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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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The Crow’s Funeral Snippet: Jon Gets Involved In Local Politics, Regrets It

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side of the door.

Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase.

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt.

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Annabelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Jon noticed that she was even wearing her usual all-black lipstick and winged eyeliner. “The council committee for London I planned for today. Remember? The one with a representative for each Entity?” Jon stared blankly at her. “There was an invite?”

“Oh, that. I don’t check my mail.” Jon looked at Daisy, who was now pressing aggressively against Jon. “Did you open up any mail recently?” Daisy barked. Jon looked back at Annabelle. “She ate it.”

“...of course she did.” Written for no real reason besides for the fact that I know too much about my own AU and I care about Annabelle. This story takes place both pre- and post- story: six months after Jon enters London, and six months after the events of the story. We talk about childhood/adulthood, stagnancy/growth, good/evil, and the inherent metaphor of a Nintendo DS. Sometimes...found family...is bad. Rest under the cut.

In the third month, boiling and bubbling over, someone knocked at Jon’s door.

Not the door to his office. The door to his flat, which had a very large ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign on it, and was always locked. The employees were, granted, Jon and Daisy, but the message was conveyed. Jon saw the sign in stores and copied it, as he copied many aspects of business models. Jon didn’t quite understand how to run a business, but he had read both ‘What they teach you in Harvard Business School’ - whatever a Harvard was - and ‘What they don’t teach you in Harvard Business School’, so he figured he was set. Daisy had also grabbed him a Girl Scout book on starting your own lemonade stand, which helped more than the other two books combined. Harvard Business School could take notes.

Jon rolled off the bed, where he had been downloading knowledge of string games and trying to figure out how to do them. Omniscence was closer to reading an instruction manual than actually knowing how to do something, but at least that left Jon with plenty of time to learn skills. Even if it wasn’t necessarily his favorite activity - he was bad at a lot of them, which would frustrate him and make him wreck the craft. Daisy kept on saying he needed a hobby other than reading but what did she know, anyway -

Daisy, from where she had been sleeping at the foot of the bed, lifted her head and barked sleepily.

“I’ll get them to go away,” Jon promised. Or eat them. Maybe just eat them.

But when Daisy bristled and jumped off the bed, barking heavily, he knew who it was. Jon sighed, hastily shoving a shirt over his head, and undid the three deadbolts before unlocking the door.

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side. Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase.

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt.

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Jon stared blankly at her.

“There was an invite?”

“...of course she did.” Annabelle glanced down at Daisy, whose fur was standing on end as she growled lowly. “Have you had any success?”

“You would have noticed if I did,” Jon said shortly.

“Have you tried talking to -”

“Yes,” Jon snapped, “but apparently some of us have better things to do than attend meetings and cure dogs.”

Annabelle intelligently dropped the matter, instead frowning at Jon. He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to hunch over away from her dark and perceptive stare. But instead of pushing him, she said, “Go get dressed in something a little appropriate, please. You look like you crawled out of the Buried.” Daisy barked, which Annabelle ignored. “What are you doing to your hair?”

Jon hunched defensively. It was a little matted and frizzy, but who was counting? “Daisy can’t exactly shave it anymore, and I don’t really...know what to do with it...am I doing something wrong? I bathe.”

It was very important to Daisy that he bathe and brush his teeth. Jon didn’t know what the big deal was, but if it was important to her then he did it.

Annabelle just pinched the bridge of her nose again, checking her wrist-watch. “Buzzing your hair is a crime against God, and letting your hair look like that is a crime against me. I’ll take care of this later. Just get ready in the next five minutes, or I’m filling your fridge with spiders again.”

Jon got ready in four. Annabelle didn’t joke around with that stuff.

He didn’t really know what a council committee was. He didn’t know why he had to go to one either, seeing as Jon only tended to concern himself with Daisy. Daisy had been taking up a lot of his concern lately. Then his mood had plummeted again, and in the last month they’ve both been recalcitrant to leave the flat for anything but eating, and he was capable of noticing when he was hunting a little vindictively, and - anyway.

He downloaded the knowledge, and then made a face when it didn’t really help. One of those nasty little political things. What was with his fellow Avatars and politics? Just torture anyone who bothers you. If they were one of those freaks who liked being tortured, then just smite them. Life was easy and very simple once you remembered that basic rule.

But Annabelle was really into it - she kept on saying something about ‘order’ and ‘regulation’ and ‘first dibs’ - and she tended to drag him along into these things. She thought it was ‘important’ that Jon ‘know what was going on’ or something. Jon liked Knowing things, but once you know everything you realize that some things aren’t really interesting enough to know.

When he asked Daisy if she wanted to go with, she feigned sleep. She had been hyperactive lately, compensating for her months of starvation with unbridled and frantic Hunting. Jon had taken her to one of those little pockets where people were running around and screaming all the time, and let her run wild in the rainforest for a while. It was the kind of fun bonding experience they hadn’t had in ages, and Jon had the opportunity to pluck his own grapes from the vine too.

There had been an old man who really hadn’t been happy to see Jon, which had freaked him out a bit. He had started going on a little bit about how Jon had ruined his life, but he only got a few sentences in before a giant, carnivorous plant had eaten him. That was lucky.

Jon had ripped the dimension apart as he left. Nasty little place. Nothing good there.

So Jon left the house without Daisy for the first time since she had been well enough to move around, and with Annabelle. Daisy had been waiting at the door with a rucksack packed with his favorite book and his Nintendo DS, which made Annabelle ask her where the juicebox was. Daisy tried to bite her again. Jon didn’t know why everybody couldn’t just get along.

There was a cab waiting outside, driven by another skeleton, and Annabelle quickly bundled him into it. Jon slouched in the corner and started playing WarioWare as Annabelle leafed through typewritten documents, lips pursing and making notes on the margins of each one with a red pen. She was muttering to herself, somewhat entertainingly.

“My fourth arm for a computer, I swear to Jesus. My fourth and fifth arms. My sixth arm for a computer…”

“Are those the internet machines you told me about?” Jon asked, scribbling his stylus on the screen. Ashley cheered him on. He loved Ashley. “Do council committees need the internet?”

“The internet’s for a lot more than council committees Jon,” Annabelle said tightly. “They’re for video games. Ememoharepeegees -”

“Gesundheit.”

“ - bitcoin mining, instant messaging, online dating, freaking Google Docs -”

“Do you want it back?” Jon asked, bored. “I can make you the internet.”

Annabelle’s pen froze on the paper, hovering over a bullet-point list. “The entire internet? You can just do that?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jon poked his tongue out his mouth in concentration as he pressed the monkeys in a rhythmic order. Rhythm games were his jam. “That’s, like, the pocket nightmare dimension from Tron, right? I can do that. Addictions are easy. Put people inside, trap them inside a video or something. It’d be mostly for torture but you could probably use it normally.”

Annabelle stared at him, expression blank, for so long it made Jon a little uncomfortable and defensive. What had he said wrong? Daisy was usually good at interpreting these things for him, although sometimes when people went on about ‘violence’ she was just as confused as him. Finally, she said, “No, that’s alright. I always hated Black Mirror anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a telly - never mind. I don’t want you getting any more ideas.”

***

The council committee was held in the stupidest building Jon had ever seen in his entire life. And he had been in London for six months. He knew stupid buildings.

‘London City Hall’ or whatever was this awful giant, lopsided, obloid monstrosity. All glass and windows, with nary a brick in sight, Jon hated it instantly and severely. He was immediately filled with the urge to turn to somebody and commiserate with them about shitty architecture, but there was nobody else in the cab but Annabelle - and, well, she seemed to have other things on her mind.

The neighborhood around it was filled with a mix of equally stupid buildings and perfectly respectable buildings that looked as if they had been made a long time ago. The sidewalks were relatively abandoned, and the streets were empty of everything but the endless rotation of tourist double-decker busses. Jon knew that this wasn’t one of those districts where people actually lived and roamed - instead, it was one of those business districts that people only stepped inside for work or city business. Like that silly little Palace of Westminster building that Annabelle had taken him to months ago when she was showing him the city.

That building Annabelle had especially loved. It was filled with old white men with sagging jowls and liver spots, looping in endless routines and miniature atrocities. Annabelle had asked him to take as many Statements as possible, and Jon had needed no encouraging.

That had been a strange trip. Normally people found his little monologues boring, because they were idiots with no taste, but Annabelle had listened to every single one. She had been enraptured, excited and triumphant. She had dragged him into some “Lord’s Chamber” or something and posed on the throne as Jon obediently took polaroids. Well, so long as she was happy.

Jon was already seeing that London City Hall was no better. Annabelle dragged him through it, anxiously checking and re-checking her files, as they effortlessly weaved between shambling zombies of old white men in suits. Jon tasted the ripe air of trauma from them - a similar taste to that spiralling academic building, but rather a little more tart - but Annabelle dragged him away before he could stop and eat them.

There were parts of London that were safe. Maybe even most of London - although nowhere was truly safe, not really, not every location was absolutely haunted. The grocer’s was the grocer’s; the chemist still sold your medication. Not that you really needed it anymore, but habit was habit.

But some buildings, which were entrenched so firmly in hundreds of years of evil, could not be dissuaded from their nightmares. In that respect, the safest city in the United Kingdom became the most dangerous. Some buildings had been nightmares even before the end of the world.

Jon, of course, gave very little shits about this beyond in the academic sense. Annabelle refused to let him duck out of her meeting to go snack, and she ended up dragging him in front of what looked like a smallish conference room.

Annabelle stopped in front of it, taking a second to breathe in and out and check her makeup. She seemed to be hyping herself up for it, shaking out her arms loosely. Jon slouched behind her, hands jammed in his trenchcoat pockets. Annabelle had asked him to put on a less raggedy suit, but - well, he sometimes had nicer suits, but they got raggedy very quickly. She had also asked him to leave the trenchcoat at home, but no way. It was part of his Look.

“You’re frightened,” Jon noted with interest. Annabelle was scared of less than he was, and she had much less of a reason. “What about this room scares you?”

“It’s not the people in the room,” Annabelle snapped, flashing her compact shut. “It’s what I’m trying to do. If this world’s going to last more than a few years before it devolves into fuckin’ Mad Max we need leadership. I didn’t put all of this work in just to -” At Jon’s blank look, she sighed. “Never mind. You don’t care. Just - try to trust me, Jon.”

“Of course I trust you,” Jon said, baffled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She stared at him, expression inscrutable, for a long moment, before opening the door and pulling him in.

It was a nice conference room, all wood panelling and that specific green shade you only saw in lawyer’s offices. There was a large rectangular table in the center, and more than a dozen luxurious chairs arranged around it. There was a big pull-down screen on the far wall. Jon didn’t know what it was for, but he knew that if he downloaded the information it wouldn’t help. Omniscence was so useless.

In a move that horrified Annabelle, most of the attendees seemed to be there. They had been chatting - talking, actually, quite loudly - before Annabelle strode in and Jon slumped in after her. But in the second that they both stepped in, an abrupt hush swept the room, and every eye swiveled to them.

If Jon was honest with himself, he’d say that they didn’t quiet when Annabelle stepped in. He’d say that they quieted when Jon stepped in. That it was Jon who they were looking at.

But Jon didn’t particularly feel like engaging with that. He didn’t like being stared at by people he didn’t know, and he didn’t like being out in public with people he didn’t know. He didn’t enjoy being in buildings or meeting new people, much less going to boring meetings. Jon decided all of this instantaneously, as every eye swiveled to him.

Rooms full of humans were fine. It was just humans. Nothing even vaguely intimidating about that, unless the humans were teenage girls. But these were Avatars - Jon could taste their nature in the air, a sharp and electric tingle - and when they stared at Jon he felt something heavier in their gaze. Oh, lord. There was a teenage girl here.

Jon tried slumping to the back chair, but Annabelle grabbed his collar and dumped him in a comfortable chair to her right. Jon saw a little placard in front of it that read ‘THE BEHOLDING’. Great.

“Thank you all for coming today,” Annabelle said crisply, and suddenly every worry was gone. She was calm, poised, confident, and professional. A perfect imitation of the officials and politicians who once really walked these halls, who passed laws and rubber-stamped policies. She could have passed for an assistant or junior staff member, bright and intrepid and ready to climb her way up the ladder. “Are we all accounted for?”

It seemed so. Every chair but one was filled. When Jon peered around at the placards, he saw that each one had a different Entity on it. One of the seats had no placard, and was occupied by said teenage girl. Four were unoccupied: the Spiral, the Slaughter, the Hunt and the Extinction.

Annabelle sat down in the head chair, which seemed just a little fancier. She put her folder in front of her, eyes flickering down the room. “It seems that Helen couldn’t make it. The Hunt duo seem to have...recently met unfortunate ends. The Slaughter Avatar called ahead to say that they couldn’t make it - it was high school picture day? And...I suppose the Extinction Avatar still doesn’t exist.”

She glanced at Jon, who shook his head. “Do you want one?” Jon asked. “I can go find a climate change denier in this building and make one for you.”

That also disturbed Annabelle, as well as everyone else. Jon abruptly felt awkward, and hunched in his seat. He defensively pulled out his DS, his plans to fall asleep in the back of the room already foiled.

Above him, Annabelle continued droning. “Still, I appreciate you all coming. I know that we haven’t all gathered since a bit after the apocalypse began -” Wait, they had? Since when? “ - but I hope we can agree that further coordination is necessary. We’ve already begun having serious territory and jurisdiction disputes, and it’s best that they’re resolved sooner rather than later.” Nobody looked very impressed, but Annabelle looked seriously at them all anyway. “I want us all to have an equal voice at this table. Save the fighting for another time. And please try to keep your powers out of here. I’ve already sworn to avoid using any of my Mother’s gifts in this room, and I hope you all can do the same.”

“Yeah?” A woman drawled. She was unfamiliar to Jon, like most people in the room, but she had a teenage girl sitting next to her who seemed to be paying rapt attention to Annabelle. “How are you going to enforce that?”

Annabelle stared at him for some reason. Jon jabbed at his DS and won the Mona minigame. Nothing more was said.

“Alright, then. I’ve already collected motions from all of you prior to this meeting.” Motions? Annabelle hadn’t said anything like that. Maybe it was on the invitation Daisy ate, but somehow he doubted it. Annabelle looked down and traced her finger down to her first point. “Many of you suggested this, so I would like to introduce it as a general discussion. Territory disputes, apparently, are a point of contention between many of us.” She opened her briefcase and pulled out a large map, and if Jon looked over the top of his DS he could see that it was a map of London. She also pulled out a red marker, uncapping it. The sheet was laminated, and there were already circles and markings all over it. “We’ll go one at a time. Amherst, you’ve motioned that the Stranger is intruding within Camden.”

A foppish looking man on a dumb little top hat scowled, as the young woman sitting behind the Strange placard looked annoyed. “It is gentrification. Every apartment complex occupied by artist studios are stealing food from the plate of my insects.”

“You haven’t had Camden for a decade,” the Stranger woman said, rolling her eyes. The Omniscience informed Jon that her name was Sarah Baldwin. Vaguely familiar - had he seen her at a cafe? “Nobody lives in those rat-infested tenements anymore. Now all the rats are performance art. Which is us. Get over it.”

“What is performance art -”

“Motion for no more Avatars over the age of 40,” Sarah Baldwin said. “I hate how Amherst and Wakely are in this room.”

“I wish I could second that,” Annabelle said, to the great affront of two grimy old men, “but unfortunately we do have to deal with this. Amherst, I’ve heard several complaints from other council members that you’re infiltrating their territory.”

“I am made of bugs -”

Jon checked out after that.

Instead, he surveyed the room a bit. Nobody in it was really interesting, just a meaningless collection of self-important people. The only person in the room other than Annabelle who he recognized was Oliver, who was sitting at the very back doing his best to fall asleep. When Jon Stared at him a bit he took notice and subtly waved. Jon shyly waved back. Jon liked Oliver.

Oliver mouthed something adjacent to ‘what is wrong with your hair’, offending Jon grievously. He didn’t look that bad, did he?

He glanced to his left, then down, to ask Daisy’s opinion, but he realized too late that she hadn’t come with him. Stupid. She could have come as part of the Hunt - they didn’t have anybody, it wasn’t as if they could complain. Not to Jon, anyway.

But she wouldn’t have wanted to. Daisy hated being an Avatar, for reasons that Jon had just never understood. She tried explaining it to him a long time ago, trying to talk about how guilty it made her and how much harm she had done, but it had just confused him more. She had tried to explain up until the end, as Jon had grown more and more angry at her for her refusal. He had never understood.

She had stopped talking about it lately, though. Which was good. Jon didn’t know what he’d do if she starved herself twice. He wouldn’t have tolerated it.

Daisy had told him that the most important thing in the world was to make your own choices. So he let her make hers. No matter how much he hated it.

The others weren’t familiar at all. There was a woman with wild dark hair sitting behind the Dark placard, which confused Jon slightly until he decided that they likely hadn’t wanted to send the thirteen year old. There was this really wrinkly and gross old man for the Vast, a younger looking but older feeling man for the Buried, a deathly pale woman for the Lonely, the muscular woman and the teenager for the Desolation...why did they have two…

The teenager was staring at Jon. She had intense orange eyes, the kind that bored into you and never blinked. She looked away every few seconds, as if she was being subtle, but when her gaze drifted back to him again he met her eyes with an unimpressed stare. She squeaked and looked away firmly, hiding behind her curtain of long red hair.

Okay. Whatever. Kids were weird. Jon was glad he had never been one.

Jon swapped out WarioWare for Pokemon SoulSilver, opening back up where he left off catching another MissingNo. His entire team was full of the things. He wanted a Mareep, damn it.

Finally, Annabelle rapped the table sharply and said, “It’s agreed, then. Everybody submit specific written documentation of your territory by city block, and fax it to me by our next meeting. Please abide by the resolutions to the conflicts we discussed here. Any objections to moving onto our next order of business?”

“I have an objection to the Dark’s questionable behavior,” the Buried guy rumbled. He was dripping dirt everywhere. Why didn’t anybody complain to him about his hygiene? “In the words of the lad Brody, they are kill stealing. If they do not withdraw their nightmares from our embrace of the Earth, we will unleash retribution with extreme prejudice. The dirt is a holy place, and we will not be polluted by -”

“Oh, stick your shovel up your fat ass, Wakely,” the woman with wild black hair said. “People aren’t afraid of the fucking dirt, they’re afraid of the darkness in the tombs. Walk into a mausoleum sometime.”

“You poach the End’s territory now too, wench?”

“Please leave me out of this,” Oliver said.

“If you call me wench one more time, you’ll be watching the back of your eye sockets for eternity,” the woman said pleasantly, “so royally fuck you.”

“Um, not to interrupt, but that’s not really how it works,” the teenager said, and the death glares between the two turned on her. She hunched her shoulders, but her expression stayed firm. “The terror is going to overlap. That’s just how it is. The Buried and the Dark are not entirely...separate things, they’re gradients that overlap. If you get all finicky about what belongs to who, then you’re just going in circles…”

“The last thing we need is the coward Messiah of the Eternal Flame telling me how to worship my god,” the woman snapped.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Manuela,” the muscular woman said flatly.

Then they were glaring, and Wakely was saying something else snide, and Manuela was making another dig at the teenager as the muscular woman bitched, and Jon abruptly wanted them all to shut up.

“You’re being too loud,” Jon said.

The entire room shut up immediately. The teenager opened her mouth, but the pale woman caught her eye and shook her head.

Annabelle clapped her hands in the silence. “Onto the second motion, then! Infrastructure! Right now we are sorely missing a great deal of essential city infrastructure, and it’s becoming a huge problem. We’re still figuring out what’s mystically maintained, and what’s just being maintained because the humans haven’t figured out how to stop doing it yet, but there’s some work that’s being neglected. The Vast has motioned to reinstate the postal system.”

“Vetoed,” the Lonely woman said.

“You can’t do that,” Annabelle said blankly. “We need to vote.”

“I’d like to make an argument for the motion, dear,” the Vast man said, making Annabelle’s eye twitch. “My argument is this: Amazon Prime is so convenient!”

“We have every Amazon warehouse under our control,” the representative from the Flesh said. He was...very fleshy. “It’d be no issue to go back to production.”

“Jared has a point. The Eye’s been feeding through Amazon for years,” Annabelle said thoughtfully. The mention of the Eye piqued Jon’s attention, but then he finally ran into a Mareep and he stopped paying attention again. “We can tap into the people who are living 1984 and get them back in industry.”

“Can we begin producing again?” the Desolation woman asked, interested. “We have all these people miserable at work, but nothing’s actually being made. If we let a little reality break into the nightmares…”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” the Lonely woman asked sharply. “It’ll make it easier for them to escape.”

“They all escape eventually,” Sarah Baldwin said. “They all break out in days to months. We can afford a little more permeability if we actually get things working again.”

Then conversation was off and running about something that Jon didn’t really care about, so he checked out again. He didn’t know what all of this production and infrastructure stuff meant. Going Postal meant that he had a very good understanding of a mail system, but he didn’t have a personal interest. Who he would send letters to?

Jon quickly downloaded what Amazon was. Oh, that would be useful. Wait, he could get any book delivered to his door? Without having to go out hunting for it? How would this work without the internet - a catalogue?

Everybody seemed invested in getting the internet back up, except for the two hundred year olds. Jared kept saying something about porn, whatever that was. If enough people felt like Annabelle, then maybe they would make it a priority. Jon didn’t know how he felt about that.

He didn’t know how he felt about the fact that it was impossible.

But everybody - or most people - genuinely seemed excited about it. They even seemed to be working together, intent on the same goal.

Sarah Baldwin wanted to know if we have enough people constantly under camera to have footage for television. Maybe we could get cable back up? DVDs were a lost cause, but if we could just start airing the VHS tapes…

Annabelle had a look of hook-ups (literally) in the film industry, maybe they could do something like that?

The Hahns are highly involved in production and distribution, Jared pointed out. There was no need to produce food, but if we wanted to increase access to goods it might be possible.

Why? Why did they care? This world provided them everything they needed.

For some reason, Jon felt a little defensive. What did they need all of these things for, anyway? All of this entertainment - cable and movies and internet. The world had books. What was so wrong with books? There were even old VHS tapes liberated from charity stores if you really wanted to get fancy. The most high-tech electronic Jon had ever found was the DS in his hands and a couple of games, which Salasea had given to him as an exotic artifact. Only Salasea owned these things now: trinkets and curiosities, hallmarks of an antiquated time.

What was the point of these supply lines? People didn’t need to eat or shop or consume. Nightmares provided the facsimile, and since they got a little crazy if they never ate they were provided the security of food. Buying towels and shoes and toys...it was a waste of time. People had towels. Nobody outgrew their shoes or wore them out. Children’s toys didn’t break, and anything that made happiness a little easier to come by was discouraged.

Nothing was ever subtracted. Nothing was added. The world was frozen, captured in the amber of time, and it would never move backwards and forwards.

They knew this. Didn’t they?

“We have to make this place livable for us,” Annabelle was saying. She spoke oddly intensely, with a fervor that Jon had seen in her a few times before. Annabelle didn’t like to give off the impression that she cared about things, but once you knew her it was hard to miss. “It’s easier than ever to stay powerful and feed our Forces, but that doesn’t mean we can grow complacent. We have to work together to eat sustainably. To live sustainably. If we don’t try to rebuild, at least enough to get the world moving again, then we’re sentencing ourselves to a boring and decrepit eternity in a world we will all see die within our immortal lifetimes.”

Everyone at the table was nodding. They looked determined. United. Almost...they held an expression that Jon just couldn’t name. An emotion he didn’t understand.

He had seen it in Daisy, once. She had called it hope. He hadn’t understood back then. He still didn’t.

“Liar,” Jon said, as his minigame timed out and the game over music tinkled across the tinny speakers.

Annabelle looked at him, expression inscrutable. “These problems are legitimate, Archivist. The writing’s clearly on the wall, and -”

“You’re all so stupid,” Jon complained, and Annabelle abruptly stopped talking to glare at him. Whatever. Jon had lost all patience. He closed his DS and dropped it on the table, resigning himself to talking. Jon hated public speaking, especially in front of so many people he didn’t know and, frankly, creeped him out. “You can’t build anything in this world. If you try to impose a cute little government then it’ll break down into cannibalism or something.”

“Would you know, Archivist?” Jared asked evenly.

“Jonah didn’t enact this world through myself for living,” Jon said, bored, and everybody stared at him with wide eyes. “We created it for suffering. Suffering isn’t living.”

“One might say the opposite,” the Vast man said, somehow twinkingly. “Suffering is an unavoidable side effect of living, isn’t it?”

“Is that philosophy? I don’t understand philosophy.” Jon wasn’t very good with anything that required extensive and complex thought. Which made sense - Jonah hadn’t exactly created him to think. “Humanity has clouded your minds. Makes all of you irrational and sentimental. Release your attachment to the old world. Just accept the way things are now.” Jon shrugged. “It’s not as if you can do anything about it.”

“Nobody in this room is exactly human, Jon,” Oliver pointed out placidly.

Jon snorted. “Wanting free porn back? You’re all dripping with it.” It was honestly a little sad. “The only ones in this world free of that weakness are Jonah and I. And he’s the only one who could do any of this.”

“Then where is he?” the Desolation woman snapped. She leaned forward, hands gripping the table in anger. The teenager watched her anxiously. “Why doesn’t he come on down from his high tower and explain what’s going on? We’re in the fucking dark here!”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said coldly, “who are you?”

He rubbed his bad hand. For some reason, everybody watched him do so. He stopped, self-conscious.

“Prejudiced remarks aside,” Manuela said. She had been hostile all day, but she now spoke cautiously. “Jonah Magnus needs to take responsibility for this. We don’t even know how the world ended.”

Several people glanced at Annabelle, whose lips thinned. “I shouldn’t say.”

Of course she knew. And of course she wasn’t about to tell him. Whatever. Jon didn’t care. Past was the past.

He found his hand clenching. There was a strange tension in his throat. He didn’t care. He didn’t. Rehashing the worst pain he had ever felt in his life, even now, wasn’t really worth the time or energy. He didn’t care.

“No use crying over spilled milk,” the Vast guy said lightly. “But it is a relevant question. Jonah frequently spoke of his plans, and I realize now that he had never truly shown all of his cards. But he had always held an intention to...well, rule. It’s only in this moment of his victory that he shows no interest.”

“Jonah’s busy,” Jon snapped. “Trust me, you don’t want that arse around. He never even gives me directions, and I’m his right hand.”

“Or his puppet,” Sarah Baldwin muttered.

It was fair. Probably even true. So why did an intense and burning fury shoot through Jon?

“What gives this child the right to dictate us?” Wakely demanded. Jon’s hands clenched on the table until his knuckles turned white. “What gives Jonah Magnus the right to rule us?”

“He’s not much of a ruler,” Amherst grunted. “My vote’s that we rule this world in a council.”

“Administration is important,” Annabelle said, impossibly terse, “but unless anyone here actually has the means to seize control, then there’s no use voting on it.”

“There’s only one Avatar here who has those means,” Manuela said darkly, crossing her arms and looking straight at Jon. “So why doesn’t he do anything?”

They were feeding on each other. They wouldn’t have said these - these treasonous things by themselves. But when one person spoke up, the next felt empowered, and they felt as if they outnumbered him. Jonah Magnus was hardly there to press him into obedience - why buckle under his oppressive gaze? What could he do?

The stupidest people in this world all gathered in one room. It took a special level of arrogance, pride, and stupidity to assume that one was more powerful than Jonah Magnus.

“I’m not in charge of anything,” Jon said tersely. “I don’t even have a domain. I’m just trying to live my life.”

The Desolation woman snorted. “Typical. You’re rolling over for Jonah.”

Jon’s eyes widened - not in surprise, but in anger.

The teenager seemed a little uncomfortable. “Jude,” she hissed, “I don’t think -”

“Jude,” Jon breathed. “So that’s your name.”

He was standing up. Jon didn’t remember standing up. Everybody was leaning away, their own eyes wide. Some just looked confused, slightly perturbed - Wakely, Amherst. Others looked ready to bolt - Manuela, the old man from the Vast. Jon knew, in a flash of insight that grew hotter and hotter, that he preferred to be called Simon.

“Sit down, Jon,” Annabelle said, as authoritative and no-nonsense as ever. Normally he’d listen to her, respecting that she usually knew what was going on far better than he ever did. But the words barely reached him, drowned out by the rushing in his ears. “Look, we can talk about this rationally, alright?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jude said. She snorted, burning red eyes never leaving Jon’s. “As if I’m scared of this baby prick.”

“Maybe we can move on from Jonah Magnus,” Simon said quickly. “A discussion of airspace rights, perhaps -”

“Jon,” Oliver said, voice creased in worry, “are you okay?”

“This is the all-powerful demigod you all warned me about?” Amherst said. He was dripping with condescension, just like - just like everyone else - “He’s little more than a child.”

“Guys!” the teenager’s voice rang through the room, close to scared. “The walls are melting!”

So they were. It was as if the stone and wood was made of wax, sent guttering by a sputtering candle. Wood and finish were already pooling on the floor, melting the rolling wheel of Jared’s chair and forcing him to jump up from it.

“Jon!” Annabelle said sharply. “Don’t throw a tantr -”

The table cracked sharply. It was warping, twisting in on itself as if it was a wrung towel. Jon realized, too late to care, that his hair was rising. He knew his eyes were spinning, an eternal churning wheel.

“Fuck this, meeting adjourned.” Manuela stood up sharply, pushing her chair back into a melting bubble. The floor was beginning to bubble and warp. “See you all next month.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Simon said quickly, standing up too.

