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thisischannelab3 · 16 days

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by Al Bruno III

Don't squirm so much my wee one. Don’t struggle. Let me hold you close while I work up my nerve. Only a day old and you're fighting to live, well so am I. Isn't that what we all want in the end? Life, a warm place to sleep and a full belly. Well, that's what you've got and what do I have? Nothing I'm just a middle aged man, used up and waiting to die.

Just like you, not that you realize what's coming next of course.

Then again maybe you do understand, you may be blind and confused but maybe you do know somehow. Is that why you keep trying to get free?

This is all because of Eve. We had known each other since college. She was already halfway towards becoming a lawyer and I was a well respected graduate student. You should have seen her. She was so damn beautiful with creamy skin- just like yours. I first saw her in the college library, I was so smitten that I followed her home. Just to see if she was married or living with a boyfriend or something like that. I spent the next few days tracking her, learning whatever I could and once I was sure I knew enough to pass for her soulmate I made my move.

I played my cards just right and won her heart. It was a whirlwind romance, the kind of thing you'll never know my wee one. Maybe that's just as well, maybe if you could you'd thank me for sparing you the heartbreak.

Even now I don't know what went wrong. Was I too agreeable? Too clingy? It doesn't matter. She found someone else. The breakup was an ugly thing, uglier than you my wee one.

She tried to be gentle, she told me we could still be friends. I was so angry, I said terrible things but in the end I took her up on the offer of friendship and hoped she might come to her senses.

I'll never understand women. They're called the fairer sex but everything they do is unfair. How is it time and time again they're drawn to the wrong men? Why couldn't she see that her new boyfriend was all wrong for her? And why for God's sake did she marry him.

Now don't get me wrong, I tried to move on. There were other towns, other girls and no matter how much I learned about them before I made my move I never got as far as I had with Eve.

Was that why I kept coming back to my home town? Was that why I stayed her friend even though the sight of that ring on her finger left my skull pounding with rage?

Calm down now my wee one. I might drop you if you keep struggling so. Is that what you want?

I stayed her friend, I prayed for her to divorce but then it got worse. They were tears of joy in her eyes when she told me she was pregnant. I smiled at the news but in the back of my mind I was calling her a bitch. She never cried for me but she had a fountain of tears for a baby that wasn't even born yet. A baby that at this point was just a lump of cells no better than a tumor.

Some say life begins at conception but I don’t think it begins until you have your first real thought. Until then your just a thing that eats and crawls mindlessly.

It was during her final trimester that I decided something radical needed to be done. I would steal her little baby and I would keep it away until she promised to leave her husband and love me forever.

We would raise the child together. Even though it was another man's I would raise it as my own.

Thanks to things like email and her husband's Facebook page I knew when Eve started to go into labor. I waited about twenty-four hours, and then made my move.

As always I had done my homework, I knew the hospital's routine. I went at night, wearing stolen scrubs and an official-looking ID badge.

I made my way to the nursery convinced that no suspicious eyes would turn my way. I suppose love blinded me in that respect. I barely had the baby in my arms before someone raised an alarm. Escape wasn't easy but I managed to get out of the building. Then I found myself in the middle of a car chase. I knew I could evade the police if I made it to the state park and drove with my headlights off.

The crash was a directionless blur, I thought I was running parallel to the ravine but I ended up careening right into it.

Now here I am, pinned in my car with broken bones poking through the flesh of my legs. I had dared everything and I came away empty handed. Doubtlessly Eve and her husband are cooing over their baby and cursing me for what I had tried to do.

I'm not sure why no one has found me yet, I mean they must be looking but it's been two days and I'm still waiting alone.

Well, I was waiting alone until you came along. The flies must have laid you while I was drifting in and out of consciousness but now my wounded legs are crawling with maggots.

This isn't cruelty, it's just that I'm so hungry and you’re all I have. I'm going to eat you first and then once I’ve gotten the taste for it your brothers and sisters will be joining you by the handful.

I'm going to live through this, and somehow I'm going to get my Eve back.

Somehow. Somehow I'll do it.

Just don't squirm so much my wee one. Don't struggle.

#creepypasta #horror fiction #weird tales #al bruno iii

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ketavinsky · 3 months

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I like the house analogy a lot. I’ve never had any long term friendships, I tend to drift in and out of people’s lives. I don’t seem to make meaningful connections or leave an impact on anyone the way they do for me. It definitely makes me feel like wandering. If I had it my way I’d live nomadically, packing up and leaving anytime I got too familiar with a location. Maybe it’s a bit of a self-sabotage but I never learned how to be okay with being known. I think I regret deleting the pictures but not for me. I have trouble with memories so I regret losing the parts of my friends but I have no regrets about my own image. I’ve never had a strong sense of self; I can’t recognize myself in pictures or mirrors. I hate looking at pictures of me because it feels wrong in the back of my mind, like something is off or missing. Being trans only made that more pressing for old pictures. I’m trying to learn to take more pictures now for memory sake, mostly of places I go or people I meet rather than myself though. Have you found people you fit with yet or are you still wandering too? I suppose if I’m gonna keep bothering you I could maybe sign off? -N

hullo N! youre not bothering me but i apologise for the long response times. i have a weird thing about only responding to messages when i feel like... i would be able to give an appropriate dedicated/interested answer..... like. i dunno i kind of see online shit as the last frontier of non performative interaction so i try not to be disingenuous in ways that make sense to me as often as i can. esp on this site. the viscera site. anyways. that aside. i get what you mean when you say like... you dont feel like you have an impact on anything. obviously i cant comment on anything goin in your life but i do... i do understand the sentiment. i got a friend who's a big wanderer, real nomadic, just wants to travel and travel and circle back every so often like hes some kind of planet goin round on this massive orbit but.... im not sure about you but the concept intimidates me. not the wandering i suppose but the lack of security like- what do i do if something goes wrong? what do i do if i need somebody? what do i do if its still and silent and i cant bear it and ive been swept away to some place and past all the dancing and the gorgeous ephemerality and the wraithlike presence what do i do if i need somebody? you know? would appreciate your thoughts.

i get what you mean with the photos. i also deleted a lot of my photos. even when i was a kid like real little i felt a deep sense of nauseous disgust almost when i looked at photos of myself i always felt like even in pictures where we were all like 8 9 10 years old and playing in the grass that it was immediately noticeable that i was different in some irreconcilable way and i couldnt stand the idea of anyone else noticing it. i dont. i dont know why. i can kind of circle around what i think is why (?? does that make sense) but i still dont know where the feeling comes from. do you? i feel like all the pictures i see of myself are different actors and i think thats because at any given moment im always really just staring at myself from some outside voyeur pov. it's a little more manageable now but when i turned 23 i began to realise how... well. virulent? harmful? destructive? it was to my sense of... self. i dont know. what's it like fr you?

now i wish i could say that id found my people and after so long of feelin so lonely everythings okay now but this year has been tough and its only just started. do you ever miss times in your life that were really horrible wherein you were incessantly miserable, for the ability to feel? that's how it is. i oft find myself revisiting memories with people who were objectively not good for me and my love for them was in a way destroying me and every single day was some fucking trial but i miss the certainty of... knowing who i was in those times. what i was. ive been writing about that a lot. i have a paragraph somewhere here that vaguely mentions it but i have to immerse myself in the feeling to write my book shit so i just think about it all the time, really, all the time without end. fair warning there for lots of weepy waxing on and on over Just Stuff That Happened. i think now i have people that are good to be around and i love them deeply and i think i can trust that they love me but each day it feels like the chasm between me n them widens you know? and you ever feel like sometimes people dont really know the things that you know? at least not in a way that matters?

#dellete #anonymous

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purple-babygirl · 3 years

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First of all… who told you that you could toy with my heart over your latest work: SamBucky and the injuries Little. Talk about the angst but fluff. Just mwah!

But will all that angst especially with Sam and Bucky—they are just a perfect combo, btw. I now am needy for angst to fluff (oops…). All I can think about is an insecure little who think that her daddies don’t love her after a misunderstanding, so she pack up her things and runs away. (But a happy ending is ensured) when Sam and Bucky are able to find her

Love you.

Pairing: SamBucky x little!f!reader

Word Count: 2,796

Warnings: polyamory, ddlg dynamics, a dash of angst, and a pinch of fluff

A/N: Hello, Nonnie! Thank you for reading, and thank you for sharing this idea with me and allowing me to toy with your heart over it!💜💜 I was a puddle writing this one. I'm really sorry if this took me too long; I hope it's to your liking and I love you too *ghost kisses*💜 please enjoy xx

unwanted

“That's enough. Go to your room.” Sam demanded angrily, looking down at the cheerios covering the kitchen floor that he now would have to clean up.

“Papa-”

“All you do is cause trouble and I'm done! To your room, now!”

She's been bad again. It was the third time this week. She has been disobedient and impatient. Whenever Papa and Daddy told her to do anything she somehow managed to mess it up. Sam had told her not to touch anything but she wanted to help nevertheless. She couldn’t reach the cupboard though and ended up spilling the box of cereal all over the place.

Her gaze dropped and she walked to her room without another word and a few minutes later, Bucky came to give her lunch and collect her phone and tablet, taking away her screen time for the day.

“But daddy-”

“No, doll. I'm taking them away. You never listen anymore and it needs to stop.”

Papa and Daddy are mad at you. They don't love you no more. They're sick of you. You never listen and you're always bad. They could be so much happier and calmer if it wasn't for you always riling them up. They were done. It needed to stop. They don't love you no more. They don't want you no more. They don't love you. They don't want you.

She sat wallowing in her room, tears gathering in her eyes as her own mind attacked her. Maybe it was all true. All she does is cause trouble.

So maybe if she left…

She got up and got her big girl backpack out of the closet.

Maybe if she left Papa and Daddy would be better off without her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gathered and pushed items into her bag.

Maybe if she was gone they would be less angry.

She zipped the bag up before sloppily slipping her socks on and picking up her stuffed friend.

Maybe if she escaped the house she could escape her thoughts too; leave them all in her room and go.

She wiped her cheeks, tiptoed out of her room, found her shoes by the front door and quietly got into them. She could hear Daddy and Papa lowly laughing together while they got things done in the backyard. Leaving really was the right decision then; they were happier without her.

Taking one, last, tear-blurred look at the house, she stepped outside and quietly closed the door behind her. She held her small white bunny to her chest and sniffed before taking off, walking to the only place that would bring her comfort.

“She's going to be so happy. I can't wait to see her face.” Sam smiled proudly, hands on his waist as he took one last look at the swing he and Bucky have put together for their baby girl in the backyard.

“I really hope she likes it.” Bucky smiled back in agreement before opening the door for Sam and walking inside behind him.

They felt they were too hard on her that morning and she was usually a good girl, only intending to do good for her Daddy and Papa. So they decided to build the swing earlier than they’d previously planned to lighten things up again.

“Is it just me or is it awfully quiet in here?” Bucky murmured, bringing the water bottle down from his mouth and looking around the living room in slight suspicion.

“I mean, she is in a timeout and you did take away her phone,” Sam reminded him, trying not to let himself panic as he got himself a water bottle from the fridge.

But it wasn’t that. Bucky could still hear her presence no matter how quiet. He could hear her crayons gliding on paper when she would sit down to color. He could hear her hum as she organized her toys around the table for tea parties. This quietness wasn’t normal.

Bucky jogged up the stairs to her room and just as he feared, she wasn't in there. Her sandwich was untouched. Her closet was open and her backpack and favourite blankie were missing.

“Sam!” He called for his husband, taking long strides to their bedroom to find she wasn't there either.

Sam ran up the stairs at Bucky's freaked tone and saw him pacing through the hallway.

“She's not here.”

“What?” Sam’s heart sank into his stomach.

“I can't find her.” Bucky shook his head at Sam, running his fingers through his hair in growing panic.

“Hey, calm down. We're gonna find her.” Sam rubbed a hand down Bucky's back, trying to hide his own fright for Bucky's sake as his mind ran to every single place she knew how to get to on her own.

“How? How are we gonna find her? We don't even know where she went or if she's okay-”

Sam put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, the other cupping his cheek.

“Hey, breathe,” Sam instructed, slowly breathing so Bucky could copy him, trying to send away the panic attack ready to take over him. Bucky nuzzled his palm, his breath coming out shaky.

“That's it, Buck. In and out.” He moved his hands to Bucky’s.

“But she was so little when we sent her to her room and she probably doesn't even have any ID or money with her-”

“Bucky,” Sam squeezed his husband’s hands.

“We can't lose her, Sam. I can't- I took her phone away- if she's in trouble, she won't be able to-”

“Bucky, baby, we're gonna find her and she's gonna be okay. I promise.” Sam reassured him with words he himself wasn't sure would turn out to be true, his large palm stroking up and down the tense muscles of Bucky’s back, “I need you to keep breathing for me.”

Bucky tried to manage his breathing, slightly calming down to the thought of getting to hold her again.

“She couldn't have gotten that far, so we're gonna look around and I'm gonna call Steve, okay?” Bucky nodded at Sam's words, glossy eyes closing as Sam planted a kiss to the side of his forehead, “okay, baby. Let's go.”

Sam took the car, driving slowly, roaming the neighborhood to see if she was anywhere around the area. He was asking anyone and everyone who passed by his car if they've seen her. But apparently, no one has. Not even the old couple at the end of the street with the dog she loved to pet so much.

Bucky chose to go on foot as he walked in the other direction, preferring to depend on his enhanced senses instead of talking to other people. Even if he did talk to them for help, no one would understand that while her picture looked like that of a grown lady, she was a mere baby. They would never understand their panic.

Sam rubbed his forehead in frustration, leaning it against the wheel. He’d just hung up with Steve. He said she didn't come to his place; didn't even stop by. In fact, he hasn’t heard from her at all and got worried when Sam called. He took an uneven breath, trying to maintain his cool before he lifted his head up and started the car again.

Leaning back on the big tree, she wrapped her soft blankie tighter around her frame. It was getting kind of chilly and she was starting to regret leaving now that it wasn't that sunny anymore. The tears drying on her cheeks made her shiver even more and she sniffled, kissing her bunny's head and tugging the stuffed animal under her chin. She hoped Daddy and Papa were feeling better now that she was no longer there with them.

“Doll?” She heard Bucky's voice and before she could wonder if she'd imagined it, she was pressed to a hard chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Bucky sighed, kissing the side of her head over and over again, his hands tight around her back, holding her and her bunny close to his frantically beating heart.

“Baby, why'd you leave like that? We were so worried! We looked everywhere, we called everyone.” Bucky kissed her forehead a bunch before “-oh right!”

He got his phone out of his pocket with one arm, the other still firmly holding her to his chest. She kept holding onto her bunny, not really getting what was happening. Was she in trouble for leaving unannounced or not? Why would Daddy and Papa want to find her? She was nothing but trouble.

“Sam, I found her! We're in our secret place in the park.”

At Bucky's call, Sam took a sharp turn, stepping on the gas to get to the park as fast as he could.

“Are you okay, doll? Are you hurt anywhere?” Bucky asked her after hanging up, anxiously checking her head, face, arms and legs for injuries.

She shook her head silently, fresh, hot tears burning at the brims of her eyes.

“Thank god.” Bucky hugged her to his chest again, “we were so scared, doll. We were so scared.”

He kissed her damp cheeks and chin as she kept biting her lip, quietly sniveling.

She'd scared them. She'd worried them. Why was it always that she did something wrong while trying to do anything right? She was no good.

“It’s okay, love. I found you. I’m right here.” Bucky kissed her eyelids, then her nose, thinking she was crying because she was lost alone.

