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rustedhearts · 7 months

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but i love him to death (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve harrington is only known for one thing around this part of town: being a low-life piece of shit. but you love him, and there's no coming back from a love as bruised as this.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ main masterlist ✶ hunger

tags: insanely toxic relationship (these people should not be together!); mention of suicide; oral (m!receiving); talk of stab wounds and other cruelty; steve is deeply deeply troubled; depraved behavior honestly; reckless behavior; actually a whole lot of knives.

“white trash dick, but i love him to death. he’s so good to me, and to nobody else, so you can fuck yourself.”

—inbred, ethel cain

rural midwest. winter, 2007.

Steve Harrington knew what a cell looked like by the time he was twelve. How to handle a switchblade, how to gut a buck, how to step on another boy’s chest and hold a lighter to his cheek until he was squealing and whining like an infant. His first trip to juvie came the day after he turned twelve. The second came at fourteen. “That Harrington kid” could’ve been stamped across his headstone.

The big house came when he was eighteen. A six month sentence spent like a small town prince in iron bars. He reappeared with a cross tattoo on his left knuckle. God’s justice, he’d say. As if God would ever grant such power to a boy the likes of him.

The second stint at twenty-one was nine months and a year probation. The inked serpent slithering the inside of his forearm served as another parting gift. By the time you came to know him at twenty-four, he was a blackened, scarred version of the boy he used to be. You never knew that bare-skinned, freckled, lanky kid his mama talked about.

You only ever knew the man with the buzzed head, and a fistful of justice.

Twenty years old and still clinging to girlhood naivety, you walked into his world thinking it would be a short trip. You thought the date at the diner with an apple pie dessert and a kiss against the truck bed would be just another diary entry. Hearts around his name and a lipstick kiss across lined paper, you wound your diary up, tucked it under your head, and waited for his call the next day.

But by the time you were twenty-two, you had bookshelves full of diaries, all branded with Steve’s name.

September 2005

Steve picked me up in his truck. It’s old and beat up. I imagined it might’ve been a nice green color back in the day, like the color of the pine trees in his backyard near the property line. He held my hand the whole way to the diner. He’s so warm and rough. You can tell he’s not like those other boys I went to high school with, all soft and lotioned and cushioned with office life. He’s a working man. He’s not afraid to get dirty.

I guess I slammed the door when we were getting out. He said: “hey, don’t slam the truck.” I thought he was joking. But he just stared at me. He kinda does that a lot. Under a set of furrowed brows, eyes all serpent like. Matches his tattoo. Something about that look makes my insides skitter around. I know it’s wrong to get a thrill out of being afraid, but I think I do.

I don’t really care that he’s been to jail. I don’t care about the talk that follows him like a fly to shit. I only care about the way he kissed me tonight. Like being devoured whole. The way he holds me makes me feel so small.

God, I think I love him.

✶ ✶

April 2006

All he ever does is yell these days. At me, at his crew, at anybody that looks his way. It’s blown past cranky and stumbled straight into crazy. Mama says she doesn’t know what I see in a “piece of shit” like him. She said if Daddy were around to see that “low life white trash I walk around with” that he’d blow his head off all over again. I think he’s turning in his grave just hearing her say that kind of stuff.

And I do hate the way Steve gets mad like that. How he yells at me for slamming the truck even when I don’t, and how he pulls me a little too hard and fucks a little too mean. But he loves me. And I love him. More than I’ve ever loved anybody. We’re getting a place together this summer. Nobody’s ever asked me to move in with them before. Hell, nobody’s ever asked me to be their girlfriend before Steve.

But Steve wants me. He wants me to be his and all his and nothing more. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Those other people just don’t know him like I do. They don’t know how sweet he can be. How on Thursday nights he brings me sunflowers. How on Fridays we rent a movie and order takeout, and he kisses me and kisses me until he’s tired. He’d do anything for me.

✶ ✶

December 2006

If Steve keeps up like this, he’ll go right back to jail. My mama said it, the sheriff said it, even Steve’s fucked up daddy said it, and that man hasn’t had a single brain cell to fry sunny-side up and eat for breakfast since Desert Storm. But anyone can tell Steve is heading down a dark road again.

He loses wads of cash, only to show up with a heap more a few days later. Things are going missing. He comes home late. Sometimes I swear his hands smell like the burn of gunfire. I try not to get too curious because I know he hates when I pry, but I can’t help it.

I just hope whatever he’s doing, he doesn’t get in over his head.

✶ ✶

August 2007

Steve and I had a terrible fight. I think that’s all we do these days. Fight and break things and scream at each other until I feel like I can’t even breathe. Sometimes I swear he’s gonna pop a vein. Sometimes I wish he would, just to watch him bleed all over the fucking house. Sometimes I hate him so much I think about killing him with my bare hands, and sometimes he says he hates me so much he wants to do the same.

But then he comes back from wherever he runs off to, softer and quieter and soaked in Menthol smoke. And he kisses me. So sweetly, like how he did outside the diner on our first date when his lips tasted like brown sugar apple and pie crust. And he traces my body with his mouth and those rough, hot-plate hands, and I feel like nothing bad has ever happened to us. Like we didn’t just smash the kitchen up, and he didn’t just break my favorite vase. Like he didn’t tell he me he fucking hated me and wished I was dead, and I didn’t just tell him he was a no good son of a bitch.

I know this can’t be good. But I love him.

✶ ✶

When winter came, the cops were knocking almost every weekend. Huffing and rolling their eyes about another noise complaint, a call for a welfare check, or more “domestic disturbance” calls. Steve would shove the door open and roll his eyes, motioning toward the familiar-faced officers leaning in the doorway scoping out the mess.

“It’s for you again, sweetheart. Wasting everyone’s time.”

And you sent them off with a promise of wellness, assuring the officers that knew all too well the kind of man “that Harrington kid” was, that you were perfectly happy.

“I didn’t call them, Steve,” you muttered, following the stomp of Steve’s work boots toward the bedroom.

He flopped down on the end of the bed, reaching for the muddied laces. “Yeah, whatever.”

The room was freezing. You only used the heat when absolutely necessary—nose about to fall off necessary. But right now, you could manage through the frigidity with one of Steve’s old flannel coats and a sweater, feet bundled in thick wool socks. You gazed down at them as you leaned in the doorway, arms crossed tight to capture heat. Steve’s huffed breaths shuddered white phantoms against the old bed quilt, colors faded and torn from time. It belonged to your grandmother.

The house you shared with Steve, tiny and rundown and something your mother pursed her lips at when she came around, sat on the edge of town. The highway was a shout away. Sometimes you hated the sound of cars whooshing and semis blaring. But when the house grew lonely on long, cold nights without Steve—the noise was all you had.

“C’mon,” you whispered, fiddling with the frayed cuff on your wrist. “Let’s just go for a drive. Clear our heads. Like we used to, you know?”

Steve set his boot on the floor, shoulders hunched over his lap. He steadied one hand on his thigh, inhaling sharply. You peeked up to watch him stare off at the wood paneled wall, fixing on the cross above your shared bed. You glanced at the matching one scrawled on his fist in black ink. Shuffling a little closer, you watched his throat bob with a steadying swallow. Your finger reached out to touch it, running down the blue vein throbbing through the side of his neck. His skin was so warm. You brushed your other hand over his head, a little sweaty from its confines in a black beanie all day. But you loved the feel of the short, wiry hair fibers against your nails. The buzzing sound it made when you scratched.

“C’mon, Steve.” You kissed his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

You slid to your knees when you got to his throat, nose slipping through the grooves, feeling every breath he swallowed. Inhaling a highway cigarette, a whip of cold air and how it sharpened his skin, a spritz of cologne, a hint of gasoline. Hands gliding over the stiff canvas on his thighs, into the tough interior of his starched camo jacket. The outline of his pocketknife nudged your knuckles as they traveled to his ribs. You knew there was another tucked somewhere in his boot, one more in the pocket on his left calf.

The thought of his body's sharp silver blades had you trembling with hunger.

Steve eased back onto the mattress, eyes sinking closed. The utility pant zipper needed a little tug to come loose. His belt, sturdy leather recently purchased to replace one worn and cracked from wear, became a frustrating task to undo. But he didn't help you. He barely moved, stoically stagnant on the center of the quilt with shallow breaths.

Dipping your hand into the opening made by the release of his belt and zipper, your fingers closed around the length of his cock. He shuddered, a low groan echoed from his mouth with another puff of white cloud across stained ceiling tiles. His brows pinched together when you closed your lips over the pulsing head, welcoming in the warmth of his blood rushing all to one spot. The hot, wet cavern of your mouth had his hips shifting, shimmying against the bed until the springs yipped where iron rusted. They dug into your chest when you pressed into the bed, bookended by his thick, sturdy thighs against your shoulders—caging you in.

But you loved to be trapped. By his body, by his hands, by his kiss. Captured against him, knowing no other warmth but his, throbbing in your mouth.

Steve grunted and groaned like a boorish beast, fists curling and slamming into the bed as he swelled in your mouth and pushed your lips apart. And your hands roamed his thighs, nails scratching up the muddied canvas, clawing for more of him under the thin cotton of his t-shirt. The skin there was warm, too, and you sought every inch of it with greed in those wandering palms. You took special care of caressing the scar sliced across his right rib—a gash once nasty and bloody healed into something jagged and crude.

A parting gift from prison, a cellmate's final well wish.

With a sharp gasp, Steve spilled into your mouth. Hotness burst like a bad pipe, leaking down your throat and slipping past your lips onto his lap. When you had it all down, sliding its way to your stomach, you scooped your tongue over the wet spot on his crotch until it was gone.

And Steve lied there, heaving for air and squeezing his eyes closed, waiting for your final apology.

You tucked him back into his pants, zipper and belt secured, and climbed over his body on the bed. One kiss, two, three, pressed firmly over his eyes, his cheeks, his jaw. Every inch of him coated in your mouth and the aftertaste of his seed, teeth carefully scraped across his throat.

He pulled his eyes open when you were done, hazel boring into the heat of your face. His fingers smelled like the cold when they swept over your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You could feel every piece of skin breaking away from his hand, unmoisturized and overworked.

"I love you," he mused. He said it with the sugar coating of a piece of candy.

This was the sweetest he ever was.

"I love you, too."

"Let's go for that drive."

✶ ✶

He rolled the windows half down in the truck. You slipped a cigarette from the pack squished between the seats and lit the end off his, sucking in the taste of his tongue with one drag. You never knew what the true taste of Steve was like—only Menthols and whatever else lingered on him. Never him alone, never just Steve.