“You have two minutes,” Jon said, voice heavy with static. “Don’t bother me about this shit again.”

The signal was clear enough. Jude rose from her chair, grabbing her teenager’s elbow and pushing her out the door. The others followed in their wake, expressions carefully neutral. It was useless: Jon could taste their fear, their trepidation. Even better: their anger, barely brindled fury, and disgust.

They couldn’t do anything about it, Jon thought giddily. No matter how much they hated or were scared of him, they couldn’t do anything about it. Jon was powerful. Jon couldn’t be hurt. Jon couldn’t -

Jon couldn’t reign this in.

Before he knew it, the conference room was empty. Only two other people remained: Annabelle, expression as inscrutable as ever, and an uncomfortable Oliver. His hands were stuck in the pockets of his pea coat, and he was looking around with disaffected interest - as if he was standing in line at a Starbucks in rush hour instead of in the epicenter of a melting building.

Jon knew. The entire building was dissolving. It was teeming with humans, lost and trapped and defenseless. He didn’t want to kill them. Jon didn’t like hurting people. He heard a voice speak in his head, foreign and familiar. Bring it in, Jon.

But he couldn’t. His hair would fall back around his shoulders, and the static rushing through his ears just wouldn’t abate. It felt like everything was pouring out of him, a relentless faucet that wouldn’t stop churning out thick streams of putrid water.

Jon fisted his hands in his hair, groaning. “Where’s -”

“She’s at your flat,” Annabelle said calmly. “Do you want me to get her?”

No. No, this was too embarrassing. He was an adult, he could handle this. Jon groaned again and sank into his seat, saved from the toxic waste of glass and brick. “No. Focus on getting the humans out of here.”

“What do you care?” Oliver asked, vaguely curious. “You don’t seem that fond of humanity.”

“Just do it!” Jon snapped, instead of admitting that he didn’t know either.

Eventually, the room stopped melting. Jon didn’t even want to think about how difficult it would be to leave the building. He could probably straighten out the hallways just enough to help Annabelle and Oliver get out.

Ugh. This place had sunk straight into Helen’s domain. He could taste it in the air: any future human who wandered in would be stuck in an endless spiral of twisted, melted hallways. Probably flavored with...powerlessness and fear. Feeling very small, as someone very large loomed down on you. Tories.

At least he hadn’t sucked flattened the building into one plane again, robbing it of all spiritual and metaphysical dimensions. Jon had done that to a graveyard once. The place was putrid now. He had accidentally fallen into a grave and panicked and - anyway.

He rested his forehead on the warped and splintered conference table, waiting for his throat to open back up and the rushing in his ears to die down. Finally, after what felt like forever, his hair floated back down and he felt his eyes resume their normal shape.

Awkward silence loomed. Jon sighed. “Sorry.”

“I worked hard to arrange this, you know,” Annabelle said.

“Yeah.”

“I am not happy with you, Jon,” Annabelle said.

“Sorry,” Jon said miserably. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I mean,” Oliver said, after a beat, “that’s kind of terrifying. That you can melt a building on accident. Like, what would happen if you got really pissed at Manchester or something?”

“Goodbye, Manchester,” Annabelle muttered.

Jon lifted his head, glaring blearily at Oliver. “If you think that’s crazy, you should have been there the one time I opened up an extradimensional gate and unleashed nightmare terrors into the world, rendering all of humanity immortal and eternally trapped in endless infernal hellscapes.”

Oliver shrugged, conceding the point.

But Annabelle just looked thoughtful. Probably reworking five billion plans, knowing her. Jon didn’t want to know, because he didn’t care. Let her do whatever she wanted. None of his business. Hopefully, after this disaster, she’d keep it out of his business.

Finally, she asked, “Was that true? That there’s no moving us forward?”

Jon sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. But if he didn’t tell her then she’d just bug him about it later, or find some way to get the information out of him that would be both convoluted and unpleasant. “I’m not saying that people can’t...live their lives. They’re obviously still going to work and typing in every digit of pi into their spreadsheets for eight hours and then going home to stare, hypnotized, into cable television. But I am saying that there’s no achieving more than that. There’s no going backwards, and there’s no going forwards. The past is closed to us, and so is the future.” He eyed her warily. “If you have any cute time travel ideas, forget it.”

“I would never,” Annabelle said innocently.

Yeah, sure. Liar. Jon scowled. “You’re all hampered by your humanity.” When Oliver opened his mouth, Jon just shook his head. “Even Avatars are still people. We’re all conduits for eldritch Forces, hollowed out to serve as a live wire for their power, but we - you all remember a human life. You care about things. You have relationships. You love. It makes you weak. Some of you don’t even like your lot in life - some part of you aching for something familiar, when you felt genuine happiness instead of the cheap facsimile induced by causing pain.” Jon looked down at his hands, reflexively picking at one of his many scars. “You should be more like me. You’d be more focused.”

“Are you capable of...changing, Jon?” Oliver asked curiously. “Or will you be this way forever?”

“Most of Annabelle’s plans hinge on that not happening,” Jon said, not even aware it was true until he said it, “so I suppose we’ll find out.”

Of course, Jon knew what Oliver had tactfully not said. He had wanted to know if Jon would ever grow up. They all thought he was a child, even Annabelle. Jon had the feeling even Daisy did, sometimes.

It was stupid and they were wrong. Child would imply adult, would imply birthday parties and learning to talk and learning geography. Jon didn’t have to learn geography. He knew geography. He didn’t age. He was born being able to talk. Jon was above all of these things. He was mature. And even if he wasn’t, who cared?

But Annabelle just smiled at Jon, a polite mask. Annabelle hadn’t made a genuine facial expression in - well, longer than Jon’s memory. Or maybe that was the wrong way to put it. Maybe it was more accurate that she never expressed an emotion that she didn’t mean to. “Well! That wasn’t entirely a disaster, was it? I think next time could go really well. Don’t worry, Jon, I won’t drag you out of bed again.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Now, the three of us are going back to your flat and doing something about your awful rat’s nest.”

Oh, lord. This was going to be terrible. “Do we have to?” Jon whined.

Annabelle smiled again, but this time it was so dangerous that Jon couldn’t help but quail. “My spiders are collecting the avocado oil and coconut oil now. My best friend in secondary had 3C hair too, I think I know what to do. Oliver, bring the buzzer, scissors, and satin wraps.”

“Three cee?” Jon asked, confused. “What’s that?”

Oliver grimaced. “Why am I involved in this?”

“Because I don’t know what to do with a guy’s hair, and you’re probably the only guy I’ve ever met who knows what to do with hair? Keep up.”

“I’m feeling pigeonholed, but fine. But we are not buzzing that hair. It’s a crime against god.” Oliver looked thoughtful for a second. “I think Jon would do a nice, loose afro. I think I still have some hair masks and vinegar rinse -”

“Why is this so complicated?” Jon asked, completely freaked out. “What are these things?”

But Annabelle just smiled sweetly at him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jon. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

Well. It seemed easier than figuring things out for himself. Jon didn’t like responsibility. Today was his first taste of responsibility in ages, and he had already decided that it sucked. Better to let somebody who actually cared take care of it.

That way, he didn’t have to be powerful. Didn’t have to be anybody’s demigod on Earth, capable of murdering whoever he liked. He could just be Jon, Private Detective, Archivist. He could have fun. Just live. Didn’t he deserve that, despite everything?

He stood up too, summoning a shaky smile for Annabelle. “So you aren’t mad about me ruining your meeting, then?”

“Water under the bridge,” Annabelle said. “Now come on, we have to stop by the chemist’s and pick up a decent hairbrush.”

Hairbrush? What was that for?

****

Six months after time resumed its course

Jon opened his mailbox, only to find mail.

Suspicion immediately loomed. Jon didn’t get mail. Not due to any kind of impossibility, but just because he didn’t pay bills and none of the mimic junk mail was brave enough to try their luck with him. Maybe invoices, sometimes, but mostly those were dropped off in person. The invoices were scarier than the finger-biting mimics: he still didn’t quite know how they worked. Sasha kept insisting they were important, but Sasha also insisted face masks were important. She didn’t know everything. That was Jon’s job.

He grabbed the singular envelope anyway, elbowing his door back open as he inspected the envelope. Thick, rich, and creamy, it reminded Jon uncomfortably of Annabelle’s party invite from a while ago. In the front, he saw that it was addressed to...Agnes?

The living room was noisy and busy, entirely due to the recipient of the letter and her brother. They were playing Mario Kart on the Wii, and apparently disowning each other. Jon watched Agnes hit Gerry with a blue shell, slightly bemused, and saw Dry Bones spin out into the center and make a pitiful noise. Baby Peach loomed supreme.

Jon almost felt bad interrupting. An opened bag of chips scattered dust around Gerry, and Agnes had a half-empty pack of uncooked hot dogs next to her. They had both been at this for a while. “Agnes, you got a letter. And try to keep it down, Sasha’s working and Daisy’s sleeping.”

Agnes turned around, half a hot dog hanging out of her mouth like a cigar. She swallowed it quickly, holding out one hand and letting Jon give her the letter. She frowned down at the front, ignoring the way Gerry craned his head to take a look, and when she checked the back she frowned deeper. There was a wax seal, its details out of sight to Jon.

“Is it that time already?” Agnes muttered, putting her controller down and letting the parade lap on the screen continue.

Gerry frowned too as Agnes carefully broke the seal. “Is that from…?”

“Yeah. Weird, though. Guess it’s about time for the follow-up to the emergency meeting.” She pulled a letter out of the envelope, embossed on creamy paper. She scanned it quickly. “Downing street this time…”

“Are you going to go?”

“Well, it’s not as if Jude can,” Agnes said diplomatically, refolding the paper.

Jon cleared his throat, making the kids jump. They had half-forgotten he was there. Far too late, Agnes hid the invite behind her back. “Care to explain?”

“Oh, you know,” Agnes said vaguely, casually tossing the invite behind her shoulder and letting Gerry snatch it out of midair. “It’s the invite to the Avatar council meetings. I think they’re held once every three months, but since months are a theoretical concept it’s occasionally hard to tell..”

“Not these days,” Gerry said excitedly. “It’s cold! The leaves fell!”

“The leaf thing is dope,” Agnes agreed. “Anyway, I should go. I have, like, serious words. I already submitted ten motions. I want to run for Treasurer, but Jared keeps saying that anybody who isn’t old enough to open her own bank account shouldn’t be treasurer.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Jon asked blankly. Was this some kind of youth league? Baseball? Was this baseball?

Abruptly, Agnes looked very sketchy. “I...it’s really nothing you’d be interested in.”

“I am interested in everything,” Jon said. He was offended beyond all belief. “Don’t keep secrets!”

“Jon’s not a big fan of secrets,” Gerry stage-whispered. “Did Annabelle say that we shouldn’t tell him or did she just say not to bother him about it?”

Agnes abruptly started sweating wax. “I can’t remember.”

“Now you have to tell me,” Jon said flatly.

They gave up very quickly. Teenagers loved hiding things, but they also loved drama and spilling secrets. “It’s the Avatar council meeting thing,” Gerry said eagerly. “You know, where you guys all get together and re-enact the British empire by making government decisions and imposing made-up laws on the people you’ve conquered and are currently subjugating under your big stompy boots?”

“I’m changing the system from the inside,” Agnes said proudly.

Gerry shot her an unimpressed look. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Because that’s a thing that makes sense in an inherently corrupt system with an inherently unethical existence that exists to be profitable at the expense of the marginalized.”

“I don’t understand anything children these days even talk about,” Jon said.

“I’m surprised you don’t remember it,” Agnes said to Jon. But she had a strange expression on her face, one hard to decipher. “It’s where we met.”

Jon stared at her blankly. “I don’t remember talking to you.”

“I was sitting next to Jude?” Agnes hinted. “Teenager? Red hair?”

Wait. Jon snapped his fingers. “Annabelle’s idiot thing! Right! Right, of course, Oliver made me sit still for five hours afterwards, it was insufferable.”

Wait. Jon abruptly remembered the rest of that day. It seemed like so long ago, even though it was probably objectively only about three years. It must have been about...yes, a few months after Daisy had gotten stuck...

He barely remembered those tepid and awful months. He had been on a bit of a hair trigger back then. It had been really tough, with Daisy leaving and his terrifying encounter with Jonah. He remembered everybody had been annoying and mean and made him feel bad…

“First time I ever remember feeling fear, honestly,” Agnes said to Gerry. “Scariest moment of my life. Remember when we first met Jon? All I could think about was that he was going to melt us like he melted that building.”

Hot shame flared in Jon’s gut. Right. Other people were real, and existed, and were probably more important than his...what had he even been upset about? He didn’t remember.

He melted a building and he didn’t even remember why.

“I’m going too,” Jon said, and both kids startled. “I’m coming with you.”

Agnes and Gerry stared at each other with wide eyes.

“Uh,” Agnes said finally, hesitant, “there’s about a 50/50 chance Annabelle said not to tell you about this, and you definitely didn’t get an invite, so statistically you probably aren’t -”

“She can’t exactly stop me from coming,” Jon said, and both kids quieted.

Power-tripping had lost all appeal for Jon - assuming role as a conduit for global and absolute power did that to you - but he couldn’t deny it was useful sometimes. The world probably could have stood a little more power-tripping from him, actually. At least, it would have been helpful if he had ever done anything helpful with it. But he had never really bothered.

But Agnes still looked perturbed, almost worried. “Annabelle’s like one of two people you used to ever listen to, so if you don’t really care what she thinks anymore -”

“I think Annnabelle knows better than to complain these days,” Jon said.

It probably was for the best that Jon didn’t listen much to Annabelle anymore.

****

Jon hadn’t really told the others about Annabelle’s worse-than-murder attempt.

It didn’t really seem like any of their business, and he had spinned a vague explanation of how the situation happened. He didn’t lie, just - withheld information.

For the first time, the truth didn’t seem so important. He had the feeling it would have just upset them. It wasn’t as if he would take revenge against Annabelle. The world needed her, and Jon was a little tired of murdering everyone who upset him. The others (Daisy) would insist on the little murder attempts if they knew, but that was probably part of why he didn’t tell them. If they never knew about the one unselfish thing he had done in his life - well, one unselfish thing didn’t make up for three years of selfishness, so there was very little point.

Martin suspected. Actually, Martin seemed to know, which terrified Jon slightly. It was impossible to get anything past Martin. Jon was deeply intimidated by the man. Sasha laughed very long and hard when he told her that, for unknown reasons.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he felt betrayed. Even if the last time he had attended one of Annabelle’s little council meetings he still trusted her, that had faded quickly in favor of complete apathy. Even then, as young as he was, he had never expected the truth from her. Just friendship. Whatever she was doing, it probably wouldn’t affect him, so there was no use in worrying. Even if Annabelle slightly terrorized every other person in the United Kingdom - well, Jon was fine, so what did it matter.

Jon couldn’t decide if he was stupid or naive. Or, even worse - if he was just lazy.

Jon didn’t listen to Annabelle anymore.

Unfortunately, he still listened to Sasha James.

Two weeks later, the date of the actual meeting, Jon was stuck explaining himself to his entire house, who doubted all of his decisions. Which was just unfair. Jon made good decisions! He had made tons of good decisions, like -

Anyway!

“I think it’s a great idea,” Sasha said, freaking out Jon. “Displaying interest in your local government’s fantastic! Did you do any research on the relevant issues?”

Jon, in the middle of pulling on his trenchcoat, started sweating. “I was just planning on showing up.”

Agnes, who was wearing a gauzy skirt and blouse as Daisy helped a whining Gerry with his court buttons, gave Sasha the thumbs up. “I’m going to propose motions and Jon’s going to say ‘yeah what she said’ and it’ll be great.”

Jon let Agnes believe that.

“Well, you’ll have to share Jon’s political weight,” Sasha said cheerfully. She was in sweatpants and one of Jon’s pilfered t-shirts again. She had recently designated herself a writer, and had joined some sort of recent artist and activist collective where they did mysterious things that Jon didn’t understand. There’s a zine involved? Jon didn’t know what a zine was and he was scared to ask.

Georgie and Melanie had spent a week teaching Jon in laborious detail what exactly the internet was - information Jon could have just downloaded, but they had been intent in their mission of creating ‘the perfect internet’ and had gone through great effort in teaching him what the ‘good’ internet was (Ravelry, Spotify, r/HobbyDrama, YouTubers but only a very specific list) and what the ‘bad’ internet was (social media, the rest of Reddit, every other YouTuber). Jon wasn’t sure if the new internet was to their specifications, and he hadn’t quite been able to avoid parts of it spiralling into nightmare dimensions and hellish breeding grounds for violence and trauma, but Melanie assured him that Twitter had always been like that.

Jon also secretly added a nightmare filter to Melanie’s screen reader, after he made sure every inch of it was accessible, after he roughly recreated screen readers. Melanie said that the voice sounded uncannily like the aunt she had hated, but that it was no big deal.

Anyway, Sasha was a blogger now. After a few meltdowns to Sasha’s computer he had to install a nightmare filter for her too, which made her complain about feeling like an old woman whose grandson had to install AdBlock on her browser. Jon was a little scared of the whole blogging thing, but everybody seemed much happier, so maybe that was the important thing.

“Wait,” Jon said, finally recognizing what Sasha said. “Share with who?”

There was a knock on the door. Jon felt intense fear.

“She’s here!” Sasha said cheerfully. “Come in!”

Jon watched in horror as Basira Hussain casually strode into her house. He knew he couldn’t stop her. She had a key to the place, because Jon had no control of his life.

“Hey honey,” Basira said, intimately.

“Hey honey,” Daisy said lovingly, releasing Gerry from her clutches.

They stared at each other, as if this was any kind of greeting whatsoever, before ignoring each other. Jon did not understand so many things.

Basira, terrifyingly, was dressed like she was about to go defend her client in court. She had a briefcase, and Jon recognized her most important looking crimson hijab. Very abruptly, Jon had a flashback to the way Annabelle had dressed when she had picked him up in his old office. They even had the same expression: determined and resolute, in a way that Jon could never understand.

Basira nodded at Jon. “Hey. Sasha invited me to this thing. She told you I was coming, right.”

“She did not.”

“Whatever. Are we going to get going? We’re going to be late.”

Jon looked at Sasha pleadingly. Cold and resolute stone, Sasha showed no mercy. She smiled brightly, giving Agnes a final hug and pushing her forward. “You kids have a great time! Terrorize the bourgeoisie!”

“I am the bourgeoisie,” Jon said blankly, but the situation had already spiraled out of his control. Agnes and Basira were already comparing lists of notes, seriously discussing the motions Agnes had raised and how she was going to help Basira.

That was it – how Agnes could help Basira. How Agnes, and the role she had in the council hall, could help Basira and the people Jon knew that she intended on representing today.

They hadn’t even looped him in. Had they assumed that he wouldn’t care? That he wouldn’t help? Agnes hadn’t even wanted him there. Only Sasha -

He felt a cool, small hand grab his arm, and he turned around to see Daisy. Gerry was already enthusiastically capturing Sasha about the concert he and Agnes were going to later, and Jon knew that they weren’t listening. Daisy’s expression was somber, her body tense. Daisy wasn’t one for facial expressions at the best of times – not even a new development – but something about this…

“I should go with you,” Daisy said.

“I already told you no,” Jon said, miffed. “I can handle this by myself.”

“I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself last time,” Daisy said. Jon could admit that things probably wouldn’t have spiraled out of control if she had been there, but that didn’t mean – “Don’t terrify yourself just because you feel guilty.”

Daisy hadn’t aged any more than the rest of the world had. As an Avatar, she likely never would. She even looked young for her mid-forties, with her short stature and broad, unlined face. Sasha had assured him that she was ‘Kristen Bell-ish’, whatever that meant. But she always seemed so old to him: larger than life and not even reaching his shoulders. Wise and world-weary even when, as Jon was beginning to see, she didn’t know what she was doing any more than the rest of them did.

It scared Jon, almost: if Daisy wasn’t the person who could swoop in and make it all better, then who could?

If Jonah wasn’t the omnipresent god, then who was the most powerful person in the world?

Jon shook her off, fighting the pull in his gut. “I’m not scared of them anymore.”

She didn’t look impressed. “You’re always scared.”

“Look at the time, going to be late, gotta go!”

He still couldn’t win an argument against her.

They took a taxi there, as Jon had cheerfully informed them that the Tube was delayed due to infernal leaves on the line (Work-from-home was the hot new thing these days). Basira was clearly on edge, tense and constantly keeping an eye on the taxi driver (a friendly skeleton) and the street. Agnes wasn’t any more relaxed, reading her notes over and over.

Jon leaned back in his plush seat, closing his eyes. What would Martin say? He would probably be cuttingly pointing out how Jon was in denial over how he really was secretly afraid of the Avatars and now it was even more dangerous because he was much more willing to power-trip.

Forget about what Jon wanted. Forget about his fear, his insecurities, and every rationale he had constructed for himself as to why Jon deserved a life free of these worries.

Jon was above politics. The Avatar with no need to defend their territory, who held no fear of death or failure, had no need. Jon could not lose the affection of his patron. His domain was the world, and it could not be attacked no matter how hard he tried. Jon was not a politician, so of course that meant he could not be manipulated by politicians -

“What’s your plan,” Jon asked, without opening his eyes.

They told him. Basira was clinical; Agnes excited. Jon didn’t say anything about it, and let the conversation die down until the taxi was rolling in front of 10 Downing Street. Didn’t the prime minister live here? Boris...something? Jon quickly downloaded the information, before he found that Boris Johnson had been the world’s most convoluted psy-op by Annabelle and had never exactly existed. Thank goodness.

Right as the taxi idled in front of the building, Jon opened his eyes. He let them flare up, an intimidating spark of toxic green. “You two follow my lead.”

“Excuse me,” Basira said flatly, as Jon waved at the driver in lieu of payment. He hadn’t found out that you were supposed to pay taxi drivers until...a few months ago. In his defense, they never asked. “This is our operation.”

Jon glanced at her, and something relaxed around the corners of her eyes. He wondered if his expression was familiar to her. He couldn’t help but smile weakly, and that softened her expression even more. “Will you trust me?”

Basira stared at him for one long beat, then two, before grimacing. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Do I usually make you regret it?”

“Literally, every single time,” Basira said.

“Then it’s a pretty stupid decision to trust me again,” Jon pointed out. “You don’t seem the type to make stupid decisions.”

Basira stared at him for a long moment, before leaving the car.

Jon and Agnes silently watched her leave, before glancing at each other.

“And I thought you ran from your feelings,” Agnes said finally, before following her.

Jon, left with nothing else to do, followed Agnes.

10 Downing Street, Jon quickly found, was just like every other pretentious old British home. With lots of grandiose rooms with furniture shoved into corners so everybody could appreciate the gold-plated tile, or sitting rooms with the most uncomfortable places to sit Jon had ever seen. Each wall hosted gigantic portraits of famous British figures, who were all so ugly that Agnes incinerated one for fun. Jon respected her choices: he had been wearing a stupid wig.

Jon, unfortunately instinctively aware of the layout and history of this sordid place, led them through the halls. He opened his mouth, instinctively about to funnel a Statement regarding the decades of human suffering and imperialism, before forcing his mouth closed. Basira wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, the Statements had been easier to ignore lately - like curious dogs nosing at his hands rather than insistent children demanding to be fed.

Instead, he settled on casually updating them on the choice of location. “A year ago, this location wouldn’t have been safe for Basira at all. This building was a nightmare pit of despair.” He led them up the ridiculous flights of stairs watching carefully as Agnes jumped up them. Trick steps, you know. Basira proceeded far more cautiously. “It’s...no less a nightmare pit, but like the rest of London it’s now safe to navigate. I’d keep clear of the residential rooms, however. The Prime Minister and his family haven’t escaped their nightmares since the apocalypse, and they never will.”

Basira’s eyebrows skyrocketed up. “David Cameron’s stuck in hell? No surprise there. What’s he having a nightmare about?”

“Well, there’s this pig, right, and you’ll never guess what he’s doing -”

“Never mind,” Basira said quickly. “Not interested.”

“I’m interested,” Agnes said.

“I’d rather you weren’t.”

Jon, who also wished he didn’t know this information, quickly directed them towards the conference room.

But he found himself stopping in front of the intricately carved oak double doors. The wrought golden handles were grimy and dull with dust, but Agnes and Basira did not hesitate to open the door and walk in. They didn’t hesitate; they weren’t frightened. Or, if they were, they didn’t let it stop them.

But Jon stopped. He felt like Annabelle, in that moment. Annabelle, standing in front of that conference room door so long ago, unable to admit that she felt any fear at all.

She had been desperate. Jon saw that now. Only a desperate person would have ever concocted that plan against Jon. He was the sole person capable of murder in this world, and the sole person who was so vindictive and petty that he would kill anybody who said something that he didn’t like.

Annabelle was arrogant. She thought herself the most intelligent person in every room. She was petty, manipulative, and power-hungry. She thought that the world was so broken that somebody had to fix it, and that she was the only one who could. She was desperate.

Jon didn’t particularly want to do this. But Jon really, really had to grow up.

Jon opened the door.

It was a far cry from the nice, professional conference room in City Hall. The floor was some ugly light brown hardwood color, and the walls were tudor-like and panelled. Old man ribboned curtains, an intricate rug woven from human rights abuses, and a claw-foot long conference table with an array of chairs made up an incredibly ‘antique’ room. The British found ‘antique’ and ‘wealth signalling’ to be the same thing. It made for some very ugly buildings and very uncomfortable chairs.

Nobody else had entered yet. Jon checked the time with his extradimensional psychic powers and realized that Sasha had hustled them out the door fifteen minutes earlier than necessary. She was so intelligent.

Agnes was already moving to her uncomfortable seat, and Jon tapped Basira on the arm and silently pointed to the seat with the ‘EXTINCTION’ placard. She raised an eyebrow at him, but followed his direction. Maybe that was what her trust looked like.

There was a placard stamped ‘BEHOLDING’ in big letters. Gone unoccupied since the last time Jon had been here.

He ignored it, and sat down at the head of the table. Likely where Annabelle usually sat, as director of the meetings. Historically, where the leader of Britain had once sat and directed the affairs of the country.

Jon kicked up his heels on the polished antique wood, pulling up an episode of The Twilight Zone in his brain. He identified with Rod Serling.

The other Avatars filtered in, one by one. All of their eyes widened when they saw Jon, but none of them said anything. Jon wondered what had filtered through the Avatar grapevine. They always knew all of the gossip on each other. It was impossible to miss the Earth’s paradigm shift, and Agnes mentioned that they had convened an emergency meeting on it. Doubtlessly, his name had come up. They likely knew he was the instigator. Who else could?

Annabelle was the fourth in, as fashionably on time as usual. She was the only one who stopped in her tracks when she saw Jon. A surprise, to a woman unused to surprises. Jon’s house didn’t have insect problems.

Her eyes widened. Her jaw clenched. That was all it took. And Jon Knew, in the way that he Knew things, that she was wondering if this was when he finally killed her.

She didn’t know why she was still alive. It was stressing her out. It was a move that made no sense - an unforeseen reaction. Jon was predictable. When Jon wasn’t predictable, and when Jon’s actions weren’t being very precisely controlled, then she was left with a vindictive and irreverent steam train on her hands. She hadn’t predicted his presence here.

Jon was also sitting in her chair. Scuffing the wood. Leaning back in the chair, and definitely scuffing the floor too.

He pointed to the chair at his right, with a placard that now read ‘WEB’. Annabelle sat down in it. Everybody noticed.

Everybody also noticed Basira. She was receiving some glares, or some pointedly unwelcome expressions. But Basira’s glares and unwelcome expressions were more powerful than any demon could ever offer, and one by one each Avatar looked away in shame.

Only Oliver actually talked to him. Which made sense, as Oliver feared neither life nor death. When he walked in he was just as surprised to see Jon as everyone else, but he offered Jon a smile too. Jon smiled back, which made several of the other Avatars lean back.

“Hey, Archivist. I thought you hated these things.”

“I do!” Jon said cheerfully. “I wasn’t even invited.”

Annabelle busied herself with her notes and agenda.

As usual, Helen didn’t show up. Jon waited patiently for everybody to filter in. Sarah Baldwin didn’t show up either, and Jon searched for the information before realizing that he really didn’t want to know. He saw some other new faces, as well as some faintly familiar ones. It wasn’t that strange: no position of absolute power was forever. Where was that bloke Wakely?

Wait. He was the Avatar who had talked for too long about burying people alive at a party in a ridiculous skyscraper. He had upset Daisy. Jon had seen red and lost his temper. Jon had...tossed him over the side of the roof. Let him keep falling. Left him to waste away. He was probably gone now.

The entire room had been at that party. Whoops.

Now uncomfortably reminded that Jon had murdered two people at this table, that everybody was aware of that, and that Jon had completely forgotten about one of the semi-accidental murders because, in Sasha’s words, he was “a bit of a psychopath, what the hell”.

This distressed her, because apparently Jonathan Sims had always been a “sensitive boy” with a “tender heart”. Daisy had said that he was still a sensitive boy, just prone to power-tripping. Sasha said that this was also very consistent behavior. Martin said -

Martin said that Jonathan Sims had been a good person. And, more importantly, that Jonathan Sims had wanted to be a good person. That was one thing that Jon didn’t want to change.

Who just buried people alive -

Jon waited until everyone was settled down. Nobody was chatting or talking to each other: just sitting silently, avoiding eye contact.

He could see Annabelle preparing herself to say something. Better get this ball rolling, then.

“Jonah Magnus is dead.”

The silence suddenly became oppressive.