He pulled her on his lap and adjusted himself in her place, his back to the tree trunk as he held her close, fearing she’d disappear if he were to loosen his grip around her.

“Sugar!” Sam’s voice echoed through the empty part of the park when he saw her burrito-wrapped body in Bucky’s lap.

“Papa’s here, doll. It’s okay.” Bucky whispered to her when she didn’t stop crying.

She turned around and her eyes met Sam’s watery, brown ones.

“Hey, sugar,” Sam greeted softly, getting down on his knees before her.

Her lower lip jutted out further as new tears soaked her pretty face. It hasn’t even been a whole day and she’s missed Papa and Daddy so much. How was she ever planning on running away from them or being without them?

“Aww, no, no, baby, it’s okay,” Sam cooed, bringing her to his chest and engulfing her in a protective hug.

Her blanket fell in Bucky’s lap and she dropped her bunny to cling to Sam, barely quieting her sobs.

Not able to hold himself together any longer, a tear escaped Sam’s eye his gaze met Bucky’s. He buried his nose in her hair and squeezed her closer to him, sighing in relief that they’ve found her. His mind kept torturing him with scenarios of her getting hurt and not getting help. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if they’d actually lost her.

“You’re okay, sugar. Papa’s here with you. I’m sorry it took us so long, baby. We were looking in a lot of places.” Sam sniffled, pulling back to pepper featherlike kisses all over her face.

“You wanted to find me?” Her small, brittle voice asked, doe eyes staring up sadly.

“What? Of course we wanted to find you, baby! Why would you think otherwise?!”

“But I was bad. You w-were done. It needed to stop,” she repeated his and Bucky’s words on him and Sam felt shame cover him from head to toe, Bucky not any different as he bit down to stop his tears.

“Doll,” Bucky went to hold her hands only to find they were freezing.

“Shit! She’s too cold,” he told Sam, who immediately started taking off his jacket.

“Dada, bad word,” she softly reminded Bucky, covering her mouth with her hand before Sam got out of his jacket.

Sam slipped his warm jacket on her and pulled the zipper up, her small hands disappearing inside the long sleeves.

“Good girl, sugar. It is a bad word.” He rolled the sleeves back just enough to get her palms out so she could still hold her bunny.

“But you don’t see me asking daddy to leave because he was bad, do you?” Sam asked tenderly and she shook her head no.

“Exactly, I’m not. You know why?” Sam pressed kisses to both of her hands multiple times, rubbing them between his palms to warm her up.

“Why, papa?” she asked as he carried her in his arms; Bucky gathering the rest of her stuff.

“Because I love him so much." Sam wiped her tears. "And both me and daddy love you so so so much, sugar.” He pressed a firm kiss to her temple.

Bucky handed her the small bunny back after patting any dust or leaves out of it.

“We never want you to go, doll.” Bucky pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“Even when I’m really really bad?”

“Even if you’re really really bad,” Sam guaranteed, kissing her temple again.

“But- I thought papa and daddy would be happier and not so angry no more if I left,” she mumbled innocently as Sam started walking to the car with her in his arms.

“That could never be true, doll. We’re only happy as long as we have you,” Bucky reassured her, opening the backseat door so Papa could slip in with her on his lap.

“And you still love me?” Her pout, teary puppy eyes and words were just killing both men inside.

“Of course we love you, doll! We will always love you. We can never afford to lose you,” Bucky told her, his eyes searching hers to offer them comfort.

“Baby, we love you so much it’s uncountable, remember?” Sam ran his thumb over the knuckles of her stuffie-holding hands.

She nodded, her eyes teary but her smile comforted and reassured. “I love you too, Papa,” she mumbled, grabbing onto Sam’s thumb, her eyelids barely staying open.

“I’m sorry I left,” she sniffled.

“It’s alright, baby. We’re all together now and we're going home.” Sam kissed her forehead once more, wanting her to forget all about it and know everything was okay again.

“Told you we’d find her,” Sam said, drawing Bucky inside the car by the cheek and brushing his lips against his.

“You did.” Bucky nodded, pressing his forehead to Sam’s and kissing him again.

Bucky pulled back and smiled adoringly at her sleepy eyes fighting to stay open as she leaned onto Sam's chest before getting in the driver’s seat to take them home. Sam was caressing her hair and before she knew it her eyes were fluttering closed.

All the crying all day had drained her and her body could finally give up and relax now that she was in Papa’s hold; she was out like a light.

“You’re so important to me and daddy, sugar. Never ever forget that,” Sam whispered against her forehead before pressing a slow kiss to her skin.

She might've had no idea how adored and cherished she actually was, but that was okay. Sam and Bucky had a lifetime ahead of them where they could show her again and again that they loved and needed her just as much as she did them.

“Dada! Papa! Wake up! We have a swing!”

She’d fallen asleep pretty early in the car last night and neither Sam nor Bucky had the heart to wake her up when they got home. So they took her shoes and socks off and tucked her in in their bed.

Now they had to deal with her waking up way too early. She’d gone to the bathroom on her own like a good girl before her stomach hungrily grumbled. And when she got to the kitchen for a cup of water and maybe the plate of fruit in the fridge, her eyes fell on the swing showing outside the small window on the kitchen door.

Bucky rolled over and opened his eyes first, her jumping on her knees on the bed beside him pulling him out of his dreams. Sam, however, didn’t move a muscle. The man slept so soundly that sometimes Bucky was jealous. How heavy of a sleeper could a person be?

“Yes, we do, baby.” Bucky chuckled. “Me and papa built it just for you.” He smiled sleepily at her excited face before annoyingly poking Sam’s back, “Sam, wake up.”

“Tank you, dada.” She settled back on her ankles though still buzzing with joy.

“You like it, sugar?” Bucky opened his arms wide for her.

“Yes, I love it.” She nodded happily before perching herself on his hard chest, cutely kissing his jaw, “and I love you, dada.”

“Sam.” He affectionately punched his sleeping husband’s shoulder, smirking when he heard him groan, “she likes the swing.”

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mossy-rainfrog · 3 years

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[Image ID: A digital drawing of Martin and Jon in season 1 of the Magnus Archives. Martin is seen out in the archives hallway, through the doorway to Jon’s office. Martin a fat Black man with short coily hair, round glasses, and snake bite lip piercings. He wears a blue sweater over a white collared shirt, and carries a brown satchel with him. Martin is looking over his shoulder with interest as he walks into work, and in a smaller panel to the side, we see Jon watching him with wide eyes. Jon is a thin Persian person with long greying hair tied back in a low bun, and rectangular glasses. He wears a red button down underneath a brown jacket, and is seated at the desk in his office. He stares out at Martin, looking flustered. There are small lines by Martin’s mouth indicating the piercings, and there are exclamation marks by Jon’s head indicating his reaction. End ID.]

I found an old fic in my notes about Martin dressing alt/punk outside of work and accidentally leaving on a small indicator of his usual fashion when he comes into the archives and I just. had to bring it back. Also, because I am still fond of it, please enjoy the aforementioned fic🥰:

Jon is having a difficult morning, to say the least. He had believed that coming into work an entire hour early would provide him with ample time to get a head start on today’s organizing, but that has decidedly not been case. He’s already had to take the statements of two utterly ridiculous liars who could barely keep the grins off of their faces as they recounted their ludicrous tale, and then listen to Elias subsequently dress down his so-called ‘attitude towards patrons’ for nearly half an hour, and suffice it to say, he would really like to get started on something that is actually worth his time.

He dislikes settling down with the more... difficult statements before all of his colleagues arrive, an attempt to keep them from interrupting his recordings to greet him, so once he’s finished his other menial tasks, he finds himself simply sitting and waiting for the ensemble of his assistants to arrive.

Tim and Sasha are the first - entering together as usual after having stopped for coffee on the way in - but Martin is slow to follow, taking nearly another fifteen minutes to arrive. It’s nearly ten past seven at that point, and once Jon hears Martin’s steps coming towards his office, he has half a mind to give the man yet another lecture on punctuality and work ethic. He gets as far enough as bracing his hands on the table to stand up, and then Martin appears in the doorway to his office, and he realizes something strikingly different about his appearance.

That is to say, Jon’s whole world narrows down very suddenly to the little black studs decorating the space underneath his bottom lip.

He’s staring, he knows he is, but Martin is busy looking down the hall for the moment, so Jon doesn’t force himself to tear his eyes away just yet. How long has he had his lip pierced, Jon wonders? Has it been there the whole time he’s known him? Has he only recently gotten it done? How? Why?

It’s hard to imagine Martin - soft, unassuming Martin who is far too large for the amount of space he crams himself into, always slouching, always pulling himself inwards as if he can make himself disappear - dressing in any way other than soft sweaters and slacks, but if Jon’s honest, he’s never actually seen the man outside of work. He has no idea how Martin chooses to dress himself when out from under the Institute’s rigid dress code, and this tiny window he’s been provided with is making him maddeningly curious.

He’s not... he doesn’t have feelings for Martin, aside from a general annoyance, occasionally marked with curiosity. He’s a professional, for God’s sake, not to mention that Martin’s very existence as a given is like a grain of sand in his eye, rubbing and irritating. Now he cuts clean through without even noticing. Jon itches to know more.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice tears him from his thoughts. “Is something wrong?”

Oh, shit. Jon can feel his gaze heat up as if he’s done something horribly wrong - how embarrassing that he can’t even keep a blush off of his face - but he still forces himself to open his mouth and stutter out an excuse. He means to remark on one of Martin’s missing reports, or the fact that he’s coming in nine minutes late, but what ends up leaving his mouth is; “Your lip is pierced.”

Just a sentence, not a question. He thinks he’s positively beet red. Martin freezes, the tips of his ears darkening visibly against his brown skin as his hand shoots to his mouth and his eyes widen.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I must have forgotten to take them out,” the poor man looks like he’s about to panic as he whips his gaze around as if to see if anyone else has noticed. “Don’t tell Elias, please, I’ve seen how he gets after Tim for the dress code, and there is no way, I mean no way—”

“Oh, n-no, it’s- I- it’s fine, really,” Jon raises his hands in defense as Martin rambles, for some reason inclined to reassure the man. “I won’t- I’m not- I’m not going to tell him.”

Martin hesitates, wringing his hands, apologies visible on every pore of his face. “I- Thank you. I’ll- I’ll go take it off. Christ, that’s embarrassing.”

“Only if you want,” Jon shrugs, which is definitely not the correct thing for him to say as a boss, and it definitely comes out a little gentler than he intends it to, and Jon is three seconds from screaming if he can’t figure out how to make himself react normally to this. It’s a non-traditional piercing in an academic institute of research; it’s against the rules, however dated they may be, and further than that, there is no reason for it to completely undo his composure the way that it has. He tries to get a hold of himself. “I-I mean, that’s likely for the best.”

Martin is giving him a funny look - probably a response to seeing the whole spectrum of human emotions flash across Jon’s face in a millisecond - but he still nods and says: “Sorry again. Thank you,” and then disappears down the corridor.

Jon immediately buries his face in his hands and sighs.

What is wrong with him? For God’s sake, he’s just seen Martin with a lip piercing, it’s not like he’s witnessed the man undressed. Besides, he works in an archive where he has to read statements about the intricacies of monsters that rip off people’s skin and suchlike every day, he should know how to keep his composure better than this. He should just move on with his day and focus without a problem, just like he does every morning.

Except, his mind keeps wandering back to it; the way the little studs had followed the shape of his mouth, the way they had quirked up when he flashed one of his nervous smiles, the way Jon is still desperately curious about what brought him to get them done, and also what it might feel like to brush a thumb, or perhaps even his lips over them.

Jon sits up so fast his head actually smacks against an open filing cabinet behind him. His mind is too busy reeling to notice the ache that fills his head, and he stares straight ahead with wide eyes and utterly scorching cheeks. Absolutely not. He absolutely did not just think about kissing Martin Blackwood. that was- that would be...

He blinks hard, clears his throat. It doesn’t matter what that was. He’s decidedly not interested in Martin Blackwood romantically, or in any other capacity given his truly ridiculous academic competence and his obnoxious habit of interrupting seemingly every stable thing Jon has in his life. He crushes the feeling down hard, locks it up in a box, stuffs it down under his lowest two ribs, and resolves himself never to open it again.

He is not going to keep thinking about this all day. He has work to do, and if something as simple as a pair of metal studs can distract him this badly, then he needs to make absolutely certain it doesn’t happen again.

He tells himself he’s not disappointed when he sees Martin without the piercings later that day.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tma s1 #tma season one #martin with piercings my beloved #tma fic #tma fan art #mossy art #man i wrote this concept back in december but ohg i'm still so fond of it #alt/punk martin my angel my sweetheart my light and love #if you read this fic MWAH i love you

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Scared?

Jason todd x reader

Warnings: weapons, hint of sex

Summary: He shows off his scary equipment to see if you scare off. I write this months ago and never posted it. Idk y.

It was the third time that week that you sat in his room watching tv. Jay sat on the floor with some kind of equipment in his lap, tinkering as the show played. You sat on the bed with your back against the headboard wrapped in his blanket. Your fingers played in his slightly damp hair. He smelled like fresh shampoo and soaps.

“I don’t want to kick you out but after this is over I’ve got stuff to do,” he said before trying to change the subject. You looked at him suspiciously. He was never vague with his plans.

“What stuff?” You asked. He sat up a little straighter.

“Secret stuff. Vigilante stuff,” he said while twisting the equipment shut. It made a mechanical whirl noise before a red light came on. “Suck on that Tim. I didn’t need his help,” Jason said proud of himself.

“What is that?” You asked looking at the thing with no discernible obvious use.

“Scary secret spy stuff that I fixed without a computer.” He had a smirk of satisfaction on his face.

“So if I grab it you would freak out?” You said grabbing towards him. He quickly slipped out of your grip.

“Only if you wanted to blow the door off the wall,” Jay said twisting until the red light went off.

“Seriously?” You asked, with your eyes wide.

“No. But there is shit that you wouldn’t believe. But I can’t really show you. Hell, half the stuff in my pocket,” he laughed. “It’s just a tracer.”

“Shit I thought I was trying to grab a bomb for a second. Wait... what’s in your pocket?” You asked. He was standing and putting it in a bag. Jay stood a little stiffer.

“You already know what’s in my pocket. At least buy me dinner first.” He was deflecting. His joke didn’t make it to his eyes.

“No seriously. Show me your stuff. I want to see what crazy stuff you use at work,” you said also standing up. You got close to him, conveniently in front of the door. He tried to pull away but you grab his wrists. “I’ll thank you later.” You slid your thumbs up his forearms suggestively.

“Not even close,” he said plainly. He looked almost cagey but sometimes he just got that way.

“Baby,” you whined. “Show me.”

“No,” he said with a little different tone. He sounded almost annoyed. “You should probably get going now.”

“What the hell, Todd?” You said dropping his hands. “No. I’m not leaving. I’m tired of you being all secretive and shit. Are you 2 different vigilantes? Are you also a villain? Alien? What could you also be hiding beside Red Hood?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” he said stonily. You glared at him.

“That’s the fucking point. Tell me. Show me,” you said mad at this point. You had stepped into his space.

“You wouldn’t get it,” Jason said back slowly and deliberately, stepping right next to you. “It’s scary shit. I don’t-“

“You don’t what? For fuck sake. Just. Tell. Me,” you said almost mad enough to shove him but you held back. He loomed over you. You glared up at him.

“What if it scares you?”