He rubbed warmth into your denim thigh with his wide palm, mindlessly caressing and squeezing through whitened roads. It hadn't stopped snowing for days. The roads, though recently plowed, were gritty with blue salt and rough to roll over. The truck's monstrous tires rumbled through town with the same difficulty as the little Honda chugging behind. Whatever song he had groaning on the radio sounded like gravel in a blender.

Glancing between your wind-blown cheeks and the blinding white world in the windshield, Steve silently tapped his ashes toward the snow and pulled drags with stiff lips. He licked them before tugging you by the collar of his coat, still buttoned around your body, until you toppled into his seat.

"Gimme a kiss."

You planted a sweet one on his mouth, inching away when you were done. But he kept you close, fist squeezed around the coat, chasing after your mouth with sharp teeth and tough lips. You giggled, careful of where you held your cigarette as you gave into his demands. He was driving blind now.

A few more pecks and licks and you tried again, nudging back toward your own seat near the frigid window. His hold was iron.

"Mm—Steve—"

The sound of a horn blaring had you rearing back, his grip loosened with surprise. Steve quickly veered back into the right lane, acutely missing the clip of another truck's bumper as it sped toward you in the oncoming traffic.

"Jesus, Steve!" you gasped, a cold sweat settling in your bones as the truck jostled on the snowy asphalt.

But Steve just laughed, carelessly reaching for his cigarette as it sizzled on the rubber mat near the brake pedal. You swiped your hand over your face, rubbing at the itch in your skin from the blood rush of near-death adrenaline.

"What the fuck?"

"What?" he muttered, mouthing at the butt for what was left of the cigarette.

Huffing, you squished yourself against the window and gazed out of it at the empty cornfield to your right. All it appeared as in the death season was barren land. Tufts of blanched grass poked through mounds of ice. A tire turned over on the side of the road where shattered glass exploded. The splintered wood fence of someone's farm abandoned by time. The water tower a few miles out, an unbelievable figure in the grey sky, stamped with the town name and bruised with decades of rust.

The cold that settled in your body numbed.

"What?" he pressed, tone tighter now. "You gonna fuckin' cry now? Jesus."

You swiped at your cheeks with your sleeve, ignoring the sting of broken skin where the weather broke it open. "Whatever, Steve."

His tongue clicked against the back of his teeth, withered cigarette chucked out the window. You shoved your fingers under your thighs to keep them breathing.

"I gotta make a stop."

You pressed your head to the window, ignoring the rattle of glass with every rotation of the tires and the icy chill it gave you. "Fine."

The stop was the gas station up the road from town. The first inkling of civilization in a stretch of void land, owned by a no good daddy that passed it down to a no good son. It was something of a tradition in this part of the country, you supposed. To keep businesses rotted with the cavities of crime in the family. To pass the sins of the father down to the son.

Steve whipped the truck into the lot and parked behind the ice chest, giving perfect view of the neon window and the liquor aisle.

"Can you roll the windows up while you go?" you murmured meekly, watching him reach for the ignition.

He rolled his eyes, but cranked his side up without word. He leaned over your lap to do yours, breath coated in Menthols and rage. He didn't kiss you before he pulled away, and you tried not to let the sting settle for too long.

"Stay here," he barked, the truck rocking momentarily when he stepped down.

He slammed the door, effectively trapping what semblance of heat you could manage with your own breath inside and giving you some sort of relief. Short-lived relief, of course.

Steve's hand disappeared into his camo jacket as he yanked the door open, only to come away with a blade. You straightened in the passenger seat, every nerve ending and vein boiling in anticipation for the first scream. They came, however, in muffled shouts. Shattering, smashing, the familiar sharp crack of bone on bone. You hunched your shoulders close to your ears and shut your eyes, holding your breath in your throat.

The world always stopped when Steve got in a knife fight.

It came rushing back in bleached colors and white sounds when the truck teetered violently. Steve flopped into the driver's seat, slamming the truck door with a cool ease. Peeking your eyes open, you gauged the extremity of the assault by the state of his knuckles. Swollen indigo where flesh split apart and cried red across the steering wheel. Shaking a little as they swept his hat off his head, revealing pink ears and a flushed neck. Steve wiped at his face and cleaned away the sweat.

You watched him sigh and shove the keys into the ignition, shuffling in his seat to get comfortable for the ride back. In a matter of minutes, sirens would start wailing. And Steve's wallet would sit a little thicker on the nightstand nonetheless, waiting for his return.

"Let's go home," he said, passing you a tight grin.

He kept the windows rolled up, and let them fog with the whir of heat from uncleaned vents.

These little affections, you took as I love you's.

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lollytea · 2 years

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oh willows 100% gonna be next years grom queen. the emerald entrails + luz n amity + maybe her dads (chaperoning) make a lil cheer for her on the gym bleachers. and who is leading the cheer, green shoes to green hair dye? her bf :). hunter takes his boyfriendly duties v seriously

My absolute favourite headcanon ever is that next year it's gonna be Grom King Gus. But Grom Queen Willow is also Such A Concept to think about.

Like fucking imagine. Judging from how enthusiastic she was last year, Willow loves grom. And last year her confidence was only beginning to improve, so imagine how pumped she's gonna be this time around. She's become her best self! She's super popular, she's one of the school's star athletes, she's got a group of best friends, she's even got a boyfriend. Last year's grom was already so fun so this year can only be a million times better!!

I like to think that while she is dating Hunter, it's very recent development so they're both still getting adjusted to the whole thing. There's a good bit of shyness but lots of sincerity too. With this being the case, Willow still felt the need to formally ask him. (With at least a little legitimate anxiety that he'd say no. Girl?? That's your boyfriend??) Anyway after one adorable little flower themed gromposal later, Hunter said yes and everything was going fantastic!!

Her dress from last year has gotten kinda tight so her dads bought her a brand new one and she adores it!! She really liked her other dress but she certainly looks and feels much older now and this new one reflects that. Love the idea that Willow's always been pretty "meh" about her appearance but ever since she started dyeing/braiding her hair and wearing the gold glasses she's been like "Hold on. I'm pretty..." and when she tries on her new dress for the first time, she gets so excited!! She's pretty!!! She's going to grom with her boyfriend and she's gonna look so pretty!!!

So things are going great. Willow is genuinely so happy with everything and buzzing with anticipation that this night is gonna be fun and silly and magical. Until this year's grom royalty is announced. And it's her.

Her smile slips momentarily, as the hallway goes silent, only for it to pluck back up as she publicly expresses her gratitude for being chosen. Of course it's her. She knows she's strong, she knows she's powerful, she knows that she's got a good chance of coming out of this victorious. And now that she thinks about it, yeah, she wants to do this. She'd like to keep Grometheus at bay for tonight as much as anybody. She wants everybody else to have a fun grom. And if you want a job done right, you better do it yourself.

Her friends would stand a fighting chance but Willow doesn't want a single one of them getting involved. Luz and Amity already went through it once. Gus adores his MC gig far too much to give it up. And Hunter...Hunter shouldn't be put in harm's way again for as long as he lives. That leaves Willow.

So it's fine :) She'll handle this pesky monster for everyone else's sake :) Not the grom she was expecting but probably the grom she's supposed to have, given who she is :)

She might have been looking forward to a chill fun night but it's fine :)

If Willow is disappointed or nervous in any way, she doesn't let it show. But Gus picks up on it. As does Hunter. They both offer to take her place but Willow forbids it. ("You will let me handle this one on my own. Understood?") She makes them promise. So neither intervene when the time finally comes.

All of Willow's excitement for grom fizzles out in favour of restless anxiety. She's pretty sure she's got this but any witch in their right mind fears Grometheus at least a little and Willow is no exception.

Willow still dolls herself up for the evening. She's hoping that maybe, once she gets this out of the way, the rest of the night will still be her ideal grom. She throws on the new dress that she's in love with. Amity comes over to do her hair into an elaborate braided up-do, interwoven flowers and all. But when she looks in the mirror and sees a beautiful girl staring back at her, she can't even summon that bubbling giddiness. Damn this stupid monster for her constant stomach churning pit of dread.

But once she's in that arena, glowing spell bangles at her wrists and the Fear Bringer itself staring her down, what is there to alleviate her terror? Gus's projected voice, carrying over the crowd as he hypes her up to the sky. Luz, Amity, Viney, Skara, and several others chanting a cheer specially tailored for her. And orchestrating this chant with utterly off-the-walls enthusiasm? Her ridiculous boyfriend, dressed like a string bean. Willow will find the time to laugh about this later. When she's not fighting for her life and everyone else's.

She loves Hunter very much. She loves all of them very much. Which is why she is going to wrap this up as swiftly as she can.

The fight between the Grom Queen and the Fear Bringer rages on, and though Willow is not failing by any means, Grometheus shows no signs of weakening. She accumulates a myriad of cuts, scrapes and bruises and even if she's still standing upright, she doesn't know how much longer she can hold out.

That's when the monster, now in the form of a giant clawed beetle, lunges for her. And though she dodges, unscathed, she stares down in devastation at the jagged tear in the skirt of her beautiful dress.

Enough. She has had enough.

Willow goes fucking ballistic.

"YOU" She thunders, eyes an electric green glow. "ARE RUINING MY GROM NIGHT"

She doesn't want to be here. She wants to be laughing and taking dumb pictures with her friends. She wants to be spinning around in her (now ruined) dress. She wants to be dancing with her boyfriend.

She can't do any of those things as long as this fucking creature stands in her way.

Willow's fear is overwhelmed by a burst of rage and in one final riot of raw power, Grometheus succumbs to defeat, slithering into hiding for another year.

She can't even summon the performance energy to smile as the tiara lands on her head and her classmates rush to congratulate her. She knows it's silly, so she doesn't want to make a big deal about it, but she's quite upset about her dress.

Willow is ushered into the Healing Homeroom and Viney and Emira tend to her injuries. She doesn't speak much as they tell her what an awesome job she did, only offering a smile and nod and an occasional "Hm." She fiddles with one of the many undone locks of hair. Amity's beautiful braided handiwork had come almost completely undone. Flowers remain loosely tangled in the strands that brush her shoulders.

Once the healing spells are complete and Viney and Emira return to the dance floor, Willow opts to stay put for the moment. She barely has a minute alone before he's standing in the doorframe.

Despite how low she feels, she laughs at the sight of him.

Hunter frowns. "You said that you like me in green."

"I'm sorry. I do, yes. I kinda miss your suit from earlier though."

"If it's a suit the Grom Queen wants, it's a suit she'll get."

With a wave of his staff, Hunter's attire is as polished and beautiful as when he showed up at her doorstep this evening.

Willow does a joking little swoon and a round of applause. Blushing slightly, Hunter humors her with a bow before sitting down beside her.

He pulls the decorative handkerchief out of his breastpocket and Willow is puzzled before she feels his rough fingers gently tip up her chin to the light.