Jon didn’t stop to savor the looks on their faces. That wasn’t the point. Enjoying this wasn’t the point. Jon had all the power he wanted and - and he didn’t want it at all. He hoped that nobody here would make him have to prove it.

Jon did not want to melt anyone. He wasn’t going to melt anyone. Life had started feeling a little valuable lately. These people, the soulless demons surrounding him, weren’t any different than he was. Humans with delusions of grandeur. Infighting and power plays weren’t going to fix it.

But Annabelle had been right, as she always was. Jon couldn’t keep ignoring this. If he could do something, he had to. Even if it was something he didn’t like doing.

Or something he hated that he enjoyed doing.

“Jonah Magnus is dead,” Jon repeated pleasantly. “The world has changed. These two events are related, of course.”

He didn’t elaborate. Jon didn’t lie, but he didn’t have to say everything.

“The chains which bind this Earth have loosened,” Jon continued. He folded his hands over his stomach, relaxed and casual. “We now exist in the third age of life. I ask that you do not resist.

“The seasons have begun to change, our eternal placid summer ripening into fall and sinking into winter. Our world turns yet again. Babies are born, grow old, and die. The apocalypse as we’ve always known was rooted in its stagnancy. Life and growth has bloomed, and will continue to subsist. Change is once again thriving, and we must adapt with it.

“You’ve noticed that your power has weakened. You will have to fight harder than ever to maintain your food supplies. What was once a conquest is now a battleground. The playing field is far from even, but the enemy and harvest now have a fighting chance.” Jon smiled brightly. “Of course, I’m sure that this was all discussed during your emergency meeting. Great job with your repeated warfare attempts against humanity during the last six months, by the way. How’s that working out for us?”

Silence loomed. Of course, their repeated attempts to quash the new human uprising had not gone very well. At the end of the day, for every one Avatar there were thousands of humans.

“You are no longer strong enough to allow these divides into factions,” Jon continued. “We must present a united front if we’re going to maintain the ground we have. We can’t continue on the way we have. And I’ve realized…” Jon glanced at Annabelle, catching her eye. “I’ve realized that I haven’t been helping the situation. There’s more I can do. That’s why Annabelle has handed over moderation of these meetings to me.”

Nobody looked impressed.

He could see it: the way Jon had become an unpredictable, dangerous nuisance towards them. Almost everyone in this room would be much happier if Jon dropped dead. Nobody had really liked him because nobody had ever felt safe around him. Only Annabelle and Oliver - the person who had nothing to fear from him and the other person who did not feel fear - called themselves his friends.

But they would have preferred it if Jon was hostile or dangerous. If he had even admitted his power. But Jon play-acted at harmlessness, unwilling and afraid to make enemies, and in that way he became a nuisance rather than an enemy. He couldn’t even pretend that it wasn’t on purpose. No matter how many Avatars brushed him off or ignored him, it was better than feeling their eyes on him. Or feeling the fear rich on their tongues.

“Also I invited a human to work with us on human affairs,” Jon said cheerfully. “Diversity hire! Any questions?”

There were a lot of questions. Basira didn’t look very pleased at his remark, either.

Simon leaned forward first, pale and watery eyes intent for the first time. “What happened to Jonah Magnus?”

“Natural causes,” Jon said cheerfully. “Next?”

“What does this mean for us?” the Lukas matriarch said. Her eyes skittered away from him. “Are we in danger?”

Jon shrugged. “Only if you’re incompetent at feeding.”

“What caused this?” Manuela demanded. “The children are running wild, we can’t control them. We’ve lost a major food source.”

Jon scratched his temples. “What caused it...sustainability efforts.” He sobered abruptly. “You could never control the children, anyway. This is the generation of the apocalypse. You’ll find that very little frightens them now.”

“Does this have to do with those humans you’ve been running around with?” Jared asked, scratching his chin as Manuela’s expression contorted in rage.

As usual, a frighteningly insightful observation from such a brute. “It is actually directly their fault!”

Everybody turned to look at Basira, who was completely unapologetic. She crossed her arms. “Don’t ask me. First I’m hearing about this too.”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?” Oliver asked, morbidly fascinated. “How?”

“We humans didn’t kill him. We showed up at the Panopticon to kill him, only to find Jon there and Jonah Magnus already dead.” Basira scowled as Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Jon subtly shook his head. Annabelle’s lips thinned. “It looked like he’d been dead for years.”

An unfamiliar young man with a thick mop of clumped black hair peered at Jon, expression contorted in grotesque interest. He was one of the Avatars who had been born in the Apocalypse, who were all recognizably weird. His name was - right, Geoff Anjou. Some French man who had made his mark in the Parisian Underground before moving to London and conquering his next terrain. A Parisian to the bone - or, a great deal of bones, as the case may be. So many bones. Jon had always meant to take Daisy to that wonderful little nightmare and let her run loose. Chase people through the tunnels. Munch bones. Perfect vacation.

“So did the Archivist kill him?” Geoff asked, in the same way you would ask who won the World Cup. “Steal his Watcher’s Crown or whatever?”

“Are you the new queen bee?” a young woman asked Jon. The new Slaughter Avatar, Henrietta Something-or-another. A Cambridge legacy college student, Annabelle had intoned, and Jon had been afraid to inquire further. She was cyberbullying someone on her mobile, which seemed to be bleeding. “Cuz, like, you don’t seem qualified.”

“I did not kill Jonah Magnus,” Jon said, for the five hundreth time in the last six months. “And I’m uninterested in filling his shoes. That’s enough questions, I think.”

“Are you as weakened as the rest of us?” Amherst demanded. “Surely this destruction has affected you worst of all.”

“He probably ate Jonah Magnus,” Henrietta said. “The Archivist’s probably god now.”

Geoff snorted. “No way. He brought a human as back-up.”

“Why is there a human?” Another woman asked, with long brown hair and a broad face. Something about her was unquestionably severe, from her bulging muscles to her incredible height. Jon had never seen her before in his life. Her name was Julia Montauk. Something about her stank of life and undeath, same as Amherst. “We can’t exactly work with the prey, here.”

“I’m proposing an emergency motion,” Amherst said suddenly, shutting up the rapidly overlapping voices. “I vote that a leader is elected democratically. And that representatives are limited towards loyal patrons of the Forces.”

“I second that motion,” Geoff said immediately. “We can’t afford a chaotic uprising in our government right now -”

“This really isn’t a vote,” Jon said.

“Isn’t this a democracy?” Henrietta asked, with the self-righteous assurance of a twenty year old. “We vote on things in a democracy. And leaders.”

“Annabelle was voted in last spring,” Julia agreed. “No reason to change things.”

Well. Basira said that she trusted him. He’d have to rely on that.

Jon pressed down.

It felt just like that: pressing down. Reaching out a hand and squashing. Sometimes it was like ripping someone into shreds, and other times it was like plunging your hand into their chest and ripping out their heart. But this was just a press: a heavy static, bearing down over your shoulders like a ten ton weight. A sight so horrible that it was too eldritch to even look at. The realization that the hideous sight was you, and that it was all you would ever be.

Some - Geoff, Amherst - gasped, as if they were choking. Others - Lukas, Henrietta - gasped at their hearts, as if they were having heart attacks. Jon carefully kept it off Oliver, Annabelle, Basira, and Agnes. He couldn’t help but remember what she had said a few weeks ago, about being so frightened -

But Basira winced anyway, clutching her temples, and Jon carefully released the static until the inhabitants of the room could breathe again. His eyes did not stop glowing, and Jon didn’t bother to turn off the light show.

Jon put his feet down on the floor and rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward. As everyone shuddered and gasped, he spoke slowly and pointedly. “This is not a democracy. It never was. It is a monarchy, and the line of succession is clear.”

Annabelle’s eyes widened, and she abruptly clenched her fists before loosening them. An uncharacteristic show of emotion from her.

“This coalition has never been a democracy,” Jon said severely. “This is a house of lords. You are uninterested in representing any needs but your own, and I know Jared failed level eight government, but I’m sure all of you know that democracy represents elected officials. Nobody here has ever lived in a true democracy, and in your human fallibility you have recreated the only system you have ever known. The seats at this table are determined by power - all of you, the most powerful conduits for your Entity. I am the inevitable consequence of this system. I am your natural disaster. All of you bought me. Now you have me. And you are no longer powerful enough to make me leave.”

Agnes’ hand was covering her mouth. Jon dearly hoped Basira was holding onto that trust. He dearly hoped that he wasn’t speaking from anger.

But he couldn’t stop. It boiled and bubbled. It was an anger and a powerlessness that had subjugated him for thirty two years of his life. It had served as the cloud hanging over his head for three more.

“If you want someone to blame for the Archivist who now moderates this meeting,” Jon said, his voice the thin lid over this boiling pot of hurt and anger, “I now know their names. Jonah Magnus. Jude Perry. Nikola Orsinov. Twice. Breekon and Hope’s coffin. Peter Lukas. Jane Prentiss. Maxwell Raynor. A strategic book.” Jon tilted his head, having effectively made his point. There were others, but he had forgiven Daisy and Melanie a long time ago. And Jared had been polite about it. “Bring up your complaints with them. Good luck with that.”

Jon clapped his hands, closing the lid on those memories. Maybe one day the pain would leech from them like a sun-bleached painting, but that day hadn’t come yet. “Now! If you have any further complaints about my position here, or if you want to continue debating political theory, feel free to stand up and tell me so. We’re all interested in you regurgitating your life story until you die. Anyone?” Crickets. Jon leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. “Can we go onto the motions now? Ms. Hussain first, then clockwise from her.”

As if they had planned this, with the air of a well-choreographed actress, Basira stood up and spread out her papers in front of her. “The human contingency requests neutral zones in essential areas. Maternal wards in hospitals are highly vulnerable locations, and when assaulted by parasites the mortality rate of children is very high. If you want a self-replenishing food source, you have to allocate space for safe living. The next essential zone is a daycare and a school for children -”

And she was off. Jon had nothing to say, nor was anything necessary. Raging debate sparked after she finished speaking, and Basira effectively crushed the opposition. Agnes spoke up in her defense, and to Jon’s surprise even Manuela contributed a solid understanding of the necessity of children. When the debate started spiraling in an unhelpful direction Jon cut in and shut it down, before forcing the vote.

It did not pass, obviously.

“By the way,” Jon said. “Ms. Hussain proposed five different motions today. At least two of them have to pass. This debate is about picking which two you want.”

Then that started up all over again, and Jon tried not to fall asleep.

Moderating was hard. He actually had to pay attention and focus, and he hated focusing. He was effective enough at shutting down conversations, but sometimes shutting down conversations wasn’t helpful - he just needed to steer them in a more productive conversation. And Agnes’ political theory and Basira’s almost-definitely-made-up statistics started flying so thick and fast above his head that Jon was starting to almost completely lose the plot.

Jon chose his moment as the Lukas woman was complaining extensively about how Henrietta’s digital bullying was intruding upon the Loneliness of her adherents. Henrietta had argued that social media made people more lonely. Jon was afraid that Henrietta was his fault. Maybe the Eye’s fault, holistically. Jared wanted to be friends with Henrietta and co-host Instagram events, which Jon enthusiastically supported despite Basira’s glares.

He leaned over to his right, gesturing slightly at Annabelle so she would lean in closer. She raised an eyebrow at him. Annabelle’s eyebrows were crushing.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jon whispered to her, as quietly as possible.

Annabelle mouthed very clearly at him, ‘Wow, really? Shock!’.

“I was making a point,” Jon hissed. “An important point. But I don’t - I still -” Jon faltered, uncertain, as Henrietta began sneering something about Lukas’ hairdo. Finally, he weakly said, “You care. They need you.”

Annabelle stared at him for a long, silent moment, before turning away from him.

For the first time that day, she spoke to the room. “Let’s keep ad hominem attacks out of this,” she said sharply. “Madame Lukas, if you’ll make your closing remarks we can bring this to a vote.”

She really was good at it. Just like she had always wanted. She had never directly admitted it, but Annabelle had always wanted to be the kind of person in rooms like this.

A politician sitting in an uncomfortable chair at 10 Downing Street. Rich, successful, important. Powerful and respected. Back then, she had wanted to be famous. Now, she was content to be controlling famous people. A dream out of her reach in life; laughably attainable in this stagnant after-afterlife.

The dream had crippled her. In her search for a functional world, one that achieved and grew and provided a comfortable world, she had ended up recreating a world that hadn’t been functional at all. A world that was slow to change, and seemingly impossible to improve. A world passed down from the hands of the greedy and bloodthirsty into the hands of the uncaring and apathetic.

The apocalypse had been inevitable. Humans driving themselves to extinction. And Avatars, possessed of human weakness, had been eager to do the same. Just a pathetic room of sour and bitter people power-tripping.

For all that Sasha calls us bougie, Jon thought, we’re such deeply unhappy people.

There had once been a young man, desperate for attention and acknowledgement. Dreaming of importance. He would stay up late at night, planning out his life as a famous researcher and well-respected philosopher. Everyone would tell him how smart he was. He would prove it all - with a scholarship to Oxford, with a sneer and a haughty air, with a boss who said that he had so much promise, here’s a job that will let you realize your potential.

I deserve this job -

Something in Jon’s mind flared, a hot poker rammed behind his eye sockets. Jon hissed, one hand reaching unconsciously to his temple, and Annabelle glanced at him in alarm. She had - Jon had been thinking about her, and - what had he been -

Together, they managed to wrangle the meeting into something half-way productive. Most importantly, Basira had gotten three of her proposals passed, and Agnes’ arguments were stirring the other Avatars into serious discussion. Conversation itself would be stilted by his sheer presence, and they weren’t quite all working together yet, but they would.

It was really all the same to Jon if the Avatars or humans won the war. He should care a bit more than he did, so he didn’t vocalize this to the others. But this conflict sparked life, a strange and frantic energy. Experiences and growth. That was what Jon had always fed on.

It seemed that Jon’s skill at prioritizing himself over all others was as sharp as ever.

Eventually the two hours wrapped up, and the other Avatars were eager to leave. Jon waved them off cheerily.

“Meeting adjourned. Try not to do anything stupid until next time. And if any of you break the boundaries of the human safe zones, I’ll know! Annabelle, will you stay behind?”

The others filtered out quickly, uncharacteristically unwilling to see whatever carnage would be wrought. Agnes and Basira lingered.

“That went so well!” Agnes shouted, the minute the last Avatar left. The room was now empty save for Agnes, Basira, Annabelle, and - Oliver, who was leaning against the doorframe. “I can’t believe you actually did something useful!”

“Ouch,” Oliver said.

It was fair, though. Jon smiled weakly at her. “Hopefully I can help out a little more often going forward. But I’m not going to give any favoritism to you, Agnes. I’ll intervene to give humans a fair shot, but I really don’t want to be...king of a ruined world or whatever.”

“I know,” Agnes said firmly. She reached out and squeezed his arm, round and gentle face creased in determination. “You’d be terrible at it. So just be you, okay?”

Jon saluted her, before gesturing to the door. “Will you steal a historical British artifact from this garbage building for me? Daisy needs more targets to shoot.”

Agnes nodded eagerly and ran off. Jon silently hoped Basira would follow her, if also out of interest for also seeing British things destroyed, but she just looked at Jon intensely instead. Not quite a glare - just a searching, intense look, as if she was finding her own Statement from deep within him. It had always been disconcerting. Jon was still convinced she hated him.

“It’s not as if I knew you very well before we rescued you from the Panopticon,” Basira said crisply, pressing a folder to her chest, “but you’ve changed. What happened? What did Annabelle have to do with it?”

Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Oliver lifted an eyebrow.

“Basira -”

“Don’t ask me to trust you.”

“I didn’t betray that,” Jon asked, “did I?”

Her expression didn’t soften. “You didn’t. We’re going to continue needing your help. But an ally with inscrutable motivations who does everything on a whim is a bad ally to have.”

“I’m trying, Basira,” Jon said, impossibly exhausted and just a little disappointed. “Please be patient.”

“I’ve been patient for three years,” Basira said, before forcibly cutting herself short from whatever emotion she was about to display. “What happened?”

A phantom pain pieced Jon’s arms, like chains threaded through bone. Jon fought the urge to wince, unconsciously reaching up to rub at a spot on his forearm. Everyone noticed. “It’s...family business…”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?”

“Jonah Magnus killed me,” Jon snapped, far louder than he intended, “so he would have deserved it, wouldn’t he!”

He felt a little lightheaded, more than he intended. It felt like a hand was clenching inside his chest, more than he wanted. No, Basira is fragile, you can’t just - no, Agnes is a kid, Daisy said that we can’t -

“Basira Hussain,” Annabelle said, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes serious and intent. Jon started, surprised to hear her speak again. “You should go catch up with Agnes.”

Basira stared at Annabelle for a long moment, lips thin, before she abruptly whirled on her heel and stalked out. Jon watched her go, exhausted. He waited for her heels to click down the hall, far away enough that he knew she wasn’t eavesdropping, before groaning and dropping his head down onto his desk.

“They hate me.”

“They’re scared of you,” Annabelle pointed out. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Frankly, Basira could stand to be a little more afraid of you. She’s going to get herself in trouble one of these days.”

“She’s practically my sister in law, I’m not going to hurt her,” Jon snapped. “Your stupid plan relied on me never hurting people I love.”

“Sorry,” Oliver said pleasantly, “is anyone ever going to tell me what’s going on? I feel like an NPC in Jon’s Dungeons & Dragons game.”

“You want to be an NPC, I found you working at Taco Bell.” God, whatever. Jon could tell Oliver. He wouldn’t give a shit. Jon sighed, lifting his head to twist around and look at Oliver instead. “You remember when I was asking around after Sasha James? Annabelle had put me up to it.”

“Obviously. And then Sasha James started following you around? You terrorized Annabelle’s party again?”

“Yeah, it was this whole big thing.” Jon waved a hand expressively. “Anyway, then Annabelle tried to trap me in an eternal limbo that would shred me from inside out so I could act as purveyor of the world, and probably also use her connection with me so she could take over affairs here, and probably either nudge me into shaping the world back into order or into sinking it deeper into hell. I broke out and now I’m mad at her.”

“I had at least twenty other reasons,” Annabelle said, “but that’s the gist.”

Oliver stared at them.

They all sat in awkward silence. Jon found himself winding a finger around a stray coil of hair and letting it spring back into place. He had kept it the same the last three years, never bothering to change the style. A loose and bouncy cloud of hair, sometimes brushing against his shoulders until Annabelle kidnapped him to cut it again - him, as much as the trenchcoat was. So much as anything had ever been ‘him’.

“Well,” Oliver said diplomatically, “I see that you skipped a lot of steps there. So why are you here, then?”

Was it just to spite Annabelle? Screw her out of her work? Did Jon genuinely care? Did he want to organize the other Avatars, get them mobilized and going? Did he want to protect the humans?

Did he really only care about himself, and the people he called his friends and family? Did he really only care about himself, and those he possessed?

“There’s a person I want to be,” Jon said quietly, “but I don’t know how to be him.”

Annabelle stared at him, with dark and glittering eyes, expression as implacable as always. For a sudden, stupid, intense moment, Jon wanted to know if she cared about him. If one of the few people who had always helped him, who was always in his corner, had seen him as anything more than a tool.

Like Basira, who didn’t like him as a person, but found him too valuable to alienate. But Basira was - she was deeply good, if not always kind, and Jon had the sense that she had fought to turn herself into that good person. It was something she chose. She was trying to push Jon into making that same choice.

Jon clenched his hands in his lap, his fingernails digging into his palm. “There’s people I respect, and who I want to respect me. This person I want to be...I’m worried that I only want this because that’s what they want. They’ll deny it, but they want my power. Everybody just makes me into whoever they want. Whatever’s useful to them.” Jon’s gaze snapped to Annabelle, and he fought hard to keep the compulsion from his voice. It was difficult, when he wanted to know so badly, but - “The kind of person I used to be. That person I’m ashamed of. Is that the person who was useful to you?”

He didn’t want to force the answer from her. He wanted her to choose to say it.

Annabelle didn’t react. She didn’t show anything on her face. Much less what Jon wanted from her. She just tilted her head, one of the few unafraid to meet his eyes. “I never made you be anyone, Jon. All I ever did was put you in the right place at the right time.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Jon said, and this time he couldn’t help the static creeping into his voice. “Answer me.”

Annabelle sighed. “Of course it was useful. Is that what you wanted me to voluntarily say, Jon? I didn’t bring you to the first meeting because I thought it would be educational for you. I needed your power to keep the others in line. I needed everyone else to see that I controlled your power. That’s the only reason why any of this worked. We both got something out of it. Don’t pretend that you weren’t happy with the arrangement.”

It...it wasn’t a surprise, but…

“So that’s why you didn’t bring him to any of the other meetings,” Oliver mused. “He wasn’t as controllable as you liked, not when there’s more than ten other idiots around needling him. There’s never been anybody who can always predict when Jon’s going to lose his shit. Besides the biggie, I guess.”

The biggie, which was his past.

No wonder he had stayed so childlike, innocent, and cruel for so long. Jon took responsibility for his own laziness, but - but he had been most useful that way. Annabelle had liked him best that way.

Daisy had liked him best that way too. That cruel child - Daisy had wanted him, because he made her feel needed. Annabelle was just the same.

Everyone had liked him best that way. And if Jon became the kind of person who he wanted to be, nobody would like him at all.

“If you’re going to kill me,” Annabelle said, exhaustion seeping in through her voice, “just do it.”

Jon closed his eyes. He could feel it - Annabelle’s exhaustion, the way that she had just been waiting for him to do this. Everything she knew about Jon led towards an obvious course of action. Even though you nobody knew everything that set Jon off, certain things were pretty guaranteed that he wouldn’t forgive.

Annabelle had never accounted for Sasha. She had brought Sasha into his life, and she had no idea the effect she would have on it. Sasha, who had been the first to tell Jon that she chose to care about him for him. For a brief, hot flash, Jon was jealous. He wanted to be someone unpredictably kind.

If he only wanted that because he had found yet another person to give his wind-up key, then…

“You won, Annabelle,” Jon said finally, and he only knew it as he said it. “Congratulations. You played the perfect manipulation. You took a vulnerable, afraid man, who had been violated in the worst possible way and left to die.” He stood up, already uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “And you arranged him so that he loved you. I chose to love you. I’m making the choice never to hurt you, because I still love you. ”

He left the room. Oliver stood aside just in time, letting Jon brush by.

As Jon met up with Agnes and Basira, summoning a smile and a wave for them, he felt uncomfortably as if he had grown up.

He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #tma fanfic #jonathan sims #annabelle cane #oliver banks #basira hussain #agnes montague #and a ton more #tcf was about deciding to change #and this story kind of hits at how difficult it is deciding who to change into #and how difficult it is to trust your own decisions when you've been manipulated since the second you were 'born'#jon and his choices and agency is becoming a big thing for me!

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datleggy · 3 years

Text

Post-demise At Hand

TW: mentions of past OD, past drug use, off screen death of character (Alex), grief, anger, misunderstandings

TK isn’t sure how to react to the news, if he’s being completely honest with himself.

He learns about the death of his ex through a post on Instagram via an old mutual friend of theirs that he hasn’t been in contact with since even before he packed up his life and moved to Texas. It’s hashtagged: #RIP #gonetoosoon and TK almost laughs out loud like some kind of maniac, because is that all Alex's life amounted to in the end?

Two half-assed hashtags and a badly edited picture of Alex smirking at the person who took the stupid photograph in the first place. TK remembers that day; Alex had finally passed his drivers test and gotten his license. He remembers telling Alex to smile, remembers his ex boyfriend turning to him, rolling his eyes, saying something like “Why did I bother with this again? We live in New York.” except TK can’t remember what he said to Alex to be on the receiving end of that knowing little smirk.

The one he can’t stop staring at now.

“Earth to TK!”

TK almost drops his phone onto the floor, blinking up at the person waving their hand in his face. “Huh?”

Judd gives him a curious look. “Been calling you for like a straight minute, kid, you doin’ alright?”

TK nods. “Yeah, sorry, yeah, I’m good, I was reading an article, I uh, got distracted.” he shakes his head. “What’s up?”

“Your boyfriend’s downstairs lookin’ for you--” Judd tries not so subtly to peek at whatever it is that’s got TK so enraptured and catches a glimpse of a familiar face, one that gives him pause.

He frowns. “TK, what the hell? Stalking your ex, seriously?” he blurts the accusation outloud without thinking, which is of course the very moment Carlos and Paul come gallivanting up the stairs, their laughter at something one of them said dying out abruptly.

Paul’s eyes dart between the two men and he clears his throat awkwardly before motioning for Judd to skedaddle with him. Judd, who couldn’t take a hint if it hit him on the side of the head like a tire iron, simply folds his arms across his chest expectantly. “Well? Your fella’s right over there, so what’re you doing all up in your ex boyfriends business?”

Paul sighs. Jesus. “Judd. Maybe we should give them some privacy?” Carlos is scarily silent next to him and Paul just knows shit’s about to hit the fan, and he’d rather be far far away when it does happen.

Carlos swallows hard, wipes his hands against his uniform pants, and says, “It’s fine. I’ll um, I’ll see you at home.” before turning around and going back the way he came.

“Man.” Paul stares at TK, who hasn’t uttered a single word as of yet. “You’re not gonna go follow after him?”

Judd scoffs. “And do what? Tell him it’s not what it looks like?”

TK blinks rapidly a few times, as if coming out of a daze. “I--” His eyes go wide when he realizes what’s happened. “Shit.” he runs over to the edge of the railing to call for Carlos, but his boyfriend apparently bolted, because he’s nowhere to be seen.

Judd whistles loudly behind him, arms still crossed disapprovingly. “Carlos is a good catch, TK, shouldn’t be messin’ around with him if you’re not--”

TK whirls around to face him, the look on his face mutinous. “I wasn’t stalking my ex on Instagram Judd! Get your head outta your ass and outta my business!”

Judd takes a step forward and Paul can see where this is headed; he immediately gets in between the two men, arms raised. “Hey! Enough! You two need to relax.”

Judd huffs. “I’m not the one tryna step out on my--”

“Alex is dead.” Saying it outloud is surreal.

Alex is dead.

What the fuck.

Paul and Judd both give pause.

“What?”

TK sighs, aggravated, and shows them the post he’d been caught looking at earlier.

“TK...” Paul gulps. “I’m sorry man.”

TK nods but doesn’t utter a word.

Judd cringes. “Crap, I--” He wants to smack his head against the palm of his hand as hard as he can. “I’m such a heel, Jesus TK, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed--I’m so sorry.”

TK leans his back against the railing and this time it’s his turn to cross his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well...tell that to Carlos.”

“TK I’ll call him right now and tell him I misunderstood, I swear--”

TK interrupts him again with a shake of his head. “No, no, it’s better if I just explain it myself.” he looks up at Judd through long lashes and manages a half hearted grin. “I guess I should be happy you respect my boyfriend enough to snitch on my ass?”

Judd knows TK’s throwing him a bone, but still, he doesn’t feel he can take it. “I do,” he admits. “But that don’t mean I should’ve went ahead and assumed the worst. You deserve better than that and for that I’m especially sorry.” The whole thing with his own father in law stepping out on his Grace’s mother is still messing around with his head, but that was no excuse to think the worst of TK, of all people.

But TK tells him not to sweat it, he’ll call Carlos and tell him everything, no big, really. And then he asks the two men not to mention anything about any of this to the Captain or to any of the rest of the team, if it can be helped.

Paul frowns. “TK, it’s not good to try and go through these types of things alone, you know.”

TK shakes his head. “I’m not trying to, really. I just,” he shrugs, looking a little like a lost lamb. “I don’t really know how I feel about it yet? So I’d rather not deal with everybody’s sympathies right now, if that’s ok.”

**********************

He calls Carlos but gets sent straight to voicemail every single time and when that doesn’t work he texts him that whatever he thought was going on, there was nothing to worry about, that he would explain if Carlos would just pick up his damn phone.

Work gets progressively busier after that and TK barely has time to catch his breath, much less to try and get into contact with his boyfriend, and so it’s not until the very end of his shift, hours later, that he’s able to rush home--that is, he thinks sullenly, if Carlos hasn’t changed all the locks on him.

TK shakes his head; Carlos wouldn’t do that. He’s probably stewing though, and that thought doesn’t make TK feel any better as he steps past the threshold and inside. He’s had such a long and tiring day he hasn’t even had time to properly process what’s happened to Alex.

Carlos has cooked dinner, if the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen is any indication. He’s at the table eating alone with the TV on in the other room for background noise, and he doesn’t even look up to greet TK, only motions towards the stovetop vaguely. “Help yourself.” he mutters.

TK ignores the food and takes a seat right across from Carlos, leans over the table with a grimace. “Babe, I swear to you it’s not like that. Judd misunderstood what happened--”

Carlos sets his fork down with a clatter that startles TK into jumping slightly. “Look, I get it, moving in is a huge commitment, it’s scary, I know, but I didn’t think you would--”

“Please,” TK stops him. “Please let me just explain, please.” he hastily takes his phone out of his back pocket and opens the app. He can hear Carlos sigh above him but it doesn’t deter TK from finding the post and holding it up to his face. “This is what Judd saw me looking at.”

Carlos reluctantly lays eyes on the photo, his irritation and hurt only peeking when he sees that it’s a photo of TK’s almost fiance. That is, of course, until he reads the caption, notices the hashtags below, and suddenly it all makes sense. He doesn’t know quite what to say, except: “Oh.”

