict on his kind.

He supposed he could always get a rotation of donors. This was technically illegal unless you had admins to ensure they were properly taken care of. He could hire the staff but the thought made him scowl. It was no real secret what he was. The rumors were rampant and every now and then he would do something particularly aggressive to make certain they circulated, but he was careful that his undead status was on as few official documents as possible. His eyes rolled back in his head as he thought of an acquaintance of his whose easily searchable government I.D. declared him a literal monster to anyone with a smartphone. An idiot move and one he did not intend to emulate.

Jimin was a dangerous man through and through. His CEO status and ruthless business sense alone was enough to make him formidable in every sense, though the fangs and supernatural advantages certainly didn’t hurt. He rarely needs to use them these days as legal means could destroy a competitor just as brutally, though he had readily used less than legal means when he deemed it necessary, or when the threat was less than human like the aforementioned Twins and their now, shell of a company.

So now here he was, at the clinic. He got out of the car and re-buttoned his suit jacked in a one handed practiced movement. He vaguely gestures to Jin to wait for him. If it had been anyone else, they wouldn't have understood but Jin was always good at reading a situation and even better at reading people or in this case what used to be people. He nodded at Jimin and pulled off to wait. The garish neon light illuminated Jimin's face and made his scowl more intimidating as he went in. Except for another vampire, it was basically deserted. Good, he thought to himself, checking in.

As they were expecting him it was a quick process. His money and reputation got him fast service and the best donors. Clean, quiet and usually pretty. The clinic wanted to impress him. A blandly pretty nurse led him to a door. Maybe he had seen her before as she seemed to know him but he didn’t care enough to bother trying to remember. She smelled off, putting too many creams and perfumes to try and entice vampires to look her way. He was repulsed by her. He didn't even bother keeping it off his face, in a place where he didn't need to play at being human. He paid good money here to stay off the official books

“I think you’ll like this one sir, pretty and young and if you don’t mind me saying, just the right amount of nervous. Her first time.” She snickered. He frowned, not liking the nurse's tone or obvious insinuations. Despite his reputation he didn’t think of his donors as victims and didn't want them to be scared of him. He knew plenty of vamps who liked to cause donors pain but that had never been his style at least not in private. Even before the world had changed when he took blood from the unwilling, he had preferred to cause as little suffering as possible.

The nurse stopped at the door and he stared at her with disdain, clearly dismissing her. Once she scuttled away, he felt like he could breathe cleanly again, picking up on other warm bodies in the building. A scent pulled him back to the present, just on the other side of the door. It was faint but quite pleasing. He knocked. Twice. No hesitation.

“Uhm you can come in?” A nervous voice rang out from behind the door. He waited a second composing himself trying to make sure he wouldn’t scare the girl any more than she already was. Probably scared of monsters, the poor thing. Unlike the nurse, you smelled good. He could smell a tasteful amount of perfume, a soft floral smell and sweat that didn't mask the sweet smell of your blood.

You haven’t been expecting Nosferatu or anything. You had met a few beings in your life, that you were fairly confident were vampires, not that you had asked, but there were instances. This man before you certainly wasn’t what you were expecting either. He was, quite simply, beautiful. Striking features, bright eyes, a color you couldn't quite place, that looked like they were a light source on their own and intense red hair that was clearly a fashion choice. A good choice, you think to yourself. To your dismay, the person in front of you was very well dressed. Clearly this suit was not off the rack; it fit him so well and looked so good. Oh god, you could feel the blush rise in your cheeks and hoped the monitor on your finger wouldn’t register the spike in your heart beat. You suddenly wish you were in something other than your business casual work clothes. You didn't have anything that would rival his look but you couldn't help the desire to make a good impression.

He walked over and sat on the sofa, undoing the bottom button of his Jacket. He was careful to leave a lot of space between you at all times. You thought they only did that in the movies, the button thing. It was so fluid and quick. Good with his hands, you thought before you could catch yourself. Great, if you weren’t blushing then you certainly were now.