“I’m not scared of looking at guns-“

“No, me. I use them. They are mine. They are part of me,” he said. It finally clicked. He had never cleaned his guns in front of you. Dick and Tim sometimes cleaned their weapons over breakfast when you visited. Jason was hiding it from you.

“Show me. I’m not scared of you,” you said softer. He stared at you for a minute before barely nodding. Jason dragged you down to the basement and pulled open a large panel on the wall. In it was a wide array of weapons nestled in black velvet covered foam.

“This is what I work with,” he said without taking his eyes off of you. You looked at all of the knives and guns and other things you didn’t even know.

“Can I touch them?” You asked him, interested. Your fingers already ran along the black velvet.

“Carefully,” he said. Jay stood close as you picked up a straight silver bladed, flat black handled knife. The curve of the handle was just a little too long for your hand but you liked the way it shined in the light as you turned it.

“That’s a 7 inch fighting utility knife, custom made for my hands,” he said. “It’s nice. Not my favorite.” You nodded and sat it down. You slid your fingers along the side of a hand gun, too scared to pick it up. “Pick it up if you want,” he suggested.

You grasped the gun. It was heavier than it looked. The sliver metal gleamed in the light. You kept your fingers fat from the trigger.

“It’s not loaded but you don’t want to make the habit of holding the trigger anyways,” Jason said sliding his hands around yours to show you how to hold it. You could feel his breath by your ear and your skin tingled. “You aim at something. Like the picture on the wall. And only once you know it’s perfect with no issues like wind, you move your finger to the trigger,” he said moving your finger to the trigger. You gulped nervously. “Breath out and pull the trigger,” he said before pushing your finger on the trigger. You jumped at the clicking noise. Jason laughed. He took it from you and sat it down.

“Am I scary now?”

“What is this?” You asked holding out a weird black knife. The blade was fatter at the end with a roundness that made it unique. You picked it up.

“Ka-bar combat Kukri knife. It’s kind of like a machete. Watch how you hold it,” he warned. You laid it back down.

“What’s your favorite?” You asked.

“This knife here,” he held up a nasty looking curved knife with a blade that just looked sharp. He made a few moves with it expertly. “Cuts right through Kevlar. Also really easy to cut yourself with it if you aren’t careful so I wouldn’t touch that. And these two guns are what I carry everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” You asked.

“Yeah. Any time I leave,” he said with a shrug handing you one. Silver metal hand gun that was a little bigger than the one you held and heavier.

“Like dates and stuff?” You asked.

“Always.”

“Okay I have undressed you and not found guns,” you said confused, thinking about all the times you’ve had sex in his car and he was wearing two loaded guns.

“Ankle, baby,” he said with a smile.

“But we... you were wearing this gun while we had sex?” You asked a little shocked. He laughed.

“Yeah, it was hot as fuck,” he said, putting the gun down and pulling you into a kiss. You broke the kiss.

“What about other stuff? I’ve seen bigger guns,” you said feeling shy.

“Seriously? Okay here,” he said pushing a button and the wall opened to show a wall of large guns. “These are mine. But I borough any other I need for a job. I wouldn’t really touch them.”

“Yeah,” you said taking a closer look. “What’s in your pockets?”

“Uh okay. Here,” he said pulling things out and putting them on a table. Gum, keys, a phone, a pocket knife, and a black block shaped thing. “That’s a taser.”

“That’s it?”

“For now. I felt pretty safe hanging out with my girlfriend. Unless you’re trying to kill me?” He joked.

“That’s the whole point of this. Be surrounded by your weapons and then kill you. Great plan,” you laughed pulling him close. He wrapped his arms around you in a hug but you chose to pat his pocket. You pulled a wallet from his back pocket. “Hiding things from me?”

“Yeah. Frozen yogurt coupons, a fake ID, and maybe twenty bucks. I feel so bad,” he said, looking at the ground in mock shame. “If I was hiding something you would never find it, baby. Trust me.”

“Not a confidence builder but okay,” you said with a laugh. He rolled his eyes.

“Nothing important. Now, the big question is, did I scare you off?” He asked losing the smile.

“Nope. Not a single chance. Second big question, why does a 25 year old man need a fake ID?” You asked.

“Well, I’m kinda legally dead and they don’t feel like giving driver’s license to dead people,” Jason said with a shrug but you could see that he relaxed.

“Ahh right. My zombie boyfriend. Now, this is a one time offer,” you said in a little huskier voice. You looked him over suggestively. Jason looked at you pleasantly intrigued. “What do you think about bending me over one of these weapon cases?”

“Fucking perfect idea,” Jason said with a wicked smile. He snatched you up causing you to yelp as he carried you to a case.

#jason todd x reader #fns #red hood x reader

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nillabeam · 4 years

Text

thirst texts at 2 am

synopsis: ah the queen of the drunk text. that’s you. but what happens when the person on the receiving end of your drunken sexting is none other than bakugo katsuki himself??

pairings: bakugoxf!reader

warnings: 18+ for sure, alcohol mention, phone sex, mutual masturbation, lANGUAGE bc bakugo is in it so that a given 100%, reader being a little brat, slight age gap but both characters are aged up

a/n: hi it’s me again bringing you another thirst post but Bakugo’s a little tiny bit of a sub in this one and i’m probably making a part two which will probably be pure sin but we’ll see! thanks for reading as usual please ignore all my shitty grammar and spelling mistakes <333

You were more than lucky to score an internship straight out of UA, and even luckier to be scouted by Endeavor’s agency. And luckier still, to be able to work with Bakugo Katsuki, Ground Zero himself, the boy you had a school girl crush on since the day you watched him in the sports festival on TV. Feral and an obvious asshole, needless to say for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you were smitten. You even managed to get into UA, granted he had graduated the year before you actually attended UA, still it was hallowed ground to you since so many great heroes were a product of the prestigious high school. What started as a shallow reason for attending became the best decision of your life. You left UA a strong pro hero to be, and your quirk made you a perfect addition to the fiery ranks of your new agency.

You fit in quite nicely, most of your co-workers took a liking to you immediately. Except, of course, Bakugo, who always seemed to keep his distance from everyone. The loner rockstar of the agency, honestly it was very on brand for him. You could count on one hand how many times you’d interacted, and you only needed half the amount of fingers to count how many times you’d actually spoken to one another. Lucky for you your school girl crush had wavered a bit since graduation. After all, you were a full fledged hero now. That didn’t mean you steal a few peeks of the hero here and there on the rare occasion he would show up at the office. Honestly, you forgot he even worked there most of the time. Since you were a rookie and he was an established hero you two rarely crossed paths. You doubted he even knew who you were.

It had been a little over six months since you started at the agency so you were eager to oblige when some of your old classmates extended an invitation to get some drinks and go dancing. The night was great, but like usual you went a little overboard at the bar, but you figured you’d let loose for once. Besides, you had the next day off from work.

It was a little past 2 am when you fumbled out of your Uber, into your apartment, giggling to yourself as you kicked your heels off by the door. Clumsily, drunkenly, you drop the small purse you were carrying, effectively spilling everything out of it. “S-Shit--” you mumble and begin to shove the contents back into the bag. Your hands linger on your phone which is vibrating with texts from your friends asking if you made it home okay. You tap out a few replies to assure your friends you were safe just kinda drunk before you lazily stroll through your messages. Your eyes widen slightly as they rest on a name at the bottom of the list.

Bakugo Katsuki.

A single message he sent when you were lucky enough to work on one of his missions a few months back buried beneath all the other messages. You forgot you had saved it.

You shouldn't.

You wouldn't.

Fuck it.

Quickly you type out a text, deleting and retyping until you’re completely satisfied with it before you hit send.

A dull buzz against his nightstand stirs the blonde from his light slumber, his large hand smacking around in the dark before it finally lands on his phone. His eyes are heavy with sleep and it takes a second to read the screen properly. It’s from an unsaved number. He tosses the phone away with disinterest, rationalizing it as a wrong number. He starts to drift back to sleep when the phone buzzes again. “Fuck’s sake-” He opens the message to drill in a angry reply when his breath hitches in his throat.

hi! remember me??, the first message reads.

The second an expertly taken photo of you clad in matching lace bra and thong, posed in such a way that he could admire all of you.

how about now? The third message makes him throw his phone away from his face.

He definitely remembered you. You were a sidekick, he saw you around sometimes, that tight little body clad in your hero costume. Or sauntering around the office in that fucking pencil skirt/thigh high combo. He tried to remember your name but his mind came up blank.

His phone buzzed again and he rubbed his face with both hands before grabbing it and opening the message. Another goddamn picture. This time you were on your back, on your bed he assumed, because your hair was slightly messy, forming a halo around you. One hand holding the phone, the other at your lips a finger pressed against your perfect pink tongue lolled out of your mouth. Your eyes were glassy and half lidded. He let out groan at the sight of you.

does this help?

He could feel his prominent bulge straining against his sweatpants. His hand dipped beneath the waistband, his first instinct was to palm at his growing length. He chewed his bottom lip, going back to the first picture to inspect your assets more thoroughly this time. He groaned, his strokes long and languid. He closed his eyes, his mind about to wander when he was suddenly hit with a pang of guilt. Tearing his hand from his pants he tossed his phone away. No, no, no, no- he wasn't this fucking desperate. He was not going to get off on some lewd pictures of his coworker just because she was clearly thirsting over him. The thought made his cock twitch in disrespectful betrayal.

His phone began to buzz again. This time it didn't stop, it was rhythmic and slightly lower. Shit. A call. He stared intensely at the number on the screen. His ego got the best of him. He answered it, against his better judgement, promising himself to put this extra in her place. There was a long pause and he nearly hung up.

“Bakugo?” The sweet voice finally rang out of the speaker and his confidence faltered. “You know it’s rude to leave people on read.” There was an obvious teasing tone to your voice, which he swore had a slight slur to it.

“Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing you shitty extra but stop texting me that shit.” He growled into the phone.

“You didn’t like it-”

“I don’t even know your fucking name, asshole.”

“That’s okay, you’ll learn it soon enough.”

“I’m going to tell you one more goddamn time if you keep sending me that shit i’m going to-” A soft moan completely derailed his train of thought. Fuuuck. Another slightly louder groan followed. “W-What the fuck are you doing?” He barks into the phone, face flush with embarrassment.

“Don’t stop, aren’t you going to tell me what you’re going to do to me?” You mewl breathlessly, your fingers dancing along your wet folds as you imagined all the things he could do to ruin you.

He licked his lips, wetting them, he had to grip his bedsheets to keep his free hand from wandering back beneath his sweats. “Are you touching yourself right now?” He tried to sound disgusted, but it ended up sounding a little more desperate than he intended.

“I wish it was you touching me instead, Katsuki.” You ask, your tone breathless and dripping with lust. The way his name sounded coming out of your mouth had his eyes rolling back. He wondered how you knew it in the first place.

(Honestly, you saw it while you were helping Burnin’ with some paperwork one night at the office but that wasn’t really the point right now.)

He covered his mouth to stifle a groan that dared escape his lips. The way he saw it he had two options: let you continue and shove his hands down his pants the way he so, so desperately wanted to OR hang up the fucking phone.

“Mmm-! K-Katsuki-” He snapped out of his daze and scrambled to hang up the phone. He tossed it away and thew himself back onto the mattress shoving his hands into his messy blonde hair. “F-Fuck.” He mumbled, groaning at the thought of you getting off to only the sound of his voice.

It wasn’t fair. For you to look the way you did and sound the way you did. He figured you were drunk. The slight slur in your breathy voice, the dazed expression you wore in those sinful selfies you sent him, all idicating as such. That had to be it. There was no other rational explanation. He did the right thing, ending the call.

He wasn’t so pathetically desperate that he had to get off to some drunken extra throwing herself at him.

He was Bakugo Fucking Katsuki.

Ground Zero. Soon to be #1 he—

His phone buzzed again, louder now that it was pressing up against the headboard. Bakugo reluctantly checked the caller id. A fucking video call. No, no. He couldn’t. It would be too much. He was a man after all. With carnal, primal desire welling within him, and right now he was barely keeping those desires at bay. He ignored the call.

Another buzz.

He was fucking stupid.

“FUCK.”

His fingers greedily swiped to answer the call. He was immediately greeted by your beautiful face, you offered a sweet smile and wave. “That wasn't nice, Katsuki, hanging up like that when I was so close.” You were lying on your stomach, feet swaying back and forth in the air behind the curve of your ass. He drank in the sight of you, your face flushed, messy hair framing your face perfectly, your lips plush and slightly pouting.

He cursed himself internally. “So fucking desperate.” His voice was huskier than before, and his words were more akin to a growl.

“Only a little.”

You sat up and rested the phone on something so you no longer had to hold it but ensuring Bakugo still had a great view. You stared at him through the screen and he felt his cheeks heat up, even though you weren’t in the room with him he still felt a little intimidated by your boldness.

You dipped a finger to rub over your clothed entrance, “Now where was I?” You teased, your other hand trailing over your cleavage. Bakugo fumbled with his sweats, sliding his hand down them to palm his aching cock. His ruby orbs memorizing every movement you made. You stop suddenly and he stopped too, a little annoyed. “Something wrong?” He growls, his tone low and thick with want.

“I’m gonna need you to do something for me first.” You say your fingers hooking into the strappy waistband of your thong pulling it away from your full hips teasingly before releasing it, the material hitting your skin with a slight ‘snap’. He ponders it for a moment, but his desire gets the best of him.

“For fucks sake-”He rolls his eyes, “What now?” He asks, clearly skeptical.

“Turn a light on or something, this isn’t a free show-” There's yet another long pause and Bakugo weighs his options. You start to get a bit impatient when a sudden ‘click’ catches your attention. Finally. There he is in all his glory. Well, not all his glory but some of it. It’s still a little dark but those piercing red eyes of him are unmistakable. His gaze makes you flush two shades darker. His appearance is slightly disheveled, his hair is messier than normal, probably bedhead since you most likely woke him up, his cheeks are tinted pink and he looks a little fucked out already. Probably from all the teasing. He looks absolutely perfect.

“Fucking happy now, brat?” He growls.

“Yes! Much better.” You comment, feeling your heat drip from the mere image of him. “I guess I can reward your good behavior..” You trail off, reaching back to unhook your bra, you catch it before it can fall, teasingly biting your lip. You can hear him groan at your teasing, finally you let the lace fall away from your body, giving him a full view. The liquor in your system keeping the shame and embarrassment you would normally be feeling at bay.

“Fucking perfect.” Bakugo groans lowly at the sight. You’re caught off guard by the compliment and you feel your body heat up. He slides his sweats down enough to free his cock from its confines, he makes sure you can’t see him first, only visible from the chest up. He swipes his thumb over the tip spreading the pre cum along the length of his cock before starting slow, languid pumps.

You notice his eyes roll back slightly at the sensation and you almost threaten to stop again if he doesn't show you what he’s doing, but you’re afraid he’ll stop entertaining this foolish idea entirely so you fight the urge to call him out.

Instead you trail your hands along the top of your thighs, “Tell me what you want, Katsuki.” His breath hitches at your words, he smirks darkly before biting his bottom lip.

“Touch yourself.”

You feel a wave of lust wash over you and you pull your panties off eager to please. You spread your legs exposing your soaking folds, you rub a hand lazily along your slit. “Fuck-” You hear him groan at the sight of you.

“Such a dirty little, slut.” A bolt of electricity shoots through you at his words and you can't stop your fingers from dipping into your mess of a cunt.

“So fucking desperate for my attention.”

You are moving your fingers feverishly now, chasing the release you were denied earlier, his words pushing you closer to that blissful edge. Soft moans fall from your lips, your free hand moves to rub clumsy circles against your clit.