TK nods. “Caught me by surprise. I um, I haven’t heard from him since, well, you know. So I didn’t really know how to react when I found out and then Judd came up behind me and I mean, you know the rest of the story…”

“Oh.” Carlos says again, because he’s still trying to process the news.

“Yeah.” TK shrinks back in his chair and the wounded look of him finally snaps Carlos out of it.

“Crap,” Carlos groans. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He gets up and rounds the table, kneeling down in front of TK. “I was hurt and I ran off without letting you even get a word in, that was messed up and I’m sorry. Are you ok?” He makes a face at his own question, because of course TK isn’t ok. The man he’d proposed marriage to a little over a year ago now has passed, after all.

There’s no way he’s ‘ok’.

“I uh, I don’t know.” TK admits quietly.

Carlos puts a hand on his knee and squeezes gently. “It’s ok to be sad, Ty.”

TK shakes his head. “It’s--I’m not. I’m not sad. I think? I mean...it’s not like we were on friendly terms, you know? I’m more surprised I guess, than anything else. He was still so young.”

Carlos nods solemnly. “How did it happen, do you know?”

TK clears his throat and scratches at the back of his head. “The obituary I found online said it was some kind of car accident near PA. I didn’t really find out any more details than that, though. The funeral was earlier this afternoon.”

Carlos blinks. “Oh. None of your friends from New York said anything? Before today?” The fact that TK had to find out through Instagram is probably half the reason his boyfriend is finding it so hard to react properly to the tragic news.

“I didn’t really bother to keep in contact with a lot of our friends when I left, to be honest. And plus, they were all Alexs’ friends before becoming mine. So he kinda had the right to keep them after the divorce...in a manner of speaking.” TK runs a hand through the greasy locks of his hair and grimaces. “Anyway, I should probably go shower, it’s been a long day and I’m kinda gross.”

Carlos nods, letting TK worm his way out of the conversation without too much fuss.

**********************

In the shower TK stands under the spray of hot water and stares blankly at the tiled wall in front of him, irritated by the jumbled thoughts plaguing him. God, he thinks, I could really use a drink right about now.

What exactly is he supposed to be feeling right now?

Grief?

Anger?

Or perhaps regret.

It’s not as though TK ever got any real closure with Alex and now he never would. After being rejected by the man and worse yet, told he’d been replaced, TK hadn’t wanted to feel any of that pain and had gone to great and dangerous lengths to make sure he was good and numb that night.

He hadn’t meant to overdose. But he’d popped a couple of pills initially, so sure that he could control himself this time, that this time it would be different. But twenty minutes later when the two little white pills had done nothing to soothe his aching heart TK thought, what’s two more? And then two more after that, and then maybe two more, and then he’d lost count, but fuck it, if he hadn’t felt better in the moment.

The pills had worked! He couldn’t feel a thing, his head was blessedly empty and suddenly this giant weight had been lifted from his chest and he could breathe again. Until he couldn’t.

The water is cold by the time TK steps out of the tub. He dries himself off and slips on a pair of boxer shorts and an old gray t-shirt.

Carlos is waiting for him in the kitchen with a full plate, reheated, and normally the smell would be appetizing, but tonight it makes TK a little sick. “You alright? You were in there a while.”

TK nods. “M’good.”

“Here, sit, you should eat something before going to bed.” he sets the plate down in front of him and TK just stares at it like it’s the first time he’s seen food in a while and he’s not quite sure what to do with it.

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry. I think I’m just gonna go to sleep. I’m tired.”

Carlos nods, his lips pursed like he wants to say something more, but instead all he says is, “Ok.”

******************

It’s nearly three in the morning when TK wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. He’s not sure how he does it, but he manages not to wake Carlos up as he sneaks out of their bed.

A few minutes later he’s outside in his sweatpants and a hoodie, mindlessly jogging along his usual route. It’s not drugs or alcohol, but running does help. He runs and runs and runs until it hurts and even then, he keeps on running. It’s not until the cramping in his stomach is too much to bare that he finally stops and lets his body rest on a park bench.

And it’s then that he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and realizes he’s got three missed calls. “Shit.” he picks up immediately, holding the phone up to his ear with a shaky hand. “Hey.”

“Where are you? TK, it’s almost five in the morning. What’s going on?” Carlos sounds frenzied on the other end of the line and TK can’t say he blames him.

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep, I went out on a run and I lost track of time. I’m headed home now, sorry. Go back to bed.”

“I can come pick you up, where are you?”

TK sighs. “Carlos, seriously, I’m within walking distance, don’t worry, I’ll be there in like fifteen minutes.” he hangs up without letting the other man get another word in, which he knows isn’t right, but can’t really find it in himself to care.

His legs feel like jello when he gets up and the trek back to their place is torturous enough to make TK regret telling Carlos not to bother getting him. By the time he makes it home he’s limping slightly and his stomach is in knots.

The door swings open before TK can even take out his keys, and Carlos is standing there at the entrance looking a mixture of concerned and annoyed.

TK rolls his eyes and ignores the look, pushing his way inside and kicking off his shoes at the door. “What?” he snaps, when Carlos won’t stop staring at him.

Carlos frowns. “Stop that.”

“Stop what? What are you talking about? I went out for a run. You’re acting like I went out to shoot up at a meth lab or something. I was gone for less than two hours!” TK half shouts, his frustration spiking up a notch.

“Stop shutting me out. I know you’re upset about what happened to Alex, but you can’t just-”

“About what happened to Alex?” TK scoffs incredulously. “Nothing happened to Alex, Carlos, he died. That’s not something that happens to someone and then they like, get the fuck over it! He died! He’s dead! Gone! Never gonna see him again, didn’t get to say bye or even fuck you to the guy, he just went ahead and died and that’s that!” TK lets out a choked little laugh that sounds more like a cry than anything and covers his face with both hands, tries his best to get his shit together and under control, but it’s no use.

It’s quiet for a long time and then TK speaks again and it's soft and agonized, “I loved him.”

And Carlos nods, takes him by the shoulders and leads him to the stairs, where they both sit down and TK buries himself into Carlos, into his safe haven, and his breath hitches loudly and Carlos says, “I know.” and TK lets out a big broken sob.

“I’m here.” Carlos assures him gently, “I’m here. It’s gonna be ok.”

#tw death #tw past drug use #911 lone star #fic #i wrote a thing and yes its 100% me projecting my own shit onto poor tk #this is the closest my none insured ass gets to therapy huh #tk #carlos #judd #paul #tarlos #long post is long #fanfiction #writing #grief

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criticizing-blogger · 3 years

Text

Dean's Promise

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning: smut in the beginning, cursing, mentions of absent father

Word count: 2229

Dean and reader meet in a bar one night and they go back to his motel room. In the morning, she finds him gone and she goes on with her life as normal till a couple weeks later when she finds out she's pregnant. With no way of getting a hold of Dean, she goes on with her life. Until a few years later when he shows back up into town.

_______________________________________

Bar glasses clinked against each other as toasts were being made. One toast was being made in the far right corner of the bar. A group of three women sat in the booth, chugging their drinks down and slamming their glasses onto the table. They had decided to celebrate (y/n) for her promotion today by getting drunk. What these three friends do best in a small town like this where nothing happens and the only entertainment is getting drunk.

The bell on the door chimed and a man walked in. He pulls on his leather jacket, fixing it as he looks around. He caught the eyes of a few ladies as he walked over to the bar. Sitting on the stool, he looked around once more catching the eyes of (y/n). She looks over at him, a flirty smile appearing on her face. The stare between them broke as her friends started pushing her out of the booth. “Girl, go!”

“Wish me luck, ladies.” she states as she smoothly slides out of the booth. The mysterious man watched her strut her way over and sit in the stool next to him. She smiled looking at his pale green eyes as the bartender came over and asked what he wanted.

“Beer,” he replied. “I want to remember this night.”

“Dean.” The man introduces himself to the woman next to him.

“(Y/n).”

Mouths slamming together, teeth clashing as (y/n)’s back harshly slams against the motel door as their hands explore each other’s clothed body. Dean's mouth leaves her and trails kisses down her neck, looking for her sweet spot. When he found it, he sucked hard causing her to let out soft moans of pleasure. She started to push him away, trying to get his attention but Dean ignored her.

“Dean.”

“Hmm?” he hums as he goes back to her soft lips.

“Dean!” she softly shouts.

He pulls away, a bit startled at her yelling.

She giggles at him before speaking, “don’t you think we should get inside before we start giving people a show?”

“Lets entertain them then,” he chuckles and goes back to sucking hickeys on her neck. She laughs pushing him a little bit away to reach into his left front pocket of his jeans for the motel room key. Her hand grabbed a hold of it and she turned to unlock the door, his arms sneaking around her waist as he kissed the exposed skin of her shoulder and back.

Once the door was open, she grabbed his hand pulling him inside. Dean slams the door shut and pushes her against, shoving his lips against hers again. She pulls at his jacket, him quickly ripping it off as she tugs on his shirt; also, taking it off. Dean rips open her shirt, the buttons to her blouse flying everywhere, her bra barely covering her breasts that were spilling over the cups. He grabs at them as she leaves hot, open kisses down the middle of her chest and towards her jeans. He unbuttons them, pulling them down to her knees.

She lifts one foot up to take off her shoe, taking off the other one after, before taking off her jeans, throwing them across the room along with her shoes. Dean grabs a hold of her hips, keeping her still against the door and kisses right above her panty line under her belly button. She bit her plump bottom lip as he slowly pulled her underwear down her legs. She could feel herself becoming wetter and wetter by the thought of him eating her out.

He pulled them off, throwing the article of clothing across the room. He slides his hands to her thighs massaging them as he pulls them apart. Dean lightly trails kisses up her inner thighs before softly kissing her clit. She lets out a quiet moan, already feeling sensitive. He smirks, looking into her eyes and licks a stripe up her pussy, causing her to moan out, surprise. He lets out a chuckle as she tugs on his short hair impatiently. All she wanted was for him to make her feel good. Make her cum till she cries from being overly sensitive. And for him to keep going.

Dean grips her hips tightly pushing her against the door to keep her from thrusting forward and starts eating her out, slowly at first. Teasing the woman till she can’t handle it. He kept slowly messing with the woman above him till she harshly tugs his hair, begging him to stop teasing. He knew she didn’t want him to be slow, but he wanted to make this last all night. He has plenty of time to make her wetter than any man has had, especially since they have all the time in the world.

“Dean, please!” she begs after several minutes of his nonstop teasing. “Stop teasing!”

He decided to listen. He ran his middle finger up and down her slit, coating the finger in her wetness before putting it in her. She starts to let out moans as he attaches his lips to her to clit suckng while thrusting his finger in and out. He still had one hand tightly gripping her hips, which may leave bruises, to keep pushed against the motel room door. Not that he didn’t mind, it’ll be one of the many reminders of this night. Dean was planning on making sure she remembered every detail of what’s to come tonight. He will make sure that the next time she sleeps with other men that she will think of tonight. How she’ll think of his hands feel roaming her body, his mouth leaving bruises in their wake, the way his body feels against hers, and he feels inside her.

(Y/n) moans got louder as Dean felt her clench around his fingers. He knew she was close so he pulled away. She lets out a whimper and looks down to glare at him. The light hit his chin showing her juices running down. She watched as a drop ran down his chin to his neck. She knew she was wet, but not that wet. That’s exactly what Dean wanted. He wiped his chin and stood wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close and capturing her in a desperate kiss.

He let her go and stepped away to pull the rest of his clothing off as she reached behind herself to unhook her bra. She stared into his green eyes as she revealed the rest of her body to him. Dean licked his lips as he reached for her, pulling her back into a short kiss before pushing her onto the bed. She leans up onto her elbows, biting her lip as she admires Dean’s chiseled body.

“Like what you see?” he smirks.

She rolled her eyes and fully lays down. “Less talking, more doing.”

“Yes. ma’am.” He leaned above her, quickly kissing her neck before lining up with her entrance. He slowly pushed in watching as her head fell back and her mouth opening wide. He lets out a gasp of breath from how tight she is. Once he was sheathed inside, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as if it was possible. He slowly started thrusting, testing the waters first. But she whimpered and thrusted up towards him, impatient, wanting more than what he was giving her.

So, he fully thrusted out before slamming into her causing her to scream out. He was pretty sure the whole motel heard. Maybe the next town over. But neither of them cared cause they were both only together to get what they wanted. A one time meeting and they never have to see each other again. Or that's what they both thought for now.

Dean started thrusting faster. She wraps her arms around his back as she lets out loud moans into one of his ears. Dean could feel her clenching around his member making him slam harder into her. He slows down and sits up. He grabs both her legs and puts them on his shoulders before thrusting into her again. She let out louder moans, now he was sure the whole motel could hear, at the new position. Her hands gripping the sheets tightly as her head falls back. Dean could feel she was getting closer and closer.

Both of her legs fell after a few minutes of his hard thrusting and with a loud cry, she came. Dean soon came after off, dropping on top of her body; both of them sweating. He rolls off of her and lays for a few. He turns his head to find her already asleep and a smile grazes his face without him realizing it. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Dean could feel his heart pounding and butterflies erupting in his stomach. But he then realized what he was doing and quickly pulled his hand and turned to face the other way.

* * *

“Noah!” (Y/n) yells walking after her three-year-old who took off for the playground. He ignored her and started climbing. She rolled her eyes, chuckling and sat on a park bench to keep an eye on him. Every time she looked at him, he reminded her of the man she met that one night. They were so alike. He has his hair, his smile, his attitude despite Dean not being around for Noah to catch onto.

Everyday for the last few years since finding out she's pregnant, she thought of Dean. She would drift off randomly during the day, dreaming about the night of meeting in the bar. She doesn’t regret it. That night gave her a gift. The most wonderful and beautiful gift she has ever received, and she wouldn’t have done that night any different. (Y/n) accepted the fact, long ago, that she knew she was in love with that man. At first, she tried to deny it but eventually, she accepted it.

The woman tried doing research on her computer but there was nothing about him. It was like he didn't exist. That made her want to know more.. But how could she when there was no evidence of him online like there normally would be with lots of people. At some point, she had to accept she would never be able to find out who he is and would never see him again. She hated that her son wouldn’t be able to meet his father.

Until somebody sat next to her on the park bench.

She stilled, somehow knowing it is him.

She slowly turned her head to see him looking straightforward at the playground. Knowing who he’s looking at, she swallowed, her mind going blank.

“He’s mine, isn’t he?” he quietly asked. He already knew the answer. The kid looked exactly like him. But Dean didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want ties to the kind of world he lives in. But now, he knows he has no choice.

“Yes,” she whispered, looking down at the ground before looking back at him. She could feel tears welling in her eyes for never being able to tell him he has a child. There were doubts in her mind she didn’t want to believe. What if he doesn’t want Noah?

Dean was still looking at Noah. He's beautiful, he thought, a small smile appearing on his face. Tears formed in his eyes and ran down his face. She noticed him crying and she finally let her tears out. A large smile made its way onto her face, all doubts and bad feelings leaving her body. “Would you like to meet him?”

Dean couldn’t speak so he just nodded, wiping his face. She stood, wiping her tears and walked over to her son who was climbing down a net. He jumped off it and ran to his mom. He hugged her legs and started babbling about the slide as it was his favorite thing to play on. She smiled and bent down to talk to him. She told him there was a man she wanted him to meet and pointed at Dean. Dean waved when Noah looked at him. He looked back at his mom and asked who he is. She grabbed his hand and walked him over to Dean.

Dean stood when she got there. Noah hid behind her legs, his head peeking out. Dean bent down, giving him a small, friendly smile. “Hi there.”

Noah stared at him for a moment then shyly smiled. “Hi.”

“I’m Dean. What’s your name?”

“Noah.” he answered, less scared but still hiding behind his mom. “Who are you?”

Dean looked up at (y/n) and she nodded, answering the question that was apparent on his face. Dean looked back at his son. “I’m your dad.”

Noah’s eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn’t know what to think, but he felt confused, then happy. He lived a few years without a father and now he has one. He ran out from behind his mom and into Dean’s arms, wrapped his tiny arms around his neck as Dean’s arms wrapped around him. Noah whispered as tears rolled down his face, “please don’t leave.”

Dean was shocked at what he said and squeezed him harder. “I won’t. I will never leave you or your mom. I promise.”

_____________________________________________________

DEAN X READER TAGS

@akshi8278

SUPERNATURAL FOREVER LIST

@hobby27

#oneshot #dean winchester #dean #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural one shot #supernatural fluff #fluff

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 4 years

Text

Nev, Max, Help!-Nate Jacobs Oneshot

Requested: Yes

Warnings: aggressiveness and rudeness from Nate and a brief panic attack scene

A/N: The reader is gender neutral since the requester did not specify what they wanted and I did not want to disrespect the storyline from the show. Also, it’s a long one.

For once, Amy Winehouse’s low, melancholy voice did nothing to soothe my nerves as I typed what I was looking for in the designated box. “Love is a Losing Game” was definitely not the best song for the mood but I loved her voice so much; it was like a really messed up security blanket for me. My thumbs shook as I kept typing and quickly deleting my words.

Someone to have fun with.

No, that’ll bring every single creep to my profile.

Someone to watch Netflix with.

Ew, no, they won’t want to go anywhere or do anything.

Someone to discuss Maya Angelou with...

This could go one of two ways: attract a sensitive, nice person or the ultimate softboi who was really just an f-boy in a sensible cardigan.

Okay, Y/N, just add to it.

...and have adventures, great conversations, and watch the best movies.

That seemed broad enough and, potentially, weeded out all the weirdos. Patti Stanger would approve of this. I took such a deep breath that I could feel the oxygen in my feet as I pressed the green check mark. An adorable buffering sign appeared before being quickly replaced by a CONGRATULATIONS, Y/N/N, ON COMPLETING YOUR PROFILE.

The air came out of me slowly, like a balloon, and I tried to make myself relax as I swiped through different matches. One person was too short, the other too tall, another had way too many pictures with reptiles in his profile, and one’s bio simply read: DM and you’ll find out.

Serial killer much?

“That’s part of your problem, Y/N,” Jules had chastised me a few day prior.

“What do you mean by ‘part’?” I’d replied.

“Well, for one, you barely leave the house anymore unless I drag you out,” Jules argued.

“I’m busy,” I’d defended.

“Rewatching Breaking Bad for the eighth time does not count as being busy. Plus, you’re so picky.”

“Am not!”

“You said you’d only do DiCaprio in his Great Gatsby days,” Rue had added.

“Did you see him in that suit?”

Jules then shrugged. “All I’m saying is if you aren’t careful, you will end up all alone.”

“That’s not true, Y/N might get cats.”

That conversation had haunted me since and had driven me to making a dating profile after the required Saturday night family dinner. While my parents and brother were downstairs watching a movie, I was holed up in my room, cringing and regretting accepting any chat requests.

Half an hour on the app caused the images of various male genitalia to be burned into my mind. I would need my brain soaked in holy water for it to be erased. I huffed and kept scrolling, vainly hoping and wishing for a decent guy to pop up on my radar.

Maybe Jules and Rue were wrong. Maybe I had all the right in the world to be picky, I thought harshly to myself.

I dropped my phone on my nightstand and flopped against my pillows as Me and Mr. Jones began playing. I sighed and felt myself being lulled into the comforting abyss Amy created.

Ding!

I jumped out and glared at the source of the noise. Another chat request, another picture to ruin my young brain?

“Be positive, Y/N, this might be good,” I stated as I grabbed the phone.

Tyler wants to chat!

I frowned and opened up the app, only to be met with the most sculpted six-pack I had ever seen. My heart began banging against my chest and my thumbs fumbled for a moment to answer the chat request.

Whoosh.

My stomach dropped as I stared at my first chat to Tyler: Shg.ismtle

I’m. Going. To. Die. Alone.

I quickly typed: Please ignore that, I’m so sorry!

Seconds later, my phone dinged.

Tyler: Really? I thought you were trying to send me a secret code and I liked that we were that cool already.

This was not real, this could not be happening. Tyler had to be a bot, that was why he didn’t show his face in his profile. Bots were supposed to have a hard time recognizing and creating faces, right?

But, on the off chance Tyler was real, it would have been rude to leave the conversation so abruptly?

Y/N: Who knows? Maybe it was a secret code and I’m just testing you.

Tyler: Ok, let me guess what it means.

Tyler: Hi?

Y/N: Haha, you really thought I’d use such a simple code as a first message?

Tyler: It’s my bad for underestimating u. I should have known u were smarter since you read Maya Angelou.

Y/N: U a fan?

Tyler: “You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.”

He knows Angelou? He could have Googled a quote though. Still, it’s a good quote to use if he had Googled it.

Y/N: Nice, but, doesn’t get u out of the guessing game.

As Tyler helplessly guessed wrong for several minutes, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I used to think online dating was a last resort or a breeding ground for predators. But, maybe there were decent people looking for something (or someone) meaningful after all.

Tyler: I give up, you’re really good.

Y/N: Thx. But, I can tell you what I meant to say.

Tyler: The suspense is srsly kiilling me.

Y/N: I meant 2 say hey.

Tyler: I guessed that!

Y/N: No, u guessed ‘hi’, there’s a difference.

Tyler: C’mon, barely.

For the rest of the night, Tyler and I chatted. He told me that he plays baseball at a school across town and he doesn’t like anyone around there. He liked John Mulaney stand-up, lemon bars, going to the gym, hanging out with his friends, and reading good books. He was an only child and his parents tended to spoil him. I told him about my friends and how I liked being on the swim team at my school as well as the different YouTubers and books I enjoyed. When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of talking to him.

On Monday, Jules and Rue were hanging out outside the school as other people either headed to class or relaxed on the lawn. I could not stop my feet from bouncing as I walked up to them.

“...and that is why Sailor Mercury is the most underrated character of the whole show,” Jules affrimed.

Rue seemed halfway interested as her head nodded slowly underneath the hood of her burgundy hoodie. “Cool, all I asked was who’s your favorite but, cool.”

Jules rolled her eyes playfully and straightened up when she saw me. “Hey, Y/N, nice shirt.”

“Thanks.” I wore a sky blue tie dye shirt with ripped jeans and white Converse.

Rue leaned forward and squinted at me. “You’re not wearing black, something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, she’s obviously been influenced by me!” Jules teased as she wrapped a slim arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah, you can only hang out with this literal rainbow human so long before she starts influencing your outfit choices.”

We started heading inside, which was really just Jules and me dragging Rue into the building.

“But I don’t wanna be here. It’s so stupid that I have to wait six more months before I can legally decide where I spend my time,” Rue muttered.

“It’s fine, you have us!” Jules insisted.

“Yup!” I agreed.

“Hey, Y/N, Rue, Jules!” Cassie greeted as she sidled up next to me.

We all greeted her.

“Have a good weekend?” Rue asked.

“Yeah, there was this great party that Nick Davis threw. I swear, everyone there was on acid.” Cassie stopped herself and bit her bottom lip. “Sorry---”

Rue shook her head. “It’s fine.”

“How were yours?” Cassie asked as we continued to our lockers.

“Fine,” Jules said.

Rue shrugged in response.

I opened my mouth to reply when my phone beeped and I wrestled it out of my pocket.

Tyler: Is it 2 late 4 a good morning text?

I smiled.

“You’re so cheesy,” I muttered under my breath.

“Who’s that?” Cassie asked, peeking over my shoulder.

I jumped and cradled my phone to my chest like it was my child. “No one.”

Jules pulled open her locker and cocked a bleached eyebrow. “‘No one’ does not cause huge smiles like that!” She jabbed a sparkly-manicured finger at me.

“Yeah, show us,” Rue said. “We are your friends.”

“It’s nothing,” I insisted as I weaved around them.

I pushed myself against my locker and managed to open it with my free hand. Rue was on one side of me and Cassie was on the other.

“Is it a boy?” Cassie sang.

“Or a girl?” Rue questioned.

“It’s none of your business,” I gritted out as I grabbed my necessary books.

As I shuffled the books in my arms, Jules came from behind and slipped my phone away from me. I gasped, whirled around, and watched as Rue tried to look at the phone while Cassie playfully blocked me.

“Guys, this is not cool! This is such a serious invasion of privacy,” I argued as I tried to move around Cassie.

“We’re besties, there’s no such thing as privacy!” Jules retorted.

“Wow, Y/N, these are so----” Jules cut Rue off.

“Adorable!” Jules squealed and turned to face me.

Cassie took the opportunity to glance at my phone and she smiled. “Aw, this Tyler guy sounds so sweet.”

I snatched my phone from Jules. “Well, now you know. Can we please go to class now?”

As the other girls grabbed their things from their lockers, I got out my phone to reply to Tyler.

Y/N: It’s never too late...until noon technically.

Somehow, I started wandering away from the girls until I ran into someone. I tried to jump away, but they grabbed me by the forearms.

“I am so sorry, I should have looked where I was going---” I stopped speaking when I recognized Nate’s direct gaze on me. I was pretty tall but I always felt like he could throw me into the lockers if he wanted to.

“Watch it, Y/N,” he muttered.

“Nate, let go of them,” Maddy chided, her hand resting against one of his arms.

She seemed to have the magic touch because he relaxed and I joined my friends. As the couple continued down the hallway, I couldn’t help but admire them. In a very messed up way, they worked. Kat had told me only a little about what Nate would do whenever Maddy upset him and I felt so bad for her, angry at him, and then conflicted. Nate just had to have that stereotypical amazing all-American look.

“You okay, Y/N?” Cassie asked.

“Yeah, is it weird that I can still feel his eyes on me even when he’s not looking?” I asked.

“No, his need for dominance permeates everyone’s sense of autonomy,” Rue assured.

“Nice,” Jules said.

“And scary accurate,” Cassie added.

Jule looped her arm with mine and steered us in the direction of our first classes. “Anyway, if he tries anything, I’m sure Tyler would gladly kick his butt for you.”

Throughout the day, Tyler and I chatted and I even had to get creative with responding. In English, I kept my head down during quiet reading time and made sure my phone was positioned just right in my lap. During geometry, I told Mrs. Packer that I was having some digestive issues and spent most of the class outside the bathroom, texting Tyler. At lunch, I could barely focus on my friends’ conversation.

“Hello, Earth to Y/N?” Lexi waved her hand in front of my face and I blinked.

“Sorry, I was----”

“Texting her boooyfriiiend,” Jules sang.

“He’s not my boyfriend, we’re just talking.” I started poking at my sandwich. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, nothing, just the fact that I nearly blew up the school during chem,” Cassie said.

“Magnesium chloride isn’t an explosive,” Lexi argued.

“Well, the tube overflowed and everyone was freaking out,” Cassie argued.

“Yeah, because magnesium chloride can have bad side effects,” Lexi continued.

“I wonder what would happen if the school exploded and we weren’t all here? Would they have to give us our diplomas?” I thought outloud.

“Ooh, and I could go to fashion school early!” Jules cheered.

“I’d be happy not coming here anymore,” Rue admitted.

It was quiet for a moment as we all ate but that quiet was broken when Maddy yelled.

“WHO ARE YOU TEXTING?”

I couldn’t help myself but look. Maddy was standing behind Nate, who was sitting with his teammates at the center table. Bebe and Kat flanked Maddy a little behind. Everyone stared at them. Nate’s jaw tightened.

“Maddy, calm down,” his relaxed, controlled voice nearly echoed in the silent cafeteria.

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! YOU’VE BEEN ON YOUR PHONE ALL DAY!” she snapped.

“Maddy---”

“ARE YOU TEXTING OTHER GIRLS?” Maddy shouted.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” Nate asked.

Maddy sighed. “Are you gonna let me see your phone?”

“Maddy, we need to talk.”

“Don’t talk to me again.”

Before Nate could respond, Maddy dumped the contents of her lunch tray over his head and threw the tray aside. Kat and Bebe followed her as she strutted out of the cafeteria amid the shocked gasps.

“I’m gonna go check on her,” Cassie whispered.

We all nodded and she quietly exited the room. As I stared at Nate, the supposed king of the school, drenched in soggy salad and fat-free milk, I wondered why he could never stay broken up with Maddy. Their relationship was not just toxic, it was volatile. Their breakups were always public and outrageous, but they always ended up back together. No one questioned it either. I never understood why people could continue to choose relationship they knew was bad over pursuing something new. I told Tyler as much that night.

Y/N: It’s like those dogs that get killed by electric fences because they keep walking into them.

Tyler: U have a good point, but, that couple’s relationship is more complicated than u think.

Y/N: Probably, but, it doesn’t look that way. They hurt each other a lot.

Tyler: How do u know?

Y/N: Bc I’ve seen it. I don’t mean 2 b judgy, but, I could never be in a relationship like that.

Tyler: Well, I don’t think anyone would b if they knew it would b bad.

Y/N: Good point. But, why would they get back together so much?

Tyler: Idk them, but, it could b bc it’s familiar and it’s what they know.

Y/N: Still, it’s messed up.

Tyler: Yeah, but I don’t wanna talk abt them anymore.

Y/N: K, what do u wanna talk abt?

A few seconds later, Tyler sent me a picture so graphically beautiful that I was convinced I passed out.

The next day, I showed Rue and Jules the picture during break time.

“Holy crap!” Jules took my phone and leaned into it for closer inspection.

“Tyler is packing,” Rue agreed.

Jules slid my phone back to me. “You haven’t replied to him?” “No, and he hasn’t talked to me at all today.”

“He’s probably expecting a reply that’s similar to what he sent,” Rue said.

My face warmed up. “I can’t send him nudes,” I hissed.

“Why not? It’s like the greeting cards of our generation,” Jules stated.

“Really? You’d send your grandparents a greeting card of your naked body?” I replied sarcastically.