God you're pretty, he thinks. And that smell that's coming from you...You smell like a fine wine and he wants a taste the second he’s in the room. That flush of blood so close to the surface of your face is so appealing, you look positively edible. Did you know the spell you were casting over him? Your nerves but distinct lack of fear made you give a vulnerable air and he leans in just a bit, unable to help the minute shift in his posture. He chuckles and carefully gestures to you to sit with him, letting the space speak for itself. Your heartbeat spikes and he grins at the sound in his ears, revealing a hint of white fang. The sight brings you back to the reality of the situation and with a touch of hesitation, you sit next to him. You realize you are now more nervous to sit with this beautiful man than about the whole blood donor thing. Maybe, you mull over, you hadn't met a vampire before, not if they were all this hot.

He can tell how nervous you are and he is surprised by how much he doesn’t like it. You smell intoxicating and you look so helpless, nervous and trembling ever so slightly. You probably didn't even realize you were doing it, he wasn't sure a human would be able to tell. He wants you to feel safe. Safe with him. The only thing that makes sense to him would be that you are afraid of what he is, not really considering that it might be his appearance, his supernatural beauty making you behave like this.

“You seem nervous. You don’t have to do this. If you want to leave, you have that choice. I’ll walk you to the door even if you like.” He’s surprised he said it the second it slips out. He means it though, he realizes; he’d walk you right to your door if you would let him. He wants to take you right here right now, wants to feel your heart pump for him, that was true, but he also feels protective. He wants to... well he's not entirely sure what he wants from you, only that he wants you.

“No I... I want to. I mean I need to.” You are just as surprised as him by your own admission. “I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous, I've never done this before.” You blush again or maybe it just deepened, you’re unsure if the blush had ever really left your face. You do feel very warm. The whole conversation sounded like innuendo in your ears and it wasn’t helping.

“I can tell.'' He smiles and it transforms his face from beautiful to truly stunning. He looks soft almost and any threat you felt seems to have disappeared. He can hear your heart slow into a regular rhythm and the blush creep higher into your checks. Did you know what it was doing to him? He felt almost drunk being next to you. “What brings a girl like you to a place like this?” He knows he shouldn’t bother and he won’t see you again but he doesn’t want this to end. He wants more than your blood; he wants to know you, wants you to be his.

“I-uhm,” you frown suddenly. He doesn’t like it. You should be smiling, mirthful, joyful, sparkling. “Work is complicated. My manager, “at manager, your nose wrinkled in disgust. “Has taken it upon himself to cut my hours.'' Jimin frowns as well, leaning in.

“And why is that? Are you a bad worker? You seem responsible.”

“Do I?” You laugh, disbelieving. It's a wonderful sound. He idly mulls over the idea of asking you to laugh again so he can record and listen to it all the time. That was probably creepy to say so he tucks the thought away.

“It’s your shoes. Very sensible.”Your eyes flick from his face to your shoes. You had swapped to plain flats before you had walked into the clinic, heels in your bag hanging from the hook on the door a few feet away. The flats weren’t bad but you did wish you hadn't swapped now.

“No, I'm not a bad worker, I just don't think my work is what my manager wants from me. It's all I'm willing to give him though.” His frown deepens, not pleased to know this at all. Should he offer you a job? It might be strange, given the circumstances. He doesn't want to scare you away. "I don't mind the job, it keeps me here in the city. The lifestyle of the glamorous and all that. Just like I don’t mind being here.”

“If you are sure,” he can’t wait anymore now that you're relaxed, he has to have you to taste. But he decides then and there he’s going to leave you a tip. He doesn’t want you to ever come near this place again. He doesn’t want anyone else to touch you. Or to taste you. Hell, even to behold you. Hopefully it will take some of the stress off of your shoulders.

You carefully move your hair for him, leaning your head to the side, offering your neck. As pretty as he is you have to close your eyes. The actual bite is still a little much to face with your eyes open. The thought of teeth actually biting into your flesh is scary you have to admit, and you're worried it will hurt. This show of trust, intimacy, almost overwhelms you and he bites down before you have a chance to think about it too much. He’s careful to make sure he doesn’t harm you more than what is absolutely necessary. You let out a small gasp. He’s drinking faster than you thought and your vision starts to tunnel after the rush passes and you realize you are going to pass out, the feeling of the blood being pulled from you proving to be too much. You hand clutches at his jacket but you're not quick enough to pull the monitor off your finger to signal something's off.