He’s keeping pace with you, his strokes matching your movements. “Fuck, Princess, you’re so beautiful like this.” He can’t help the moan that follows his praise. “K-Katsuki, i’m close-” You whimper, eyes watering from the building pleasure in your core. “Did I say you could cum?” He asks his breathing ragged as his own climax sneaks up on him, his strokes become more desperate.

“P-Please, I can’t help it-” You whimper, you can feel your orgasm about to crash down on you.

He can knows how close you are. He can see it.

“Beg for it.”

“K-Katsuki! Please let me—ahh!—cum! Please, K-Katsuki, p-please I really can’t—mnn help it.” You whine, trying your best to be good and hold back for him.

“Cum for me then, Princess.”

You manage a hurried nod and your ministrations become hurried and sloppy. Bakugo’s not doing much better as his shirt is now in between his teeth, the camera tilted slightly giving you a view of his perfect chest. His muffled groans push you closer and closer to your release, as he thrusts up into his hand imagining its you instead. Finally, it all becomes too much and the coil inside snaps, you whine, tossing your head back, “Fuck. Katsuki!” Your fingers move from your core to your clit, wanting to prolong the orgasm as long as possible.

Bakugo bites down even harder on the material between his teeth, desperate to stifle the whimpers falling from him, his face contorts and his eyes nearly roll all the way back. Thick, white ropes of cum make a mess of his exposed stomach. He lets the fabric of his shirt fall from his mouth, his jaw sore from how hard he was biting down. His body relaxes a bit too much as he comes down from his high and he accidentally drops the phone.

“Shit-” You refocus on your own screen, forgetting it was there for a second, you hear him cursing under his breath and fumbling around until you are graced by the view of his flushed, fucked out expression. You offer a sweet smile and he smirks a little in response. “That was great, but i’m a little disappointed it wasn't the real thing.” You admit, forcing a slight pout. You see him visibly stiffen, his pupils dilating at the thought.

“You couldn't handle the real thing, Princess.” He taunts.

“Prove it.”

Fuck now you’ve done it.

“Come over tomorrow.”

“Don’t play games with me, Princess, I don’t like to be teased.”

“I’m serious.” You disappear from the screen for a moment while you type out a text. His phone buzzes in his hand. “That’s my address. Tomorrow around 8 work for you?” He drags his teeth over his bottom lip. Fucking bet.

“You’ll regret that. ” He offers a deliciously devilish smirk.

“We’ll see.” You tease back.

“I’m going to bed, it’s fucking—” He moves to look at the time, “-three in the morning—shit.”

“You’re right big day tomorrow! Goodnight, sleepy head!” You muse rolling onto your back. You move to end the call when his voice stops you.

“Wait-”

A pause.

“Tell me your name first.”

#bnha #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #nillabeamwrites #bakugo imagine #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines

3K notes · View notes

ellsbclls · 3 years

Note

" wow... you look... you look amazing. " for peter please? i love love love ur writing btw!

NOTE: This... ended up so embarrassingly long... i don't even know what the word count is, but i can bet it's a good 20%-30% longer than the average blurb.

WARNINGS: cursing, quirky🤪 mentions of drug use, implied making out (but can be perceived as sex, dear god please don’t perceive it as sex though), and some good ol’ fashion stark!ready x peter parker banter

They say, "never meet your heroes." Well, Peter wished he had adhered to that warning before he ended up here — a lanky, overdressed thumb towering high above the roof of the Avenger's Compound.

A semi-annual assembly of New York City's finest heroes that had little to do with their civic duties, and much to do with their inhibitions, and just how much alcohol it would take to release them — but there was one glaring problem.

Peter didn't drink.

He never saw the allure, especially when it came at such a high risk. He'd convinced himself that he refrained for the sake of Aunt May, the only remaining part of his family who put her life on the line to ensure his safety and overall well-being — the Spider-Man reveal already took some getting used to, he didn't need to add drunken night expenditures to her overnight fretting. Yet, when Flash's 'End of the Year' party had been raided by the police, a small part of him found joy in knowing he needn't fear the police or their breathalyzer test, even if he was deemed Pussy Parker for the remainder of that summer.

Even if he wanted to instill some liquid courage into himself, he hadn't the basic courage to let himself be vulnerable like that, in front of all the adults that made up the Avengers. Mr.Stark had already commented on his only suit, and how small he looked as it swamped his form, and the entire altercation made him wish the roof would just open up and swallow him whole.

Bullies, you'd call them.

There they were, New York's finest Defender's, huddled around the Mastrangelo like it couldn't put their entire life savings to shame, hosting a rousing game of beer pong upon its marble exterior. Your father was lucky your mother was still in Milan, tying up loose ends on a new line of bullshit you didn't concern yourself with. You just counted the days until she returned home, and you could soak up every ounce of her nurturing presence.

God, did you miss her.

It’s not like your father wasn’t just as nurturing, competitively so, to a point were you almost felt smothered — but you were too alike. In spaces where you both held too stubborn, your mother was there to mediate, and with ceaseless barrages of dry humor came her firm, unwavering severity, proving her love with candid remarks instead of jesting quips.

“Oh, free intern!” He dragged you from your nostalgic supercut with your endearing nickname, coaxing a fierce glare from your hues. “Run down to that place on 7th street and get some beer? And not that Miller Coor’s Bud bullshit, the upper echelon on Sigma Delta Nu delicacies.”

Jesus Christ.

You had caught glimpses of his argument with Steve, complaining about how stupid it would be to pour anything top shelf into a red solo cup — blasphemous really — but you didn’t expect him to do anything more than concede.

"Father of the year, everybody." You clapped just above your head, prompting the remaining company to join you. "I think you're forgetting that I'm not twenty-one."

"First and foremost, I know I am," Tony counters your triumphant grin with a sarcastic one. "Which is how I know that your fake ID says 21."

"Stark, it's fine. I can grab the beer," You thanked God and her impeccable timing once Steve interrupted, settling himself between the two of you with outstretched palms. "I could use the fresh air anyway."

You mimicked Steve's stance, cocking your brows toward your father. "See? Problem solved. Now leave me alone."

Losing interest in the company exponentially, you started to retreat, but groaned once your father's voice pierced the air again. "Nuh-uh-uh, Rogers. Why? So you can go to the nearest GNC and snort a container of protein powder? I don't think so."

You retreat to the furthest recesses of your mind as Tony and Steve bicker back and forth about honesty and friendly competition. Steve wouldn't know how to bump a rail if the U.S Army assembled a thorough, interactive training course on it, and his age quadrupled the life expectancy of most snow-packed socialites. Yet, on the other hand, you were shocked that your father even knew what a GNC was — ultimately, you were riled from your thoughts by an irksome realization.

"Are you fucking- Why can't old man Jenkins do it?" you gestured wildly toward the enhanced super soldier in question, blind to the obvious offense scrawled across his features. You seldom took your opulent lineage for granted, but when situations such as these presented themself, a selfish corner of your mind wondered what it would be like to have a run-of-the mill, cheesy-pun equipped, golf short wearing father. "You'd rather risk your daughter's own safety, and the sanctity of her criminal record, for a stupid game of beer pong?"

Natasha's incredulous laughter chimed between your incessant back and forth, spurred by the uncanny resemblance you and your father shared between every aspect imaginable — your dry wit just so happened to be in the spotlight.

"Yes," He didn't bother to meet your glare, already familiar with its scorching beam against the side of his face "Yes I would."

Hues practically rolled into the back of your skull, exaggerating your every move to a thespian level to make it clear, to even the boniest of heads, that you didn't take pleasure in this task. You were so excited to finally unwind at this event — slam down the sugary mocktail your Uncle Thor always "forgot" to order virgin, dangle your feet over the shallow end of the pool, maybe even shoot a few low jests at Bucky if there wasn't a carnal gleam in his eyes.

Your thrilling plans were now put on hold just to support your father's mid-life crisis.

"I know, I know." He tried to repeat the name of the wine stop n’ shop, only for you to wave him off. He wasn’t wrong — you had been abusing your fake ID in that very stop n’ shop for years, though you’ve recently come to the conclusion that the cashier was far more interested in your chest than your credentials. "If I get arrested, I'm bring you down with me. I'll tell Business Insider that FRIDAY's just one, big elaborate ruse for the underground Fake ID business you have on the side. They'll eat it up like-"

"Love you, honey! I'll venmo you!" He butt in, sending you off with a wave of his fingers.

You flipped him off, shouting an earnest 'I love you' in return. There was no denying that you loved each other, some would even argue that he loved you more than he loved himself — you just chose to show it in your own, eccentric way.

Mere seconds into your newfound task, you stopped dead in your tracks. You could make out that bed of chestnut locks anywhere.

"Parker?" Swiftly surveying his frumpy attire, you struggled to stifle the upward tilt of your lips. Even as he stood uncomfortably before you, visibly seconds away from crawling out of his own skin, he still managed to be the sweet, endearing Peter you knew and loved. "God, I didn't even realize that was you."

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you caught one fleeting glimpse of him at the very beginning of the festivities and thought he was a part of the catering company, nor did you feel a need to disclose the snide remark you whispered into your father's ear about the miserable staff. There was no sense in kicking a dead horse while it was already down.

His gaze weighed heavy against your frame, though, bolstered by an overwhelming intensity that forced you to wonder if he could read your mind. Though, if you could tap into his thoughts, you'd be shocked to find a reflection of your own — bewilderment, adoration, the tell-tale signs of a burgeoning crush, and the myriad of excuses that disputed them.

He could only manage to stumble over his words, complimenting you with sentiments that could never amount to the emotions welling in his chest. "Wow... you look... you look amazing."

And you couldn't argue, not with the way you were pampered hours prior. Mercier had smothered your hair in this honey-infused serum that made your curls bounce to life with each step, and the custom Jacquemus silhouette you were sporting hugged every ample curve enticingly so. You felt like a million bucks, and you probably cost that much give or take, so why deny it?

Peter, on the other hand — Well, he was very lucky that he was so cute, and his jawline could probably cut Vision's infinity stone straight out of his skull. It almost made up for the tragic shape of his suit, and just how tragically out of place it was at this event.

"You look, um-" Softness tugged at the corner of your eyes as they crinkled dotingly. "You look very cute."

"That was a very convincing half-truth." He chuckled, a subtle pink hue blooming over the valleys of his cheeks."

"Oh, so a part of you knows you're cute." You teased, enjoying the way the pink hue grew deeper.

"Oh! Oh, no... No, I mean, kind of? On the scale of confident perspectives, I think-uh-cute... Cute is on the lower end? And you know what? My Aunt May-"

"Peter, you wanna get out of here?" You interrupted him, hoping to save him from all the words he had yet to stumble over. "And then immediately come back?"

"Yeah," He vigorously nodded his head, despite being equally as confused. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

"Come," You offered your hand, a small gesture the two of you have woven into your complicated relationship.

You'd tend to straddle a very thin line between friendship and something more, reaping all the warm, tentative affections of newfound lovers without explicitly considering yourselves so. The both of you, for as brilliant as your merits show, continued to convince yourselves that the hand holding, the comfortable silences, the mornings plastered against each other's sides, were simply happenstance. Despite the increasing willingness of each encounter, you'd only ever chalk it up to chance. So when you offered your hand out to him, he took it in stride — because the two of you would indulge in every ounce of attention you could get your hands on, at least until one of you inevitably came to your senses and found someone worth your time.

Your fingers were firmly intertwined as you led him to the roof’s exit, tugging him down the staircase and through the vacant halls of the top floor just in time to catch the elevator. You found no reason to keep his hand hostage once you were inside, so you begrudgingly retracted yours. You swore you could hear a pitiful huff come from his side of the elevator, but you chalked it up to wishful thinking.

Now it was just you and Peter, left to your own devices, and roughly ninety-two floors away from your destination. Just enough time to do what you were aching to do.

“Peter,” You murmured, and his gaze flickered to your own without a moment of hesitation, drenched in a hopeful haze you failed to decipher.

“Y/N?” He echoed, tilting his body toward your own.

“You look...” You paused, unsure of which word accurately portrayed your thoughts. ”insane.”

“I know.” He whined. You tried to stifle the giggle that bubbled at his hopeless demeanor, brows furrowed together as he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders slumped impossible low.

“It’s a good thing you have such a charitable friend.” And you made light work of his suit jacket, the air suddenly rapt with a thick air of electricity as you worked the offending article off his shoulders, haphazardly tossing it on the ground. Protests formed on the tip of his tongue, but he opted to swallow them in return for your help, going slack when you ran your fingers through his meticulously gelled hair.

Though he embodied the vision of a suave, debonair socialite alarmingly well, with his carefully quaffed locks, nothing suited him as well as the pillowy, fawn tendrils that made up his soft curls. You needed them back, needed a reminder of your sweet, darling boy, and patience was never your strong suit.

You wondered if he was in need of the same reminder, seeing as he’d let you manhandle him without so much as a hum of discontent.

All done. Only a few revisions, and he was a completely different boy. Clad in a crisp, white shirt, sans its horrifying grey counterpart, you rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top three discs. The fabric was taut against his impressive set of muscles, leaving little to the imagination with each sweeping roll of his arms. You’d pat yourself on the back, but you were too busy drooling all over your work.

“Is- Is this good?” He broke the silence with a tentative query, peering back at you through his lashes.

"Yeah,” You voice came out strangled at best, distracted by the flurry of butterflies ravaging your stomach. There was something about this moment — maybe it was the glint of tenderness ridding his gaze, or your tight proximity, or maybe it was fate, finally persuading you to topple over that dangerous line — but regardless, you decided it was now or never. “but there's still something missing,"

“My jacket?” He breathlessly queried. His eyes frantically searched your face, like he couldn’t settle on just one feature to admire.

“No, no...” You breathed back, cautiously inching closer, until there was only a sliver of space separating your chests. "You need to loosen up, Parker."

“And what- What do you suggest I do?” His gaze flickered down to your lips shamelessly, and returned just as quickly.

“Do you trust me?”

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

“Good,” You sighed, your breath fanning over his lips before you greedily chased its warmth, kissing him with such feather-light pressure, it almost felt like a dream — a thrilling, delicate dream. You had to tear yourself from his lips before you delved even deeper, hoping to find a mirror image of your relief, your satisfaction, in his own features. However, before your eyes even fluttered open, his palms swept under the curve of your jaw, and coaxed your mouth back to his, instantly qualming any of your fears as you both melted into the exchange. He tasted of spearmint, and cherries, and something so intoxicatingly him that you could barely restrain yourself.

You wanted him, God, did you want him, and for the first time, someone wanted you just as much, without an ounce of greed to it — He wanted you for you.

The remaining seconds of the elevator ride were filled with fervent kisses, and wandering hands, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck while his bunched the silky fabric of your dress. It was all smitten, indulgent brushes of your lips until the elevator dinged, and the doors opened up to reveal the fashionably late, dynamic duo —Sam Wilson and James Buchanan Barnes.

Their expressions were nothing short of priceless, one complexion green while the other ran pale at the sight of your interwoven limbs. You tried to open your mouth before they could comment, but you were far too late, buried in a booming wall of—

"This is a public space! You are defiling a public space!"

"I can't do this— I'm gonna take the stairs."

Their voices weaved into a messy, irritated harmony of disbelief, managing to still complement each other despite their varying levels of urgency.

An idea, a selfish, evil idea, popped into your head, and you enacted it before you could even unravel yourself from Peter’s hold.