“Relax, if you’re uncomfortable, we can help you,” Jules assured.

“We can?” Rue asked.

“We can.” Jules gave her a look and Rue relaxed.

“It’s still weird, but, I guess you guys can come over after school.”

“Sweet! Your mom still bakes cookies for you after school, right?” Jules asked.

I nodded.

“She might stop once she learns her darling favorite older child is sending nudes,” Rue snorted as she spoke.

I recoiled in my seat, taking a second to bask in the sun’s warmth. “Don’t remind me.”

After swim practice, once my teammates left the locker room, I eyed my naked form in the mirror. I had nothing to be ashamed of, really, thanks to all the swimming, but, I just felt weird being naked in front of people. There was something so vulnerable about it, like, being on display in a museum or lying on a cold surgery table. But, online dating was supposed to get me out of my comfort zone and I’d found someone who’d made me feel comfortable enough to do it. With this resolve, I changed into a hoodie and some sweatpants and left the school. It was dusk and I typically walked home after practice since it wasn’t far. Plus, I’d told Jules and Rue to just go to my house after school.

The late breeze rippled past me and I dug my hands into my pants’ pockets as I started walking towards the parking lot. There was barely anyone around, except stoners hotboxing their cars, some couples making out, and dance team members and football players getting out of practice.

I kept my head down as I maneuvered around the few cars and people around. It felt like someone could spot what I was about to do once I got home and it was nervewracking. All I had to do was get home, let Jules make me look even better, take these pictures, and never thinking of it again.

“Something on your mind, Y/N?” Nate called.

I froze and snapped my head up to look at him. He was leaning against his truck, looking like a model for Ford in only a tshirt and jeans. Ford should hire him.

“No, not really,” I said.

I started to side step the truck, eyeing the sidewalk that was only a few yards away as though it was a lifeline.

“Get in,” Nate ordered.

I paused and looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“I see you walking home all the time, let me do you a favor, one athlete to another.” Nate was about halfway in the driver’s seat of the car and all I could do was stare.

“We’ve...never really talked before,” I stated.

“We can talk during the drive.”

I stepped back and my eyes flittered around, like the best decision would hit me in the face. Then, I saw Maddy across the lot. She was standing with a couple of dance team girls, including Cassie. She stared me down as though daring me to do it. I glanced from her to Nate, who started the engine loudly.

I quickly climbed into the passenger’s seat and stared into Maddy’s reflection in the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“How do you know where I live?” I asked.

“You forgot that I gave you a ride before?” Nate asked.

“When?”

“After Cassie’s sweet sixteen. You blacked out, your friends were panicking, and I offered to take you home. For some reason, you remembered your address,” Nate recalled.

“Oh, thanks?”

“Sure.”

We pulled up to my house a few minutes later, Lil Wayne bragging about his conquests filling the quiet. I hopped out of the truck and grabbed my bag.

“Thanks for the ride, this one, I mean, I owe you,” I said.

“Yeah, see you around, Y/N.”

I closed the door and headed inside.

“I’m home!” I called.

My mom poked her head out from the kitchen. “Y/N, how was school and practice?”

“Fine.”

“Was that Nate Jacobs outside?”

I hesitated.

How did she know what Nate’s truck looked like? “Yeah, he gave me a ride today.”

“Aw, isn’t that sweet? Rue and Jules are waiting for you in your room. They took the cookies with them.”

I nodded and went to my room. As soon as I walked in, they bombarded me with questions.

“Why did Nate give you a ride?” Rue asked.

“What did you guys talk about?” Jules inquired.

“Don’t you hate him?”

“He’s kind of a dick, but, unfortunately, super good looking.”

“Did Maddy see?”

“Do you think she’s gonna kill you?”

“Guys, I don’t know but I do know that if you do not take amazing pictures of me with no clothes on soon, I will delete my entire profile,” I interrupted.

They both nodded.

“But, we will ask for details later,” Jules insisted.

“Okay, but, please give me a cookie, I’ll need it to get through this.”

Rue extended the plate towards me and I bit into the melty goodness as Jules began doing my makeup. It was simple, only bringing out my best features. I made them both turn around as I undressed. Once I had, Jules encouraged me.

“You look amazing, I would be shocked if he didn’t jizz in his pants,” Jules said.

“Lower your voice, Y/B/N can only play Five Nights at Freddy’s so loud,” I hissed.

Jules held her hands up and Rue direct me to lay on the bed, my phone held up in front of her.

“Okay, look sexy,” Rue said.

I tried to smolder, but, by their expressions, I did not achieve it.

“No, like, pout your lips, like, you just heard that TheOdd1sOut is not uploading for a month,” Jules directed.

“And give the camera bedroom eyes, you know, as though it’s Tyler.”

“Okay.” After a few pictures, I slowly got the hang of it and even started posing a little naturally.

“Oh my gosh, Tyra is shook!” Jules cheered.

“Yeah, these are pretty good if I do say so myself.” Rue handed me my phone and I flipped through the pictures.

She was a talented photogrpaher and I joked that maybe she should go professional.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’d have a nice clientele.”

I laughed as I changed back into my hoodie and sweatpants. “Okay, help me pick one to send.”

Jules took my phone and she and Rue began scrolling.

“No, the lighting’s off in this one,” Jules muttered.

“No, it’s never off in any of these,” Rue argued.

“I’m not shading your talent, I’m just trying to find the best thing for Y/N to send Tyler.”

After a little more bickering, we all agreed on the picture and I sent it to Tyler.

“Should I follow it up with something?” I asked.

“Maybe say ‘Wrong person’? Guys want what other guys want,” Jules suggested.

“Or say ‘Sorry for the late reply’,” Rue added.

“I’ll go with Rue’s, sorry, Jules.”

Jules shrugged.

I sent everything off and my friends and I watched as Tyler typed a response.

Tyler: It was worth the wait ;).

We squealed so loud that my mom yelled for us to keep it down. We apologized as we descended into a fit of giggles. Through it all, I could not help but feel so bouncy and light all over. Was I...falling for this total stranger?

“What do you think he looks like?” Jules asked during lunch later that week.

I shrugged. “It’s different every day, if that makes sense.”

“I guess that’s the nice thing about interacting with someone who doesn’t show their face,” Jules thought outloud.

“How do you see him now?” Lexi asked.

I sighed. “Right now, I think he’s tall, six feet at least. He’s got a mix of blonde and brown hair like a surfer because it’s lightened from all the time he’s spent in the sun. He has green eyes, freckles, and he dresses well.”

“Sounds amazing,” Jules said as she rest her chin in her hand.

Rue nodded slowly. “You’re not nervous or anything?”

“No, this is so cheesy, but, I feel like I know him, you know? He’s so easy to talk to and has so much to say.”

“Y/N’s blushing,” Jules teased. “Do you love him?”

“I really, really, really, like him.”

“Do you think you’ll meet soon?” Lexi asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, neither of us has brought it up.”

“Well, it just matters that you’re comfortable, okay?” Rue said.

“Okay.”

If I was honest, I did not know if I wanted to meet Tyler. I knew that I liked him more than I liked anyone before, but, there was something strange about breaking this wall the internet provided us. It was freer to talk on the internet than it was in person. What if I said something stupid in front of him? What if he thought that I looked different in person? What if he looked different in person?

I managed to keep these thoughts at bay for the rest of the day until I got home. Post-dinner had been officially declared Talk to Tyler Time. None of my family knew what I was doing besides blasting Amy Winehouse in my room for about an hour. My laugh nearly overpowered her high note in “Best Friends, Right?”. I had to blink away my happy tears as I replied to him.

Y/N: That did not happen! Tyler: Yes it did! Do u want 2 c the scar????

Y/N: No, I think I’m good.

I wiped away my tears and settled under the covers. I wondered if his friends would agree that Tyler gets into some weird situations as well. Just as I started typing, Tyler beat me.

Tyler: I want 2 meet u.

The speed that I launched my phone away from me almost shocked me more than the text.

Almost.

My heartbeat thrummed in my ears. This was it, I knew I couldn’t avoid him much longer, but, I felt like I couldn’t move. All I could do was stare at my phone like it was the most offensive object in the world. Slowly, I regained mobility and grabbed my phone. I took a deep breath.

“Take a chance, Y/L/N,” I whispered.

Y/N: When and where?

“You’re meeting him tonight?” Jules squealed the next day.

I hushed her as people in the hallway paused to look at us. “Not so loud.” “But this is so exciting. Please let me help you decide what to wear,” Jules pleaded with a pout.

“Sure,” I said.

Jules hugged me. “This is going to be so fun. I won’t go crazy with glitter since this is the first time you’re meeting this guy.”

“Thanks?”

“Do your parents know?” Rue asked.

“No,” I replied as I slowly pulled away from Jules. “They’re coming Senior Night tonight, though. and I’m going to meet him at Mercy Park an hour before it ends.”

“Are you sure you even want to do this? I know that Jules and I tease you about your love life, but, this is risky,” Rue said.

“You weren’t saying that when you were helping me with those pictures the other day,” I shot back.

“That was different. You’re...you’re actually meeting him now and he could be a psychopath or a sociopath or, just, a creepy old guy who likes to look at teenagers!” Rue insisted.

“Rue, relax, everything’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” She turned on her heel and hurried into the bathroom with Jules and I on her tail.

When we entered, Rue was leaning against the wall, panting and staring up at the ceiling. Jules and I approached her slowly as the girls who were in the bathroom quickly filed out.

“Rue, slow down your breathing,” I said slowly.

“I...I can’t. You-you could get hurt or something and-and I would know about it an-and I-I couldn’t live with that!” Tears burst from her eyes as Rue began pacing and Jules and I were close but gave her room.

“Rue, Y/N is going to be okay, we both know what time she’ll be at the park. If anything happens, we’ll know the area she could be in,” Jules assured her.

Rue shook her head and stopped in her tracks. Then, she looked between us helplessly before bowing her head and sobbing. Jules and I carefully hugged her and let her cry.

“I’m sorry that I’m scared and I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt,” Rue mumbled into my shirt.

“It’s okay, I appreciate it. I really want to meet Tyler, though, and, I promise I will let you know if something happens, okay?”

Rue nodded and sniffled.

It took Jules about an hour to make me look amazing. I had no idea my hair could be so fluffy and put together until she was done with it. She used eyeliner to make eyes look bigger and rounder and added sparkly lip gloss to make my lips look plumper. After she contoured and highlighted the best places she deemed that her work was done. My outfit, a fitted forest green long-sleeve shirt and fitted black pants with Jadons, was also approved by her.

“Tell me everything later!” she insisted.

Rue couldn’t join us since she had “prior commitments” but I texted her that I would let her know when I head to the park and when I leave. My nerves didn’t let me focus on the soccer game my parents insisted I joined them and my brother at. I couldn’t care less that the forward on one team got a yellow card or that the goalie on the other team made illegal blocks. I was practically buzzing with excitement and fear so much that I had to give my pretzel to Y/B/N. Finally, the third quarter arrived and I told my parents that I would meet them at home since I’d promised Lexi that I would help her with some homework.

Lexi wouldn’t mind being used for a lie this one time; it was an emergency.

I tried to practice some calming deep breaths as I walked over to the park. The dark night sky provided a little bit of comfort to my walk. I wondered how different Tyler would look from the picture in my mind. I wondered if he thought I would look any different. Maybe (hopefully) it wouldn’t matter to either of us.

Finally, I reached the park. It was empty, save for the oak trees scattered throughout the lush green scenery that seemed mysterious under the mooonlight. A few benches and wooden tables were around as well, but, Tyler and I had agreed to meet at the fountain which was further in the park. The breathing exercises had to have helped because I felt much more relaxed and I hoped that everything would go all right.

When I got to the fountain, there was a tall person facing it. All I could make out were dark clothes and broad shoulders. I took another deep breath and kept walking.

“This is a nice spot, you have good taste,” I commented.

“I could say the same for you.” I stopped in my tracks as Nate slowly turned to face me. His face was unreadable but his eyes stayed on me.

“What? Wh-where’s Tyler?” I asked, my voice already hoarse.

Nate glanced down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to talk to you.”

I shook my head. “No.” My vision got blurry but I could tell that Nate was looking up at me now.

“Just let me explain,” he requested softly.

He took a step towards me and I took two steps back .

“I don’t wanna hear it. This....this is some sick joke to you or something?”

“No, never, Y/N, just listen to me.”

“I don’t want to!” The tears rolled down my cheeks and I swiped at them so hard that I thought I scratched myself. At least I could feel something because my heart felt numb. “You catfished me!”

“I just wanted to talk to you, I really do like you, Y/N. Tyler and I are the same, just different names,” Nate insisted, coming closer.

For some reason, I didn’t move. I didn’t know if it was from emotional exhaustion or stress, but, I let him approach me. I kept shaking my head.

“No,” I hiccuped.

“I wanted to meet you tonight because I was tired of lying. I want to figure this, us, out,” Nate said.

I sniffed. “Us?”

At that moment, I could actually see his face and Nate seemed so hopeful. There was a slight smile on his lips and his eyes seemed light for once. Maybe he wanted there to be an “us”. Maybe, despite all logic, he wanted to talk to me seriously and could not do it offline because of his reputation. Maybe, he was over the on-again-off-again situation with Maddy. Maybe, this was my chance, our chance.

I wiped my face again, mentally cringing at how upset Jules would be for my ruining her masterpiece.

“Yeah, us.” Nate stepped closer to me, gently wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me into his chest.

Gradually, my muscles relaxed and I relished in the feeling of his strong upper body and his warmth. Then, I began to feel pressure on my waist and gasped as it intensified.

“Nate, you’re...squeezing...too hard,” I rasped out.

And he started laughing, no, cackling. As he laughed, his grip tightened and I continued gasping and clawing at everything I could.

“Nate...stop!”

But he kept laughing and squeezing. When he finally released me, I looked up and saw nothing behind his eyes. Everything in me told me to run, but, I knew he could have easily caught up to me.

“I really thought you were smarter than that, Y/N. C’mon, you couldn’t honestly think that I would do all this to be with you,” he sneered.

“So why do it then?” I asked, my voice so small that I could have kicked myself for it.

Nate sighed and folded his arms. “Because you made it so easy and, to ask for a favor.”

“What? That makes no sense,” I argued. “I told you I owed you one that day you gave me a ride!”

“Yeah, well, I needed to make sure that you were available when I needed you.”

“Whatever, screw you,” I hissed as I pivoted on my heel.

“Too late for you, you’re already screwed.” Nate pulled out a folder from inside his jacket pocket. “Remember those special pictures you sent to Tyler? Well, they count as distribution of child pornography, which has a hefty fine and sentence.”

My mouth opened and closed several times before I faced him and responded. “But...but you held them, doesn’t that count towards possession? And, you’re extorting me!”

Nate glowered at me and stormed over. “Heresay, no solid evidence for your case. Plus, I’m a Jacobs, so, who are you kidding?”

I felt so sick to my stomach that I could have thrown up, fainted, or cried at that moment. This was not real, this could not be real.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Like I said, just be available when I need you.”

“Fine.”

“Sorry, what was that?” He gripped my chin his hand and forced me to look up at him.

“Okay,” I said softly.

“Hmm.” His eyes scanned my face before he released me. “And if I ever hear you judging my relationship with Maddy again, these pictures are going to be the least of your concern.”

I nodded weakly, regretting every single thing I ever told him. Nate Jacobs was truly the devil. He wandered off into the night like a centurion leaving a victorious battle. It seemed like he always won.

I managed not to start crying until I was on the empty sidewalk. No, I sobbed so bad that my throat went dry.

How could I have been so stupid? I should have known it was him that day Maddy yelled at him for texting all day.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

My sobs continued as I grabbed my phone and texted Rue.

Y/N: U were right.

#euphoria imagine #nate jacobs imagine

411 notes · View notes

spontaneousstupidwriting · 3 years

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FebuWhump Day 3: Imprisonment

Peter gets locked in a closet at school and can't get out without risking his secret being found out.

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Peter sighs as Flash continues to taunt him as he walks through the halls. Normally Peter wouldn't care so much about the bully but both Ned and MJ are out today.

“Hey, Penis, I’m talking to you!” Flash shouts, Peter rolls his eyes and ignores his spidey-sense telling him something is about to happen. He grunts as he's shoved into the lockers. Flash crowds him and the rest of the students don't spare more than a glance at the familiar scene. "You should know better than to ignore me by now, Parker."

Peter huffs, "Whatever, Flash, can we just get this over with, we're going to be late for class."

Flash looks to the left of the lockers then to the thinning hallway crowd before turning back to him, "Oh I don't think you'll need to worry about that."

Flash grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him to the door by the lockers that he glanced at earlier. "What are you-" Peter isn't given time to finish his question before the other teen opens the door and shoves him into the rooms. Peter stumbles into the shelves lining the back of what is apparently a small storage room. Dust fills the air after he disturbs it leading to a coughing fit.

"Have fun in there, Penis. Maybe you shouldn't ignore people," is the last thing Peter hears before the door is slammed and the light disappears.

His coughing dying down, Peter takes a second to get his bearings. The only light in the closet is what comes through the bottom of the door and as his eyes adjust to the low lighting he sees that he must be in an old janitor’s closet. The shelves are lined with cleaning supplies and everything seems to be layered in dust.

The bell signaling the beginning of first period rings and Peter sighs, one of the few days that he gets to school early and he still doesn’t get to class before the bell. He reaches for the handle and twists. Instead of turning as it should, it makes a grinding sound before it stops twisting completely. Peter uses a little more strength but it quickly becomes apparent that he’d have to use some more than he’s usually comfortable using outside of his suit. He debates with himself, remembering that the school recently installed cameras after someone raided the lockers and that it’d see him breaking the doorknob on his way out. Peter’s shoulders slump in defeat, he can’t handle another mark on his record.

Of all the days to forget my phone, Peter mourns. He resigns himself to waiting and settles on the floor, maybe he can use the small bit of light to outline his English essay. Surely Flash will come back.

So he waits.

He waits through the bell signaling the end of first period, and waits as the beginning of second period starts. He waits as the following periods begin and end and debates breaking the doorknob again as he regrets forgetting to put more snacks in his backpack and lunch begins. He waits as it ends and the later classes begin and waits some more till the end bell rings.

Throughout the day as he hears his classmates walk by Peter can’t bring himself to call out and face the humiliation that awaits his release that way. It’s only until about a half-hour after school ends that Peter gives up hope of being released by his tormentor that he gives in and starts pounding on the door calling for help. He can hear that the few people in the hall can hear him as steps slow and a few mention it to someone else, but no one comes to help him. That doesn’t stop Peter from continuing because surely someone will come to help.

But no one does. Not the stragglers or the club goers, even a janitor passes by later long after school ends, the sound of music coming from his direction, likely from headphones.

Eventually, the school clears out, void of any sounds. Peter slumps against the door, not believing that he was still stuck in here. By this point, there’s no light coming from the bottom of the door and it starts to cool as the heaters turn off for the night.

Peter reconsiders his options, while there's no chance of a person seeing him break the knob the cameras likely continue rolling after school ends and there are security alarms on the doors in case someone breaks in. Would they activate if he opens them from the inside? He doesn’t want to risk it. May is supposed to get home around ten tonight, a time still far off. Once again he resigns himself to wait, but this time it’s much more unpleasant.

His stomach has been growling since school ended and the cold begins to seep into his bones. It’s wintertime now and the temperature continues to drop as the night continues. The lack of food and overwhelming cold slows his thoughts and he just stares at the door in front of him. When was the last time he went so long without food? Mr. Stark is always hounding him to eat because of his metabolism so it’s been a while.

Despite how cold he is, Peter doesn’t shiver, something that seemed to happen due to the bite. He pulls his jacket even tighter around him and regrets not wearing a scarf like May told him to that morning. He shuffles into the corner connected to the door on autopilot and his eyes get heavier and heavier as the temperature continues its descent.

May, finally able to take a break, checks her phone as she takes her break getting some fresh air in the hospital courtyard. She frowns when she sees that she has a voicemail from Peter’s school and immediately checks it.

An absence notice? She checks for any messages from her nephew or Tony, because while these notices used to be pretty common, Tony usually checks Peter out at the office after being appointed as one of his emergency contacts. But there’s nothing from either of them, nothing to tell her where Peter is or if he’s okay.

Panic beginning to rise in her chest she clicks on Peter’s contact and waits with bated breath as it continues to ring. Maybe he’s asleep or in the shower she tries to assure herself but that excuse becomes a bit harder after Peter’s voicemail greets her for the third time. Giving up on that she scrolls over to Tony’s contact, hoping that he’ll answer and have some answers.

Tony’s working in the lab when FRIDAY interrupts his music, “May Parker is calling you, boss.”

Tony frowns, “What time is it, baby girl?”

“It is eight twenty-two p.m. May is scheduled to be working right now and Peter’s suit has not been online since his patrol two days ago. Would you like to answer the call?”

Tony nods, “Answer it and save everything here, for now, something seems off about this.”

Instead of a response from FRIDAY, the next thing Tony hears is May’s voice, “Tony?”

Wiping his hands off on a cloth, Tony answers, “Hey May, everything alright? FRI says you’re supposed to be at work.”

“Is Peter with you? Or have you heard from him at all today?”

Tony freezes, “No, he sent his usually good morning text at the ungodly hour he usually does but nothing else. What’s wrong?”

He can hear May’s shaky breath, “His school says he wasn’t at school today and he isn’t answering his phone. I haven’t heard from him since he left for school this morning,” by the end of it her voice starts to break.

A pit grows in his stomach as he tries to keep his voice steady for May, “You need to take a deep breath okay? I have multiple trackers on him. I'm sure he has at least one on him,” A hologram pops up on his workstation with various items and locations.

“In any other circumstance that’d be extremely creepy,” she faintly laughs.

“From the looks of it his phone and suits are at home but his wallet, keys, nano bracelets, and watch are at Midtown and got there right before school started. So he did make it to school, and because he never takes off the nanotech I’m willing to bet he’s still there.”

“What is he doing there?”

Tony signals for FRIDAY to shut the lab down, “I don’t know but I’m going to head down there, don’t worry May. I’ll call you when I find out what’s going on.”

May sighs, “I’m going to leave early and head to the apartment, please let me know as soon as possible.”

“As soon as I find him, and I will find him.”

“I know you will,” is the last thing she says before hanging up.

Tony makes his way up to the elevator, “FRI, landing pad, please. I want an update if there’s any movement on a tracker.”

“Of course, boss, shall I alert Happy to meet you at Midtown?”

Tony is enveloped by a waiting suit, “Tell him to bring some food and water too, it looks like Peter’s barely moved all day and it’s been a long time since breakfast.”

FRIDAY tells him that Happy will arrive ten minutes after him as he navigates the suit to Peter’s school. “What should be waiting for us at the school security-wise?”

“There are cameras in the hallways and classrooms as well as alarms on the doors and windows activated at six-fifteen today.”

Midtown comes into view and he starts to descend, “Disable the alarms and keep the camera footage on loop until we leave. Is there any footage with Peter there today?”

“Yes, boss, in it he appears to be walking to class when another student approaches him and shoves him into a room by himself, there is no footage of Peter leaving the room.”

The pit in Tony’s stomach grows as he enters the school still in his suit, is Peter hurt? Did he hit his head? “Where is the room?”

“Take a left at the end of the hall then a right into the hall after the cafeteria, the last door on the right is the one Peter was seen pushed into.”

Tony thanks his AI as he rushes down the halls. He stops when he gets to the door and notices the knob not turning as it should, “FRI?”

“The lock appears to be tampered with.”

Tony’s frown deepens and he uses the suit's increased strength to rip the door open. He’s greeted by a seemingly empty room. But Peter has to be here. He looks up to the ceiling and lets out a breath of relief before the worry sets back in, why hasn’t he responded to the door breaking,

“Pete?” no response. “FRI, vitals!”

“Heartbeat is dangerously slow and his core temperature is ninety-six degrees, nearing hypothermic levels. He appears to be in a deep sleep,” FRIDAY responds, voice worried.

“Shit.” Tony activates hover mode to reach Peter and catches a glimpse of his pale face. He reaches to pry Peter from the ceiling, be as careful as he can as he gives FRIDAY instructions, “Tell Happy to crank the heat all the way up and get the emergency blankets from the trunk. Also, alert medbay.”

“Already done, he will arrive in two minutes.”

Tony thanks his AI as he finally gets Peter into his arms, there’s no reaction from the teen. Tony steps onto solid ground and quickly makes his way to the front entrance again while trying not to jostle Peter.

Happy makes it to the front as soon as Tony opens the door, likely having sped more after the update. He opens the back door then quickly grabs the blankets from the trunk as Tony sets Peter onto the seat. He orders the driver to wrap Peter in them as the suit retracts around him before speeding off into the air back to the tower. When Happy finishes he gets back into the driver's seat as Tony slides in next to Peter. He wraps his arms around his mentee and rubs his arms.

Happy immediately starts driving off to the tower, questions coming, “What happened to the kid? Why the hell is he still at school?”

Fire starts to grow in his chest as he’s reminded how this supposedly started, “May called me saying that Peter was missing and didn’t show up for school but his trackers said he was at school. At eight-thirty. FRI checked the cams and saw another teen lock him in a closet but never saw him come out. Now we’re here.” Tony couldn’t help the anger that shone in his tone, what the fuck was that kid thinking, and why didn’t anyone help Peter? “I’m going through the rest of the footage after we take care of Pete and call May.”

Happy nods silently and speeds up.

The next morning Peter’s still sleeping in medbay, his condition improved with gradual warming and a nutrient drip. According to Cho, Peter adapted more spider-like traits than they previously thought, including hibernation. Because of course he did.

But instead of sitting by Peter’s side Tony is up in the penthouse, boiling with rage after seeing how no one helped his mentee, his kid , as he was thrown into lockers then shoved into that damned closet, and ignored him again as he yelled for help. Hell, some laughed instead of helping him. There was some slight frustration with Peter and how he didn’t use his powers to get out and just ask him to change the footage and lock like really, Peter, it was so easy, kid. It wasn’t even a new thing, Tony checked back and that kid had been bullying Peter since before the cameras were even installed. Why didn’t he tell me? Instead of wallowing on that he calls May up, his aunt deserving to know what this punk has been doing to their kid.

It’s only a couple of minutes later that May approaches him, having been downstairs with Peter. “Is this where you’ve been?” she asks quietly. “You should come down, you know Pete would love to see you there when he wakes up.” She touches his arm and gives him a sympathetic smile.

Tony smiles back tightly, “I’ll go down after this and handle the rest later, but there’s something you should see.” May nods in assent and he plays the video of Peter being harassed yesterday morning. May gasps and clutches his arm. Before she can say anything Tony stops the video and starts talking, “This isn’t an isolated incident either. I had FRIDAY check all of the footage, and this punk has been messing with our kid since before the cameras were installed a couple of months ago."

May's face tightens and her eyes seem to glow, “And the teachers do nothing? Does anyone help him? This is bullshit! It never should have gotten to this point! If Peter had been in there any longer who the hell knows what could have happened? We have to do something!”

Tony grips her shoulders and looks her in the eyes, “You’re right, and I’ll be with you every step of the way, and with me will be my best lawyers and even better, Pepper. As soon as she finds out about this there will be nothing stopping her from tearing that school apart for what’s happened to Peter.”

May goes to respond but is interrupted by FRIDAY, “I recommend heading back to medbay, Peter is showing signs of waking.”

Instead of saying anything, May takes a deep breath and shakily smiles, “Thank you, Tony. For being here for him.”

Tony relaxes and smiles back, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

#irondad #febuwhump #febuwhump day 3 #febuwhump 2021 #peter parker #tony stark #marvel #irondad and spiderson #fanfiction

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sourbat · 4 years

Text

And Then-

Words: 2800

Rating: T

Pairing: Toki Wartooth/Magnus Hammersmith

Summary: “Hammertooth, as told by the Dethklok Minute.”

There was nothing that could be done to completely vanquish the paranoia, even with the presence of half a dozen committed klokateers, so Toki knowingly made a point to always bring a disguise, to try and play it safe and drink one less bottle than normal, take one less hit than he preferred, because the last thing he wanted to do was prove Magnus’ fears correct.

Toki was there the first time it happened. Worse, he was with the whole gang, reclining comfortably in the hot tub, finished giving Skwisgaar a high five, when Nathan flicked the television on, revealing The Dethklok Minute host’s marred face.

“Today I bring you a blast from the past. We’re talking ancient history here, folks! Famed rhythm guitarist, Toki Wartooth, was recently seen chatting it up with none other than ex-Dethklok, and failed solo artist, Magnus Hammersmith. The two were seen causing quite the scene outside of the Griffith observatory, resulting in them being kicked out from the premises. Apparently, Hammersmith couldn’t handle the extra attention. Real shame, Hammersmith, it’s as close to the stars as you’ll ever get!”

They laughed when they saw the images, the brief video clip of Magnus angrily grabbing and tossing someone’s phone off the cliff, and the hilarious tweets shared by fans that all seemed to focus on how desperate and loathsome Magnus was in comparison to him. There was nothing he could say, whine or threaten to calm the rest of the band down. The day only grew progressively worse as he checked his phone, spotting new threads and comments on all the platforms he frequented, but not hearing a single word from Magnus.

He must have sent a dozen messages, and earned no reply until late at night, when news had reached every corner of the internet.

Thankfully, Magnus took it rather well, or as well as anyone with little to no say in the matter could. When they finally got together, Magnus was clearly upset, but he was more ashamed at himself for causing a huge scene and threatening a bunch of regular jack-offs for poking fun of him, mad for setting himself up for this disaster, and regretted that he pulled Toki and Dethklok into yet another one of his messes.