Mine. It's all he can think as he closes his eyes for a moment, lost in the ecstasy of your blood. Your smell and taste surrounding him completely. He should slow down, savor every drop of your blood but he can't. You tasted even better then you smelled, he holds you closer to him, careful not to hurt you despite his overwhelmingly distracted state.

He opens his eyes wanting to see your face for a moment and realizes you have passed out. Panic sets in slowly. Fuck, not good. This could happen, especially to first time donors. Especially when he had been pulling out your blood so aggressively. Guilt and hunger mix in his throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He forces himself to pull back from you, easily moving to the other side of the room with a single movement. Your body hits the couch, your neck still oozing blood. It’s all he can do to make himself leave the room, breathing shallowly, when he wants nothing more than to go back in and drain you dry.

He storms out with your blood still on his lips and angrily stops at the front desk. They were supposed to stop him if the donor passed out, the shared negligence almost cost you your life. They had staff on hand that could at least have broken the trance your blood had put him under! He didn't even know how long he had been drinking or how long you were unconscious, he had been so lost in your blood. Fuck, he had almost killed you. He strains his ears to hear you breathe just to make sure you were still alive.

The rude nurse who fancied herself your pimp and his dealer looked up, startled. He made a startling if not terrifying sight, blood at his mouth and eyes alight with rage. He was angry with himself, with the clinic, with whoever had fucked around with your schedule resulting in you being here in the first place. He storms to the front desk and can't help but enjoy it when she recoils back from him.

“She gets home safe and with double pay or this place burns to the ground with you inside. If I find out she goes to another one of your clinics or to any clinic you all fucking die.” Jimin’s voice is level but reveals nothing but wrathful promise. The rude nurse gulps, terror in her eyes as she manages a nod. “Bill my fucking account.” he spits out, turning on a heel to leave, resisting the urge to shatter the doors on his way out. Jin pulls the car around in seconds. That's what he liked about Jin; he paid attention, he was never playing on his phone or something nonsensical, he was always there right on time

Jin doesn’t miss the fury rolling off of his employer as he slides in to the comfortable leather seat. He cocks his head in the mirror, waiting for an explanation but Jimin doesn't even notice. Jimin is already making plans, he’s going to send someone tomorrow to make sure everything was taken care of. As much as he wants to go back in and make sure you're okay now, he doesn’t trust himself to not kill you in the process. He wipes the blood that fell from his lips and brings it back up to his tongue, tasting you again for an agonizing moment. Fuck, you tasted amazing.

“You okay, boss?”

“Yes, just...tonight was interesting.” He makes a note to have them find your number when he sends whoever he thinks to send. Probably his head of security if he wanted this done right.

You awake some time later, the nurse cleaning your neck. She looks pale and when she finishes signing you out, she presses an envelope into your hand. She tells you that you did fine but that due to your reaction you wouldn’t be invited to donate again and that clinics would be warned in the future not to expect you. Reasonably, you are confused. Why did she seem so scared? You gently touch your neck thinking about your beautiful vampire client. Glad for the wound because at least it was proof that tonight was real. You may have passed out, sure, but you could be convinced to do it again, especially for him.

When you finally count the money, the amount surprises and confuses you but the clinic insists it’s correct when you call. They tell you your client had offered you a tip. You didn't know that kind of thing happened but maybe it was just the standard thing? You frown though when the clinic insists you don't call again. You hang up your phone, still unsure but deposit the money the next day, very thankful to your mysterious beautiful patron.

#bts reader insert #jimin x reader #park jimin #reader insert #vampire au #horror au #corporate au #blood drinking #creepy boss #selling blood

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liss-99 · 3 years

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I'm sorry I had to : 93 × no body no crime

I'm so excited what you do for this :))

I cannot even tell you the reaction I had when I saw this prompt. This might be my favorite one yet. I hid it below the line because I love it that much!

TW: murder and violence, obviously

It was a secret she would take with her to the grave.