"You just reminded me, I was about to text you! My dad needs a couple cases of Yuengling.” You gestured for Peter to press on the “Open Door” button, and by the time he started clicking the prompt, you’d already fetched your wallet, fishing your card out for Sam. “They probably have some at the corner store, but he’ll throw up if he finds out he was drinking alcohol from the corner store, so you’re gonna have to walk down to that market on Seventh.” You could feel Peter’s perplexed gaze gnaw at your shoulder, but you persisted in your impish pursuits, shoving the AmEx into his hand.

“Chop chop, lover boys!” You hastily snapped your fingers in his direction, and yelled just loud enough to make sure Bucky accompanied him, parsing their punishment out evenly.

Served them right, encroaching on such a perfect moment.

Bucky’s groan echoed through the stairwell, followed by a childish stomp of combat boots, and you were pleased enough to shoo Peter’s hand away, pressing the “Close Door” button.

Sometimes it was nice being Tony Stark’s daughter — less backtalk from the sovereign throne of comebackdom.

“I thought you said we were getting out of here.” His brows were pinched together, the most adorable little frown forming between them.

“Oh, we most certainly are,” You replied, pressing the button for your floor. You could tell that the pieces weren’t clicking all the way, and you proceeded to spell it out for him, dropping a chaste kiss to the spot just below his ear. “We’re gonna go to my room. And then we’re gonna go right back to the party when we’re done.”

“When we’re done?” He mused, voice wavering beneath the soft caress of your lips, scattering even more tentative kisses down the column of his neck.

“When we’re done.” You parroted back, meeting his downward gaze through your lashes.”I think you still have some loosening up to do.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x stark!reader #3K ????????????#3?????????#K??????????#IDK HOW I GOT HERE #MOM PICK ME UP IM S C A RED?????#idk i think there's just something about stark!ready x peter parker that just gets me going #mine*

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly.

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

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warmau · 3 years

Text

maybe the heat has gotten to chenle

when he sits down on the last step of the long staircase nestled between your building and the twenty four hour grocery store

the stairs lead up to the next block, where you can hear the vague sounds of kids playing on the street. one of the voices might be haechan, he’s shouting for someone to come back

but you look at chenle and he’s looking at his knees

freshly bruised from where he and jisung both fell off their bikes a couple days ago, it’s starting to scab and he looks like he’s trying not to pick at it

“sorry, you want me to do what?”

“don’t make me say it again.”

he mutters and he won’t look at you

you know even if you ask him too - he’s probably the most stubborn person you’ve ever met - he won’t

“no, i didn’t hear - well i did, but i mean - you’re crazy.”

“you can just say no.”

he shifts his gaze from his knees up to the sky and then after you wait patiently for another minute he finally does look at you

“do you really hate the idea of it?”

“it’s not that. it’s just.......if you really like this person, you should just fall into it naturally with them. you shouldn’t have to practice - you should just do it when it feels right.”

his mouth twitches like he’s about to scowl and roll his eyes and stomp away

because that’s what he does when things don’t go his way but instead he just stares at you and says;

“i won’t know what feels right until ive at least tried it.”

you should argue back, you and chenle are notorious for always bantering and quarrelling and leaving all of your friends either annoyed or doubling over with laughter

but you can’t think of something witty to say. something at least convincing because he makes a point

but also

how is he not embarrassed to ask me of all people that?

sighing, you’re the one who looks away and over your shoulder up the stairs

no one is around - their voices are - but they’re distant and chenle is close

so close that bruised knee of his could brush yours if he just inched a little to his left

“fine.”

you give in and turn your shoulders back toward him

“you might as well practice with me, anyone else and you might actually catch another crush on top of the one you have now.”

chenle half smirks and you don’t register the emotional shift in the light brown of his eyes

you just think he’s going along with your joke - well not really a joke, more like a statement

and that’s how you end up leaning in, one hand on the stairs as if to keep your balance even while sitting down

and the other on the side of chenle’s cheek

you hover just a moment before you kiss him - a split, wordless millisecond of hesitation - and then you let your lips gently press to his

it isn’t even a real kiss but it is the first moment of the rest of a summer you never expected

of course, you and chenle tell no one about this weird, awkward, beyond the boundaries of friendship thing you are doing

mostly because if you did haechan and jaemin would not let it go, not until you were all rolling in your graves and jisung would probably be scarred with crippling doubt of where every friendship of his stood

so you only naturally have to sneak around

chenle is a good liar though, well better than you who has trouble even looking renjun in the eyes when chenle says you and him have to leave a little earlier from the backyard barbeque someones throwing because oh right, you forgot your allergy medicine at home and chenle promised some old lady across the street he’d feed her cat while she was on holiday

they’re half-assed, badly timed lies but it is summer

and if you and chenle don’t want to have fun with the rest of the group then so be it

you guys just get teased and called debbie-downers and then you’re home free

well home free in a sense that you know have some time to sit on the rug of your bedroom and kiss

for the sake of learning

“where do i put my hands?”

chenle asks one time and you move instinctively to put one of his palms on the side of your waist.

that’s where i like to be held-

you drop his hand as soon as the thought crosses your mind and stutter out

“well, that’s more a question for your crush. different people like it in different places.”

he nods and thinks for a second

“we’ve only kissed a couple of times but i think i like putting my hand on your waist.”

his palm ends up just where you had wanted to lead it and when a little swell of butterflies flutters in your stomach at the fact, you quell the feeling and shove it deep deep deep down

this persists throughout the weeks, and each time you try and introduce chenle to a tier higher of kissing, if that makes sense

you’ve got down the leaning in, the hand position, the tilting your head, the emergency breath mints, the lead up or lead out, the avoid nose smashing or teeth clanking and then there’s only really one last thing you can graduate too and it’s

“tongue?”

you almost hark on the ice-cream sandwich you’re eating when jaemin says the word

“yeah, he got his tongue pierced. are you ok?”

renjun turns his long gaze to you, the poor ice-cream melting all over the wrapper and on your fingers

“fine, yeah, it’s just - super hot. i think im gonna go home and lay under the ac.”

your eyes go from renjun to jaemin to chenle who gives a little nod and stands up from his side of the table with a groan

“sorry guys, i got a text from my mom. i gotta go now too.”

no one says anything. renjun taps his fingers and doesn’t look away from you as jaemin tries desperately to convince you both to stay and when you both say no he sticks his tongue out and asks you a question that you thought would sooner come out of anyone elses mouth

“are you two like hooking up behind our backs or something, you’re always gone when we’re having the most fun!”

you think you might really fall over - renjun, sure you could have seen him figuring it out. haechan - definitely. even jeno......but

jaemin?

“what? like i’d ever hook up with them.”

chenle’s voice comes out, high and mocking

it’s pretty good and you almost believe it for a second - turn around and tell him hey, you’ve been making out with me this whole entire month so if you want to end up practicing on a stuffed animal back home you better take that back!

when you realize - right, he’s covering up

you scrunch up your nose and chuck the icecream into the trash

“right, like id ever let him touch me.”

jaemin is convinced, he goes back to laughter and obliviousness, but renjun chuckles when you pass by and the undertone of it makes you shake even in the heat

“renjun knows.”

you and chenle are not in your room for once, you’re outside in a small park that’s been abandoned as the summer moon switches places with the summer sun

chenle is swinging back and forth and you’re leaning against the side of the swing set nervously biting your lip

“he gave me a look when we left.”

“are you going to teach me it by the way?”

“teach you what?”

you hear the swing come to a stop and he stands up, you don’t know if now the summer heat is getting to you

because when you look at him he looks different

he looks handsome, not just cute and sweet like you’re used to seeing him - all round faced and smiley - he’s gotten taller and is still so naturally thin it brings out the defining cuts of the sharper parts of his face

you look away immediately when you start cataloging all of this in your brain

people only do that with people they like, you don’t look at your friends and start painting their best features in your head like a psycho ........ ok not a psycho but someone that’s.....that’s in ......

“you know, how to actually kiss. not little pecks or whatever, like actual deeper kissing.”

it is obvious what he’s asking and you are pretty sure it’s just his drive to be better at all this for that person he likes

but you feel shy about it, even a little uncomfortable with the idea of being slightly closer to someone who is using you as what could be compared with a scientific mannequin

a how-to user guide, a one time trial period

you feel light headed and when chenle comes into your personal space and reaches out to hold you, you jerk back

“stop - wait.”

he listens

“w-who do you even like, you never told me.”

“why’s that important?”

his eyes widen a little and you are racing through a hundred different excuses and reasons to prolong this conversation

“well i want to know. i mean, i mean everything we practiced you’re going to use with them so i just i guess i feel like im at least entitled to know that.”

“it’s a secret, it doens’t matter either way.”

“do i know them?”

chenle frowns, “no. they don’t live near here. anyway are you ok why-”

you walk backwards, up until your back hits the fence that runs around the little park

chenle’s ticked off look turns into genuine concern and he stops a couple of feet from you and asks this time if you’re really ok, if you don’t want to do this anymore than that’s all you have to say-

he’s speaking, in almost something akin to a whisper, and the sound along with the dawning of the evening makes you remember that first kiss you gave him on the stairs

his bruised knee, haechan’s voice in the distance, the long steps leading up to the entire world and away from chenle

if you really had felt nothing for him but friendship, you would have gotten up and told him to stop playing around

you would have trotted up those steps and joined everyone else

you would have never leaned in and kissed him first

but you had and the secret that you’d stowed as far back in your heart as possible had slowly, with each day of this summer, been pulled out and out and out

and now it was big and shining and the only thing you could think about anymore

i like chenle

and everytime he kisses me

he’s thinking of someone else

“i can’t, i can’t do that with you.”

you finally find the words and then clutch your fingers into fists at your side when chenle gives you a sad look you almost never see him wear

“it’s not that i don’t want to, i do. i want to. and not to help you learn or whatever but because i really just........want to.”

that sad look is turning into something you’re too scared to look at - but you know he’s following your train of thought now

“and you should want to do that with the person you like, not a replace-”

“it’s you.”

he cuts in before you finish your sentence and like a train going at full speed you brake and everything crashes in at once

“-ment......sorry, what?”

“it’s you. you’re the person i like.”

“but- you - practice- you - what?”

the starstruck look on your face makes chenle laugh and you can’t believe the audacity, buy you also want an answer so when he wipes away his chuckling he nods

“it was you all along. do you think i’d ever want to spend days making out with someone i didn’t like?”

when you had thought something had been wrong with him on the day he’d asked you to do this the first time, you really had thought either he’d gotten heatstroke or been brainwashed

it was so unlike chenle to 1) admit he needed to practice something and 2) want to practice it with someone he wasn’t at least fond of

so really, maybe something had been wrong with you, when you had failed to see that his whole plan this time was

“you just wanted an excuse to kiss me all summer?”

he shrugs and grins, “it was nice right?”

you can’t argue or lie or disagree - it was nice - and now you’re standing here in this park with no one around and you think maybe you shuold teach chenle the last and final thing about kissing

so you finally let him come closer and with his hand on your waist, just where you like it, he leans in again

but just before you do anything else you pull back and mumble

“jaemin is going to freak out when we tell him he was right, we have been sneaking out around behind everyones back to make out.”

“yeah but renjun definitely knows right?”

you nod, right, maybe that’ll soften the shock for everyone

(it doesn’t)

and sometimes you also get another wave of shock, even after dating chenle for so long

not much has changed - you still like to push each other and tease and pretend like you aren’t head over heels in love with each other

if only because that’s one way to show that you are, in fact, very much attached

and because even when you kiss in front of the group - jaemin still says it blows his mind

the only person who keeps reminding everyone that he saw this coming, even before you and chenle spent that summer locking lips

is renjun who looks at you and chenle and is like, “one day ill probably be helping plan their wedding.”

you and chenle look at each other and pretend to gag, wedding? no way? to each other? you’d both rather die!

and then you grin and kiss and tickle noses and disappear into a bubble of your own

every time you get to be alone though you whisper against his cheek that you love him, he knows exactly how to make you happy

and he reminds you hey - you taught me everything i know, that one summer all that time ago.

#we love this trope at least i do #nct scenarios #nct au #chenle scenarios #chenle au #nct dream scenarios #nct dream au #nct #chenle #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #chenle imagines #happy birthday kiddo!!!!!!!!#zhong chenle au #nostalgic!au

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chacenzofaxpasandy · 3 years

Text

Little Cassano

“Park Joo-hyung si?” A voice asked on the phone.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Secretary Ji Hye Shin, I’m calling from your son’s school. There was an incident at school today so we would like you to come in, please. 1PM should be fine?

Vincenzo Cassano agreed, thanked her and was about to hang up the phone when he heard those dreaded words-

“Alright sir we’ll see you and your wife soon, then.”

Vincenzo groaned internally, thinking about how she was NOT going to be happy, not going to be happy at all.

As if on cue his phone rang, interrupting his myriad of thoughts; he looked at the caller ID ‘Hong Byeonhosanim’.

Funnily enough he had never changed her name on his phone from this rather formal word to “yobo” or “jagiya”. It seemed almost too trivial and insignificant a word to describe her.

He answered on the first ring, loosening his tie,”Hello?”

“Don’t make any excuses, you’re coming to school.”

“I have a deposition today, you know that-”

“That was in the morning. I checked.”

“But-” Damn her and her lawyer genes.

“I just finished up court for the day, I’ll see you there at 2, Byeonhosa Park.”

Before he could say another word he heard the phone line go silent. She’s mad.

---------------------------------------

As Vincenzo entered the office, the first thing he noticed was the tension that hung in the air.

His wife was glaring daggers at him as he entered, and it was one of the rare moments in his life where Vincenzo Cassano (or Park Joo-hyung as he goes by now) actually feared for his life.

He spotted his 6 year old son, Han Seo, sitting on one chair, twirling his thumbs and looking down at the floor, avoiding eye contact with his mother.

On the other side of his wife was a woman a little older, a man he presumed was her husband and a little child next to him who seemed to be the same age as his son.

As Vincenzo watched the other child, a bubble of laughter threatened to escape his lips; the boy was sitting there, covered head to toe in something that looked red and slimy and wet.

Was this why they had been called in?

“Ah, Mr. Park, thank you for joining us. Please have a seat.”

As he sat down, Vincenzo tried to make eye contact with his son, but the poor boy’s guilty gaze remained pointed downwards.

“So, as I was saying, your son, Mr. and Mrs. Park seems to have covered young Mr. Kim, here in red slime and jello-”

Vincenzo and his wife shared a look, her giving him the slightest nod- go ahead. He turned his head to his son and shook his head at him don’t say anything- we got this.

“My son seems to have done this?” He asked lightly, out loud.

“Well, yes he was last seen near the door where the bucket was hung-”

“Well, you seem to not have any proof in particular that it was Han Seo,” Vincenzo replied.

“Well, the boys have been fighting for few days now, verbal altercations-” blubbered the principal.

“They’re six years old!” Cha young interrupted,”Of course they’re fighting. Aren’t other students in their class doing the same?”

“Yes Mom!” Han Seo quipped up,”there’s a lot of fighting.”

“Well sir, I think this begs the question- why do your teachers not seem to have control of their classroom,” Cha young asked,”Do I have to be afraid for my child?”

“No! That’s not what’s-”

“My child is covered in red stuff!” Exclaimed the mother of the other child, indignantly.

“Ah, he enjoys body painting does he?” Cha young asked, smiling.

“No, I was just saying that-”

Vincenzo seized the opportunity to swiftly exit the chaos, standing up and buttoning his coat,” Well this seems to have been a phenomenal waste of time. I do hope you get a better grip on this fighting that seems rampant in your school. We’ll be leaving now. Han Seo let’s go.”