Once it was out, they discussed the next step. The public knew they were together in some form, but how much was still up in the air. Romance was currently out of the equation, or wasn’t suspected. Magnus treated it as a small relief; Toki, on the other hand, viewed it differently. The mean gossips centered on Magnus wouldn’t just go away if people continued to treat him as Toki’s inferior. If they came out not as competitors, but as partners, as equals, as a real couple…

When Toki raised the idea to Magnus, he spun it differently. They should come out now before the world figures it out on their own. Rip off the bandage on their own terms, and get the rumors done and over with.

The world was going to talk about them whether they liked it or not, so… why not try to have fun?

Why hide it and pretend they were only friends?

“Welcome back to the Dethklok Minute! Toki Wartooth and Hammersmith were seen together exiting Club Rhapsody on Sunset Blvd. The two barely made it five steps before Mr. Wartooth was bombarded by fans. It took several klokateers shooting down crazed fans to get their claws off Toki Wartooth. Meanwhile, here’s an image of poor ol’ Hammersmith, left out in the dust. Good thing he’s already used to it, though!”

That time Magnus was pissed. He hadn’t even done anything that night, and was the soberer of the two. Sure, they were both piss-drunk, but Magnus had been reasonable enough to leave his keys behind, to tell Toki they needed to leave once it got too crowded, and tried being civil despite the crowds, their disguises slipping off, and people flashing lights in every direction just to say they were in the same club as Toki Wartooth.

Unless given the orders, the klokateers didn’t bother trying to protect Magnus, or shoo away fans who had nothing better than to accuse him of trying to latch on to fame, being a parasite, or an unsightly thorn in Toki’s side. The burden always fell on Toki. He had to be the one to grab Magnus and reel him in, remind him to count to ten, to hold his tongue, to try and be the better man despite the rumors and open remarks.

It didn’t take long for forums to pose the much-feared question, one Toki hadn’t regarded until Magnus very frustratingly pointed it out:

How far back do they go?

Then Toki understood Magnus’ fears. With discussions digging deeper into their pasts, Toki knew it would only be a matter of time before rumors of his disappearance resurfaced, and people connected whatever dots they wanted to reach their preferred conclusions.

The following months proved too challenging.

He couldn’t blame Magnus for all those close calls. Toki didn’t blame him when Magnus eventually did snap, and lash out. Magus never laid a finger on him, but the yelling…the yelling and the misdirected rage terrified him.

It was Magnus who suggested the break.

Once again, Toki couldn’t bring himself to blame Magnus, even when everyone else at Mordhaus did.

The truth stung. The loneliness ached. The rumors persisted. Toki waited and watched the news, counting the weeks until the much-needed silence finally died down. It never did. Though the conversations decreased, there was never a point in time where comments online didn’t lead to Magnus, tweets or tags that brought up the name, and the terrible rumors surrounding their relationship persisted. It was the suckiest time of Toki’s life as he waited for Magnus’ return, for the world to get over this strange obsession, and for things to return to the way it was before.

Two months later, Magnus returned from the shadows on his own accord, and begged for Toki’s forgiveness and yet another chance at proving he could handle the unwanted attention, so long as it meant keeping Toki’s. Almost immediately after they reunited, the pictures and videos returned, but this time Magnus made a point to ignore it, to do his absolute best to take it all in stride and make the most of their limited time together.

Toki welcomed Magnus with open arms, more relieved than anything that Magnus didn’t give up on the two of them, and was willing to try and make this work.

“While on tour in England, fans caught glimpses of Toki and Mr. Hammersmith just outside of the Tower of London, harassing the local avian residents, and later caught pissing into the River Thames. Well, you know the saying: boys will be boys. In bigger news, Nathan Explosion played the lead role at The Globe’s recent…”

Then, one day, Magnus was no longer the main story. He wasn’t the butt of the joke. He wasn’t the focus of any folly that took place between them. Now Magnus had a title. Now he was just another one of the boys. Maybe not a member of Dethklok, but someone within the circle. A person who demanded some respect.

It took several months, but Magnus was accepted as another regular figure in Toki’s life. Like Dr. Rockso, Magnus was treated less as a person of interest, a living target, and more a colorful object that Toki took alongside him to various places, adding to the curiosity and allure of their already complex relationship. Unlike the clown, though, the well of controversy had long since run dry, and nasty statements about the older man were quickly replaced with random jokes, silly rumors about Skwisgaar being replaced, and then–

Magnus started smiling, really smiling, again.

And then–

“Today I bring you none other than our favorite buddy-duo: Toki Wartooth and Magnus Hammersmith! The two guitarists were seen sneaking out the back of Cruachan’s, carrying a wasted William Murderface before being accosted by some rapid fangirls. Luckily for them, Murderface was there to scare them away. Hey, Murderface, didn’t anyone tell you three is a crowd?”

It was already a big enough deal that Toki convinced Murderface to join in, drink and talk with Magnus, maybe reconcile some past grudges and start afresh. Now people were curious to know why Magnus was so well-liked. In the eyes of the fans, Dethklok was reaching out to Magnus, which meant Magnus couldn’t possibly be that bad of a guy. The focus on Magnus returned, but with a different change in tone. He was Toki’s buddy. A mentor. A reliable father figure.

Magnus read each new role, and grew paranoid for the one that he knew would soon arise from the depths of internet forums.

Another month went by, then another, and after doing their best to avoid the media, to pay extra attention when making exchanges, their reprieve arrived in the form of funny jingles and images depicting the two of them as nothing short of the best of friends. The host of the show played it well, acting as though he never had a hand in spreading lies about them, and treated their nightly excursions, trips and secret dates as just another blurb in the Dethklok Minute. But as nice as two friends hanging out was, it didn’t draw the same number of crowds as before, and after waiting and waiting, the focus on the two of them finally died.

Nobody cared that Toki hung out with Magnus, and were far more invested in Pickles’ massive pub crawl across Europe, the recent paternity trials of Skwisgaar, Nathan’s up-and-down relationship with Abigail, or Murderface’s failed MLM scheme.

And then–

“Welcome to the Dethklok minute! Uh-oh, Toki-oh! After a huge and successful performance in Japan, Toki Wartooth was seen inviting Magnus Hammersmith into the lobby of the famous Ningen Isu Hotel. But what’s this? Take a look at this! Though the picture is of poor quality, fans speculate the two are holding hands in the photo…”

A slip up. After months of touring, bad reception and shitty planning on his part, Toki called Magnus over, and in their haste to reunite, were caught in the act.

And then…

“Breaking news! You will not believe your eyes!”

The very thing Magnus feared happened. Toki expected a strong reaction from Magnus. He expected the walls to crumble and the world to feel like it was ending. However, he could not predict just how negative a response he'd receive from his billions of fans. Knees tucked into his chest, Toki sullenly scrolled through the thousands of tags with awful slurs and insulting remarks, now all aimed at him. Fans demanded to know if he hit his head, if he enjoyed giving head, if he was always playing for both sides, if he spit or swallowed, if he even liked girls, if he was drunk when it happened, if it was consensual, if Toki was sure he didn’t like breasts, if he was ok, or if there was something wrong with his eyes because he could do so much better than Magnus Hammersmith.

Nathan and the others warned him this would happen, but Toki never believed it. The fans loved him. He could do no wrong.

But, once it was out–

“While most remain torn, a growing number of fans have openly voiced their support of the two…”

Once it was out, it was Magnus who snatched the phone out from Toki’s hand, taking and stowing it in some drawer where it couldn’t bother them before doing the same with Toki, and carrying him off into the night in his arms and telling him it wasn’t worth their time.

“…Send your vote to this number to determine the name of this new, controversial celebrity couple!”

Much like those slow, intimate touches that kept Toki distracted long through the night, the horrible things fans said came to pass. Not much longer, Magnus showed Toki how those same fans that had attacked him, that posted videos and memes making fun of their friendship, that spread rumors and doubt, that tested their patience, were all now sending hearts and their best wishes. There were pictures, both hand drawn and professionally done, hashtags and gifs and essays filled with nothing but off-putting support. Toki found familiar faces and names, avatars and posts from those he remembered directing horrible things his way, and now they were acting as though they never stopped believing in the two.

Toki logged off and debated taking a break from social media.

Magnus beckoned him back to comforting sheets.

The initial shock came and went, and before long, all that was left was empty support and praise. Wholesome quotes and pretty rainbow flags that meant nothing to Toki, even less to Magnus, and fan songs and imagery that Toki blocked, only to later openly mocked with the only man who understood better than anyone else how pathetic and empty-brained most people were, and how quickly everyone forgets.

The band had little to say, but offered their indirect support by reminding Toki the jack-offs were more than likely jealous. Toki had everything in the world, Nathan later said. It didn’t matter that he left it at that, abruptly ending the conversation before Toki had a chance to really take it in and appreciate the shreds of a hidden apology underneath it all. Everything in the world. To think it included Magnus made the half-assed apology more heartfelt, and Toki had to stop himself from getting too close to Nathan and thanking him for taking his side, for being there, for listening, caring in his own way.

And, finally…

“… and in other news, the world’s favorite musical couple celebrated Toki Wartooth’s birthday in upstate New York. After celebrating at Mordhaus, Magnus and Toki decided to take advantage of the band’s extended work sabbatical, and take a vacation together… Next week, I give you a very special Dethklok exclusive, starring none other than the famous couple themselves!”

With an outstretched hand, Magnus reached for the remote, turning off the television with a short, but aggressive jab on the power button before snatching his keys and turning to Toki, who remained peacefully reclined on top of the hotel bed.

“Ready?” Magnus asked, fixing one of many heavy rings he had on his person as Toki slipped off the bed, hastily running past him to locate his socks and boots for the long day ahead. Magnus fingered a rather hefty skull ring adorned with gaudy, but bright and pointed gemstones. “So, who’s doing what again?”

“I holds him down,” Toki replied as he worked the laces on his boots. “When I gives the words, I jumps across and holds him down.”

Magnus picked up his sunglasses, donning his disguise before casually making his way out of the bedroom. “Uh-huh. And what’s the word?”

“Hmmm.” Toki chewed his inner lip as he searched for a random enough word. “Cinnamon?”

“Cinnamon?”

“Yeps,” Toki replied, standing up and following Magnus. He grabbed a small box of medical bandages and gauze, still in a plastic bag that rested on top of a recently cracked crystal table, and shoved both into his already cluttered fanny pack.

Magnus reached in, snatching the gauze and stowing it into one of his pockets, leaving more room for Toki to rearrange his things. “And you’re totally fine with me beating the ever-lasting shit out of him?” he asked, earning a mischievous little glance from the younger man. “All by myself?”

“Wells, I’ms gonna to gets him first,” Toki contentedly pointed out, and earned a snicker from Magnus when he dared to smile at the thought. “Ams doing half the works. Also, lets me wear some of the rings.”

“Fine, fine.” Magnus offered his fingers up to Toki, amused when the young man stopped and hovered and admired the large, heavy steel rings bought for the sole purpose of rearranging another man’s face. He raised a brown when he saw Toki reach for a devilish ring adorned with curled horns. “Not that one, I like that one.”

“Evens better.” Toki pulled the ring from Magnus’ middle, sticking out his tongue as he tried it on, along with a few others, before earning a slightly sarcastic look of approval from Magnus.

“Ready?” Magnus asked again, admittedly smitten by how well the ring suited Toki.

“Waits, I forgots my hat.”

Magnus headed to the door, taking his time, stopping briefly to admire the view from the window and take in the magnificent view, while also picking up on rushed footsteps hitting the floor, Toki nearly tripping over himself and putting on the last bit of his outfit, then claiming Magnus’ free hand as his, and yanking him close into a brief, but passionate kiss.

“Let’s go,” he said after slowly pulling away, eyes locked on Magnus as he opened the door, ready to be led into the light.

#fanfic #toki wartooth #magnus hammersmith #metalocalypse #fanfiction #unbeta'd

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jace-todd · 3 years

Text

Slack

@oh-faithful-inner-demons this is totally not about the headcanon you posted a little bit ago, pssh totally not but uhh enjoy anyway~ I tried to use some of your headcanons in this too!! Sorry if it's not that good- I decided to go with the first part of the headcanon, becoming slack in a hug to focus on Aizawa and Hitoshi's relationship as Father-Son but I'm still open to writing a second piece-

Word count: 2,069

You can read it online right here on my Archive

warning for bullying, jumping (as in bullies cornering a student after school hours to beat on them, i'm sorry hitoshi), neglectful parents, abandonment

There were only two people in the whole world who knew how weak Hitoshi was for affection. Affection was never something Hitoshi got a lot of when he was growing up. His parents were firm believers that vulnerability would only aid in you getting soft and getting yourself killed out there in ‘the real world.’ When he was four, not long after his quick manifested, all of the early affection he received to keep childhood development on path disappeared altogether. Maybe every now and then, his mother would ruffle his hair when she’d finish a long shift at the hospital - too tired to even remember her hatred.

At school, without friends, Hitoshi didn’t get to experience friendly hugs. He didn’t have that one friend who’d practically vibrate in their seat when he’d enter the room in the morning, calling out his name with greetings and asking all about his previous afternoon. That one friend didn’t exist so they never pulled him close in between classes, an arm thrown over his shoulders, talking loudly in his ears to combat Hitoshi’s natural silence. That one friend who understood that Hitoshi didn’t feel comfortable talking - not with his quirk as villainous as it was, not with his quirk putting up the risk it did merely by interacting with anyone. That one friend who’d sit next to him at lunch, against a tree, their entire body shoved against his side - completely foreign to something called personal space.

What he got instead were people leaving the seats around HItoshi empty every year, too afraid to go near the kid with the villainous quirk and the absent parents and the snarky personality. They whispered behind his back rumors about how he was the one that leaked the test results two weeks ago, he was the one that made Miyuki punch Kako in the fact yesterday after she hung out with him. The only kind of company and touch Hitoshi received were pushes in the hallways and jumpings behind school. Instead of hair ruffles Hitoshi’s hair would be held tight in a fist to maneuver back to punch him in the face. Instead of hands holding his, feet ground against them until he broke his promise to not show signs of weakness. Instead of hugs, arms kept him from slumping to the ground hit after hit landed.

After a while, Hitoshi stopped expecting to get affection from anyone. It became easier to expect the worst, assume that anyone who got close only wanted to hurt him. Unfortunately, it made Hitoshi’s life easier - knowing the world already wanted to hurt him prepared him for the worst. It prepared him for when his parents up and left two weeks before he started UA - no real explanation, just a final argument between him and his father that ended with Hitoshi silently heading to his room and hiding. When he came out for his work-out the next morning, their rooms were empty and money was left on the counter.

Life really became lonely after that. School was awkward and quiet - coming home to an empty house made it seem even worse. At least when his parents were still around, one of them would be home by the time he got back from school. They wouldn’t greet him but at least Hitoshi knew someone was there. Now though, there were no one to glance in his direction, to eat dinner with, to awkwardly stare at when they found each other in the middle of the night doing their own thing. He had the entire place to himself.

Then Eraser-head started mentoring him. After the Sports festival, being pulled aside during homeroom to talk to his favorite hero had felt like a fever dream. The minute he walked away, Hitoshi pinched his arm three times just to be completely sure that it wasn’t. Starting up training had been learning where Hitoshi’s boundaries were, being taught how to use Aizawa’s - Aizawa, Hitoshi gets to call his favorite hero by his name - original capture device, and figuring out their own dynamic. Every minute kept Hitoshi on his toes, exhausted with lack of sleep and too much working out, but more energetic and happy than he’d been in years.

Their interactions started out as just mentor-mentee. Aizawa was trying Hitoshi to get into the hero course, to get enough strength and control to impress the Board, Hitoshi was learning everything he could from his idol. It was strictly business. And then Aizawa broke first, offering Hitoshi a trip to get some food and water down at a cat cafe, not even two blocks from the school. Hitoshi had flushed, unused to any sort of attention from the hero outside of these training sessions. He had agreed without thinking too much and for the next two hours, Hitoshi found himself pouring out more information about himself than he’d told anyone in his entire life.

Two days later, Hitoshi perfected one of the hardest maneuvers to learn after only a month. Aizawa had given him that weird smiling-but-not-smiling thing of his and reached out. He initially flinched away, expecting the worst but the hand just slowed down. A moment later, it dropped onto his head and ruffled his hair. Hitoshi did not tear up. He didn’t, really. If there was one lesson his father taught him that stuck was that crying meant vulnerability and weakness. However, Hitoshi did feel lightheaded at the sudden affection.

Aizawa ever-observant kept it on his head a moment or two too long before letting go, nodding in the direction of their jungle gym, telling him to get going.

The next couple of months passed pretty much the same. Slowly, Aizawa integrated casual affections into their interactions. Whenever Hitoshi did something well, Aizawa ruffled his hair. When Hitoshi smiled, Aizawa gave it back. Eventually, when Hitoshi started to open up, Aizawa did the same - it was a sign of trust. They were going good - Aizawa and Hitoshi had what he was slightly afraid to call a father-son dynamic, Hitoshi was already admitted into the hero course, Aizawa was getting through physical therapy steadily and surely.

And then Aizawa came into their usual weekend breaks to the cat cafe with a manilla folder. Hitoshi was pressed against the back of the cat cafe, sipping at the strong coffee he had ordered when he arrived, stroking the back of the tabby on his lap, reading the latest comic he got his hands on. When the little ding of the door closing rang out, he lifted his head out of the pages to see who it was. Aizawa lifted a hand in greeting, heading straight to him rather than get his usual strong coffee and retrieval of his favorite cat.

Immediately, Hitoshi felt a pit rise in his stomach. This was it, this was where Aizawa decided Hitoshi wasn’t fit to be in the hero’s life anymore, wasn’t fit to be a hero, that he had come to his senses and Hitoshi would be nothing more than a low-life villain. He stuffed the comic back into his bookbag, careful with it despite the way his hands were starting to shake and he was getting light-headed. “Aizawa-Sensei? Is everything okay?”

Aizawa slid into the seat across from him, “Everything’s fine, Hitoshi. Take a deep breath for me, okay?” He didn’t want to take a deep breath. What he wanted was for Aizawa to just rip the bandage off so he could leave. One of Aizawa’s hands disappeared from view for a moment before coming back with one of the fidget toys he kept around for his kids. In a sign of peace, he put it in the middle of the table and Hitoshi took it, swiftly working it over with practiced ease.

It worked well to calm him down enough to hear what Aizawa wanted to tell him. “What’s in the folder, Sensei?”

The teacher flipped it around so that it was facing Hitoshi before opening it. “See for yourself, kid.” Staring back at Hitoshi in big bold letters were the words ‘Report of Adoption.’ The world stopped as Hitoshi read through it all. His biological parents had been contacted and had signed over custody already, Aizawa and Yamada’s information were nearly completely filled out except for the very last signature, which left only Hitosh’s section empty.

“Are...Are you serious?” He couldn’t look away from the papers, going through them over and over again just to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. Surely, there was his mother’s signature and then his father’s. On the other page, neat Shouta Aizawa stood above Hizashi Yamada.

Aizawa nodded, “I’m completely serious. It’s only logical considering your living arrangements and the multitude of arising issues as you enter the hero course next year. Hitoshi, you deserve to have someone who cares about you and whether you make it home safely or not. Hizashi and I have already spoken it over and we’ve contacted our lawyers. Before we continue anything else, I needed to tell you. Do you consent to being adopted by Hizashi and I?”

Did he consent? Did he consent to being taken in by the hero that kept Hitoshi going his entire childhood? Did he consent from having to leave the one place that was always home to him to move to a brand new location, a brand new layout, a brand new family? Everything between them would change again. He would have to readjust, find himself and where their limits were - surely, they would have rules and strict No’s for him. Maybe they’d regret adopting him not even a week into their legal adoption and then it’d all be for nothing. Maybe Eri would fear him and he’d leave. Not that he’d mind it. Eri and her had interacted plenty of times but he knew he made the little girl uncomfortable.

But Hitoshi wanted it. He wanted it more than he’s ever wanted anything in his entire life. Hitoshi wanted to wake up to Hizashi’s singing in the mirrors as he cooked breakfast. He wanted to wake up to his own cat pressed against his side. He wanted to step out of his room in the morning, dressed for the hero course, and see Eri leaving her own room, smiling up at him while he smiled down. He wanted to be able to walk home with Aizawa after training rather than have to go separate ways every day. Above all else, Hitoshi just wanted to be loved.

“I- I consent.” Aizawa’s smile was toothy and a little lopsided but Hitoshi didn’t really see it past his own tears. He hadn’t cried since he was six and had scraped his knee badly enough to need a hospital trip. This was the biggest thing in his life, the biggest change surpassing the hero course with ease.

The cat had already scurried off, leaving Hitoshi’s hands and lap free once he dropped the fidget toy. He stood up, rounding to Aizawa’s side. The hero stood up as well, and Aizawa reached a hand out to ruffle his hair no doubt. No more did Hitoshi flinch but he didn’t let the hand reach him. Instead, Hitoshi threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tight around Aizawa’s shoulders, tucking his head in the crook of his arm and Aizawa’s neck. Aizawa returned the hug, holding on even tighter than Hitoshi was, one hand on his back and the other curled around purple hair.

He let the emotions and relief finally escape him, completely silent sobs racking his body as he went limp, letting the hero hold his weight for him. Aizawa grunted, planting his feet more strategically before shushing him, “I’ve got you, Hitoshi, you’re safe, you’re okay.”

Aizawa didn’t budge under Hitoshi’s weight - even if the teen was nearly as tall and as heavy as the hero was, steadily starting to surpass him even. For nearly five minutes they stood there, Aizawa supporting both their weights, talking softly to Hitoshi the entire time, telling him to let it out, that he would be there and so would Hizashi no matter what Hitoshi needed. Unfortunately, Aizawa’s straining muscles eventually caused them to both slide to the floor, still gripping each other tight, Hitoshi slack in his arms.

They didn’t need to move anytime soon so Aizawa let the kid remain there. After all, it was about damn time Hitoshi got some well-earned affection.

#shinsou hitoshi #aizawa shouta #hannah's writing

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krreader · 4 years

Text

call me maybe.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x foreign student!reader fandom: bts warnings: language genre: fluff word count: 1.6k+

summary: these things didn’t happen in real life. there was just no way. you wouldn’t let yourself think otherwise.. not even if Jeongguk tried his hardest to convince you that this wasn’t some sort of joke.

a/n: so, because I felt a little weird doing this with a high school student, you’re a college student in this story who does a semester abroad. just to make that clear lol. also, why do I feel like I might make a part 2 for this :’)

You still didn't know how your friend managed to get you into this fan meeting, but now that you were here and staring at the faces of the seven boys that you used to admire from afar, you couldn't care less anymore.

To be in the same room as them was definitely a once in a lifetime experience.

To talk to them, probably even more.

You felt a little odd, because the people in this room all seemed like they were such die-hard fans and you, despite really liking them and their music, couldn’t help but feel like you didn’t deserve to be here..

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” your friend who stood in front of you started bouncing up and down, “They are right there you guys! Right there in front of us!” this is exactly what you meant. Die-hard fans.

“Can you please calm down? We don't want to look like total fangirls. The calmer we are, the better,” another one said and tried to smooth out her hair.

You were a group of four, you were the last one, had decided to watch your friends go first and boy, was that a good decision.

It was so nice to watch them interact with their favorites, it was so.. fulfilling somehow? To see them so utterly happy and while it was also a little cringy at times, you still smiled throughout the whole thing.

In fact, you were so busy watching them that you completely forgot you were waiting in line as well until one of the managers kindly asked you to step forward.

With a quick apology you walked up to the first member.

Your Korean wasn't perfect yet, but it was enough to hold a conversation and it didn't matter who you were talking to, Jin, Tae, Yoongi.. they all understood and encouraged you to at least try. They didn’t laugh when you made a mistake and you were sure that you weren’t always using formal Korean correctly, but they didn’t mind at all, they were just very kind.

You thought you'd be nervous once standing right in front of them, but all of them had a talent of making you understand that you had no reason to be. When they realised your nerves were getting the better of you, they reached out to touch your hand, always kept eye contact with you and never once made you feel like you being here annoyed them.

It was going incredibly well.. until you were standing in front of Jeongguk.

“Hi,” you smiled a little. The beginning was always the most nerve-wrecking.

However, unlike with the others who immediately said hello back and started up a conversation with you, Jeongguk just stared at you, then gulped down hard and shook his head a little.

Did you.. do something wrong?

“Hey,” he cleared his voice after it came out a little shaky, “Your name is.. (Y/N)?”

“Yeah..”

“Where are you from?” it was hard for him to keep eye contact, he quickly started to sign your album and seemed to take his time with it, unlike the other members.

“(Y/H/C). I'm doing one semester here.. maybe two if I really like it.”

“A.. year then, huh?” finally he looked up at you, staring directly into your eyes again. And it seemed like he let out a breath he had been holding.

Was he okay?

“Yeah, I arrived about three weeks ago, so this is a nice start,” you tried to break the ice, “I loved your recent comeback, seriously. You did so great.”

“Ah.. thank you,” finally, he started smiling, “Which school are you going to then? If.. that's not a secret,” Jeongguk chuckled.

“Not at all,” you smiled, “It's Hanyang university.”

“Oh, wow.. you’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

“Wasn't easy to get in, but I'm glad I managed,” you grinned from ear to ear.

Jeongguk was going to say something else, especially now that you two seemed to have a topic to talk about and he was just beginning to really smile and laugh, but Namjoon was already waiting with a smile and the manager were impatient.

So instead he said, “Well then.. see you around, (Y/N).”

You didn't think much of it that day. You were sure that he said that to everyone. Why wouldn't he? This is like their go-to line to make their fans feel good and like they were special, you weren't naive to think you actually were.

But.. well..-

one week later

“(Y/N), wait up!” your friend caught you just before you left the main building, “Are you going to the library?”

“A little later, I need to run home real quick to get something first.”

“Alright, I'll be waiting for you there, then. I'll text you where I'm sitting.”

“Sounds good,” with a smile you left, your book pressed against your chest as you made your way down the stairs and towards the exit of the campus.

But you didn't get very far.

You weren't exactly day dreaming, but you still weren’t prepared when someone suddenly appeared in front of you, making your book fall to the ground.

“Sorry, I didn't see you,” you didn't even look up, you just crouched down to pick up your things and were going to continue walking.

But he also crouched down to help you.

And even though he wore a hat, you could clearly see who it was.

“Oh.. my god?” your eyes widened.

“Please don't freak out, I know this is probably super creepy and weird, but I just had to try..-”

“Try.. what?!” for fuck's sake, this was Jeon Jeongguk and you were just casually meeting him here? “What are you doing here?!”

“Listen, I don't usually do this.. not even with girls that work with me, so I know this is a risk, but I can't stop thinking about you and I think I'm going mad.”

You stared at him with an open mouth, then started to look around, making Jeongguk furrow his eyebrows, “Okay, where's the camera? This is really funny, ha ha, stupid (Y/N), let’s pull a prank on her and post it on YouTube so everyone will see how stupid she is.”

“This.. isn't a joke,” he got back up when you did, “The reason I was so weird at the fan sign was because I.. liked you. And I know that's weird to say when I don't even know you, but I'd like to.”

The more he said, the lower your jaw dropped.

Was he actually serious? Did he really think you were that daft?

“Listen, I don't live in a Cinderella fantasy and I'm not twelve years old anymore. I'm not stupid enough to know that whatever this is, it's not real. Pull that prank on your delusional fans, but I’m not one of them.”

“But that's exactly why I'm here,” Jeongguk gently pulled you along with him, to a spot that was a little less busy, “Usually the people that come to our fan sign are die hard fans. I know that the moment I'd give them my number, screenshots of it would be on social media. I know that the moment I’d compliment them, they’ll twist my words in their heads and make them think I now want to marry them.”

“You don’t know me. You have no idea whether or not I'd do that too,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Would you?”

You were taken aback, then shook your head, “Of course not.”

“Then I'm right about you. You went there by coincidence, didn't you? You probably got a ticket from a friend? And you like BTS, but you're not obsessed with us? You like our music, but you know that we're just people like the rest?”

Why was it feeling like he was calling you out?

“So what?”

“So go out with me.”

This was the weirdest situation you’ve ever been in. Seriously.

First and foremost, you were still convinced that this was some sort of joke, that the moment you'd say yes, he'd be like: 'Surprise, you got pranked, I'd never go out with you, bye'. But at the same time, you were curious..

“How did you even find me?”

“You told me you studied here.. I just waited and hoped you’d leave through the front exit.”

“How long did you wait?”

Jeongguk shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “A.. while.”

“And.. why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you.. I think I like you. I can't stop thinking about your smile, I can’t stop thinking about your life or your perfume and I know that all sounds so weird. I don't take a lot of chances in my life and I regret it every time I don't. But I want to stop doing that. I want to take a leap of faith this time.”

So, so, so stupid, (Y/N). Don't fall for it. This isn't real. There is no way this is real. It doesn't matter that he's looking at you like this, this is most definitely a prank, it’s way too cheesy to be real.

You just opened your mouth when you could hear a friend from afar yell: “Yah! (Y/N)! You said you were going home, what are you doing?! Are you skipping our tutoring session today?”

Jeongguk instantly started to panic, grabbed the pen and notebook out of your hand and scribbled something inside it, then pushed it back into your hands, “Please don't let me be wrong about you..”

And with that he ran off.

“Who was that?” your friend asked as soon as she was right next to you, both of you staring after the guy.

“A very strange man.”