Kate Sharma and Sophie Beckett became best friends during their first year of college. They were both averse to popularity and the social scene, electing instead to carve their own paths in life. Kate wished to become a social worker while Sophie had dreams of being an elementary school teacher. Their first meeting was in a freshman child psychology course, and the rest, as people often said, was history.

They were there for each other through all of the life moments; their undergraduate and graduate programs, getting that first job, boyfriends, drunken nights, vacations, weekend hikes, vintage clothing shopping on rainy days, living together, everything.

Sophie met a man eventually, Phillip Cavender. They married after only six months together, Sophie had been completely captured by him. He was from old money and he knew it, and while Kate didn’t particularly like him, she loved her friend, so she did her best to be supportive. Cavender never seemed to realize how great of a person Sophie was, and the veneer of their marriage quickly cracked.

Both having busy lives and full-time jobs, the women didn’t get to see each other as often as they both would have liked. But, they did have a ritual, ensuring they got to catch up with each other.

Every Tuesday, they would meet up at the local Olive Garden, their favorite chain restaurant since college, for dinner and a glass of wine, Chardonnay for Kate and Pinot Noir for Sophie. They usually chatted about work, romance, the latest news, whatever was on their minds. But this night, when Sophie arrived she looked more stressed out than Kate had ever seen her. Their wine had already arrived, the staff had come to learn the routine, so Sophie took a huge sip of hers and sighed as she sat down.

“What’s the matter?” Kate asked, concerned about her best friend. Sophie looked as if she hadn’t been sleeping.

“It’s Phil,” Sophie sighed. “He’s been acting different, and I don’t have any proof, but it smells like infidelity to me.”

“You think he’s cheating on you?”

“All I know is he tastes like merlot whenever we kiss,” Sophie replied, “and we don’t drink merlot.”

Kate crossed her arms, waiting for more.

“I was going through our joint account yesterday, you know, just for maintenance, to make sure everything was in order.”

“And?”

“There was a $1200 charge for Tiffany’s from three weeks ago. He hasn’t given me any jewelry since he proposed.”

“That bastard,” Kate exclaimed. “He’s absolutely cheating.”

“No there ain’t no doubt about it. I want to call him out.”

Sophie’s jaw clenched, which didn’t go unnoticed by Kate.

“I think he did it but I just can’t prove it. A few undiscussed charges and the taste of wine aren’t enough to accuse my husband of cheating.

“Ah, corpus delicti,” Kate sighed, sitting back in her chair. “No body, no crime.”

“Exactly. Without any proof, I don’t have grounds for divorce or he’ll ruin me. I think he did it, but I need proof. Even if it takes me until the day I die, I won’t let up.”

Kate raised her glass to cheers with Sophie, silently celebrating that her best friend would hopefully soon be rid of her scummy husband.

Sophie wasn’t there Tuesday night at Olive Garden, at her job, or anywhere. It had been a few weeks since her revelation to Kate that she wanted to leave her husband.

They’d canceled the previous week, with Sophie texting

“Sorry, talking to Phil tn. Can’t make it to dinner. See you next week?”

And that was the last time Kate had heard from Sophie. It was unlike Sophie to be non-communicative, especially with her. When Cavender reported Sophie as missing the next day, Kate immediately grew suspicious. The police launched a full investigation, but Sophie was nowhere to be found. They deemed her a missing person.

Kate drove by Sophie’s house one night, and in the driveway, she noticed something peculiar. Cavender’s truck had some brand new tires. Sophie had always been complaining that he wouldn’t get new ones even though the truck desperately needed them. Cavender always complained it was a rip-off, which was rich coming from someone as wealthy as he was. But now, all Kate could see were the shiny new tires. Also of interest was the way in which one Cressida Cowper had begun taking residence in Cavender’s house. It made a lot of sense when Kate thought about it, of course Cressida was his mistress. Kate had no doubts that Cressida probably slept in Sophie’s bed and everything as if Sophie had never even existed.

Like a lightning bolt, it all clicked for Kate. The Cavender family was proud of their name, and nothing would ruin them more than a divorce less than a year after marriage. Sophie had told Kate the morning of her last text that she finally felt like she had enough evidence to confront Cavender about the cheating. Putting 2 and 2 together, Kate determined Cavender had done something to Sophie.