Hunter informs her that there is grime from the fight smeared all over her face. He diligently cleans it off.

"Your dress is pretty." He says, after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

This was the second time he had said this tonight. The first time she had said thank you. Now her stomach sinks.

"Was." Willow replies glumly, fingers threading through the torn fabric.

Hunter's eyes narrow to where she's currently fidgeting. He then reaches into yet another pocket and withdraws a little red box. And when he pops off the lid, its contents are needles and threads, expertly organized by colour and size.

"It won't be a perfect mend." Says Hunter, fiddling with his sewing kit. "But it's important to you so...I could give it a shot?"

For the next several minutes, Willow sits patiently as Hunter stitches her dress back together, entertaining her with anecdotes of suit shopping with Darius and brainstorming the "Willow is Awesome" chant with the rest of their friends.

Willow is not the primped up doll that she was a few hours ago. You could certainly tell she had been in battle. Her dress is still a little dirty but the care Hunter took to mend it makes her heart melt. Her elaborately plaited hairstyle is now a sloppy mess but Amity promised earlier that she'd stop by some other time to do it again whenever Willow wanted to look especially cute. (She was thinking on her next date with Hunter.) Plus, she has to admit that the Grom Queen tiara is beautiful.

Not just the tiara. She's still beautiful. Hunter tells her as much and when she looks back at him, she knows he's not just saying it. That boy is incapable of telling her a convincing lie.

This grom has not gone the way Willow hoped it would. But it's not all that bad either. At the very least, she's gonna make the most of the night.

"C'mon." Says Hunter, tentatively linking his fingers through hers. "We gotta get back to the gym before everybody wonders where you are. Pretty sure Luz wants a dance with the Grom Queen."

As the two cross the classroom, Hunter carries on. "Oh and Amity too."

Willow grins.

"Pretty sure Gus expressed an interest in a dance also..."

She nods. "Of course he did. I am in very high demand for dances."

Hunter hums.

"And uhh..." He mutters. "Me too maybe."

For the second time in this stressed induced nightmare of an evening, Hunter manages to make Willow burst into laughter.

"Do I need to remind you that you're my date? You get the honor of being the Grom Queen's first dance."

She means it as a silly little joke and speaks with an ironic air of regality.

But the comedy falls to pieces when Hunter looks back at her, and a bright beam of pure awe splits his pretty face. Pink stains his cheeks and excitement sparks in his irises.

He does consider it an honor. He does think she's beautiful, battle blemished and everything.

She wants to blush until the heat turns her skin to ash. She wants to sweep him off his feet and on to the dance floor right this minute. She wants to kiss him.

He's her grom date. He's her boyfriend. And she loves him.

#sorry. as soon as you said ''grom queen willow'' i started thinking way too much #huntlow

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no-m4gic · 1 year

Note

Wow yandere sure are cool

can I request the yandere alphabet for Mukuro Ikusaba?

quick a/n ;; i'm probably not going to be active for the next 3 or 4 days... so requests will be closed... at least until i clear my inbox (which will take awhile)

i had shit loads of fun writing for izuru (even though yandere izuru is so fuckin' tough to write for)

hopefully i have as much fun with mukuro as i did with izuru

also i disagree yandere are scary as especially men yandere

this is a GN S/O btw!

rushed this, remade it, rushed it again. imagination juices running out. for some reason i have motivation to write when i'm about to go to sleep... ah fuck.

thanks for requesting!

prompt ;; yandere alphabet

prompt list ;; here x3

warnings ;; mentions of stockholm syndrome, murder, cutting off s/o's uuh hand

creds ;; i got help from mod willow for C,T, W and Z! we have a shared blog you can find here. thanks willlow <33

~ mod sitaya

Mukuro Yandere Alphabet

i don't have a header for mukuro yet... 😭

A - Affection - How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

mukuro could and will definitely get pretty intense with her physical affection. she just wants to show you she loves you for real... so why do you keep pushing her and her efforts away?

B - Blood - How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

very veeryyy messy. mukuro would do anything to keep you safe and hers. anybody unfortunate to be considered a rival would be eliminated the first day the talk to you. "s/o, they were useless, don't cry over spilled milk,".

★ C - Cruelty - How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

when you first wake up tied to the bed, mukuro wouldn't walk in and personally explain it to your face. instead, you'll find a piece of paper with everything scribbled onto it. and the first few weeks ikusaba would try to make everything more... comfortable, and enjoyable for you. however, once it's been awhile with her, she'll start to be more strict. she'll only mock you if you make an attempt to escape, but other than that she won't say anything negative about you.

D - Darling - Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

no, unless once you've developed stockholm and consent to anything else, mukuro's keeping her hands to herself.

E- Earnest, Are they intense?

when you first get abducted, no. she would listen to your every command, leaving you alone whenever you requested and answer almost all your questions. but if you ever attempted to escape, she would get more strict and intense. never keeping her eyes off you for even a second (even when you're sleeping), almost always having some sort of physical contact and so on.

F- Fight - How would they feel if their darling fought back?

most of the time she finds it cute. "aww, is s/o trying to tire themselves out?". this would also be a time when she would mock you, intentionally or unintentionally.

G- Game - Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

yes and no. she loves seeing you think she wasn't watching and explore the house, attempting to pick locks or open windows. her real goal is really to just have a life with you. in her eyes kidnapping you was taking you with her to start a brand new, fresh life, bringing nothing from her past but you.

H- Hell - What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

during a punishment. specifically one after you tried to escape. "i'm sorry s/o you made me do this, i can't have you running away and leaving me," mukuro would calmly say before the cleaver she clenched in her hand came rushing down. you squeezed your eyes shut, tears still streaming down her face as you felt warm blood splatter everywhere. and worse of all, it was yours.

I- Ideals - What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

like in letter G, all mukuro wants to do is start a fresh new life with you with nothing in her or your way. she doesn't understand why you still resist and want to leave. sometimes she'd even consider reaching out to junko for advice.

J- Jet - How fast would it happen for them to go yandere?

pretty darn quickly. you were the only person who hadn't treated her indifferently or like a servant. how could she not fall for you? you were so innocent, and all you wanted to do was befriend her and give her hope and light.

K- Kisses - How do they act around or with their darling?

something like how she acts around junko. whenever you tried to hit her or fought back, she'd just say "oh s/o is trying to kill me with their bare hands... how much i would enjoy that despair..." or mock you. she'll also listen to everything you say, but not believe every lie you make. if you were hungry, she'd get you your favorite food(s), if you were tired, she'd bring in a white noise machine, lower the temperature of the room and tuck you into bed before leaving you be.

L-Lonely - How much loneliness would they feel if you two were apart?

she wouldn't be apart from you. if you two were required to be apart, she'd refuse, and probably lie about being your guardian or something, just so she could stand by your side and hold your hand. what if somebody hit on you? she couldn't do anything to protect you if you two were apart!

M- Might - How aggressive would they be towards you?

not aggressive at all in general. in fact she'd be pretty submissive. however she wouldn't always do your exact request, just to show you can't take advantage of her.

N- Naughty - How would they punish their darling?

the severity of the punishment depends on what you did. the worse being attempting to escape, of course. if it was something minor like you ignoring her, she'll lock you up in a dark room for an hour or less before letting you out. the worse for when you attempted to escape, you can find at the letter H.

O- Oppression - How many rights would they take away from their darling?

only the necessary ones... such as you never having privacy and never being able to leave the house unless she trusts you to the max. you'll start off with barely any rights, so you'll have to earn them as time passes.

R- Rain - Would they keep you trapped inside forever?

not forever, just most of the time, especially your first months alone with her. once you start behaving, whether you've developed stockholm or you're just pretending, there would be those rare days where she'd drive you around the city and even get you something from a store, with you still in the car obviously.

S- Stalker - Would they stalk you? How intense would it go?

before she abducted you, pretty intense. she needs to make sure her dear s/o is safe and not in need of rescuing!

★ T- Tears - How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

she feels like absolute shit, especially with the knowledge that the reason you're doing it was because of her. during one of these periods, she'd go easy easy on you. heck she'll even let you roam around the house freely for that day and leave you alone, give you privacy and all that good stuff.

U- Unique - Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

she'd sometimes give you false hope, saying someday she'll allow you to wander freely outside for a specific amount of time, with many rules, of course.

V- Vice - What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

you could pretend to develop stockholm syndrome, day by day. she'd be very gullible around her darling, believing mostly everything they say. once you've proven yourself, mukuro will allow you some outside time. the first time, you'll still be under a strict eye. however, as time passes, eventually, you'll be alone outside, and hopefully during your treacherous, you've formed a plan, since mukuro's not letting go ever.

★ W-Wild Card - a random yandere headcanon.

usually after a punishment, mukuro would kiss your wounds after that before rubbing cleaning alcohol onto it and bandaging it. not only that, whenever you screamed at her to leave you alone, she'll actually leave you alone for an hour or less. still watching you from a distance, of course.

★ Z - Zenith - Would they ever break their darling?

never. if you ever do lose your sanity, it would most likely be during a punishment or one of those periods where she neglects you. and once you do, she'll do anything and everything to get you back to normal. she would even drive you around in her car, with the doors and windows locked, of course. sometimes though, she'll give you false hope by saying "oh s/o, you've been so good lately, perhaps i'll let you see your family again someday," it makes her feel euphoric whenever she saw your face light up and whenever you'd ask her when "someday" was.

hi! i'm back, this request was almost done, so i quickly wrapped it up in a library during my break. hope it isn't too obviously rushed and bad!