“Ugh, I hate those,” she rolled her eyes and hooked her arm with yours, “Anyways, let's get lunch.”

You had been staring at his number for days now, over and over again.

You had ripped it out of your book once and thrown it into the trash can, only to pull it back out five minutes later.

You couldn't do it.

Something inside of you told you not to throw it away.

Maybe it was foolish hope? Most definitely.

You had expected a clip of your encounter with him to be online by now, titled with: ‘Jeon Jeongguk tries to get date with fan’ but there was nothing of the sort.

You kept checking, every single day, but there was absolutely nothing.

You sighed deeply and fell back onto your bed, the piece of paper in one hand, your phone in the other.

“Fuck this. What did the kids used to say? You only live once. Might as well make a fool out of myself.”

And so you dialed the number, with each peep your heart sped up, full on thinking that you'd end up with an old lady on the other end yelling at you why you were calling her in the middle of the night and that she had to get up early the next day to watch the newest home shopping episode.

But no old lady answered.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Uh.. hi. This is.. (Y/N)?”

Then it was quiet.

For a long time.

You almost would have ended the call if it weren't for that soft voice, so full of disbelief, yet happiness: “You actually called..”

Oh, fuck.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jeongguk imagine #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #reader #requests

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mostlydysfunction · 4 years

Text

From The Stars, Part 5

Chapter Summary: Kira talks with her dad and then makes a discovery in her barn. The Xenomorph is almost ready.

Warnings: Talks of death and grieving as well as some non-con touching at the end.

Author’s Note: Yeah, I have no control. I just really want to get the next part written cause that’s when things finally happen. But you do get a bit of Kira’s backstory in this one. I’m trying to keep things a little ambiguous because you’ll see later on in the story. But anyways, I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

***************************************************************************************

Kira chews on her lip as she sits across the living room from her dad. He looks good, tired and older than she remembered, but good. The last time she’d seen him he’d been storming down the driveway towards his car, not even looking back. Guilt and regret ate away at her stomach, twisting it painfully. He wasn’t even looking at her, studying the grain of the wood the coffee table was made of. He had cut that tree down himself and handmade it for her mother. Their initials were carved in the bottom. She had told him to take it with him, but he had said it belonged in that house. The house they’d built specially for them. The house they put so much work into. The house he’d rather forget was real.

“I um...I was heading out of town for a few days and I thought I’d come by and see how you were on my way out.” Her dad finally says, breaking the awkward silence around them. “I heard about the fire...wanted to see if you were alright.”

It had been almost a week since the explosion and he was just now checking on her. “Yeah, I’m okay. It didn’t make it this far.”

He nods. “That’s...that’s good. We could hear it and see it all the way in town. It’s too bad, the wreck.”

She had read that online. The cover story. An oil truck had been hit after a semi driver fell asleep at the wheel. The fire had caused the oil truck to explode. It was hard to believe as they didn’t get many semi’s in their area, but the people in this town were so desperate for something exciting to happen they’d believe anything.

Kira nods. “It was loud, the explosion. Woke me from a dead sleep.”

“I bet. I am glad you’re alright, though.”

It’s silent between them for a while before her dad finally stands up, going to the wall with the photos. He looks over them all, taking in the old memories.

“You left them up.”

Kira nods. “Yeah. Felt weird taking them down. Empty.”

He picks up the picture on the mantle of the three of them: her, her dad and her mother at the top of a nearby peak. Her mother had convinced them to hike it. Her being only 10, she had gotten tired halfway up and her dad had carried her the rest of the way to the top. She still remembers that day. Her mother had been so happy outside.

“I’m glad you kept them up.” He places the picture back on the mantle. “Remember all the happy times.”

Kira nods again, watching him as he makes his way to the kitchen. She gets up, following. He glances at the towels haphazardly thrown on the floor but thankfully doesn’t ask as he moves to the back door, looking out at the yard.

“The garden looks good.” One of her mother’s other joys. “You’ll have to send pictures in a few weeks when it really starts to bloom.”

“I will. I planted a lot this year.”

He nods, looking out past the garden to the barn. “The barn looks different.”

Kira glances out as well, looking at the barn. It did look different. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but something had changed. She hadn’t touched the barn since her mom died, so she knows it couldn’t have been her doing.

“Yeah, I was, uh, cleaning it up a bit. Maybe set it up and get a couple of animals again. It gets...quiet out here.”

The two sheep had been her mother’s favorite out of the animals they’d had growing up. She’d loved them almost as much as she’d loved Kira.

Her dad nods again. “I think that’s a good idea.” He looks down at his watch. “I uh, should hit the road here. I just...wanted to make sure you��re alright.”

“I’m okay, dad.” Kira nods. “It’s...” She chews on her lip. “I like it out here.”

“I’m glad.” He moves to the door, Kira following. “I, uh, I’ll see you later, I guess.”

Kira nods. “Yeah. I’ll be around.”

Kira watches him walk to his car, remembering the night he left.

It had been a week after the funeral. Kira knew it was coming, she’d seen the way he looked at the house, seemed to just wander around like a ghost. He’d stare out the window at the half-finished garden, stand in the doorway of the bedroom staring at nothing and everything. He was lost in the constant reminders of her and he couldn’t stand it.

It had been six years since the day that he told her he was leaving, that he couldn’t stand being around the memories, around her. She was haunting him in that house and he told her she could stay, he’d keep the property, pay for it. But he couldn’t stay. He had left her there, running from the memories of her mother, the woman he’d loved since they were children. It had been the last time he’d stepped foot in that house as he carried the last box to his car, not looking back as he drove into town, leaving her and the ghost of her mother behind.

At least, until his unexpected visit. Things had been awkward between them since her mother’s death. She had been the glue that held the three of them together and after she died, there was nothing there to hold them anymore. Kira knew he felt guilty for leaving her there, for running. She knew it was pride that had driven him back, pride that had brought him to check on her. He hated seeming like a coward, for leaving his 20-year-old daughter to move into an apartment in town to escape the memory of his dead wife.

Kira didn’t blame him. She’d seen how he just left himself when she died. It was like a part of his soul died with her. He had left to try to find it again, but six years and he didn’t seem any closer to fixing it. That’s what he did. He fixed things. Kira had long ago accepted that her mother was gone, that she wasn’t coming back. She missed her terribly, but all she could do was keep her memory alive while her father just wanted to forget. Everyone has their coping mechanisms. Everyone grieves differently. Kira just wished she hadn’t been so awful to her father when he left. Hadn’t said the things she’d said to him.

******

It’s late afternoon by the time Kira can peel herself out of the chair in the living room. She’d sat and stared at the driveway for long enough. The visit from her dad had brought up too many memories, too much to try to process in one day. She had things to do, and a barn to investigate.

She pulls on her boots and grabs a flashlight before heading out to the barn. It was far enough away from the house that the true damage to it couldn’t be seen. She hadn’t touched the barn in six years, and it certainly looked that way. She was glad for that, especially when she saw why it looked so different.

She slides the door open, nearly dropping the flashlight. All around the inside of the barn is a hard black substance. Lining the walls, across the floor, up onto the roof. It was like something out of a science fiction movie. She takes a hesitant step forward, having to step up onto the substance. It was slightly sticky and gooey, her boots making suction noises with every step. She shines the flashlight around, the only light coming from the window high in the loft. The goo had covered the others, making it dark and unearthly inside. She sees movement out of the corner of her eye, whirling around and falling backwards as she finds herself face to face with her alien.

She gasps in surprise, pointing the flashlight on it from her place on the ground. It hisses slightly at her, almost a sound of annoyance than anything. So this is where it disappeared during the day. It seemed it had done this in the week since it had arrived, making its own home in her barn.

The alien stands over her before dropping down so they’re face to face. Its hands are on either side of her, trapping her between it and the sticky ground. It nudges at her shoulder, making it throb in protest. She turns slightly, holding it away from him as he goes to nudge it again.

“Why did you bite me?”

It hisses at her; the sound vibrating the surrounding air. It seemed so still and stagnant in the barn with the goo around her, the very air seeming to vibrate with every movement. The air ripples as the alien moves, picking her up before moving deeper into the barn, towards the back wall. It settles down so her back is against a wall of the goo, holding her. Kira huffs out a sigh, having no choice but to relax in its grip.

“So it seems you’re not going anywhere.” The alien hisses in response. “You need a name. Something I can call you. Do you have a name?” She doesn’t get a response. “You’re not a very communicative species. Or maybe humans just aren’t smart enough to figure out how to communicate like you.”

The alien finally hisses, moving Kira rather roughly so her back is pressed against the floor now. It’s hunched over her again, one leg on either side of hers. I guess that was enough talking for now. Kira feels trapped as the alien lifts a hand, four fingers curling around the neck of her jacket before ripping downward. The fabric tears easily, revealing her bra. The air inside the barn is cool, making goosebumps form on her skin. Her heart is pounding despite the fact she knew this was coming. She knew this would happen soon.

The alien presses its face up against her bite mark again, making it ache and throb in response. Kira groans, attempting to get away from the pain, but the alien hisses dangerously in her face. She swallows thickly, drool starting to drip on her bare skin. The alien sits back slightly, a clawed hand reaching out towards her face. Its skin is rough as it runs its fingers over her face, feeling her. Her eyes close as it moves lower, claws pressing into her skin as it moves down her neck and onto her chest. Her breath hitches as its palm brushes over one of her breasts, causing it to pause before slowly moving lower over her stomach.

It lets out a soft hiss as it moves over her stomach, Kira holding her breath as it moves lower. The alien shifts over her, its hand brushing over the top of her pelvis. Kira moves as well, her hips shifting in response to its touch. Her eyes fly open as the alien presses its palm against her, clawed fingers curling around the hem of her jeans. Her brain catches up to her, beginning to process what was happening, and the panic begins.

“No!” She kicks out at the alien, landing one against its chest. It hisses at her, but she doesn’t cower in fear, wiggling and fighting her way out from under it.

As soon as she can she’s on her feet, racing from the barn and back towards her house. The fear that the alien could easily catch her, pounce on her before she even reaches her door drives her on faster. But she makes it inside, slamming and locking the sliding back door before she collapses to her knees, dry heaving as she sobs.

It wasn’t the fact that the alien was touching her. She knew that would happen. She had been expecting it.

No, she was upset about the wetness between her own legs. She had been enjoying it.

Part 6

#exophilia #aliens #xenomorph #xenomorph x human #xenomorph x oc #non con #grieving #death

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impossible-rat-babies · 3 years

Note

💛 and 🌠 🌺 for any of your OCs?

I’m gonna go with Rabbit! :D

💛 in general, how in control of their emotions is your oc? do they have a good hold on them or do their emotions control them, not the other way around? what do you think is the reason behind this and is your oc ever concerned about their lack of or good control

rabbit usually keeps a pretty good hold on themselves--they don’t like to be really overt with their emotions. they do have a hard time keeping control of things like frustration and anger though--they got a short temper for sure. which is probably linked to how anger and frustration will get them the biggest response/an actual response out of someone. It’s not healthy, they will acknowledge that much. (They’re better with it now then when they were younger. middle/high school was a rough time for them rip)

🌠 who was your oc’s first friend? do they remember them or are they still friends now? talk about some of the people your oc has lost contact with over the years. do they have any regrets about losing these people and would they revisit them if they could?

they had a friend or two when they were in elementary school, but after losing their parents they lost contact with them when they were pushed into the foster care system and later adopted. they wonder about those friends sometimes and figure they’ve probably been doing better than they ever could. it’s more a melancholic feeling than bitter. they made a few friends in middle and high school, but they were definitely the sorts of kids who were also “weird” rabbit definitely hung out with those rocker/punk/weed smoking folks. definitely did a bunch of illegal shit/did stuff they shouldn’t have been doing. they hope those friends are doing well since they don’t keep in contact with any of them anymore. they used to, but they just fell out of the habit when phone numbers change and they don’t have access to being online very much.

🌺 does your oc have any tattoos or other body art? does their body art have any specific meaning behind it? do they have any scars? dow did they get those scars? any birthmarks?

rabbit has a few tattoos i think i’ve talked about before, but i just haven’t drawn them. i think they have a fern tattoo on their forearm and maybe a few others too. they have a stick and poke smiley face on their thigh from when they were in high school that’s half tattoo half scar bc of how shitty it was done.

and oh boy they have scars. most of them are from work and they don’t attach much significance to them. they do have top surgery scars, and one long scar down the center of their chest. they had open heart surgery when they were young, so it’s a real old scar, but a permanent one regardless.

they have a few patches if vitiligo on their hands (it’s hard to see but its’ mostly where they don’t have freckles) and a scattered of moles for birthmarks!

jumbo oc ask meme!

#thank you otter! :D #oc talk: rabbit #oc tag #ask meme #bitterotter

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miracul0us-multishipper · 5 years

Text

Welcome to the Back (Part 13)

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

I said I’d update slower now, ‘cause I want to reduce my phone time. Well. I failed.

- - -

Life was finally going her way again. Lila had known all her research and efforts would pay off in the end, but damn! Was she happy the end was finally here!

“I don’t get it.”, Alya - poor, stupid Alya - asked her. Lila stood in the middle of the room, clinging to Felix who did a decent job looking fine with it. She hadn’t left him out of her sight the entire morning, except for going to the toilet. “I thought you two didn’t like each other.”

The rest of the class - minus Marinette, who was late again - had gathered around them as well. Lila gave Felix a kiss on the cheek.

“Do you want to tell them, darling?”

She was the only one to notice how he cringed and leaned away from her touch, he tried hard enough to look happy. Marinette’s future depended on how convincing he was, after all.

“We already met in London, as children.”, he repeated the lie she’d told him earlier. “And we were... friends. That fell in love.”

Geez, for someone this clever he sure was lacking in the acting department.

“It was magical!”, Lila chimed in. “His mother had spotted me in the crowd of one of her shows, and she was so impressed by my looks that she wanted me to model for her. I was paired with him for the shoot and we clicked instantly, didn’t we? As if we were meant to be!”

“Yeah”, Felix choked out, “As if we’re meant to be.”

She laughed and waved her hand through the air.

“We lost each other when I had to move back to Italy, where I lost my memories of him in car accident. But Felix never stopped searching for me, right?”

He nodded.

“Yes, I just... didn’t recognize Lila when we met again, here. She had changed so much.”

“And she changed her name as well?”, Nathaniel doubted with raised eyebrows. She shot him a glare, before smiling brightly again.

“Of course! See, I had turned Queen’s evidence in a case back in Italy, where my testimony helped to bust a dangerous mafia family. The whole ordeal was kept under tight wraps, and I was hiding under a false name in England for a while. For my own safety, I called myself Lara Rouge when Felix and I met.”

She gave Felix a subtle push.

“That’s why I couldn’t find her, after she moved back to Italy when it was safe.”, he forced out. “And why I was so rude to everyone. Because I was”, he gulped, “heartbroken.”

“I only regained my memory yesterday, when Ladybug visited me.”, she hurried to continue. “She used Miraculous Ladybug on me when I told her I had forgotten my time in London, and then my Amnesia was healed! I immediately called Felix to tell him who I was, and now we are a couple again!”

“Wow!”, Mylène gasped. “That’s so romantic!”

The rest of the class seemed to buy it as well. Except Adrien maybe. Some part of him might have realized this couldn’t be true, and maybe he was actually bothered she had replaced him this quickly. But he kept quiet anyway. What choice did he have after all? She almost pitied him.

But alas, she had found someone that was more useful to her, and she didn’t plan on letting Felix go anytime soon. He was hers now. She had won.

As if to sweeten her victory, Dupain-Cheng entered the room.

“Marinette!”, Lila faked a smile. “Have you heard the news already?”

Her smile turned malicious.

“Felix declared his love for me!”

God, she wished she had recorded the look on Marinette’s face. This was just too great!

“W-What?!”

Revenge couldn’t get any sweeter.

“We are in love.”, she repeated. “Felix is my boyfriend now. I’m his girlfriend, the most important person in his life.”

She looked at Felix.

“Aren’t I, Darling?”

He closed his eyes in defeat, but it could be interpreted as devotion so she let it pass.

“Of course, Sweetheart. It’s true, everything you said.”

Marinette was paler than the wall.

“F-Felix, what are you talking about?”

Oh hell yes. She had expected this, anticipated it! And had told Felix exactly what she expected from him, should the moment come. His shoulders dropped. He knew what to do.

“I’m saying that there’s no one I care more about than Lila.”, he said slowly, visibly hoping for any kind of interruption. “Please...”

She shoved him when he trailed off, his next words were especially important. He looked as if he might cry. Drama queen.

“Please don’t make a scene just because you’re jealous!”, he spat out quickly, every word seeming to burn on his tongue. She almost squealed with glee.

As the class fell deadly silent, Marinette took a shocked step backwards. Oh jesus, were those tears in her eyes? And was her lip really trembling?! Lila had to use all of her self control to stop herself from cackling. This was simply delightful! She’d bet that Pigtails regretted trying to expose her now!

“Woah, Felix, what was that supposed to be?!”, Alya snapped and stepped next to her best friend. “Just ‘cause you have feelings for Lila all of a sudden doesn’t mean you get to say stuff like that to Marinette!”

“I’m sorry.”, Felix said sincerely. “That was uncalled for.”

Lila shrugged. It wasn’t necessary to elaborate on the lie of Marinette’s jealousy, and his apology would make him look better. It wouldn’t do for her to have a boyfriend nobody liked, after all. And now that the idea of Marinette being jealous was out in the open, it was going to fester in her classmates minds. Lila didn’t need to do anything, Marinette was going to bring herself down. Her attempts to save Felix would only further the image of her as a crazed stalker.

As for Felix... He didn’t have to like Lila, right now. Sooner or later, he’d get tired of hating her and give her a chance. They were inevitable! She only needed to keep him in line for long enough to let him see that.

She was ecstatic when she sat down on her seat. Yes, everything was going to be perfect.

Lila was so caught up in her own triumph, she didn’t notice how Marinette gave Felix the tiniest of smirks.

They changed the seats, now that Felix was under her thumb. Alya was sent to sit with Marinette in the back, Adrien with Nino, and Felix next to her. She clung to him the entire lesson.

She took Felix’ phone. Lila didn’t believe he would text Marinette - any sign that Pigtails knew what was up would result in the video being published! - but better safe than sorry.

She went through Felix’ book again, to see what else he had written since the last time she’d had it. When she found at least a dozen poems that could only be about Marinette, she ripped them out when he wasn’t looking and threw them in the trash, where they belonged. She comforted herself with the knowledge that soon, he’d only be writing about Lila.

She made Alya take a few pictures of her and Felix to put on the Ladyblog. The reporter was delighted to, but had to ask her for her signature first. A ‘Declaration of consent to be published online’ had to be signed so Alya wouldn’t get in trouble, now that Lila was going to be famous. Lila gave it to her happily. It would be the first autograph of many, she knew.

She took Felix to the Eiffel Tower, on the date she had planned the very first day. It was perfect, even if the poem she made him write wasn’t as heartfelt as the ones he’d made for Marinette. It was good enough to put on her social media though, where she sent it to everyone in their class. Unfortunately, Marinette wasn’t akumatized when she saw it.

She received her invitation to the Awards ceremony at the TV1 tower, and an E-mail from Bordeaux to remind her of their deal. Now was the moment she upheld her end of their bargain and delivered him Felix. She smiled. Time to shine!

All participants would be allowed to witness the awards show, as it was the center piece of the contest. They were wasting their time, of course. Officially, there may be a vote, but René had already assured her of her victory.

She clung to Felix’ arm when they arrived at the tower, waving into the camera’s that flashed. Tomorrow, the news would be full of Felix Leanne’s new girlfriend, diplomat’s daughter and winner of Journalism Junior. She was electrified with anticipation!

The studio the contest would be filmed in was huge, cameras pointing at the stage from every angle. The participants whose reports had made it into the final selection were guided to the stage, where make-up artists put finishing touches on their assigned student. Lila shooed hers off, knowing she already looked flawless. She’d checked at least a dozen times.

“I’m so exited!”, Alya squealed next to her. The poor girl had no idea she had already lost. “I can’t wait. Hey, Marinette!”

Lila’s stomach turned when Alya waved at the pigtailed brat. Ugh! She had forgotten about that. Everyone who had participated could join the live audience, even if they weren’t published. Damn, why had René forgotten about that? She was sure he’d said Marinette was uninvited!

She inhaled to calm her nerves. It didn’t matter. Yes, Felix as her plus-one was on the other end of the audience, and he had strict orders not to interact with her. Everything was under control. All the better if Marinette was here to witness her soaring victory!

“We’re live in ten seconds!”, Alec Cataldi, the host of the show informed them and looked nervously on his watch. “Where’s Nadja?”

“I’m here!”, Madame Chamack replied swiftly from the other side of the room. She had exchanged a view words with Marinette - Ugh! - and was now racing to the stage. “Ready to go!”

“Alright!”, Alec announces before flashing his brightest grin at the camera. The lights went on.

“Hello and welcome!”, he beamed. “The wait is over; here we are again with this year’s Journalism Junior contest!”

“Over 300 students have sent us their reports.”, Nadja continued. “300 glimpses into the life of Paris’ youth! But only ten of them have been chosen to face the final jury.”

“And that is you! Our amazing viewers from all over France!”

Lila almost yawned while Alec explained the concept in his exaggerated voice. The participants would be introduced and interviewed, then, after the first ad-break, their reports would be shown. The viewers could vote for the report they liked the most, and in the end, the winner would be announced. This year’s price was a backstage ticket for Jagged Stone’s next concert. A perfect chance for Lila to make her lie about knowing him come true.

“Now let’s get started! Who is it whose life you’ll get to know? Any volunteers? Ah, just kidding, you’re all volunteers after all!”, Alec jested when some of their group made a move to step forward. “Hey, how about you?”, he then pointed to Lila, as René had told him to. “The girl with the cute hairdo!”

“Why, thank you, Alec!”, she said in her sweetest voice. “I’m Lila Rossi! My report is called ‘The true secret behind designing’.”

“Secrets, I love it! What did you focus on in your video?”

Lila smiled into the camera.

“The truth!”

Marinette in the last row coughed, and Lila continued.

“My video is supposed to give you a clear and genuine view into my life. At first, I wanted to film my family and all our travels - they are diplomats and ambassadors, you see? Or maybe my wonderful boyfriend, Felix Leanne - Hi, Darling! - but then I thought, instead of showing all the glamor around me, I could show the glamor inside of me. The spark in me I express through my designs!”

The interview went smoothly, and longer than any of the others after her. Bordeaux had made sure she was the center of attention.

Still, she was bored out of her mind as the others hectically introduced themselves before Alec hopped on to the next. It took about 15 minutes, but felt like forever. Finally, Alec turned to the camera again.

“Now, we’re all very excited to see more of our lovely candidates!”

“And we will!”, Nadja chimed in. “Right after the next few ads!”

The spotlights went off and a sigh escaped her. That had gone well!

“Lila!”, her classmates called from the audience as she walked over. “Here we are!”

Before she knew it, she was surrounded by her groupies again, Felix among them out of necessity. She put on her happiest smile and linked arms with her boyfriend again. Lila loved doing that! Sooner or later, he’d stop flinching away from her.

“You were awesome!”, someone - who cared who it was? - cheered and Lila giggled.

“Oh, thank you! I was really nervous, being the center of attention is always so intimidating! But Felix grounded me, we practiced a lot together.”

She looked on her watch, disappointed that she couldn’t shower in their admiration a little longer.

“Sorry to leave you guys hanging so soon, but we have to go.”, she excused them. “My mother wanted me to give her a call when my report is on, so she can watch it too. She’s with Prince Ali right now, but I’m sure he’ll want to see it too. See you later, guys!”

Not waiting for their reaction, she pulled Felix with her, out of the studio.

“I’m sure he’ll want to see it too!”, Felix mimicked her as soon as they were out of the room. “Seriously?”

“They bought it.”, she shrugged. “It’s not my problem if they don’t have the brains to figure me out. Besides...”

She smiled.

“You did see through me from day one! Now we’re the only ones that know the truth, just the two of us. Kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

His scoff broke her good mood.

“Not really. And Marinette knows it as well, in case you forgot!”

Lila’s face turned sour.

“Just ‘cause she’s a nosy brat doesn’t mean she’s clever.”, she hissed. “Otherwise her future wouldn’t be in my hands, right now, would it?! Now shut up and follow me.”

He didn’t ask where they were going. Smart as he was, he’d likely figured it out already. A bit smarter, and he might finally get Pigtails out of his head! God, she hated that girl.

Sighing, she pushed up the doors towards an empty room. ‘Jagged Stone’ was written on the tag next to it, since this was the studio he used for music videos. He had filmed in here just a few minutes ago, which is why they had chosen it for their meeting. It was close to the main studio, not accessible to anyone else that might be around, and impossible to prepare with bugs or cameras, since it had been in use the entire time. She wouldn’t put it past Felix to try to record them, but not even he would be able to sneak into this room while Jagged had used it. That, and the fact that she’d had him under her supervision since Monday, calmed her paranoia.

She gave an appreciative nod when she looked around. The room was stuffed with cameras and equipment, and the walls were still covered with black curtains for the background, but that aside, it was empty. No one except her, Felix - and René Bordeaux.

“You’re late.”, he remarked with an arrogant raise of his chin. She sighed.

“We’re here now. As promised.”

She gave Felix a small shove and Bordeaux’s attention shifted to him. A predatory grin spread over his face.

“Ah, my treacherous offspring. It’s been quite the long time, hasn’t it?”

Felix gulped, but his voice was steady when he spoke.

“Not long enough.”

“Careful.”, his father warned, grin widening. “If you forget your manners, I’ll forget my promise to spare your asian little friend. Mademoiselle Rossi here told me all about her.”

“She’s a liar!”, Felix snarled and her shoulders dropped. “I don’t know what she told you, but it’s just a pretty tale! Rossi has never met Jagged Stone, she doesn’t know Prince Ali or Steven Spielberg, and Ladybug hates her guts. Whatever it is she promised you, it’s a lie.”

Lila groaned. Why was he still so hung up about these... details? To their shared surprise, Bordeaux started laughing.

“Oh, Felix, Felix.”, he chuckled. “This just shows how unfit your mother is to raise a child. Stop embarrassing yourself with this idealistic nonsense and get real! That’s how the world runs!”

He gestured through the air.

“People do you favors, you return them; in this case I’ll give Mademoiselle Rossi a lift to popularity. You think I care about some petty lies? Newsflash, boy: The truth doesn’t sell! And once everyone believes her stories, it doesn’t matter whether they’re true or not. I made them reality.”

Felix growled.

“You are despicable.”

“And you a living disappointment.”, Bordeaux snarled back, his grin turning into a furious scowl. “How much time did I waste on raising you ungrateful brat? And you just threw all my lessons away as soon as I was out of the house. You got yourself into this mess, now live with it.”

“I don’t even know what you are talking about!”

“Don’t play even stupider than you are, boy!”, his old man yelled and Lila rolled her eyes. Couldn’t they speed this up a bit? “I’m talking about you going to a public school like a peasant! About you surrounding yourself with penniless scum! About you cozying up to that worthless baker girl!”

“Marinette has more talent than you and Rossi combined!”, Felix shouted. “And both of you know it! Otherwise you wouldn’t have copied her report, and you wouldn’t have cheated her out of the contest!”

“Now, now.”, Lila chimed in before Bordeaux could reply something even nastier. “I don’t want to interrupt this touching father-son reunion, or quality bonding time or whatever, but we don’t have the whole evening.”

She gave Felix a jealous glare.

“Also, I only copied Dupain-Cheng to spite her, not because she’s that skilled. Geez, if Monsieur Bordeaux hadn’t rigged the vote to let me win, this video would have been a complete failure! I’m doing her a favor, honestly.”

Felix’ eyes seemed to burn holes into her head, but Bordeaux only sighed and regained his composure.

“Oh, whatever. Let’s talk about business, children.”

His faked stage-smile returned.

“Now that young Miss Rossi here has provided me with intel on you, Felix, our time has come. See, not only can I expose this Marina-Girl as a copycat any time, thanks to your girlfriend I also have a steady stream of blackmail material.”

He stared at Felix with an arrogance that made even Lila retch.

“Any disobedience on your side, Felix, will result in immediate consequences for Baker MacDoublename. There’s so much potential for scandals, believe me. If I want to, I can ruin her parents bakery before my first coffee! Or I’ll make her famous as a the shallow user she is, trying to milk the children of rich and noble families like ours or the Agreste’s for fame! Or I’ll-“

“We get the picture.”, Lila hurried him. His monologues were even worse than Hawkmoth’s, for god’s sake! Bordeaux cleated his throat.

“Yes, well. You get the picture.”, he repeated.

“And what do you want me to do?”, Felix hissed. “Play model son? Let you use me for attention to your pathetic shows?”

“Felix, don’t be so rude.”, she scolded him with a pout. “It’s for your own good-“

“You can tell this bullshit to Agreste, Rossi. He might be stupid enough to believe it.”

She crossed her arms, insulted. He just wouldn’t listen to her!

“Adrien doesn’t believe it.”, she said, just to correct him on something. She hated his self-righteousness. “He’s just smart enough to enable it. He knew from day one, and keeping quiet didn’t do him any harm, did it?”

“I don’t even care what you are talking about.”, Bordeaux snapped. “Shut up, both of you! The adult speaks now.”

Lila huffed, but let him have his way. He was just a means to an end.

Satisfied, Bordeaux looked back to Felix, leaning down to his angry spawn.