Cha young was now staring down the other mother and Vincenzo gently extracted her hand from it’s crossed position and led her out of the room along with his son.

“How dare that woman try to accuse MY SON of-” Cha young grumbled as she put on her seatbelt in the car.

“I did it, Mom,” groaned Park Han Seo miserably,” I covered him in the red stuff-”

“We know, Han Seo-ya” Vincenzo said.

“You know?”

“Of course we do,” replied Cha young irritably, “What we don’t know, is why.”

”Because he’s a big bully. So I dumped red slime on him- like you did with the bad man that hurt Grandpa. I couldn’t find pig’s blood anywhere though-”

Vincenzo had been about to drive away when he paused, looked at Cha- young and burst out laughing.

Cha young was trying to be disapproving, for her son’s sake, but couldn’t deny that her son’s emulation of their old prank was…. Downright hilarious. And so, against her best wishes, a smile crept up on her face and soon she too was in peals of laughter.

Young Han Seo smiled with satisfaction, he had been feeling terribly guilty since he was caught, but seeing his parents smile and laugh like this meant he had done something good.

As if reading her son’s thoughts, Cha- young shook her head,”Aish, Han Seoya, you can’t cover people in red slime everytime you argue with them. Your dad and I won't be able to bail you out everytime. In fact, we’re not going to do it ever again. If you get in trouble, you will take your punishment.”

“But…. Dad said that when people don’t get what they deserve we have to take matters into our own hands!”

“And what did he say that made you take matters into your own hands?”

The smile suddenly disappeared from young Han Seo’s face as he stayed silent.

“What is it, son?”

“He makes fun of the other kids in class. Yesterday he pushed this boy in class who walks on crutches, and then he laughed. It was not very nice.”

“That’s not very nice at all,” Cha young agreed.

“So you’re not mad? I.. I did well?”

As he stared at the innocence on the boy’s face, Vincenzo with a pang was reminded of his older namesake, as he replied,” You did very well, son. You deserve to be called a little Cassano.”

His wife shot him a look.

“But your mother is right, you can’t use us as an excuse to bail you out. We don’t want you picking fights for no reason.”

“So I… I’ll stop?” asked the young child, looking sad.

“Tell you what,” Vincenzo said,” If you get in trouble defending someone else, then we got you. If you go around fighting for yourself then you’re on your own. How’s that sound?”

The little boy grinned,”Deal!”

Vincenzo casually spoke,”Next time, you should do something a little less incriminating to yourself. Maybe we can put a spider or two in his pencil case-”

Han Seo nodded,”That’s a good idea. Or steal his-”

Cha young shook her head, smiling to herself. This child was going to grow up to be just like his father; and it couldn’t make her prouder.

#vincenzo #cassano #vincenzo cassano #hong #hongchayoung #chayoung #little #little cassano #fanfiction #oneshot #fanfic #family #cuteness #Vincenzofanfiction #vincenzo fanfic #vincenzo fanfiction #songjoongki #chaycenzo #chacenzo

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jortsaaaaaaart · 3 years

Text

Competition raihan x Reader x Leon. Chp 1

All updates will be posted on my Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/33064546

This will contain sex and a bit of violence later on.

It was a still spring morning in Postwick. The fog hung heavy in the air, faint lights in the distance were the only signs of any other people. This was your favorite time of day. No expectations, no people. And most importantly, nothing to do but drink your tea. On most days you could spend hours like this, in uninterrupted bliss. Today, however, your neighbor had other plans.

You heard him before you saw him. Hop was running up the path to your house yelling your name at the top of his lungs. Hop had always had way too much energy but this was ridiculous. You wouldn't be surprised if all of Postwick came out with torches and pitchforks for the crime of screaming at 7:30 in the morning. He rounded the corner to find you sitting on your porch, slowly nursing the last of your tea.

"(Y/N)! You won't believe it!" Hop exclaimed.

"What is it?" You groaned.

"Lee is back in town." You perked up at that. Leon hadn't been home in quite some time. "He's at the station right now and he brought something for us."

"For both of us?" Hop had grabbed your hand and was gradually pulling you off of your porch.

"Yes, he specifically asked for you too. Now move your fat arse!!"

You tried not to let yourself overthink Leon asking to see you. It had happened before. There probably wasn't any special reason your unrequited childhood crush would want to see you. Nope. None at all.

You followed Hop to the station down the hill, trying your best to keep pace with him. Sure enough Leon was at the station surrounded by almost all of Postwick. Being the champion had its difficulties you supposed. Leon looked up at the two of you when Hop yelled his name and suddenly you were aware of how sweaty and disheveled you must be. The two brothers talked animatedly while you tried to smooth your hair down.

Eventually Leon's eyes met yours and you felt that familiar lurch in your stomach. "Hey, Lee. It's been a while."

"(Y/N)! I almost didn't recognize you! How was Uni?" Leon smiled and gave you a bone crushing hug. "It's been years since I last saw you, you're not a kid anymore!"

"We're only two years apart, Lee! I'm 21 for Arceus's sake!" You laughed, hitting his arm lightly. "What are you doing here anyways, the gym challenge is starting in a week."

"I managed to get away for a bit, though I'm technically still on league business." Leon stopped and looked around, giving all his fans another brilliant smile and a wave. "Let's continue this at home."

That piqued your interest, he was on league business but it was secret? Or he at least didn't want all of Postwick to know about it. You trailed after him, mulling over the options, until you reached his house. The size of it and how pristine the grounds were always got to you. You felt small and dirty by comparison. Leon walked over to their battle court and released three Pokemon. A Scorbunny, Soble, and Grookey. All three Pokemon stared up at you expectantly.

"I brought these Pokemon for the both of you! It's almost time for the gym challenge so I figured you were chomping at the bit."

You were shocked, it made sense for Leon to give Hop a Pokemon- Hop had adamantly refused any endorsement other than his brother's. But you hadn't really put much thought into becoming a trainer. You had been sick with bronchitis when you were sixteen and missed the deadline for the challenge. After that life got in the way again and again until you decided you'd just go to University.

"The both of us?" You repeated incredulously. Hop had already dived towards the poor Pokemon who didn't realize how much petting they were about to receive.

"Hop told me you were back and hadn't found a job yet so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity for you."

"I don't know, I'm a little old to be participating, don't you think?"

"There's no age limit, I get plenty of older challengers." He assured you. "Besides, you're the smartest person I know. I still remember all those strategies you helped me come up with when we were kids. You'll do amazing." Leon placed a hand on your back, guiding you towards the Pokemon. Hop had Grookey in his lap by this point, leaving Soble and Scorbunny. The rabbit Pokemon bounded up to you immediately, seemingly upset it wasn't getting as much attention. It threw itself into your lap and demanded to be pet. You knew in that moment that you had made your choice, or Scorbunny had made it for you.

"Looks like that's that." Leon chuckled.

"What will happen to Soble?"

Leon scooped the water type up in his arms. "They'll be fine. I'm going to raise them, after all."

"I've got nothing to worry about, then." You laughed.

"Well, there is one thing. Which one of you is going to win your first battle." Hop cheered at his brother's words, his new Grookey hooting along with him.

"That's right! We're both trainers now, (Y/N)! We have to battle!"

"Have to? I mean, I guess it's okay. You okay with it Scorbunny?" Your new partner jumped up and ran to one side of the court. "I guess that answers that. You're going to be dragging me around quite a lot, aren't you?" Scorbunny, who you really needed to come up with a name for, hopped around happily.

Hop and you went to different sides of the court while Leon explained the rules. Hop was at an advantage with his two Pokemon to your one. But this was just for fun. Hop started off with his Wooloo and to your surprise it was downed in a minute. Scorbunny deftly evaded any attacks and retaliated with blazing kicks and Ember. Your heart was beating faster when Grookey was sent out. You felt elated, like you could see each move the opponent was making in slow motion. With the help of the type advantage, Grookey was down even faster than Wooloo.

You couldn't believe it was over and you had won. Is this how it felt for Leon? Heart racing, anticipating every second, and the feeling of joy and accomplishment when you won. It was addicting.

"What a great battle," Said Leon. Glossing over the fact that you just beat his little brother into the ground. "After seeing that I feel a lot better about giving you these." He handed each of you a sealed envelope. "That's my endorsement for the gym challenge, don't lose it. I'm talking to you, Hop. . . The opening ceremony is in a week, you'll get your uniform and badge case there. But for now I'll help you with your pokedex and trainer ids."

The sun had set by the time Hop was done asking Leon questions and you meandered back to your house. Being part of this gym challenge was a lot to think about, but you had genuinely enjoyed battling. You weren't as nervous when you battled, even with Leon near you. By the time you reached your porch you had made up your mind. You were going to head out and try to become a trainer.

. . . Now you just needed to find a tent. And a bag? What did you even need to pack???

Looks like you won't be getting much sleep tonight.

#raihan #Leon #hop #Pokemon #raihan x reader #leon x reader #Pokemon x Reader #x Reader #reader insert #fanfic

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fandom-blackhole · 3 years

Note

Hi, are you still taking AU requests, and if so: can I get a 77 & a 94 with Agent Whiskey?

I am ALWAYS down to take more of the AU/Tropes! In fact, I should really reblog that post again because I'm in a bit of a writing stump...

Also, this gives me a chance to really test out my Agent Whiskey writing skills, and I wrote this as a little intro into the world I have planned out for a Whiskey fic

77. In Vino Veritas (I am ashamed that I had to google this...)

94. Hair Brushing/Braiding

Send me an AU or 2??

October. It was already October, and you were only a few weeks shy of having been with the Statesmen for an entire year. It seemed like yesterday that you were recruited. You could still see the glinting eyes of Champ as he asked you to join his rank of agents. You'd thought he was mad at first, playing along just for curiosities' sake, but one thing lead to another, and for all the coincidences out there you joined the Statesmen and started working on October 31st, Halloween day. Which was a bit laughable if you considered your line of work heavily involving human direction, being a forensic pathologist and all.

A year... you still couldn't really wrap your head around it. But then again, you were still getting used to this job, after all it seemed like the places was was made to keep you on your toes at all times.

"Cherry, darling, you have got to stop staring at you computer like that. Gonna strain those pretty eyes of yours if you keep that up," speaking of keeping you on your toes, you jumped slightly and your eyes jumped from you computer's digital calendar up to meet those of your favorite, and least favorite, fellow agent.

"Whiskey," you sighed out, "Please tell me your here for something more than just to pester me. I do have work to do."

Whiskey only grinned, and pulled out the chair in front of your little desk before sitting down and leaning back into the chair.

"Now, I would never do something like that to you, darling! I just wanted to come check in on you, make sure you're not stressing yourself over your work."

You sigh harder, and run your fingers over your temples, before looking up giving the man across from you, whose eyes were sparkling with playfullness but sincerity, and you couldn't help but shoot a small smile back at him. "I am fine Agent Whiskey, and I appreciate the concern, but I do have quite a bit to do."

"Oh come on, its almost lunch, let me take you somewhere to get something, on me."

He was smirking now, and you were just shaking your head softly. "No, thank you for the offer, but I did pack a lunch, and I plan to eat right here so I can get through the paperwork that has been piling up."

"Please darling?"

You only shook your head again, and sent him a look of, "this is not a fight you're gonna win", and Whiskey sighed before slapping both legs with his hands and standing up, "Well, I guess I won't argue with you this time, but the offer stands whenever you want to take it."

And with that he left you alone in you office as you sigh and relax back into your chair, a soft pang of regret echoing through your chest before you turned back to you computer, this time to actually get work done.

---

He stayed away from your office for a few days. Something that surprised you a bit considering how much he loved to show up and distract you while he wasn't away on a mission. You didn't hate Whiskey, not at all. In fact, you found yourself constantly fighting a loosing battle with how much you were falling for his charms and teasing. He was a good man, and you new that, but it didn't change the fact that he was a serial flirt, and he probably only came to you for how you flustered and reacted to his advances.

When he walked into your office this time, all swagger and shiny white teeth, you had been gathering your things to head down to your lab, nearly running into his chest as you opened your office door.

"Now, Cherry, had I known you were so eager to jump into my arms, I might have come by sooner."

As always, you sighed and felt hear creep onto your face, before taking a step back and clearing your throat, "Agent Whiskey, please, I have to get to my lab, I have work to do."

He just stood there, smirk plastered on his face, before he held his arm out, and said, "Well then, let me have the honor of escorting the pretty lady?"

You just rolled your eyes and shouldered past him. "Agen-"

"Darling, we both know you can just call me Whiskey, you don't have to be all proper with the agent each time."

Shaking your head you started walking down the hall, listening as his booted footsteps followed after you with a slump of your shoulders. "Agent Whiskey, don't you have work you need to be doing, instead of following me down hallways?"

He only chuckled in response, stopping next to you as you stopped in front of your lab's entrance. "Ok ok, i know when I'm unwanted, I just wanted to make sure you knew about the yearly Halloween party, and make sure you're going this year."

You knew about the party. It was one of the few things the Statesmen did together as a way to let loose and hang out with their friends and fellow agents. You'd been invited to come the year before, but considering you went even officially apart of the organization yet, and you knew no one but Champ, you had not gone to the party. And in all honestly, you were planning on doing the same this year. You still felt to new to really enjoy partying with people you barely knew, having only a few people you did actually converse with, and you meant to tell exactly that to Whiskey, but the second you made eye contact you were a goner. He was looking at you with some sense of eager hope, one that made you ache with guilt for even think about telling the man no. Damn those puppy eyes.

"I....I guess I hadn't really thought about it until now. I guess I could show up for a little while."

The grin that spread across Whiskey's face, highlighting his singular dimple in one cheek had you fluttering under his apparent happiness. "Wonderful! I cant wait to see you there, darling. Find me and ill buy you a few rounds of drinks!"

Still grinning he took a step back, before grinning out, "and don't forget to dress up, it is a Halloween party after all."

And with a wink, he turned and left you cursing your inability to withstand his charms as you shakily pulled yourself into your lab.

---

You shouldn't have agreed to this. You felt silly, and standing outside the party venue you found yourself repeatedly pulling on stupid black gloves that went with your "mad scientist" costume. This is ridiculous, you should just turn and leave and just sit on your couch and watch Stephen King movies all night as you eat far to many fun size candies.

But you were already here, you were already wearing this joke of a costume with black smudges painted across your face as proof of a failed experiment, so you just sighed and yanked on the labcoat dress before taking a deep breath and walking into the party.

Your arrival wasn't late, but you certainly weren't early either. The party had already been in the swing of things for a little while as Purple People Eater rang out across the venue. It was obvious that a few of your fellow agents had already been going after the drinks as they partied, and you couldn't help but cringe a bit at the sight of so many people moving about.

You were debating over staying or leaving again when you heard a loud, but very familiar laugh echo from your right. Turning your head, you had to bite your lip to stop from laughing as you seen Whiskey saddle up beside you. You thought he'd been the living embodiment of a cowboy before, but now, there was no doubt about it. Whiskey had really played into the stereotype, doning a pair of chaps with fringe along the sides, a lasso loosely wrapped around the shoulder of his pearl snap button down shirt, a vest matching his chaps fringe and all, and of course his stetson and his usual cowboy boots now paired with spurs for good measure.

"You, darling, really look every part of a beautiful mad scientist, and id love to be put on the mission to take you down," he finished with a wink, and this time you could help the small giggle that escaped you.

"Please, I didn't think you could look anymore like a cowboy, yet here you are looking like you step out of an old western! Where have you parked the horse? Out back?"