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #dr x reader #dr #mukuro ikusaba x reader #mukuro x reader #ikusaba x reader

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foofyschmoofer · 1 year

Text

I posted 3,895 times in 2022

13 posts created (0%)

3,882 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nudityandnerdery

@zenyeetaa

@p1ratew3nch

@thunderxthighs

@sorchacahill

I tagged 1,055 of my posts in 2022

#critical role - 81 posts

#oh no it's cuuuuuuuuuuuute - 79 posts

#i should queue - 34 posts

#laudna - 31 posts

#imogen temult - 27 posts

#bell's hells - 26 posts

#orym of the air ashari - 20 posts

#our flag means death - 19 posts

#fearne calloway - 19 posts

#cr3 - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#wait why is this the first time in my 39 years on this planet that i've ever considered donald must have a sibling since he has nephews

My Top Posts in 2022:

OC Profile

Tagged by the fantabulous @alyssalenko. Thanks, lovely ❤️

Will tag @swaps55 @penthesilea1623 @goddesstiera @missmeggo929 @illusivesoul and anybody else who wants to do it

GENERAL-

Name: Rebekah Leigh Shepard

Alias(es): Bex (unless you're Hackett, if you call her Rebekah she will punch you), Half Pint (Zaeed's called her this since the day they met when she was six), Kid (likewise Wrex has called her this since she was actually a kid lmao)

Gender: Female

Age: currently 31

Birthdate: April 11, 2154

Place of birth: Vancouver

Hometown: Newcastle, Northumbria, UK

Spoken language(s): English, Krogan (mostly swearing), High Asari

Sexual preference: pansexual

Occupation: former Alliance commander, former Spectre, bounty hunter, general galactic menace (according to Sparatus probably)

APPEARANCE-

Eye color: pale blue

Hair color: naturally, blonde; currently, probably black or red

Height: 5'3"

Scars: small one through her left eyebrow from when she was shoved down a flight of stairs as a child, a c-shaped one beside and a bullet hole above her right eye from being shot in the face a la Zaeed's betrayal, a brand (like cattle brand) on her left forearm in the shape of the Blue Suns logo - all of these were done by Vido; a similar brand of the 10th Street Reds logo on the inside of her left wrist; innumerable tiny cuts on her face from the end of the Shadow Broker fight; six bullet wounds from Torfan; surgery scars on her left shoulder from the Battle for the Citadel; several burn scars from a house fire and from when she was set on fire by bullies at the orphanage when she was a child

FAVORITE-

Color: the pale blue of Hackett's eyes

Hair Color: dark brown

Song: Bugger Off, Fiddlers Green

Food: Chocolate chip waffles/pancakes

Drink: Asari whiskey

HAVE THEY-

Passed university: Yes? I think?

Had sex: Yes

See the full post

8 notes - Posted March 31, 2022

I was tagged by @alyssalenko to share the music I've been listening to on repeat. Lately that has been my playlist for Katie Shepard. It's a mix of country romance and Queen

I'll tag @painterofhorizons @hot-elf @unnamedblight @hawkeykirsah @sorchacahill and anyone else who wants to do it

See the full post

9 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

The Ties that Bind Us, Chapter 20

“Have you given any consideration to where you’d like your next posting to be?”

Katie shook her head. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. Hadn’t even thought beyond today.”

“I would imagine you’ll be getting quite a few offers coming in, and you’ll no doubt have your pick of the lot.”

“I suppose.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you hinting at what I think you’re hinting at?”

Anderson chuckled. “You caught me. My XO has tired of ship life and is taking a post on one of the outer colonies.”

“Interesting timing.”

“Indeed. Though when he first came to me, you were still an N5. I’d still have tried to recruit you if you’d left back then, though I knew you wouldn’t.”

“It was tempting at times.” Katie cracked her neck, still stiff and sore from the raid. “As is this offer. It’s… very tempting.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

She shrugged. “Not a ‘but’ exactly, and not a ‘no.’ More of a ‘can I think about it?’”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to go into any new assignment without sitting on it for a bit.”

“And now you sound like Dad.”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not, given how often you two butt heads over Alliance matters.”

“It varies, but in this instance, it’s a compliment.” She glanced over Anderson’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil…”

You can find the rest here. As always, comments, reblogs, etc. are very very welcome

15 notes - Posted June 11, 2022

Trick or treat? 🎃

Treat, always 👻

20 notes - Posted October 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Head Over Tattered Sneakers, Ch. 62

It's been... awhile since I updated, becausse *gestures to life in general*

But here we are, a year and a half later, with more Bex shenanigans. Enjoy!

“Wow,” Kaidan began, clearly trying not to stare, “you, uh—”

“Look like you got stabbed in the face by a hundred tiny blades,” Morgan finished when he faltered. Bex stifled a laugh when Hackett reached over and smacked him on the back of the head. “Ow.”

“You’re not wrong, exactly.” She shifted from side to side, staring at her boots to avoid Hackett's gaze the same way she'd avoided Zaeed's. “The fight with the Shadow Broker was… intense. But that's one name crossed off the list of people who want me dead, so I'll call it a win.”

“Close call, according to Massani’s message,” Hackett said. “He mentioned that you didn't take your commandos with you.”

Bex rolled her eyes and finally raised her head to look at him. “We took them to the base, but the Broker had some sort of plan, and they got locked out of his office, so it was just us and Liara. Just me an’ her, actually, after he knocked Zaeed out cold.”

“Is he all right?”

“He joined in Karin’s post-battle nanny goat nagging, so yeah, I'd say he's just fine.” Bex shrugged. “A little sore, probably has a raging headache, but he'll be right as rain in a couple days. He'll be touched that you care.”

Morgan snickered and sidestepped when Hackett glared at him.

“So what can I help you gents with today? I know you didn't call just to stare at my face. Well,” Bex nodded to Morgan and Kaidan, “at least you two didn't.”

Neither even cracked a smile before they glanced at each other, at Hackett, and then took a step back.

Shit.

“We have a delicate situation,” Hackett said, “and we could use your help.”

“Steven, be serious. No one has ever put me and the word delicate in the same sentence unless they were taking the mickey.” Bex narrowed her eyes. “‘Sides, I'm not in the Alliance or a Spectre anymore. I'm not at the top of anybody’s Must Call list.”

“That may be true in most cases, but…” Hackett hesitated before continuing in a somber tone. “Garrett Kyle has reappeared on our radar.”

Bex stumbled back to sink into her desk chair. “As in Major Garrett ‘I got cold feet on the battlefield and ran like a bloody coward’ Kyle?”

“Yes. We don't know what happened after he was given an honorable discharge—”

“‘Honorable’ my ass,” Bex muttered, covered by a cough.

“—after Torfan, but at present, he's set up a commune for wayward biotics.”

She groaned. “Not again… Why’s it always fucking biotics?” She frowned. “Actually, wait… Why is it biotics this time? Unless he got dumped in a vat of eezo in the last six years, Kyle's not…”

“No, he's not. But we’re under the impression he… identifies with them.”

Bex stared stupidly at the screen for several seconds. “In what way could he identify with biotics?”

Hackett held up a hand. “I know, it sounds ludicrous. My own impression is less that he identifies with them, and more that he identified a group of outsiders who needed a guiding hand. Or something to that effect. In fact, he now goes by Father Kyle.”

“This should be bloody brilliant then.”

You can find the rest of this beast of a chapter here. Comments, kudos, reblogs, etc. are always welcome.

21 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

Thanks For Your Donation! [Yandere Shigaraki x Twitch Streamer Reader]

Title: Thanks For Your Donation! [Yandere Shigaraki x Twitch Streamer Reader]

Synopsis: request, “Please I love that troupe where Shigaraki gets obsessed with a twitch stream and deluded himself into believing they’re together until he finally takes her home 🥰”

notes: yandere, kidnapping mention, creeper

Shigaraki glances down at the notification on his phone and his chest suddenly feels tight, anxiety blooming across his skin which makes him want to scratch, scratch, scratch. Your Twitch is live again--fuck, he can’t miss it. He rapidly presses the save button on his Switch, impatient to devote his entire attention to his phone screen--to you.

But fuck, do you make it hard on him lately. You stream so much more now that you’ve gotten followers, gotten popular; donations have become a regular feature rather than something surprising, but those other guys, the ones who flash big donations and write insipid comments, aren’t really fans of yours. Not like he is. He’s been watching and donating and praising you since you were a nobody, a nothing streamer with barely 10 viewers per stream.

That was back when you used to just play games with your cheap little pink earbuds and your messy room behind you. When you used to feel more real, used to express yourself more openly.

You stumbled over words and reacted naturally, which meant you were boring--or you would be boring, to someone that didn’t know you like he did. Sometimes the small circle of viewers would dwindle down to just Shigaraki and you’d talk to him, only him, replying to his chat messages with earnest honesty. Smiles. Jokes. It was so goddamn cute. He always donated one last time before signing off for the night and you would curl your fingers in a heart and cheerfully bid him good night.

But now that you’re getting big, you’re more polished, more presentable, more popular. And less… like you, he thinks. You cleared out some little room just for your gaming streams and you have a nice headset now, a background that he can tell you carefully set up to create just the right vibe. You don’t have time for one-on-one convos with your viewers, because your streams never dwindle down, never fizzle out until you’re left awkwardly signing off.

They’re full-fledged productions, now, whether you’re gaming or doing a Q&A or--these have become one of his favorites--doing a cute yet clearly rehearsed “sleepy morning” stream in your pajamas, picture-perfect coffee in your hand, where you muse about life and love and strawberry pancakes.

It’s cute, he admits, but it’s also too rehearsed. He misses the real you, the real personality that you used to let shine through when hardly anybody was watching. You would only show the real you for him, but now that he’s just one amongst a crowd, you keep yourself protected. He understands. You have an image to maintain, after all.

It’s even changed your gaming habits. Now when you game, you react so dramatically, bordering on ridiculous. You would never scream at a horror game before--sure, you might cringe, or admit that your heart is pounding like a hammer, but you weren’t cartoonish. But it’s what those losers watching want--they want you to open your mouth so big when something scary happens in a game so they can screencap it and imagine you’re opening your mouth to do something… else. They want you to scream girlishly at jump scares or dramatically fawn over cute guy characters. And of course, they want you to react when they donate--they want to hear those sweet little words: “Thank you sooo much, you’re my number one fan!”

It’s your new little catch phrase, something you’ve integrated into every stream now. It’s even in your intro--“Hello, all my number one fans!” It’s an in-joke now between your followers. All part of your brand.

Shigaraki knows you don’t mean to hurt him by calling other guys your number one fan. But it does. But it’s okay. He doesn’t hold it against you. He knows that you don’t really mean it, when you’re saying it to them; he’s smart, he can tell the difference in how you react to his donations versus the donations from the absolute shitheads who watch your streams.

You mean it when you call him your number one fan. It’s the only way he can get you to say his name, now that you’re too busy to really respond properly to the chat. And it’s fine, really, nothing to get too upset over. Because when you finally meet in person, he’ll explain that he’s the only number one fan that you’ll ever need.

He jumps into the stream, annoyed at having missed the beginning, but what he sees on the screen instantly melts away any emotion other than pure adoration and obsession. You’re very… pink today. A pink oversized sweater and pink cat headphones and even glossy pink lipstick that makes your mouth look like candy.

None of the freaks watching the stream know this, but Shigaraki is the reason why you feel comfortable wearing pink. He remembers one of your early streams, where you wondered out loud if it was cliche to be a girl gamer who likes pink; he’d told you that it was fine, and you’d thanked him. Who knows, without his sage advice, you might be wearing clothing you didn’t like. Wouldn’t that be a shame? He makes a mental note to remind you to thank him, somewhere down the line. Maybe when you were out on a date and wearing a short pink skirt and urging him to take a sip of your vanilla-cherry milkshake, letting him put his lips right on your straw.