“You will help me get custody of your ungrateful self!”, he ordered, emphasizing every syllable. “The judge will respect your wishes, and that spineless Evelyn as well. She’ll know something’s up, and when I threaten her with restraining orders - Karma is a bitch! - she’ll have no choice but to annul the divorce if she wants to keep seeing you. That way, I’ll set our family on the right path again.”

He grinned smugly, likely expecting some sort of applause for the plan Lila had thought of. She sighed and put on another smile.

“Very thoughtful, Monsieur.”

“Isn’t it?”, he fished for praise, an eager smirk on his face. It vanished when Felix let out a sigh. No angry, frustrated sigh. No, it sounded relieved.

“There’s just one problem.”, he said with a wide smile. His entire posture changed from aggressive, helpless to confident and calm. Lila’s stomach twisted in panic. “That’s not going to happen.”

Both Lila and Bordeaux flinched when a slow, clapping sound echoed through the room and the curtains lifted, revealing Marinette.

“Excellent, excellent! An Oscar for Felix Leanne, please!”, she exclaimed cheerfully, the beret she’d made in her video on her head. “And cut!”

The remaining curtains went up as well and Lila whimpered in shock. There, at the wall and with faces varying from angry to triumphant, stood her classmates, Jagged Stone, and Nadja Chamack with her entire camera team.

“You were right about one thing.”, Felix said smugly and patted his father on the back, who was frozen in fear. “Karma really is a bitch.”

- - -

Ya wanna know how they did it? Stay tuned for Part 14!

#miramu writes #wttb #welcome to the back #ml felix #felinette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #ml marinette #Felix leanne #lila rossi

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werejusttouchingeachother · 5 years

Text

Ruined

Req: Can I request model Johnny with photographer reader, and things become unprofessional...😉

Words: 6087

Genre: smut (m)

Pairing: Johnny x reader

A/N: 🥰 anon, thank you for this absolutely delicious request cause I had way too much fun with it

“What’d you say his name was again?” You mumble distractedly to your assistant, Jaemin who stood beside you and adjusted the reflectors. “Suh?”

“Yeah, Suh,” Jaemin nodded. “Johnny Suh. You’ve probably seen him, he was on the cover of Vogue last month. You passed it up because of that Fashion Week at Vienna, remember?”

You paused in your ministrations, glancing at Jaemin. “Johnny Suh? Isn’t he from the same agency as that other guy? The hot one?”

“… We photograph models, Y/N, they’re all hot, it’s kind of their job.”

You glared at the younger boy and started to retort when the door opened behind him, a tall man walking in.

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes raking over his frame, frowning slightly as he looked familiar. “I remember now. The hot one was Jung something.”

“Jung Jaehyun,” Jaemin responded, nodding as he moved the tripod, still not noticing that someone had walked in. “Grazia. Or was it Marie Claire?” He shook his head, looking up at you and still not aware despite you slightly shaking your head in a gesture to get him to stop talking as Johnny walked closer, “Do you remember telling me that he was the hottest guy you ever saw though? And that you were pretty sure the agency created him in a lab or some—”

“It’s true,” Johnny cut in and Jaemin finally shut up as he turned quickly, eyes wide as the model grinned down at him. “Jae was made in the lab right after they made me. They were hoping he’d turn out as well as me, but stopped when he didn’t.” He looked at me then, cocking his head. “Don’t you agree?”

You blinked, stammering, “Don’t I—what?”

“Aren’t I hotter than Jaehyun?”

Jaemin stepped away from between you two and you felt your face flush as Johnny moves forward with a raised eyebrow. You open your mouth to answer—you’re not sure what exactly—but stop as the stylists call out his name loudly.

He smirks at you and turns, walking to the crew to get changed into his outfit. You breathe a sigh of relief, glaring at Jaemin whose chuckling you immediately stop by smacking his arm. You lower your camera to the table and walk to the table at the corner where you’d kept your phone and bag.

You’re scrolling through your messages with Mr. HaeByun, the manager of an online fashion store who had booked you for an advertisement shoot next week. An unread message that he’d sent over an hour ago asking to call him as soon as you could had you frowning, wondering what was wrong when you felt a presence loom over you.

You looked up to see Johnny towering over you, dark eyes trained on you. You blinked up at him, realising that he’d changed faster than you’d expected.

The shoot for today was for the upcoming fall-winter collection and of course, that meant oversized sweaters and long jackets that have never appeared as beautiful by themselves as they do on Johnny’s tall frame.

He stood in front of you now with a burgundy-coloured trench coat over a black turtle-neck sweater and jeans. The colour complimented him perfectly, drawing attention to the softest tint of blush on his cheeks and the subtle pink shade over his eyelids. His hair was styled perfectly to a side too and you mentally make a note to thank the stylists later for not covering his forehead.

You don’t know what exactly it is but something about him strikes you as oddly familiar. As if you’d worked with him before or seen him before—not on a magazine or screen, though—and it irks you because you can’t quite put your finger on it.

“Y/N, right?” Johnny said, holding out his hand to you.

You nod, placing your phone on the table to take his hand in yours. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Suh.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, a small amused smile coming over his face. “Meet, huh?”

You frown in confusion. “Pardon?”

“It’s not our first time meeting, Y/N.”

You blink at him and start to ask what he means when he suddenly tugs on your hand that he’s holding, causing you to stumble forward into his arms. You gasp as you look up at him, feeling smaller than you’ve ever felt in your entire life as his chin could rest on top of your head because of the height difference.

Your eyes are wide as you gape at him and his voice is lower, huskier as he murmurs, “You didn’t call me Mr. Suh either.”

What the hell?

You’re ready to say something about being unprofessional when Johnny mumbles, “Last May. Elle had that party to kickoff their summer-spring collection. Remember?”

Your eyes search his frantically as if they held the screen to whatever memories he was telling. The words set off a faint recollection in you—bright lilies and hyacinths arrangements placed atop teak tables with marble plates, an over-the-top garden party that you’d immediately regretted attending without your camera because the décor had been so expensive, so fancy, so gorgeous.

“You’d been invited as a guest,” Johnny confirms your thought about the regret and you don’t realise his other hand had crept around your waist, holding you to him when you had stumbled.

“You’d had a few too many tequilas…,” he continued slowly, trying to trigger your apparently drunken memories. “I found you near the water fountain at the back. You were alone and… you ripped my shirt.”

“It was Gucci,” he said, biting back a smirk as he looked down at you, crossing his arms. “You were swaying, about to fall and I had already grabbed your arm, but you clutched onto the front of my shirt—my pocket, in fact—and ripped it off.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped in horror, moving away from him with your hands covering your mouth in shock.

“You’re kidding me, please tell me you’re kidding.”

You were stunned, listening to him silently as Johnny says, “I’d looked down at my chest and said, ‘You have a hell of a grip there,’ and you’d responded with, ‘Well, you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen so you wanna—”

“—know what else I can grip?” you completed in unison, cringing into yourself as you closed your eyes tightly, clutching the table near you to hold yourself up from the embarrassment.

It all came crashing to you like an unpleasant unexpected avalanche—how you’d woken up late in the evening, around eight or nine, in a fancy apartment that was quite far from the garden party with zero recollection whatsoever of any events that had happened after the light lunch you’d had because of all the drinks you’d been having. Not remembering how you got there, you had to catch a taxi home but only after you called Jaemin to ask where your camera was and he’d reassured you that you hadn’t taken it to the party.

“You—it was—oh god,” you stammer, your head suddenly throbbing with all the flashbacks as you looked at Johnny who was staring at you as if your face was the most interesting sight on the planet. “It was your apartment?”

He nodded, raising an eyebrow. “I couldn’t go back to the party with my chest all exposed, thanks to your mighty grip—”

You blanched and he grinned, continuing, “—and you were too drunk to tell me where your place was so I just took you back to mine. I left you a note, didn’t you see it?” At your blank expression, he nods, “I thought not. It was under the bed when I got back, must have flown away. I had an interview that evening so I had to leave, otherwise I would have stayed. Sorry about that.”

“I’m…,” you swallowed, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. “Its fine, I should be the one apologising.” You look up at him then despite how loudly your head was screaming at you to run. “I’m sorry about ripping your shirt and… everything else that followed that I don’t remember. I don’t usually get that crazy when I drink, I honestly don’t know why—”

“Y/N!” You heard Jaemin yell your name and turned around to see him and Johnny’s manager glaring over at the two of you. “We’re ready, come on!”

You let out a breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding and Johnny chuckles, patting your shoulder comfortingly.

“We’ll talk later,” he reassured you, adjusting his jacket. “Hey, wasn’t your shoot with Jae way before that spring party?”

You blinked in confusion, not understanding his question as you went, “Jung Jaehyun? Uh, yeah, that was around February, I think.”

He nodded. “I’ll let him know he’s been renounced of his ‘hottest guy’ position.”

“Wh—?” You gape at him as he struts past you to the white screen, posing in front of it while you walked slowly in a daze to Jaemin.

“What’s going on, why you all hugsy with the model?” He inquires, raising an eyebrow. “Do you guys know each—?”

“Remember the Elle spring party that I went for in May?” You interrupted him lowly, glancing around for your camera. Jaemin rolls his eyes and points to the table at the back where you’d forgotten it and you grab his sleeve, tugging him with you as you slowly walk to it.

“Yeah, what about it?” Jaemin mutters, frowning as you grab your camera and adjust the lens.

“Remember I called you late in the night for my camera?”

He nodded. “Yeah, you were freaking out at some random apartment.”

“Yeah, well, apparently that was Johnny’s apartment.”

“What the fuck?” Jaemin screeched so loud that the chatter died down on the other side of the room to momentarily look at the two of you. You glared at Jaemin and he apologised, mumbling, “Seriously? Are you sure? Maybe he was joking?”

“No, he wasn’t.” You shook your head, wishing the ground would swallow you up whole as the shame crept up your skin again. “I… I remember it in bits and pieces now. I ripped his shirt? And I remember him smiling and smirking at me.”

“God.” Jaemin glances at Johnny in disbelief and quickly masks his expression when the manager glares at the two of you. He grabs your arm and begins pulling you back to where they’re waiting for you and you hear his breath hitch suddenly as he asks, “Wait. Does that mean you had sex with Johnny?”

OhmygOD.

Your grip falters on the camera and you feel your heart jump to your throat in absolute terror as Jaemin leaps right at that instant, grabbing the camera with both his hands before it could slip from yours.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N,” He hisses at you, gripping your hands tightly over the camera. “That’s both our jobs in your hands, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break it.”

“Are you serious?” You ignore him, readjusting it in your hands as your wide eyes blink at him. “Why would you say that, what makes you say that, why would you even think—?”

“It’s a possibility, Y/N,” he replies, rolling his eyes as he lets go of the camera. “Think about it. You were drunk. He’s hot, you’re hot. You were wearing that slutty dress for the party, right, the one with the high slit up the leg? You probably hit on him or he hit on you. Either way, you woke up at his apartment, alone. Were you wearing your clothes?”

Your eyes grow wider as you look away, your mind racing as you recalled finding the fancy dress that you’d worn on the polished tiled floor in the unknown apartment.

“No.” Your heart is racing now as you gape at Johnny who cocks his head at you playfully. “No, I wasn’t.”

Jaemin snorts. “Yeah, you definitely fucked—”

“Ms. Y/N!” The two of you freeze as Johnny’s manager stomps towards you. You have to force yourself to focus on the words spilling from his angry mouth as he yells, “I don’t know if you have all the time in the world to be strolling around the studio so leisurely but we are on a tight schedule here so if you could just—”

“We’re ready,” you deadpanned, turning to Jaemin. “Get the lights and music, please.”

The manager scowls at you before backing away. You clear your throat, pulling on a poker expression as you hear the fast-paced beats fill the room, bright lights hitting Johnny where he was standing. You nodded at Jaemin who looked over at you with a concerned expression—which you purposefully ignored—before crouching and raising the camera to your face.

You clicked away quickly, Johnny changing poses with every ‘click’ and you were thankful that they were coming out well, without you having to suggest to him to relax his shoulders or raise his head or move his hair or touch his neck.

No, you didn’t have to because Johnny was professional with the intense gaze, the slight lilt in his lips, the cocky raise of his eyebrow and all of it reminded you of that afternoon at the party now.

You remember it now—snapshots flitting across you brain as quickly as the ones you were clicking. You can recall the white marble fountain with the mermaid sculpture at the centre that seemed to be spitting water, you remember the tall handsome man with his furrowed eyebrows as they looked at you in concern and you can even recall the tan of his chest, his left nipple where you’d ripped the shirt pocket right down with your hand, a strip of Gucci clutched in your palm.

You swallowed thickly as you lowered your camera, clearing your throat.

“Next outfit,” you announced loudly and stood up.

Johnny shoots you his signature smirk, stepping away from the white screen. You stare at him, from his head all the way down to his feet, wracking your brain as you try to recall something, anything.

Surely I'd remember that body... right?

"Johnny," you call out when he reaches you as he was making his way to the back of the room to change.

"Yes, Y/N?" His voice is teasing and flirty enough that you can feel yourself blushing again.

God, I can't remember shit, how the hell do I not remember us having sex?

"Did you, uh." You falter, hesitating. "Did we...?"

You trail off and Johnny crosses his arms then, turning completely towards you with his eyes twinkling mischievously.

He knows. He knows exactly what you're thinking and what you're rambling about and what's driving you crazy with suspense but won't say a word because he's a little shit who needs to hear you say it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You finally ask, meeting his eyes. His shoulder slumps at the words, as if they're not what he expected and you're thankful to your brain for the quick change in thought as you prod further, "Why didn't you reach out to me? It would have been easy to get my number, since you're a model and all. I would have apologised properly and paid for the shirt."

"Actually, I left my number for you on that note," he admits wryly. "But you didn't take it so I assumed you were too embarrassed and had just ran out. Besides, I left the country the next day itself, I had a show at London for a month or so."

You open your mouth to reply but stop as he steps closer, the front of his crossed arms brushing against you slightly. His eyes search your blank face as he says, "You don't remember anything... do you?"

Your silence suffices as a response and Johnny's eyes darken as he lowers his head so that his mouth was near your ear when he mutters, "Well, in that case, let me remind you that you don't have to worry about the shirt cause trust me, you compensated for it plenty."

Your eyes are wide as Johnny walks away from you then, leaving your stunned self behind. You only snap out of your daze when you hear the familiar shutter click and turn to see Jaemin at your side, holding up the camera.

"Sorry," he mutters, not seeming apologetic in the slightest. "But your expression was literal gold. What'd he say? Did y'all fuck or nah?”

“I’m—” You take a deep breath, trying to regain composure. “I’m pretty sure we did. I cannot believe this absolute shitstorm, god, I need to sit down—”

“We’re ready!” You hear the manager’s voice call out as Johnny strides out in a white faux fur jacket this time over ripped blue jeans, his hair falling over his forehead. His gaze catches yours and you feel your mouth dry as Jaemin whistles lowly beside you, handing the camera back to you.

“Look, Y/N,” He teases, grinning as he gestures discreetly to Johnny. “It’s a boyfriend look this time.”

“Shut the fuck up and get the lights before I fire you,” you threaten him, adjusting the lens again and clearing your throat as he walks to the screen.

Your mind is a blank daze for the rest of the shoot as you focus on clicking perfect shots that would get this shoot over with, the faster the better. Johnny keeps his eyes on you throughout this outfit—to the extent that you have to ask him to look away from the camera so that you could get his side-profile.

He changes into three more outfits before they finally call an end to it. Johnny and his crew leave the room and head to the back to change, finally giving you space to breathe as the room clears out. You go through the pictures absentmindedly and Jaemin approaches you slowly.

“Hey,” he says, cautiously as if you were a time bomb ready to explode if he triggered you in the slightest. “You okay?”

“Mhm, fantastic,” you deadpan, pressing your lips into a thin line as you flit through all the shots. “Just wondering if this is how amnesia feels. Also, I’m never drinking again.”

You glance at Jaemin then to see him suppressing a laugh, which in turn, makes you glare at him. He pats your shoulder then, opening his mouth to say something in comfort that you already knew would only infuriate you more rather than reassure you when you hear a familiar deep voice call your name behind you.

You turn, dread and embarrassment kicking in again as you force yourself to smile and say, “The photos will be ready tomorrow, I’ll send them directly to your manager and the magazine. He has my card so if there is anything he needs, he can just—”

“Right, right, sure, that’s all fine,” Johnny nods, glancing at Jaemin briefly before looking at you again. “I needed a favour actually.”

Oh god.

“Do you have more shoots after this?” he asks. “Or any plans, for that matter?”

You turn to Jaemin with wide eyes and he immediately quips, “No, actually, I’m in charge of her schedule and it’s completely clear after this.”

Fired, fired, I need a new assistant cause he’s fired.

“Great,” Johnny grins, eyes flashing at you. “I wanted some photos for my social media. I can’t use the ones with the outfits or for the magazine until they release it so could you take a few of me now?”

You nod slowly, feeling exhausted at all the rush of emotions coursing through you as you nudge Jaemin. “Sure. Get the lights.”

“Oh, no, no,” Johnny held up his hands, stopping Jaemin. “I don’t need fancy lights or anything, it’s just for Twitter and Instagram.” He looked at you then, his expression slightly shifting. “Just you and your camera is fine, really.”

You blink, wondering if you’d heard him right and notice Jaemin grin wolfishly from your peripheral.

“Well!” Jaemin could not sound more cheerful and you have never wanted to murder him as much as you did just then. “I’ll call it a day, then, Y/N. See you tomorrow. Have fun, kids.”

You turn at that last bit, hand already reaching out to hit him and Jaemin jumps away, predicting it as he laughs and quickly leaves the room. You want to call out for him, beg him to stay but the door is already closing, Johnny’s staring and smirking at you again, and you’re trapped.

Taking a deep breath, you clutch your camera tightly to your chest. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Busy?”

“Aren’t you?” You retort. “Your manager was yelling earlier about a tight schedule?”

“Nah, he is,” Johnny shrugged, crossing his arms as he smiled at you. “I have all the time in the world, Y/N.”

“Right,” you mutter, looking away and pointing to a side of the room where the lights hit perfectly. “How about there?”

Johnny nods as he moves to where you gesture and poses. You crouch a bit and he hesitates before saying, “Uh, close-ups will be good.”

You straighten then, holding the camera to your face. He’s wearing his own clothes now—a white collared shirt tucked into fancy black pants with a black tie that hung wonkily off his neck. He stares at you in an expression that you’re certain is meant for you and not the camera. You huff in frustration, lowering the camera and start to ask what his problem is when Johnny says, “You can relax, you know? I was just teasing. Nothing you think happened.”

You stop at that, furrowing your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“The party,” he clarified. “We hit on each other. You felt me up a bit, I maaay have reciprocated and kissed you a little but that’s about it. You were really drunk and I wasn’t going to take advantage of that, Y/N. Besides, you passed out as soon as we got to my apartment.”

You stare at him in silence, feeling your entire body flush as the words he’d just said slowly registered in your head. You take a deep breath and raise the camera again, clicking a candid. Johnny frowns at your lack of response before quickly raising his hand to his hair and posing.

You click about seven pictures before he tells you to come closer to take a final pic which was him doing cutesy ‘aegyo’.

You suggested taking this one on his phone so that he could post it as his story—maybe a teaser for more pictures—and he agrees, handing his phone to you. You place your camera aside and take his phone, selecting a flattering filter before muttering a count and pausing as he raises both his hands in peace-signs, closing his eyes and pouting slightly.

God, he’s so fucking hot and cute at the same time, how is he human?

Johnny opens one eye and you’re almost ready to swoon when he says, “Did you take it?”

“Uh, no, close your eyes,” you quickly stammer and press the button to take a boomerang of him doing the aegyo pose. You lower the phone when you’re done, smiling at the screen as it plays in loop.

Johnny’s standing beside you as he looks at the picture over your shoulder. Noticing the fond expression on your face, he mumbles, “What?’

“This is really cute,” you admit honestly, raising your head to smile up at him. He’s standing as close as he was when he held you about an hour ago and told you about your little drunken encounter.

“Thanks for telling me,” you say, and from the way his eyes soften, you can tell that he immediately understands what you mean. “And thanks for taking me back to your place before I made a fool of myself at the party that literally had a majority of my top-clients.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, his low voice causing your stomach to clench.

“And um,” you hesitate before glancing down at his phone again, unable to maintain eye contact as you rush through the words. “Thanks for not… yeah. It’s bad enough that I don’t remember the kiss.”

You feel Johnny freeze at that, not expecting your words. You focus on his pouty lips on the phone screen, cursing yourself and the stupid tequila when you feel a gentle grip on your arm.

“Hey,” Johnny’s voice is soft and sultry as he turns you around, taking the phone from your hand and placing it atop your camera on the desk before gazing at you. “I could always remind you.”

It takes a minute for you to understand what he means and before it can even process, Johnny’s lifting your chin with his hand, lowering his head to meet yours in a gentle kiss.

You’re frozen at the spot where you stand, eyes wide as his lips move against yours. It feels familiar and soft and lush and oh-so-good. If this were a movie, you’re certain that the drunken memories of your first kiss would have hit you right at that instant but as Johnny kisses you, all you can think of is him, his mouth on yours, right now.

And so you give in.

You raise your hands to his tie, tugging it to pull him down to your height as you deepen the kiss. You feel Johnny smile at your responsiveness, arms slowly circling your waist until you're melting in his warmth.

He nudges you back onto the desk, pressing you against its edge and your hand flails behind slowly, a mild panic surfacing as you pull away from his mouth to mutter, "Camera, camera."

Johnny pulls away immediately, eyes widening as he quickly grabs your hips and pulls you to him before you could knock over the camera and his phone off the table. "Shit, sorry."

You turn his head to the right where he could see the plush leather couch at the corner and press your lips to his cheek as you mumble, "Couch."

He grins, pulling you up quickly so that your legs wrap around his waist reflexively. He hoists you in his arms until your head is finally a few inches over his.

You smile giddily as you cup his face with both your hands, tracing his lower lip with your tongue for entrance. He readily grants it as he carries you to the couch and as your tongue wrestles with his for dominance, he sits you down on the leather armrest of the couch.

Placing his hands on the leather on either side of your hips to hold himself up, you trace his sharp jawline with your fingers as you explore his mouth. You're still shorter than him despite sitting on a high armrest and you use the position to your advantage, letting your hands trail down leisurely from his neck to his chest.

You lower them further to the soft material of his pants, moaning involuntarily as you feel the hardness beneath. Johnny smirks against your mouth, pulling away to mutter, “You’re right, you have a hell of a grip.”

You can’t help but laugh as you pull away then, giving him a mischievous smirk as you tease, “Please, you’ve seen nothing yet.” You grab his hand and straighten from the couch, quickly turning him around so that he was sitting on the armrest now. Your fingers deftly work their way down his shirt, pulling the tie off his neck and unbuttoning the shirt. Tugging it over his shoulders, you don’t even remove it from his arms as your hands hungrily roam his bare torso, relishing in the warmth as your mouth busies itself by sucking and licking at his neck.

Johnny’s head is tossed back as he lets you ravish his throat, nipping at his Adam’s apple and you’re sucking on his collar bone when he suddenly jolts, grabbing your forearms and stopping you.

“No hickies,” he says quickly, seeming apologetic and panicked at the time. “Model, remember?”

You pause in your ministrations before shrugging as you slowly lowered yourself to the floor, keeping your eyes on him while your hands began pulling his pants off. “That’s fine. There’s other places that would look pretty with hickies.”

Johnny furrows his eyebrows at you, eyes widening as you toss the pants aside along with his underwear and kiss your way up his thighs. You hear him curse as you lick the precum leaking from his tip, slowly stroking his impressive length with your tongue. His hands find their way into your hair, fingers digging into your scalp as he holds you closer to him. You circle your tongue around the tip teasingly, wanting to rile him up while your hand moves leisurely up and down. And as you do so, you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to take all of him, because as much as you want him, he was bigger than anyone you’d ever been with.

“Don’t be a fucking tease, Y/N,” Johnny finally growls, having had enough and his deep bossy tone as he wraps one hand around his own length and forcefully pushes it past your wet lips has you moaning in pleasure. He groans as soon as he feels the warm wet cavern of your mouth envelop him. You use your hands to stroke the rest of him that isn’t in your mouth and Johnny gives you a second to adjust before he grabs the back of your head with both hands, pushing more into you.

You gag slightly, tears springing to your eyes as you try to relax your jaw and take in more of him. The head of his erection hits the back of your throat and you choke as he fucks your mouth, pushing as much of him into you as possible. Your knees dig into the cold floor, a slight ache in your lower jaw as you focus on giving him the best suck of his life, tongue circling around him as he thrusts in and out of your mouth.

Johnny twitches inside and you hollow your cheeks, sucking him deeper until he’s moaning and his nails are painfully digging into your head. He gasps as he grabs the sides of your head, pulling you off of him forcefully. A loud ‘pop’ sound echoes as his dick leaves your mouth, a trail of saliva hanging between your lips and his erection as you gaze in a confused haze at him, head spinning slightly.

Your hand reaches out to take him again, desperate to taste and swallow his essence but he takes your hands and pulls you off the floor roughly, shaking his head.

His mouth meets yours heatedly, a soft moan as he tastes himself on your glistening lips. Throwing his shirt off his arms, he pushes you back until you fall back on the couch. His hands work quickly in pulling your blouse off, fingers crawling down your pants hurriedly without even taking it off. They slip easily inside your panties, feeling your slick opening.

“Fuck,” Johnny breathes, eyes widening at you as you lay back on the couch in your bra and pants with his one hand down your underwear. You spread your legs further and Johnny has settled himself in between your thighs, looking at you with an expression akin to awe as he feels your wetness, two long fingers curling inside your slick walls.

You moan, arching off the couch as his knuckles presses against the spot that has white spots blinding your vision and your stomach clenching. His one hand quickly comes around to your raised back and unclasps your bra, flinging it aside.

He buries his face in your chest, lips latching onto your erect nipple and you gasp at the pleasure that courses through your veins from the multiple stimulations that he’s giving you. Johnny struggles to pull your pants down your legs while on top of you but manages it in his haste, nearly ripping it off your ankles. You moan as you feel him tease you up and down your slit, coating his erection with your dripping arousal.

You hear the chorus of your heavy breaths, Johnny’s broad chest pressing against yours and you can’t help but gasp as he enters you, thick length sliding inside your pussy easily and stretching you out.

Johnny looks so big above you, feels so big inside you and you're vaguely aware that his feet are probably sticking out since he could hardly fit in your couch.

His hair is no longer prim and proper—falling over his sweaty forehead in messy strands, face flushed from exertion and you were quite sure your own mouth had more of his lip tint right now than he did when he'd walked in.

You're breathing hard as he pushes himself into you and you feel like he's never ending, short gasps leaving your parted lips as you try to accommodate all of his length. Johnny presses reassuring kisses on your face, murmuring how good you're doing as you try to relax beneath him. You groan finally as you feel his pelvic bone brush against your clit.

Johnny's inside you completely, hilt buried balls-deep and your eyes are wide at how stretched and full you feel. His eyes watch your face carefully, asking silently how you're doing and you nod, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to feel him completely all over you.

Johnny slowly moves his hips back before thrusting inside again, huskily groaning, "God, you're so tight and wet."

You whimper as he starts thrusting slowly, the initial pain shifting into a pleasure that had you feeling lightheaded.

"Babe," Johnny pants, "you feel too good to not ruin, so I'm just going to—”

You cut him off with a sloppy kiss, warm mouths and wet tongues messily meeting as you mutter, "Go for it."

You didn't know what you were agreeing to—Johnny began thrusting into you at an almost animalistic pace, pounding you into the plush couch. He pressed his hands onto your shoulders, pinning you down as his hips snap into yours until you're screaming his name. Burying his face in your neck, he sucks on your collarbone as you feel your stomach clench with your impending orgasm.

"Johnny," you breathe, your hand raising to clutch the back of his head. “I'm going to—”

"Wait, baby, not yet," he says, thrusting into you rougher. Your chest heaves against his, back arching as you press up to him and you feel his hand lower itself to your clit, flicking it up and down.

Your head spins as you cum uncontrollably then, back arching off of the couch and toes curling at the pleasure coursing through all your nerves and setting them on fire. Your walls clench and convulse around him, triggering his own orgasm as he floods inside you. Your body trembles beneath his as he fills you up with spurts and spurts of his cum, held in by his cock that was still buried inside you.

Both of you are gasping, trying to catch your breath from the intense orgasm as you fall back into the couch and Johnny collapses on top of you. Your bodies are warm and sweaty, his cock slowly softening inside you and you can feel the leather of the couch sticking to your back with your sweat.

He sits up slightly, smiling as his eyes roam your face. Lifting a finger, he traces it down your eye and cheek, holding it up to you to show you a faint black liquid on the tip.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion before your eyes widen as you realise that your makeup had smeared and Johnny was holding up the remnants of your mascara. You start to throw your hands up to your face and he immediately grabs your wrists, stopping you.

“Trust me,” Johnny chuckles, the sound reverberating between your bodies as it rumbles in his chest. “You’ve never looked prettier. I’ve been wanting to ruin your makeup since you ruined my shirt at that party.”

You wince as you move slightly, feeling the dull ache in your thighs and realised that Johnny had stuck to his word—you’re definitely going to have a hard time walking tomorrow.

You kiss him softly as you say, “Trust me, you’ve ruined more than just my makeup, Johnny.”

#nct nct127 nctsmut nctsmutfic smut fanfic mature nctimagine #neocaratnet #cznnet #nct 127 smut #nct johnny #nct johnny smut #suh johnny #anon req #anon answered #model johnny is the shit #thanks anon

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