He was a cruel man, and Kate was almost positive he abused Sophie throughout their marriage. But Sophie had been careful to hide any signs of mistreatment, so Kate had never been sure. But, without a doubt, Kate was positive Cavender had murdered Sophie, most likely because she accused him of an affair.

The police, lousy pigs that they were, had quickly given up searching for Sophie, and without a body, there was no crime. Kate wouldn’t be able to prove that Cavender had murdered his wife, but she could enact revenge.

It really was quite an easy decision. The world would be a better place without Phillip Cavender, and if justice wasn’t going to be given for Sophie’s death, Kate would take it herself.

On the night she decided it would happen, Kate pulled her old handgun, dusty, covered in cobwebs, and placed it in her bag. She drove out of town, to Cavender’s mansion nestled on the edge of the woods, near a big lake. Kate knew Cressida was gone; the woman was a pharmaceutical sales rep and she was often on ‘business trips.’

Kate knocked on the door, and the look of surprise on Cavender’s face when he answered was almost retribution enough.

“Kate, how can I help you?” He was cold to her, suspicious.

“I just wanted to check in, see how you are doing with Sophie’s disappearance.”

“Oh, of course, come in,” he turned, and Kate knew he wanted nothing less than for her to come in.

With his back turned, she pulled the gun out of her bag and aimed it directly at his head. When he turned back around to feign conversation with her, his breath immediately hitched.

“Kate, what the hell are you doing?”

“I know Sophie is dead, and that you’re the one who killed her.”

“You have no proof,” he laughed smugly.

“I don’t care. It’s the only explanation.”

“Okay? So you’re going to shoot me? That’s going to go over really well for you, if anything, it’ll just make it look like you’re the one who killed Sophie, even though, yeah, of course I was the one who did it. You really think I was about to let her accuse me of cheating and ruin my family? Think carefully about what you do next, Kate.”

Kate was stone-cold, unflinching, and she could see the terror behind his smirk.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m sure I’ll manage,” she said smoothly before she fired the gun.

The look on Cavender’s face as he slumped over was one of complete disbelief as if it was the first time he would face consequences for his actions.

When she was 15, Kate’s dad had made her and her younger sister Edwina get boating licenses. He believed it was important to know how to operate all kinds of moving vehicles, ‘just in case.’

Kate was grateful for her father’s thinking as she dragged Cavender, wrapped up in a plastic bag, out back to his dock. She heaved his body into the boat, before boating out to the middle of the slimly inhabited lake. It was pitch black outside, and she’d cut the lights on the boat; no one would ever know she was there. With carefully gloved hands, a trick she knew from her crime podcasts and tv shows, she pushed Cavender over the side of the boat, and listened to the glorious sound of him sinking.

Later, she meticulously cleaned the house, removing any signs of a murder. She cleaned enough houses throughout her life to know how to cover up a scene.

The next morning, she sent Posy, Sophie’s stepsister, a text.

“If anyone asks, swear you were with me last night?”

“I swear it.”

Kate wasn’t the only one who disliked Cavender; Kate knew Posy would say whatever to protect her.

Several days later, when it became public knowledge that Phillip Cavender was missing, news quickly spread of the big life insurance policy Cressida Cowper had taken out just a week prior. Kate hadn’t known this prior to the act, but it made things all the better for her.

Everyone assumed Cressida had axed Cavender, in hopes of a large sum of money, but with no body, there was no crime, and they just couldn’t prove it.

Kate was pretty sure Cressida knew what she had done, the way they locked eyes on each other in the town center. Cressida had flames in her eyes when she looked at Kate, but she would never be able to prove it.

So, the disappearances of Sophie Beckett and Phillip Cavender were never solved; Kate Sharma was the only one to ever know the truth.

It was a secret she would take with her to the grave.

Taylor Swift Bridgerton One-Shots

#kate sharma #kate sheffield #sophie beckett #taylor swift #no body no crime #bridgerswift #bridgerton #sophie kate and taylor are the trifecta of badass women #bridgerton fanfiction #one-shots

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