A date… the thought makes him feel tight all over. Would you date him? I mean, you were practically dating already, truth be told. It just needed to be formalized. He’d spent so much money on you, and in the early days he knew exactly what his donations bought because you’d happily chatter on about getting a new game or perfume or stack of light novels because of his generosity. Of course, you didn’t talk as much as you used to--well, practically never, except when he donated--but that couldn’t be helped. You were stretched thin, being pulled in directions by these so-called-fans who watched your streams but didn’t give a fuck about the real you underneath. The real you that Shigaraki knows all too well.

Would you date him? No, more than that--did you love him? The way he loves you? The thought of the real you, the one who didn’t bite her lip oh-so-obviously in a bid to look adorable, the one who didn’t mind eating messy lunches while she gamed, the one who always always made sure to wish Shigaraki good night, makes him want to find out.

He rarely participates in the chat nowadays. There’s no point, when you rarely respond to anything other than answers to questions you ask, and even then you cherry pick from the countless replies that pop up in seconds. Donating is the best way to catch your eye, to hear those sweet words from your lips that you only mean when he donates.

But something makes him want to try, today. Maybe it’s all his nostalgia for your early days, the early connection you made that is still going strong. Maybe it’s the allure of the glossy pink lipstick smeared across your lips, making him think about how you might taste of cherries or strawberries or pure sugar.

Whatever it is, it’s pulling his fingers towards the chat, and before he knows it, he’s rapidly typed and hit enter. The second he does he begins to scratch furiously at his neck and he can feel the blood even as his message is quickly dominated by other messages in the chat, inane bullshit.

Tomura001: sry for the sudden question but I need to ask you something personal do you love me?

As a quick thought, he makes a donation, just to ease the nervousness that was flooding through him with every passing millisecond.

He hardly blinks as he stares intently at you, sitting in your chair with your pink lips and pink headphone and soft skin and--you glance over, where he knows you keep a larger screen to see the chat.

And suddenly, you’re speaking.

“Awww,” you say, your voice sweet and flattered, even. “Tomura! Of course I love you! You’re my number one fan!”

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. You do love him. I mean, he knew this already; it’s the little things, like how you still have the light novels you bought with his money on your bookshelf and you thank him for his donations like you mean it and you feel confident enough to wear pink, all thanks to him. But he’s never heard it from your mouth before. From your lips. Soft and pink and inviting.

You love him.

He sets the phone down, a rare occurrence when he’s glued to your streams. But the emotions rushing through him are so strong that he’s worried it will slip out of his fingers and fall, crack on the floor.

He loves you. You love him. You belong to him. So why are you wasting your fucking time streaming to a bunch of worthless losers who don’t care about you? He can buy you the things you want, the things you like. He can clear out some space in his room so you can game together. And he knows girls like things clean, so he’ll even throw out the used soda cans and food wrappers before he brings you home. You’ll appreciate that, just like you appreciated his donations and late-night practically empty stream chats. You’ll be happy with him. And he can see you and hear you and touch you in a way that he’s been dreaming about (and you’ve been dreaming about, he knows) for ages.

All he has to do is find your address--easy enough--and you’ll be living it up with him before you know it.

He chews on his lip and picks up his phone. You’ve moved on--you had to, didn’t you, to keep those viewers donating--but he can tell by the way your lips are pursued that you’re thinking about him.

Your number one fan.

#yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #yandere #yandere x reader #shigaraki x reader #afterwitch writes #I am def. doing part 2 of this eventually

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sisi-halloway · 3 years

Text

You and Asra at the Supermarket HC

Imagine this heartthrob shopping with you? I fall in love just thinking about it.

___________________________________________________________

Asra is wearing:

a tanktop/oversized sweater(depending on the weather)

sweatpants/hemp sweatpants (they’re sweatpants all right)

Crocs/Birkenstocks (You painted his toenails the night before)

Oversize sunglasses or a beanie (depending on the weather)

He’s cozy and he’s not trying to impress anybody. He’s there to spend time with you while shopping. That’s what matters to him.

I don’t make the freakin deakin rules

He gets the buggy for you and you two walk side by side in the store.

Faust is hanging out as Asra’s necklace and people are so scared of her for some reason?

We’re on a budget here, so of course he has a list

If you ask for anything that’s not on the list, he’ll throw it in the buggy anyway

Spends most of the time in the home goods section even though none of that shit is on the list

CANDLES AND RUGS ARE HIS WEAKNESS

You leave the section with 5 candles because rugs are too expensive

Apple pumpkin

Midnight stargaze

Fresh rain

Mulled cider

Rich hazelnut sugar

You bypass the bakery completely because you go to a completely separate bread shop on a whole other day. Y’all like to make a date outta that

Spices are very important. VERY IMPORTANT. So there’s a ton of dried herbs and salts in the basket.

One thing Asra does splurge on is the spices. He doesn’t get the cheap 75 cent ones. He gets brand name, like the ones in the glass containers because:

“it really does affect the quality of the food, I promise”

After that, you buy everything else in the general shopping area, and for the most part, you stick to the list

PRODUCE TIME (Since you two cook a lot this is real important)

Asra spends a million years on each piece of produce, inspecting it for bruises, scratches and bumps

Needless to say, all the fruits and veggies are perfectly picked out

You end up in the essential oil section and you really don’t know how it happened.

Y’all were doing so well.

Asra complains of the poor quality of the oils while tossing the lavender bottle in the basket anyway.

He knows that they are for aromatherapy use only. You ask him if he knows.

“What? Yes, I know. We’re not going to get stock for a while anyway and you’re having trouble sleeping. We can buy it just this once.”

Finally you two are at checkout.

The line is super long but y’all don’t mind. You stand in front of Asra while he has both arms around you in a little protective embrace. He just likes touching you.

Asra realizes something:

“We didn’t get ice cream”

You shake your head and tell him that you two don’t need any.

“You’re right. All my sweetness is right here”

FAT SMOOCH ON THE LIPS

Only Asra can make grocery shopping romantic

Pays in cash because I feel like Asra does that?

He literally doesn’t want you lifting a finger, but you manage to let you help him load the groceries into the car

The drive home is very nice and very pleasant and y’all hold hands while he drives

Since you two are responsible shoppers, y’all not back for another two weeks!

But tomorrow y’all end up going to Earthbound and Selasi’s bakery anyway

All done! Tell me who y’all want done next!

#asra hc #asra x reader hc #the arcana #asra the arcana #asra alnazar #asra and faust #asra at the supermarket #asra modern au

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bluefirewrites · 3 years

Note

Honestly... Willie and Alex need a child.

Well they maybe don’t need a child. At least not at the present moment, and if its within the canon of them being ghosts. It would be cool if they’re older and in an AU that they adopt a child.

But if we’re going by them as ghosts, I could definitely seem them taking in a ghost kid later on.

Imagine how traumatic it would be for this kid to have died so young and can’t go back to their family.

Willie would stumble on the kid walking around the streets, looking so lost and upset. When they locked eyes on Willie as he drew near, his stomach dropped. If they could see him then...

“Hey kid,” He hopped off his board and kneeled in front of them, “What’s up?”

And then the kid would be shy at first. Their parents did tell them not to talk to strangers. But their parents were nowhere to be found... they couldn’t even seem them when they tried going home. Why couldn’t they see them...?

Willie could sense the kid’s panic and tried to put them at ease. He took them to various spots around town to hopefully keep their mind of what was troubling them.

Not a total fix, but Willie died young. He got it. But he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be this kid’s age and being on their own.

He was going to do his best to entertain the kid until he figured out a way to give them a home.

He took them to the playground, pushed them on the swings and helped them out on the monkey bars.

He took them to the movies. (It broke his heart to not get them any popcorn or candy. The kid was having a hard time grasping that they couldn’t eat anything anymore).

By the time the movie ended, Willie knew he had to get the kid off the streets and somewhere more suitable. And even though Caleb was gone and the HGC was under new management, a club was no place for a kid...

So that was how he ended up at Julie’s (the first time the kid poofed -“Can we do that again?!”)

By then the kid was comfortable with Willie and he was able to scoop them up into his arms as he knocked on the door.

Reggie opened the door and greeted them, “Hey dude,” then he noticed the child in Willie’s arms, “And little dude.”

Then his eyes widened, and his gaze bounced between the two of them, “Oh,” he uttered, once he realized.

His smile dimmed slightly before he quickly ushered them inside.

Alex was the only other person in the studio. Luke must have been in the house with Julie. The drummer was on the couch when they walked in.

“Hey Willie,” Alex quickly rose to his feet once he noted the kid, “Hey, uh, who’s this?”

“A new friend,” Willie set the child down, “This is Alex. And the guy at door is Reggie. They’re my friends. They’re nice.”

The kid nodded and waved shyly at the other ghosts.

“Hey, Hot Dog. Can we talk?”

“Sure,”

Then Willie left the kid in Reggie’s care and the bassist proceeded to draw pictures with them, “I’ll be right back.”

Willie and Alex poofed up to the loft so Willie could still keep an eye on the kid.

“Are they-?”

“A ghost. Yes,”

“Damn,” Alex glanced over, “How old-?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” But the truth was Willie didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know.

“So what are we going to do?”

Willie fumbled with the zipper of his windbreaker, “We?”

“Yeah, we. Or were you gonna hand them off to someone else?”

He shook his head, “No. I don’t think I could trust anybody else with them at the moment.”

“Ok,” Alex could hear Reggie and the kid giggling about the pictures they were making and he smiled, “You know I’m going to have to ask Julie. But I’m sure she would say yes,”

“If it gets too much for you, for them to be here. I’ll find somewhere else. This could be a temporary solution, until we figure something out,”

“You like them, don’t you?”

“They’re growing on me...”

Alex places his hands on Willie’s shoulders, “Then they’re staying here. Me and the guys, we know better than to turn someone away in need of a home.”

“Thank you, Alex,” Willie smiled, “I’ll always be around to help. Just because it’s your place doesn’t mean-”

“Why can’t it be yours too?” Alex blurted out.

Willie stopped, “You... want me to move in? With you?”

“Y-Yeah. I mean, me and the guys. And Julie. But... yeah,” The blonde stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “I mean, so you can take care of the kid too,”

“That’s 5 ghosts in a garage. Are you sure Julie’s going to be cool with it?”

“Please. The second she takes one look at the kid, she wouldn’t say no. And besides, she likes you too. She says you don’t cause trouble,”

“Did she forget about the whole ‘getting-you-stamped’ fiasco?”

“You landed us a gig at the Orpheum... she knows you’ll do everything you can to fix it,”

“Thanks...” Willie blew out a sigh, “And... yeah. If you want me to-”

“Yeah, for the kid-”

“-right. For the kid. I’ll move in,”

Alex beamed, “Wow. Great. So, uh, welcome to the garage then,”

Willie returned the sunny expression, “Now let’s go tell the kid the good news,”

They poofed back downstairs to Reggie and the kid struggling to hold in their laughs, their pictures hidden behind their backs.