Whiskey chuckled, smirk spreading as you teased him, and his eyes lighting up as he leaded down and whispered, "No horse, but you know what they say, save a horse, ride a cowboy."

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, looking around the room before you turned back to Whiskey and saying, "I remember you promising me some drinks?"

Grinning, Whiskey motioned for you to walk first as he followed behind to the closest bar. If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel your hands shaking with nerves. You'd never really teased Whiskey back like that before, and while you had enjoyed it, and could tell he had liked it as well, you couldn't shake the nerves that seemed to be following you, the nerves that always followed you when Whiskey was near.

You downed the first drink Whiskey had gotten you, even as he chuckled in surprise before ordering you a second as he only sipped on his own iced whiskey in his hand. The two of you talked, well Whiskey mainly talked, telling stories about past missions and what heroing things he's done, though some seemed a little far fetched to believe no matter how much he insisted upon them. You laughed, and teased him a few times, and as time ticked on and you finished more and more drinks, you found yourself enjoying the party and happy that you actually came.

Then, as you started swaying a bit back and forth from the amount of alcohol you had consumed, Whiskey leaned forward and said, "I think its time I get you home. I think you've have enough fun for one night, darling."

You wanted to put up a fight, you were having fun and going home meant that your time with Whiskey would end, that all this false confidence you had gotten from your liquid courage would fade and you'd be back to just flustering at his teasing words as he followed you down the halls or sat in your small office, and you didn't want that.....you were having fun...you were having fun with the man you liked... a lot...."

Looking up, Whiskey was staring at you, deep pools of brown swirling as he took in your face, which only confused you, was there something on your face? But then Whiskey smiled softly at you, and said, "Come on, I'll drive you home," and you could only melt at his soft words and expression as he guided you out of the party and towards his vehicle.

The second you were seated, you felt your eyes dropping, the weight of the day paired with the alcohol finally making you sleepy, making you slur your words as Whiskey asked for you address, but you eventually got it out as you leaned against his side.

You fell asleep on the trip to your home, only waking as Whiskey nudged you and helped you walked to your home. He even took your keys, opening the home for you as you stumbled inside, not even bothering with changing clothes as you walked to your bedroom and collapsed onto your bed.

"I know you're tired, darling, but you need to shange into something more comfortable, or at least get these boots off, Cherry."

You just whined and rolled onto your back, lifting your leg trying fruitlessly to yank the boot off, before you heard Whiskey chuckle and walk over to help. Gently, you unzipped and pulled off your boots one at a time, making sure to lay your legs back onto your bed softly. He stood there for a few seconds looking over you, before asking, "Anything else you need?"

It took you a few minutes, but in your intoxicated state, all you could think about was how ratty your hair must look, and how you didn't want to deal with it in the morning, so with puppy eyes and a slight piut on your lip, you asked, "Brush my hair for me?"

Whiskey startled, not expecting that to be your answer, but he smiled and nodded, "Of course."

Gently, he sat you up on the bed, before sitting behind you with the brush in hand. "Tell me if I brush to harshly, ok darling?"

You just nod, and sigh when you feel the first knots coming free from your hair. Whiskey was so gentle when brushing your hair, treating you like you'd break if he applied too much force, and after each brush stroke, he let his fingers slide through the untangled locks of hair, occasionally brushing against skin and making you shiver. By the time hed finished, you'd fallen asleep from the soothing movements.

---

The next morning you woke up to a glass of water and some aspirin on your bedside table with a note from Whiskey that just said, thanks for coming last night and little drawing of a cherry, and no memory past Whiskey mentioning something about an electronic bull from hell the rest of the night and getting home a blur with only a soft voice and white teeth.

While when Whiskey woke, all he could think about was your words you had not meant to say aloud,, right before you both left the party, "you were having fun with the man you liked... a lot...."

Permanent Tags: @mysticalgalaxysalad @phoenixhalliwell @moodsare @perpetual-fangirl900 @night-snows00 @dumbass-simp-for-fredweasley @stargazingthenightaway @meabravo @just-here-for-the-moment @masteracewindu

Pedro Boys: @blackmarketmummy @djarin-junk @littlemisspascal

Also tagging @writeforfandoms because I thought you might like this.....

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#au tropes asks #in vino veritas au #hair brushing/braiding au #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #let me know what you think of how I wrote whiskey ....please??#is it 2.30am? yes #should i be asleep or studying? yes #but whiskey seemed more important 🤷‍♀️😌

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fumingspice · 3 years

Text

All The Things She Said

Pairing: Lana Winters x Reader

Request: student x teacher au fic with lana, billie or cordelia?

Note: Added in a little sparkle with a soulmate AU. Those who are lucky enough to have a soulmate are assigned a necklace with a small pendant. No one knows where they come from or how they’re decided; they just appear and will match your soulmate’s identically. Also, yes the reader is eighteen, and yes there will probably be a part two.

Requests are open!

Your routine was like clock-work; every morning without fail. 5am you would get out of bed and go on a run. There was no reason, really. You weren't someone who was that interested in athletics, it was just a way to clear your mind and wake up your mind and body before going to school and having the energy sucked out of you.

You adored the way the sky looked this early in the morning as you ran through the country park. The heat gave you an extra kick of gratification as you watched the sky dance in colours of orange and pink, painting everything in shades of gold. The sun crept through the mountain like liquid glory and you couldn't get enough of it.

Realising the time, you made your way back to your neighbourhood, waving at neighbours you often saw at this time of morning.

You saw many of the same people on morning runs that you eventually learned by name while running past them, shouting a greeting and waving as you sped past them. This morning, you noticed that the home a few lots down from your own had been purchased; the new inhabitents were outside, speaking with a contractor.

As you ran, you noticed the woman watching you. Breaking your glance, you made a mental note to introduce yourself later.

The shower couldn't come soon enough as you lathered the cool water on your body. Cold showers after a run provided that little extra adrenaline rush that you needed to get you through the day, and boy would you need it today.

After months of persuasion, you had finally given in to skipping the end of school and heading to a gay bar with your friends Emmett and Heather. Being the model student you were, you had declined the offer time and time again; but after catching your boyfriend with another girl and the subsequent break up of one of the most liked couples in school, you decided that now would be the best time for it.

The school day rushed in and at 12pm on the dot, you and Emmett made your way to Heather's car, where she sat impatiently tapping her foot.

"You two took your sweet time," the blonde muttered, pulling on a pair of sunglasses and revving up the engine.

The plan was simple; Heather's parents were out of town for the week so the three of you planned to stay over. Today would be spent getting ready and having a few drinks before hitting the bar in order for you to have a "drink in celebration" for breaking up with your ex-boyfriend.

The bar was lively, and you could smell the mixture of cheap cigarettes, alcohol and weed and hear the music from the street behind. Emmett compared the similarity of the three of you strutting to the bar to the Sanderson sisters from Hocus Pocus.

Heather nudged you yet again, her elbow hitting a nerve in your ribs and making you bounce.

"Will you quit that?" you snapped, realising your fourth cocktail was making you slightly irritable.

Heather glared at you and pulled you over to whisper in your ear. "The brunette at seven o'clock has looked from her phone to you at least four times," she hissed, releasing you and nodding her head in the direction.

You nodded in understanding and gestured for her to tell you what to do. Picking chicks up at a bar wasn't exactly something you were accustomed to, after all.

"Go up to the bar and order something-" she looked at your outift, "-I don't know. Some business casual-sounding drink. Like an Old Fashioned or something. Make a joke about how much you've drank and if she's warm then ask if she's here with someone. Then go in for the kill and Emmett and I will be your wing-people when you break your seal."

"Break my what?"

Heather practically shoved you off your chair.

You shrugged and walked towards the bar, standing close to the brunette, but not close enough so that she knew what you were up to. The bartender approached and you smiled at her.

"Hey, could I get an Old Fashioned pl-"

"And get me another piña colada while you're making your move!" Heather called, acting more drunk than she was in an effort to hint off to the lady. You glared at her, and in return, for some added effect she lent into full view of the lady, shot her a cheesy grin and gave her a thumbs up.

You spun on your heel to see if the lady had noticed, and to your dismay she had. She looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

At least she didn't look disappointed.

"Was that for me?" She chuckled, taking a tip from her class. You grinned as casually as possible, looking down at your hands. You finished off your order and paid, waiting for Heather to get her drink to no avail.

"You know what, yeah I think it was for you actually," you replied. Keeping it cool was the buzz phrase Heather had been using all day. "I'm sorry but my friend claimed that she had seen you checking me out a few times and was pretty insistant that I come over and talk to you."

You sat in the stool, leaving one between you.

The lady chuckled. "It's fine," she said, taking another sip. "I'd be grateful for the company."

"You're alone? You're more than welcome to sit with my friends and I," you offered.

You cut off immediately by Heather collecting her drink, standing between you and muttering, "don't you fucking dare," into your ear before walking over to the woman and leaning over her shoulder.

"Now, you see, Ms- I'm sorry what's your name? Jesus, Y/N! When you flirt it's basic manners to ask for a name," Heather muttered.

"It's Lana," she replied, smiling at you.

Lana. A pretty name.

"Awh, that's a lovely name actually, I wish my parents liked me enough to call me something like that. Anyways, enough about me. So, anyways, my good friend Y/N here just got two-timed by a piece of human trash that she's way hotter than and everyone warned her against dating but hey- you know our Y/N, she's balls-ier than a dodgey testical. So, all I'm really gonna say is we came here because we really want to get her laid so she doesn't need to feel like she got the short end of the bargain so, you know-"

At this stage Heather was trying to communicate through a series of dramatic gestures. Emmett strod over, took Heather by the shoulders and apologised to Lana before walking your drunk friend back to your table.

You were both a little shell-shocked and you feared that Heather's drunken rant had ruined any sembelance of a chance that you had with getting anywhere with this.

"I- I'm so sorry. She doesn't get out much," you said. Lana's smile returned as she waved it off.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot younger than twenty-one?" she asked. You couldn't tell if she was being genuine or if she was trying to hint that she thought you were younger than your ID said.

You nodded. "All the time," you say, it's not like that's a lie. "How old are you? If you're not offended by my asking."

"I'm twenty-nine. I hit the big three-oh in November," she replied. Lana reached into her bag and pulled out a box of Newport cigarettes. "I'm sorry, I've had a long day and I'm dying for a smoke. Care to join me?"

You sat still for a moment before excepting the offer. The club was absolutely packed and you could barely follow Lana through to the balcony without getting separated from her. She noticed and turned around, taking your hand and keeping you close so that you didn't get lost in the crowd.

Lana lent over the metal fence, cupping her hand over her lighter. You watched how her cheeks sucked in, defining her cheekbones and her jawline. You mirrored her position against the fence.

"Hard day at the office?" You asked, declining the cigarette she offered you. "Thanks but I don't smoke."

Lana smiled down at her cigarette. "I like a smart girl. Stay away from these for as long as possible," she took a long draw. "And to answer your question; I moved into a new house today only to find out that none of the plumbing was actually installed and contractor has no idea why."

"My house was like that too; turns out the pipes are just in really weird places," you replied. You turned to face in the opposite direction, laying your elbows onto the bar and watching the crowd. "What do you do? Career wise?"

Lana blew out a puff. "I'm a teacher. French and English Literature."

Ah great; a French student trying to hit on a French teacher. This was gonna be a fun story to tell the group.

"You're kidding? I'm studying French," you replied.

Lana laughed. "Damn, Y/N. This just has to be written in the stars," she replied, you could sent the well-meant underlying sarcasm in her voice. "You think I have that chance?" You ask, your eyes dart down to her hand. Her ring finger, although bare had an imprint on it as if she had only recently removed a ring. She noticed you looking and brought her hand into a fist.

"Don't look at me like that, Y/N. We're getting divorced," she said. She bit her lip and looked down into the woods beneath.

You felt slightly guilty. "Oh, I'm sorry." Lana shook her head in response.

"I'm in a gay bar for Christ's sake. We definetly weren't compatiable," she chuckled, reaching for another draw of her cigarette. She turned around, some noise in the background catching her attention. Her sleeve dropped a little bit, revealing two bruises at the side of her wrist that she had clearly tried to cover with foundation. Lana turned back around and you dropped your eyes before you noticed, unaware if it was your place to ask.

"If I'm honest, I don't really like bars. I know this really nice café a few places down. Do you wanna come with me?" You asked. Lana's head cocked slightly, her eyes scanned you as if they were looking for some alterier motive. "I'm not trying to get laid, Lana. I just don't like clubs and I don't think you do either."

Lana's shoulders relaxed, as if trying to decide. "Sure," she nodded. "I'd love to."

You walked back in through the bar, telling Emmett what you were doing. He made you promise to turn on your location and to call him to pick you up when you were ready to leave.

"It's nice that you have friends to watch your back," Lana said as you walked down the street. The air was now cold, nipping at your cheeks and nose. Lana slid her arm through yours after asking if it was okay to do so.

The café in question was small; dimly lit, decorated with plants. It was warm inside and the candles lit everything in orange. It was peaceful. You heard Lana sigh with relaxation as you asked her what she'd like to drink.

Two lattes later, you and Lana lay on the same old, green, springless couch. You giggled and talked for what could have been hours.

Lana noticed your Soul Necklace. “I have one too,” she said, touching the stone delicately. “I’ve never worn it though.”

She told you stories from high school and college while you sat and listened to her in some new form of fascination. You could listen to her talk forever. Your head rested on her shoulder, and hers rested on your head. There was an echo of peace which bounced around the both of you.

Eventually there came a moment when you had finally plucked up enough courage in a moment of silence between you to lift her chin with your finger and close in for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but you could still rellish the feeling of her lips kissing back against yours in a gentle passion.

She waited on you while Emmett drove back to get you, with an extremely drunk Heather in the backseat.

"Are you free tomorrow night?" Lana asked before she walked away. You nodded. "Would you like to maybe go out? On a date?"

Her final question was asked with a shyness that you found adorable, and giving her a kiss on the cheek as

The next day you went to school in a good mood. Your run was better than ever. Your breakfast was tastier. The sky was more beautiful. You couldn't contain your giggles as Heather drove you and Emmett to school.

"I cannot believe you've landed yourself a date with a teacher," Emmett said as the three with you walked to your French class. You practically danced down the corridor with happiness. The three of you were slightly late to class.

You pushed the door open harder than you intended, making it crash against the wall with a loud bang. You muttered an apology while your friends laughed at you and the teacher settled them down, chuckling under her breath.

That it until she looked up at you.

And you looked up at her.

Lana muttered a profanity under her breath as she realised that she had asked one of her students on a date.

taglist: @its-soph-xx

#lana winters #lana winters x reader #ahs #ahs imagines #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #sally mckenna #sally mckenna x reader #sarah paulson

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mammonshuman92 · 3 years

Text

- Watched -

Mammon & GN!MC

** TW: Stalking, cussing, religion (ish? I guess?)

| part two | | part three |

It’s been nearly 6 months since you left the Devildom. You picked up where you had left off in the human world: college, work, home, repeat. Sure, you missed your family while you were away, but now your heart aches almost constantly for the new family you loved so much, that you had to leave behind. (Not that you really had a choice in the matter.)

As much as it hurt to leave the brothers, Diavolo was right. Establishing harmony and unity with the three realms won’t go over too well if one of the human representatives doesn’t go back to the human world, now will it? Still, it sucks. Life is so boring without all of them.

And quiet.

It’s not like you don’t talk though. Yeah, Diavolo has that rule in place where they have to take turns talking to you because “human’s lives are short” and they were “taking up too much of your time”, but that’s not really going to stop them, is it?