“What’s going on?”

The kid whipped out their drawing, “Look, I drew you and Hot Dog Man!”

And fair enough, there was a crayon drawing of Willie on his skateboard and Alex with his fanny pack. Willie could see that there was a hot dog peeking out of the fanny pack as well.

Willie looked at Alex, raising an eyebrow, and the blonde was trying so hard not to groan at another person adopting his embarrassing nickname. But he smiled and knelt down in front of the kid, inspecting the drawing.

“This is amazing. A masterpiece. Don’t you think so too, Willie?”

“I agree. This artwork should be displayed,”

And true to Alex’s word, Julie met the kid the following morning and loved them instantly. Luke too. Already itching to play with the kid and teach them music. They all were.

The kid not only got Willie looking out for them, but everyone.

But the kid was closest with Willie and Alex, because they spent the most time with them.

When Willie was busy helping new management run the club, Alex was the one taking care of the kid.

Alex, already the mom friend of the group, was the one to set up rules and gave the kid some structure in their life.

He would scold Luke for jamming past 9pm because that would be the kid’s bedtime (”Ghosts don’t sleep, Alex” “They need to rest! Let them have some sense of normal, guys”).

And he was adamant in continuing the kid’s studies and got everyone involved.

Reggie would be in charge of teaching them some math. Julie would go over some science books she had from elementary school. And Luke would teach writing and reading.

Alex held the fort down at home, but Willie was the one to take the kid out around town a lot, exploring all parts of LA.

The kid loved art, so Willie was stoked to bring them to the museum that he took Alex to.

(And they screamed there too, but the kid was now under the impression that it was acceptable to scream everywhere. And Alex was cross with Willie for a while after that...)

Willie even taught them how to skate, but was super protective and made sure he got them proper gear and a brand new helmet (”Willie, they’re already a ghost. They don’t need-” “It’s part of the learning experience...”).

But how proud Willie was the day the kid was able to balance on the board on their own.

And sometimes, Willie and Alex were able to take the kid out for the day together. And they would usually go to the beach.

Once, the kid ran ahead and started kicking the waves that crept up the shore and Willie chased them. The skater picked them and spun them around, and Alex remembered his heart swelling at the sight of the two of them together.

“Hot Dog Man! Help me!” The kid giggled as Willie playfully captured them and tickled them.

Alex ran up and grabbed the kid from Willie’s hold, “I’ve come to rescue you!” He set them down before telling them to climb on his back, “I’m now your noble steed. Let’s go!”

Willie smiled fondly seeing Alex giving the kid a piggyback ride and ran along with them, howling as the cold waters reached up and drenched their feet.

It wasn’t easy, practically raising a kid. There were definitely difficult moments.

But with Alex at Willie’s side, and Willie at Alex’s- it made it all worth it.

#willex #makes me soft yall #i love these two #i wanna write more for williex #willie x alex #alex x willie #alex mercer #willie jatp #blue answers asks #jatp hc #also gender neutral

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spitpr1ncess · 3 years

Text

BRUISED BODIES CHAPTER 2 LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

(not my image)

Picking out a beautiful soft white linen dress you hum to yourself, Jools pulled through with your day off but had gotten himself roped into some business so was no longer free, not a huge loss because although you love spending time with him, it’ll be lovely to have some time to yourself. You ponder what you will do, whether you’ll read a book, draw or maybe even write something, you just feel in your soul that you need a break.

Pulling the loose dress over your head you pick out some white ankle socks, never being one to dress for anybody else but yourself, comfort is key and feeling good is the main goal. You glare at the reflection in the mirror staring wearily back at you, you feel more connected this time, yet you’re still unsure about who is staring back. Her eyes are sunken, her knees wobbly and her collarbones protruding in a boyish way. You wave off any ugly, intruding thoughts and slip your feet into the one pair of black shoes you own, you decide you’ll browse the shops before you finally head down to the local park.

Reaching for your shoulder bag you throw a couple of notes in, followed by a little pocketknife you had stolen from your father as a young girl, you can’t be too careful outside, especially wearing the branding of a working girl, everybody knows and nobody respects you except for a select few. You head out, closing the door and turning the key in the lock, you wear it around your neck with an old scrap of garden string.

You pass by Jools seat, occupied with one of the other men Boss employs whilst he was out with whatever emergency he was roped into, you notice that you miss him when he’s not here, the other stranger wouldn’t wish you a good morning on your way out.

Your mind wanders as you make your way towards the large, wooden doors in the entrance and you find yourself reminiscing over how much you’ve moved around, and how this has been your favorite base so far.

You’ve moved around a fair bit over the years as Boss has accumulated more money and has had more to spend on you. You’re currently located in a lard mansion, it has a sizeable forty rooms on each floor, with four floors in total, that’s without including the large ballroom, kitchen and diner rooms and a large lounging area. There is a basement too, full of rooms you’re forbidden from entering and a beautiful surrounding estate, it’s a secure, gated property, of course, so you can only leave with permission, given by Jools, with Boss entrusting him to be responsible with his decision. You’re allowed to freely roam the surrounding land; Boss even keeps a few horses that you and a few of the other girls happily care for. Hacking them on those gorgeous summer days and taking long afternoons just enjoying each other’s company, as an escape from your sad little lives.

You will often spend the summer evenings sat on the grass, allowing the sun to beat down onto your pale skin, allowing you to feel something, head buried in a book, escaping reality and taking ever-so-important time to yourself. The feeling of freedom you get is fleeting, but even that is enough to temporarily satiate your hunger to run away.

You look back over your shoulder and shout out to the man at Jools desk, “I’m going out into town, I’ll be back no later than six, you needn’t worry, I already have permission, it’ll say on my appointments tab on Jools computer!” he grunts, and waves you off, completely disinterested. You think back to the last time you were late home, true, it was an accident, you’d fallen asleep in the meadow and nightfall had come, Boss had sent out a search party, assuming that you had made a break for it and you could tell he was relieved more than angry when you were frog marched into his office and disciplined for your silly mistake. You shudder, thinking about Boss’s thick fingers coming into contact with your tiny throat, you live to please him yes, but it doesn’t mean you have like him.

As a direct result of your falling asleep and having a search party sent out for you, you weren’t currently a favorite between Boss’s men, with all of them being suspicious of you, expecting you to make a break for it at any moment. You were sure they’d had your face ingrained into the backs of their eyelids incase they ever saw you acting “suspicious”. You can hardly blame them but you do with they would stand down, it was exhausting having to calculate your every move, to stay out of the limelight as much as you could.

The streets are dotted with people, all busy and completely engrossed in their own perfect little lives, what you’d give to be able to live like them. A wave of sadness drowns you as you notice mothers and daughters, couples in love and shop keepers attending their stalls in the bright morning light. Your feet subconsciously decide your route as you make your way down the stone high street, enjoying the smells and sounds, the birds singing loud songs was like a beautiful music concert made just for you. You allow yourself to be completely immersed and wonder if you could slip away and never be seen again, if you could have that freedom one day, if you could be one of those mothers with daughters.

You swing a small glass door open and hear chimes ring as you step into your favorite hole in the wall café,

“Olive!” a voice booms from behind the bar as Mr. Benzo swiftly approaches you and pulls you into a bear hug, “we’ve missed you! Where on Gods given earth have you been!?”, you lean into the giant man and allow him to envelope you into a protective embrace, inhaling deeply, and imagining this to be what it is like to have a present father figure.

“Careful with her David! Hug her any tighter and you’ll snap the poor girl in half!” Mr Benzos wife stands a few feet behind, her aged and ring clad hands grasping together at her heartspace, “you’re wasting away my child! They cannot be feeding you! Come, you shall eat”, she gestures gently to a window bench, you are ushered over and take your seat, feeling utterly overwhelmed by the love coming from your favorite shop owners.

Mrs Benzo rushes herself around, building you a hearty spread, she grabs slices of bread, fruits, vegetables and slices of pies, laying them down at your table she grins, “whatever you don’t eat is going home with you”, she sighs, “and you shan’t pay a single penny, you’ll be blown away with the wind one of these days, think of it as an act of service. I mean look at you! Your eyes are so hollow that I’m afraid they’ll disappear into the back of your skull young lady!”. She brushes her finger against your protruding collarbone, you shudder, anxious at the touch of another woman, and at how maternal it was. She senses this and apologizes.

The Benzos know of your situation, they guessed as much after getting a glance at your brandishing. Mr Benzo had taken it upon himself to explain to his wife the full meaning. She had simply been heartbroken, set on spending every one of your visits spoiling and pampering you.

“Mrs Benzo, I cannot eat all of this, I might throw up, my stomach would not hold it!” You place a hand over your stomach and jokingly pat it, she tilts her head and smiles, letting out a small sigh.

“I’ve told you to call me Shirley, child. Enough with the Mrs Benzo. You are a friend here, remember that.” She sits quietly opposite you, watching you eat. Normally it might unnerve you, but her presence calms you today, you allow her maternal stares to engulf you, soaking in her care, allowing her to protect you, Lord knows you need it. David had gone back to serving customers, it was picking up into lunch hour, you hear his warming laugh as he makes conversation with them.

“Thank you… Shirley, it means so much to me, the way you treat me as a human, and an equal. You don’t see me for my brandishing, you see me as me. It’s refreshing.” You feel your eyes begin to ache as though they will cry again. She takes your delicate hand in both of hers, the warmth feels like a hug all over, you can see she has the same familiar feeling in her eyes. For a moment, you are the same. You feel safe. You feel loved. You are loved.

It gets uncomfortable for you to handle all these emotions and you pull your hand back, it’s too much vulnerability, Mrs Benzo understands, she knows it will take time for you to heal from your childhood trauma, and she has the patience of a lion, always willing to wait for you, you smile and continue to eat.

You leave Benzos with an abundance of food supplies, you’ll surely have enough to share with all the girls and Jools. Not that he needs it, he has enough supplies to last him a lifetime, after all. Smelling the air and closing your eyes, you turn and walk back towards the shops, enjoying the serenity of the early afternoon. You’re drawn into one stand in particular, a small jewellery stand, you approach quietly and notice a gorgeous emerald ring, it’s like it calls to you, you dare to reach out and touch it.

“You couldn’t afford that with all your life’s savings, silly whore.” A cold, harsh voice sounds from behind you, you turn, furious at the unnecessary comment directed your way.

“You really shouldn’t speak to wome…” you start.

“Do you know who I am? I will have you disappear if you so much as try to continue that sentence.” the cold voice shoots back. The voice grabs your wrist and pulls you close. It hurts, but you are used to being manhandled. You find yourself a little excited. Finally, something different. You slowly take in the voice’s harsh exterior. Smart black shoes, tailored black trousers, crisp and obviously ironed. A tucket white shirt and expensive cuff links. You inhale, expensive cologne, hints of pine and mint, you meet his eyes, staring into your soul, he licks his lips before continuing.

“You’re the little shit that missed her curfew. What on earth are you doing out here? Running away again?” his glare doesn’t falter, in fact, you’re sure it intensifies, your nerves are starting to get the better of you and you note that if looks could kill, you would be driving away in the back of a hearse right now.

“Speak.” The command is clear enough, yet a lump in your throat makes it impossible. You drink in his facial features, sharp and chiselled, like a God. His short black hair with a harsh undercut. It’s styled immaculately, not a single strand out of place.

“Are you a mute, whore?” the man continues, the grip on your wrist tightens, you whimper and plead with your eyes.

“No. You’re hurting me. I’m sorry, I’m allowed out now, I am. I have permission.” It practically falls out of your mouth as a measly cry.

“Do you expect me to believe that? I have half a mind to drag you by your hair back to Boss for questioning. You truly are moronic.” You consider arguing more, but deem it useless, this angry man is obviously set in his ways.

“Fine. Take me back, but I promise you, I can be out here.” You huff and stick out your bottom lip. It doesn’t go unnoticed, as the man slowly lifts his other hand, he rests his palm against your cheek and runs his thumb ever so lightly against your lip, you can sense his distraction and you curse your stupid, pouty lips. His eyes soften for a moment. Then he snaps back to reality.

“You will walk with me now, back to your house. Let’s go.” He loosens his grip on your wrist but does not let go. You begrudgingly begin the awkward walk back, nothing is said until you reach the gates.

The man buzzes the intercom and Jools answers, he must be back, internally, you relax, knowing that this will go a lot smoother than if the other man was still filling in.

“Olive? Is that you?” Jools questions, obviously anticipating your return, but not so early, his confusion is notable.

“It’s Levi. Open the gates.” The man answers back without emotion

Levi. You ponder on his name as you are practically hauled inside. You’re sure you’ve heard it before. Jools meets you at the entrance, he glances to Levi’s tight grasp on your wrist, you see the cogs going at maximum speed in his head and you know that he has assumed the worst.

“What have you done Olive?” His voice is flat but you hear the concern.

“She was out. Wandering around. Flaunting herself, like she is not on house arrest. Touching expensive jewellery, you should really pay more attention Wilkinson.” The use of Jools last name is alien, you’ve almost forgotten he has one.

“Levi” Jools begins cooly, he holds back a snort. “Olive is not on house arrest anymore, although I admire your commitment to your job.” You cannot make eye contact with Jools or you will be beaten for laughing, you are sure of it, Levi drops your hand like you have shocked him, he grunts and addresses Jools, “Wilkinson. Were you not one of Bosses favourites, I would break your nose. You are stupid to let her wander around alone. If I were in charge, I would leash her, like a little dog. A stupid, little dog.” you can tell this was one of his kinder name callings. “She has plans to get away. I can tell, and I’m warning you, she is not to be trusted,” Jools interrupts, his tone is equally aggressive as he bites back,

“Levi, Boss has not tasked you with worrying about the girls. You should go back to your real duties. Olive is my problem, not yours.”, You’re sure there is a little possessiveness behind his voice. For a moment, it is like Levi and Jools are facing off like two aggressive hunting animals, and you are the winning prey. Levi opens his mouth to say something, and then resigns himself, he sighs and turns away to leave.

“I will catch you when you try to run eventually, little puppy. And I will beat the living shit out of you for disrespecting Boss after everything he has done for you. Watch your back.”

He is gone before you can make a snide remark back, though you should know better, Jools would surely step in to protect you here, that you are sure of. You settle at sticking your tongue out in the direction in which he left, Jools laughs heartily.

“You stupid girl. There isn’t a person alive who has spoken back to Levi Ackerman, he is Boss’s right hand man, you should be more careful.” He ruffles your hair playfully.

“There is something about him Jools, that makes me want to provoke him. A feeling that he may not be capable of hurting me.” Jools snorts.

“You really are an idiot,” He pauses, “though there was something about the way he looked at you, like he wants to devour you alive,” he shudders, “creepy.”. Your cheeks blush, you would never say so aloud, but you might fancy the idea of being eaten by Levi Ackerman, Boss’s right hand man.

You breathe in and start, “I’m going to retire to bed Jools, I am tired. Give these pastries and pies to the other girls. Mrs Benzo sent them.” You hand the bag to Jools and smile. “What time is my first call tomorrow?” Jools looks at the screen of his computer, he clicks the mouse a few times and raises an eyebrow.

“10. Seems like Boss is set to be paying you a visit tomorrow. You’d better spend some time making yourself extra presentable tonight Ol, you want to remind him why you are worth keeping, and not discarding…” You shudder, Boss has made it abundantly clear that when you’re no longer deemed suitable as a working girl, he will send you away to be married off, or “dispose” of you, you don’t fancy either of the options and considering your savings are coming along nicely, you won’t have to endure this all for much longer.

“Thanks Jools. Love you.”. You turn on your heels and head back to your room. You spend the evening showering, shaving, sugaring and cleansing every inch of your body, ready for tomorrow, your mind keeps wandering back to a particular pair of sharp eyes and a chiselled jaw. How he would leash you and “beat the living shit out of you.”

You shake away the thought one last time and retire to bed. You close your eyes and pull your blankets up.

“Levi. Ackerman. Huh.”, you drift off to a comfortable slumber, something that happens once in a blue moon.

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brookecuzyes · 3 years

Text

The Captain’s Kid —

E.2: The Star-Spangled Man (Part 2)

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Fanfic

Main Masterlist — TCK Masterlist

Summary: We think of the after-life as a peaceful place. A place where there are no worries. When a girl comes back from the dead, so to speak, she has to find a new place in society— which ends up with her becoming a superhero. She’s been trained for the worst, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the things she was going to endure.

Word Count: ≈3.5k

Warnings: a little cursing, racial bias

———————————————————————-

Three knocks could’ve been a delivery. A whistle indicated a rebellious group. The door opened with a small creak. The person behind the door unlocked the lock which held chains together so no one could get in. The girl who knocked on the door, Karli, stepped back while the person opened it all of the way. She and her group walked into the building without a word, while the person looked around and closed the door, locking it immediately.

“You must be famished.”

“Very hungry,” one replied, everyone unanimously agreeing.

“Okay. My wife and I cooked. It’s an old family recipe made with the finest chicken livers. Please serve yourselves. Anything you want. Anything. You ask me.” The group walked over to a table that held containers of the dinner the couple had cooked. “There is some coffee here and some crackers. Uh, anything we can do for the cause. Please follow me.” He started walking and talking.

“You’re becoming a bit of a legend. I hear more and more people talk about the freedom fighters who are pushing back.” He turned to Karli. “They call you Robin Hood. Every day, more people love you. You’ll find refuge wherever you go.” He opened a door which led to a small room, letting everyone in.

“My wife and I made this just for you. Everything is completely clean. She made it nice and cozy.” The group was starting to settle in, saying their thank you’s to the man, when Karli’s phone went off.

You took what was mine.

I’m going to find you and kill you.

One guy walked over to the computers to see the news on them. “Shit,” he said. “They’re already looking for us. I’m wiping out aliases off any public traffic sites now.”

“Karli, we can’t stay here for long,” said Lennox, another one of the soldiers. “Six years ago, would you have imagined people supporting a cause like this?”

“We’re not playing no more,” she responded. “We can’t let the same assholes who were put back in power after The Blip win. The GRC cares more about the people who came back than the ones who never left. We got a glimpse of how things could be. I need to know that you’re all committed, because after tomorrow, there’s no going back.”

“Yeah,” said Matias, after a few seconds. “One world.”

“One people,” replied everyone else.

“One world.”

“One people.”

“One world!”

“One people!”

——

Back on the plane, Sam was laying across the seats, Alyxandria was leaned back in a chair with her head thrown back, and James was sitting on a small cargo box (the same box Alyx and Torres was using earlier) and was just staring off into space in deep thought.

Sam looked at James and noticed his face. “You all right?” he asked softly. After a moment, he responded quietly.

“Let’s take the shield. Let’s take the shield and do this ourselves.”

“We can’t just run up on the man, beat him up and take it,” Sam replied, sitting up. “You remember what happened the last time we stole it?”

“Maybe.”

“You stole the shield?” Alyx asked.

“Yeah. Seems like James forgot, though. Let me help you out: Sharon was branded enemy of the state, and Steve and I were on the run for two years.”

“Oh, shit,” she muttered.

“I don’t know about you,” Sam continued, “but I don’t wanna live the rest of my life la vida loca. We just had our asses handed to us by Super Soldiers, and we got nothing.”

“Not entirely true,” Bucky responded. He hopped off of the box and walked over to sit a few seats away from Sam. “There is someone that you should meet.”

In a few hours, they landed in Baltimore, Maryland. The trio was walking down the street— in the middle of the street— to get to this person's house. There were two kids sitting on the sidewalk and they were excited when they saw Sam

“Hey, it’s Black Falcon!” The kid exclaimed.

“It’s just Falcon, kid,” he replied.

“No, no. My daddy told me it’s Black Falcon.” Sam stopped walking to converse with this kid but James continued walking.

“Is it because I’m Black and I’m the Falcon?”

“Well, technically, I mean, yes.”

“So are you, like, Black kid?” The kid threw a look and his friend started laughing.

Sam chuckled. “I got him, right,” he said to the kid laughing. The other kid blew him off saying, “Whatever, man.” Sam couldn’t stop laughing.

He caught up with James and Alyxandria who were on the steps of the patio. James knocked on the metal door, and it made a loud rattling noise. A teenage boy opened the door and inspected the three.

“We’re here to see Isiah,” James said.

“Nobody named Isiah live here,” the kid replied. James sighed.

“Look, we just want to talk to him.”

“You must not hear what I just said. You ain’t getting in this house. Y’all can leave now.”

“Tell him the guy from the bar in Goyang is here. He’s gonna know what that means.”

The kid took a minute before responding back. “Alright, wait here.”

“Nice kid. How do you know this guy?” Sam asked after the teen closed the door.

“I used to. We had a skirmish during the Korean War.”

“I feel like this is more than some skirmish,” Alyxandria added. James looked at her as the door opened again. He just gave her his stare and started walking in. The three walked in together.

“Today’s your lucky day,” the boy said. “He said he wanna see for himself.” They didn’t say anything, until James started talking.

“Isiah?”

“Look at you,” Isiah said.