Well kinda, actually.

You can’t really argue with a direct order from the demon lord, after all.

Is it Asmo's day to call? You thought to yourself, trying to remember (not that you ever could) the schedule Lucifer came up with. Your own schedule was hard enough to remember.

You had been picking up extra shifts at work and staying late to study at school when you could. Finding any reason to stay busy or get out of the house. The deafening silence was too much to bear.

"I wonder when I can go visit? I should call Diavolo.." you said to yourself quietly.

You were walking home from your shift at the coffee shop near campus. The sun was just starting to set and the air was slightly crisp, causing you to pull your jacket a little tighter.

If it weren't for the brilliant pinks and warm oranges cast on the sky by the setting sun, it would've felt like a regular night in the Devildom. Memories of your last few days spent there came flooding back, bringing the sadness along with them.

In just one year, you had gotten so close to everyone, but you had gotten especially close to Mammon. He was responsible for you in the beginning of course, but the connection was undeniable (no matter how much he did deny it). He was a total simp for you, and you for him. It was rather cringey to everyone else. He could be a handful at times, but that tsundere really is a great boyfriend. Leaving him behind was... well, there's no words for it.

Rounding the corner, you could see your house perfectly. Now that the sun had gone down a bit more, it was getting darker and you were suddenly thankful that you remembered to turn on the porch light before you left.

You pulled your keys from your jacket pocket while climbing the few steps to your front door, and something caught your eye. Your stomach dropped.

Not again..

You plucked the folded piece of paper that was stuck in the screen door and quickly made your way inside, locking the door behind you.With a heavy sigh, you tossed your keys on the table by the door and dropped your bag on the floor beside you. You immediately went to shower and change not giving the paper a second thought.

Not everyone in the human world agreed with the Devildom exchange student program. After you and Solomon had arrived in the Devildom, there were numerous protests by a group much like the Westboro lunatics. They were without a doubt against the program and called for it’s immediate termination. Thankfully, their personal hatred was no match for the opportunity for the realms to find peace.

When you had returned, you noticed people whispering about you, calling you names and giving you dirty looks. You've even received quite a few pieces of hate mail. Granted, the people opposed to the program were very small in numbers, even if it didn’t seem that way. It didn't bother you though. Demons ended up being some of the most important people to you. Not to mention you were kinda in love with one of them. People could say what they wanted about the Devildom and about you, their words didn't bother you.

You were still towel drying your hair when your phone rang. Tossing the towel, you rushed to the living room to fish it out of your bag, Asmo's face popping up on the caller ID. You were right, it was Asmo’s night. You were secretly hoping it was a certain greedy demon’s turn to call (not that he doesn’t text you almost constantly.)

Asmo was the same as usual. Talking animatedly about this and that, gushing over new beauty products and outfits, filling you in on all the gossip you were missing. While he was rambling, your eyes fell onto the paper that was in your door. Might as well look at the newest piece of hate mail, right?

You began unfolding the paper, quickly giving Asmo an “omg!” about the gossip he was dishing (even though you hadn’t been paying attention.)

Upon seeing the contents, all the color drained from your face. You were sure your heart sank into your stomach, but you could hear the rapid beating in your ears. You suddenly felt hot, and the air around you seemed thick.

Then the adrenaline kicked in.

With shaky hands, you quickly checked the front door making sure it was locked, and headed to the back door to do the same. You rushed around checking the windows and pulling all the curtains closed. Everything seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that didn’t settle your nerves any.

“MC, dear? Did you hear me?” The sound of Asmo’s voice brought you out of your frantic state.

“Huh? S-sorry Asmo. I guess I s-spaced out.” You tried your best to keep your tone normal and steady your breathing, as to not alert him to anything. You really should give him more credit, though.

“MC? Is everything alright?” His tone was different, no longer playful and flirty. You could hear the concern.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. More hate mail is all. No biggie.” You lied. Maybe he would believe it..

There was a pause on his end, “You’re STILL getting it? Don’t they have anything better to do?” Good, he bought it. For now, anyway.

After about 10 more minutes Asmo said his goodbyes, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

This piece hate mail turned out to be something much worse than the run of the mill stuff you usually received. Inside there were pictures. Of you. At work, at school, the grocery store, ...outside your house. There was also a newspaper clipping that had a picture of you and your family, from when your parents first opened their bakery a few years back. There were red ‘Xs’ marked through everyone’s faces...

The only words scrawled inside read, “I’ve been watching you. You will pay for what you’ve done, whore. And don’t even think about telling your demon fuck buddies. I know everything about you and your family. It’d be a shame if anything happened to poor old Mom and Dad because their child is an unholy slut.”

You read it over and over, tears streaking your cheeks. Hate mail was nothing new, but now this? A stalker?

Maybe I’m just over thinking it. The other hate mail was spicy too. But these pictures... There is NO way I’m over thinking this..

“Regardless, I can’t tell the brothers.” You shuddered at what their reaction would be like. It would definitely make all of Diavolo’s hard work on the exchange program obsolete. It wouldn’t be good for any of the three realms. There was still a long way to go, but the program was a giant step in the right direction to obtaining peace and understanding. If dealing with some backlash and hate mail could help get closer to that goal, then for the sake of the greater could, you could handle it.

“For now, I will bear this burden myself.”

- {3 weeks later} -

“Are you okay?”

The simple question nearly made you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin. You turn and meet the worried gaze of your lab partner. You weren’t super close with her, so you knew your current state had to be bad if she was picking up on it.

God, do I really look that bad? You got a good look at yourself this morning, and yeah, you absolutely look that bad. But then again, you haven’t really slept in a few weeks. You had gigantic purple eye bags, your hair looked like a family of birds took up residence in it. Your skin was pale and lifeless, and you began skin picking at your nails due to the anxiety. You’d even lost about twenty pounds.

“Sorry, I guess I was spacing out.”

“It’s alright. It’s just- no offense, but you look awful. Have you been sleeping?” She asked, eyes scanning your face.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Promise.” You lied. She nodded and gave you a weak smile, dropping the subject for now.

You hadn’t really been paying attention to class today. Well, for the last several days, really. You’ve been putting in less effort for a lot of things lately. You’ve been slacking off bad at school and barely keeping up at work. Not to mention you never sleep anymore. How can you though?

You left class early and although it was still early in the day, you decided to skip the rest of your lectures for the day. You’ve always been a fantastic student, so taking a day off wouldn’t really hurt anything. And seeing as today was Thursday, you didn’t even have work today. Same as every week.

Upon arriving home, you were relieved to see that there weren’t any notes left for you. Yet, anyway.

Ever since the first letter a few weeks ago, they’ve been showing up constantly. Only a few times the first week or so, but now you get at least one every single day. They’re also increasing in severity. The sender seems to be becoming more and more unhinged with every passing day.

“Dirty demon whore!!”

“You’re a HUMAN!! How dare you taint your body with demons!”

“I will cleanse you and make you pure again.”

There was so, so much more. All of it growing more and more explicit with each letter.

The whole thing was taking a huge tool on you, but what could you do? Your family’s safety was on the line. You so badly wanted to tell Mammon of even the cops, but you couldn’t live with yourself if anything bad were to happen. Whatever this psycho had planned, you would gladly put yourself in the line of fire to save those closest to you.

The whole situation has also affected your relationship with Mammon and the rest of the brothers as well. At first, you tried to hide what was happening, but they started getting suspicious and asking questions. Always wondering why you sounded so tired and why you kept cutting their phone calls super short. You always rejected their face time requests, knowing that your drastic change in appearance would be alarming and alert them that something was wrong. Lately, you’ve barely talked to any of them. Especially Mammon. He’d be the first to figure out something was wrong with you and come here ready to fight.

That honestly didn’t sound too bad. You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you while you ugly cried. Breathing in his scent while he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Your heart started to ache.

When you got home you decided to take a nice, hot shower to hopefully help ease some of your tension and possibly begin to get a handle on your quickly deteriorating self care status.

Once you felt somewhat normal again, you put on your comfiest pj’s (which included one of Mammon’s shirts) and plopped yourself on your bed in the fetal position. It was the only thing that kinda helped ease a tiny bit of the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control. The warm scent of your most favorite demon helped calm you.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Damn. I almost fell asleep..

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and reached for your D.D.D. on your nightstand. The called ID made your heart rate accelerate and your palms sweaty.

It’s him.

“Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound like he was on edge.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.” Every lie helps break your heart just a little more.

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.”

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” You explained.

“..Hmm.” He replied, you could detect suspicion in his response.

It was quiet on his end for a moment.

“MC?”

“Yeah?”

“..Do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!”

For the first time in who knows when, you actually giggled. It felt so good.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Lie.

As good as it felt to talk to him, you needed to end the call before he ended up dragging the truth out of you. If any one could figure out what was wrong with you, it’d be him. The two of you had spent so much time together, that you can practically read each other like a book.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.” Lie. But, you needed to get off the phone with him before he suspects anything.

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated. You could almost hear him pouting.

After a quicker goodbye than you usually have when getting off the phone with Mammon, you fell back onto your bed with a heavy sigh.

That was a little rough, but he seemed to believe it. I hope this will all be over soon.

With that, you quickly fell asleep, lulled by the memory of your demon’s voice. Although you wouldn’t sleep long, at least you got to fall asleep to the thought of him.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Geez, are ya gonna answer or not? Ya always pick up on the second ring when I call ya.., Mammon thought.

Finally, on the sixth ring, “Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

Man, hearing your voice is like music.

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound a little rougher than intended, but it was all the same. He needed to hear you voice.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

I miss ya like crazy. Ya keep avoiding me..

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.”

Huh? But, MC is always busy doing somethin’ and it never stopped em’ before..

He started getting an uneasy feeling deep in his stomach. He could tell something was off, but he just didn’t know what it was.

Is it ...someone else? Nah, MC wouldn’t do that. ...Right??

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.” He didn’t try to hide the pout, that he knew you could hear, in his voice. His own thoughts were beginning to hurt his feelings.

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” MC explained.

“..Hmm.” He hummed. Thoughts started swirling around in his head.

MC never skips school, not even at RAD. Somethin’ is definitely going on. And what’s with the short answers? MC always talks like crazy. Maybe they’re mad at me?

It was quiet for a moment while he tried to sort through his thoughts.

“MC?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“..D-do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!” You giggled at his response. It was small, but he heard it. It made his heart swim.

All joking aside, he did believe you. Something was definitely not right with you though.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Those three words caused his heart to sink.

That was a lie.. MC only says ‘I swear’ while tryin’ to act like somethin’ ain’t wrong..

He pushed his thoughts aside for the time being and continued the conversation. It only lasted a few more minutes before you started saying your goodbyes. Again, cutting the call short.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.”

Hmm. Why does that seem weird?

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated.

There was, without a doubt in his mind, something going on. Something that would make you lie to him..

One way or another, he was going to find out.

“Mammon? Are you alright?”

Mammon was sprawled out on the couch in the common room. After talking to you, he was lost in his thoughts and feeling rather down. Beel passed by the common room on his was back from the kitchen when he saw his older brother. Noticing that he looked sad, Beel went to investigate.

Mammon looked up to meet Bee’s concerned gaze and with a sigh, he sat up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mammon said, as he stood up to leave. Beel could tell he was obviously lying, but decided not to press the issue.

Mammon stopped a few paces away from Beel, and turned back around to face him.

“Hey, Beel. Was MC actin’, I don’t know, “off”, the last time ya talked to em’?” He asked the sixth born, thinking maybe you had accidentally let something slip.

Beel’s face seemed to twist up a little bit, and he nodded.

“Yeah, kind of. MC used to sound excited when I called, but now they hardly talk at all. And they used to send me pictures of the food they were eating and new recipes, at least twice a day, but it’s been about two weeks since the last one they sent.” He explained, sadness in his voice. While in the Devildom, you were his favorite person to eat with.

Mammon nodded at his brother, getting lost in his thoughts again.

So, it’s not just me. MC is actin’ strange with Beel too..

Neither of them had paid been paying enough attention to see Asmo enter the room.

“Mammon, there you are. I’m going out, and I need my new bag from Majolish. The one I let you borrow. And i swear, if you sold it-” Asmo stopped mid sentence when he noticed the sad state two of his brothers.

“Is it about MC?” He asked, nonchalaunt.

Mammon’s head snapped toward his brother.

“What do you mean? Did they say somethin’ to ya?” Mammon asked quickly, taking a few steps closer to his brother.

MC and Asmo always gossip with each other, so maybe they’d tell him somethin’..

“Calm down. MC really hasn’t talked to me much in the last month. I’m so hurt! Who else am I going to talk beauty products with? Lucifer? Goodness, no.”

“Asmo!” Mammon said loudly, trying to get the fifth born back on track.

“Oh, right. Let’s see.” He put a finger to his chin and thought about it. “Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..” Asmo explained.

Hate mail? MC has only mentioned it to me a couple times. Do they really get it that often..?

“How long ago was that?” Mammon asked. He felt like he was on the brink of something. Just a few more puzzle pieces..

“Hmm, it was right before MC started acting distant toward me. So, about three or four weeks, maybe.” Asmo explained. That’s around the time you had started acting weird with Mammon too.

“So, maybe something happened to MC.” Beel suggested.

“No, MC would tell us. ..Right?” Asmo questioned.

Mammon was so confused.

What is goin’ on with you, MC?

After talking with his brothers, Mammon holed himself up in his room. He didn’t really want to be around anyone at the moment. His thoughts were driving him crazy and giving him a headache. What was he not seeing? What piece of the puzzle was he missing?

He started going over your last conversation again, for the millionth time, looking for any kind of clue. But, you seemed normal. Well, your new normal, anyway. Distant, short answers, not giving too much to the conversation. What were you hiding?

It was something about the end of your conversation, but what was it?

He remembered your small giggle. The memory caused a smile to break out across his face. It gave him a tiny bit of hope that you were still there. That you still loved him. That whatever was troubling you, wasn’t making you forget them completely.

It was after that though. You had said “I swear”, which was a red flag, considering you only say it when you’re trying to convince him you’re ok when you’re really not.

He sighed, and rolled over on his bed. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand, numbers glowing an angry red.

MC is probably at work right now..

Something caught his eye.

Today is Thursday... MC never works on Thursday. I guess the schedule coulda changed. No, cause MC specifically requested to always have that day off for some reason. Delivery day at their family’s bakery, I think. ...MC lied, again..

Then it hit him.

The small little lies. Avoiding all of them, even him for weeks now. Barely talking when you do answer the phone. The way you always sounded so tired and out of it.

It had something to do with what Asmo said about the hate mail.

“Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..”

Mammon didn’t even know that you’d been receiving that much hate mail. Sure, you’d told him about it a couple times, but he didn’t think it was that bad. Maybe it was actually pretty serious. Is that why you’d been so distant.

Mammon got up from his bed, and began pacing around the room. He almost had it figured out, he could feel it.

Asmo said MC seemed flustered, so it had to have somethin’ to do with the hate mail they received that day, since after that is when MC started actin’ weird.What if it’s somethin’ bad. Like, bad bad.

He stopped pacing.

The thought of MC being in danger was...

Mammon grabbed his jacket, where it was thrown onto the pool table and left his room in a hurry. He was on his way to Lucifer’s study, mentally preparing himself on the way. He was sure he knew what his brother’s answer would be, but he wasn’t going to just sit here. He needed to know that you were, in fact alright, with his own eyes.

I’m going to the human world. Whether Lucifer allows it or not.

| part two | | part three |

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me #mammon x mc

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