“This is, uh, Sam and Alyxandria. Sam and Alyx, this is Isiah. He was a hero,” James explained. “One of the ones that HYDRA feared the most. Like Steve. We met in ‘51.”

“If by met, you mean I whupped your ass, then, yeah. We heard whispers he was on the peninsula, but everyone they sent after him never came back. So, the U.S. military dropped me behind the line to go deal with him. I took half that metal arm in that fight in Goyang, but I see he’s managed to grow it back. I just wanted to see if he got the arm back. Or if he’d come to kill me.”

“I’m not a killer anymore,” James replied. Isiah looked at him like he was crazy.

“You think you can wake up one day and decide who you wanna be?” he asked. “It doesn’t work like that. Well, maybe it does for folks like you.”

“Isiah, the reason we’re here is because there’s more of you and me out there.” Said James.

“You and me,” Isiah repeated.

“And we need to know how.”

“I’m not gonna talk about it anymore,” Isiah said harshly. He picked up a small metal container and threw it. It got stuck in the wall and made a loud noise while doing so. The boy looked upset. Sam and Alyxandria were looking at the container in the wall, while James was looking at the ground. Isiah started walking up to him and started talking.

“You know what they did to me for being a hero?” He asked. “They put my ass in jail for 30 years. People running tests, taking my blood, coming into my cell. Even your people weren’t done with me.”

Sam looked upset, in a way. “Isiah,” he said, but was cut off by him.

“Get out of my house!” He yelled. James turned around to start leaving and Sam was still looking at Isiah. The boy came up to him and said, “Let’s go, man, let’s go.” Alyxandria followed behind James, not sure what to think about all of this.

Sam was walking quickly down the stairs.

“Sam,” James said, but Sam cut him off.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Isiah? How could nobody bring him up?” He was mad. Alyxandria hadn’t seen this side of him before. They all walked back to the street and were walking side-by-side. James didn’t respond.

“I asked you a question, Bucky,”

“I know.”

“Steve didn’t know about him?”

“He didn’t. I didn’t tell him.” They stopped walking. Sam and James were standing across from each other and Alyxandria was standing on either side— in the middle, almost.

“So you’re telling me that there was a Black Super Soldier decades ago and nobody knew about it?” James didn’t respond and just stared at him. A police car approached them and let their siren go off for a second. Everyone turned their attention to the car.

“Hey,” an officer said, getting out of his car.

“What’s up, man?” Sam asked. He still sounded pissed, and this wasn’t helping matters.

“Is there a problem here,” a second officer asked.

“No, we’re just talking.” Sam replied.

“There’s no problem,” Alyxandria said.

“We’re fine,” James added. The officers walked closer to the three.

“Can I see your ID?”

“I don’t have ID. Why?” Sam asked.

“Okay, sir, just calm down.”

“I am calm. What do you want? We’re just talking.”

“Just give him your ID so we can leave,” James said.

“James, no. What have we done?” She told him, siding with Sam.

“Thank you, Alyx. I’m not giving them shit. We’re just talking!”

“Hey, hey. Is he bothering you two?” The officer asked.

“What- no!” Alyxandria exclaimed.

“No, he’s not bothering me. Do you know who this is?” James said, harshly. The other officer went up to his partner and whispered, ‘Hey, these guys are Avengers.’ The officer looked at him and went wide-eyed.

“Oh, God, I am so sorry, Mr. Wilson,” he apologized. I didn’t recognize you without the goggles.” Sam looked disappointed. “I’m really, really sorry about this.” James gave the same disappointed look when another cop car pulled up. “Guys,” the officer sighed, “just wait here, okay?” He walked away back to his car, his partner following along.

“I didn’t… I didn’t tell anybody because he had already been through enough,” James said to Sam, finally answering his question. Sam and Alyxandria just looked at him. Sam was pissed, Alyx was silently observing the situation. Sam shook his head when the officer came back.

“Mr. Barnes,” he said. “There’s a warrant out for your arrest.”

“Look, the president pardoned him for all that,” Sam explained.

“Not for that. You missed your court-mandated therapy. It’s like missing a check-in with your PO.” James just sighed. He knew. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, you’re under arrest.” James complied with the officers, letting them take him. Sam and Alyx watched as they put him in cuffs. Sam continued to stare at him and didn’t say a word as the car started driving off. Sam looked back at Isiah’s house before walking off. Alyxandria followed him.

“Hey, Sam,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He responded, keeping his eyes in front of him. Alyx turned her head away from him, catching the mood.

“Sorry, I’m just… pissed. That’s all,” he said after a moment. He stopped walking and put his hand on Alyx’s arm. “Don’t let me take it out on you.” She nodded and gave him a sad smile.

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“Getting Bucky. I don’t want to, but it’s the right thing to do.” Alyx chuckled at the statement, Sam too. They started walking again and Sam put his arm over Alyx. She rested her head on his shoulder, thinking about everything.

“Let’s not make this a regular thing,” Alyxandria suggested. Sam smiled and chuckled.

——

They arrived at the police department and sat down, waiting for James to be released, when someone came up to them.

“Sam and Alyxandria. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Dr. Raynor. I’m James’ therapist,” Raynor introduced herself. The two sat up and Sam was the first to get up and shake her hand.

“So nice to meet you. Thank you for getting him out,” he said.

“That was not me,” she replied.

“Christina!” Someone called out. Sam and Alyxandria turned their heads to be met with John Walker. “It’s great to see you again.” Alyxandria groaned, putting her forehead on Sam’s shoulder— she didn’t want to look at the man.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Sam said. “You know him?”

“Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day,” she responded.

“I hear you were working with Bucky, so I thought I’d step in,” Walker explained. “Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.” Alyxandria, by that point, had lifted up her head.

“We haven’t finished our work. Who authorized this?” Dr. Raynor asked.

“Um…” Walker said, then pointed at himself. A buzzer went off and a door opened. Alyxandria looked over and saw James walking out of the doorway. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up. Just do whatever you got to do with him, then send him off to me. Got some unfinished business, him and I. You guys, too.” He walked away saying, “I’ll be outside.” Sam stared at him, and Alyxandria scoffed.

Unfinished business…

“James, condition of your release, session now. You too, Sam,” Raynor announced. She started walking to the corridor James walked out of.

“That’s okay, I’ll be out here with-“ he started, but was interrupted by Raynor.

“That wasn’t a request!”

“What about Alyx,” James asked.

“Rogers, you don’t have to come,” Dr. Raynor said.

“This isn’t fair,” Sam complained.

“It’s not my fault I’m the only functional one here,” she teased, turning around and walking out of the building. Sam glared at her before walking towards the corridor Raynor and James went through.

When Alyxandria walked outside, the first thought that crossed her mind was that she was going to sit out there for thirty or so minutes, waiting for the guys to finish their little therapy session. However, she was met with a different fate.

“Miss Rogers!” someone called out. She looked around and recognized two faces that she didn’t want to: John Walker and Lemar Hoskins. She reluctantly walked over to them, giving them a small smile.

“It’s Lieutenant Rogers, Captain,” she corrected, putting emphasis on ‘Captain’.

“My bad, didn’t know you were keeping the rank,” Walker responded, leaning up against the police car they were standing next to.

“Tell me a bit of what you got on these guys,” Alyxandria asked, stopping in front of the two.

——

“You guys are leaving me with no choice. It’s time for the soul-gazing exercise.”

“I like this better,” James said.

“Oh, God. He’s gonna love this,” Sam added. Their voices soon started overlapping each other, while the guys moved their chairs to face each other.

“You should really do this,” Sam said.

“I'm going to,” James responded matter-of-factly.

“Get close,” Raynor directed.

“This is a good exercise. Thanks, Doc,” James thanked.

“Alright, get close,” she said again. The guys scooted their chairs up, where their knees were touching. “Come on, a little closer.” They started to scoot up but stopped half-way.

“Which way you want to go?” James asked, moving his hand from left to right.

“Why’re your legs open?”

“Right or left?”

“You know what?” Sam said, moving his knee in between James’ legs. “Fine. Here. You happy now?” He pulled James’ chair closer to him. “We’re locked in.”

“That’s a little close,” James exclaimed.

“Very. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Now, look at each other. You need to look at each other in the eyes.” Both guys started looking at each other. “There, you see? That wasn’t so hard.” The guys weren’t breaking eye contact. They weren’t blinking. Dr. Raynor caught on

“Wait, what’re you doing? Are you having a staring contest?” Sam’s eyes twitched a little bit. “Just blink,” she said, snapping her fingers together in between their faces, making them blink. “Sweet Jesus. Alright, James, why does Sam aggravate you?” James turned and smiled. “And don’t say something childish.” He hung his head and thought for a second.

“Why did you give up that shield?”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of something that has nothing to do with you?”

“Steve believed in you. He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield, that is… that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. Alyx can tell you, she’d know. Steve was her dad. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing.”

“Shut up,” Sam replied.

“So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me.” James’ voice trembled at the end. Sam just stared at him.

“You finished,” Sam asked. James replied with a quiet, ‘yeah.’ “All right, good. Maybe this is something you, Alyx, or Steve will never understand. But can you accept that I did what I thought was right? You know what, Doc? I don’t have time for this. We have some real serious shit going on. So, how about this; I will squash it right now. We go deal with that, and, when we’re done, we both can go on separate, long vacations, and never see each other again.”

“I like that,” James responded.

“Great. Well, let’s get to work. Thanks, Doc, for making it weird. I feel much better. I’ll see you two outside.” He finished, standing up and giving James a harsh pat on his shoulder.

“Thank you!” Dr. Raynor said. “That was… really great.” After Sam walked out the door, James got up from his chair and started towards the door before Raynor continued speaking.

“I know that look, what’s wrong?”

“What was rule number two, again?” He asked.

“Don’t hurt anyone.”

“Goodbye, Doc,” he replied, waking out of the room.

Sam and James walked out of the police department together in what started out in silence before Sam made a comment.

“Well, I feel better,” he said.

“I feel awful,” James replied when a siren and its lights went off. Sam and James looked over to see what was happening, and saw John Walker messing with the cop car. They saw Hoskins next to him, and Alyxandria leaning on the car next to John.

“Gentlemen!” Walker cakes out to the guys. They started walking over. “Good to see you again.” No words eeee said to him.

“Look,” he continued, “if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance— you guys know that.”

“So, what do you got?” Sam asked. He stood in front of Walker, and James went over to the end of the hood to lean his arm against.

“Well, the leader’s name is Karli Morgenthau,” Alyxandria started.

“We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place,” John said.

“They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal,” Lemar explained. “But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.”

“We think that she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps,” Walker finished off.

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip. So, I guess you’ll have to look real hard,” James taunted— at least, that’s how it came off.

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?” Walker shot back.

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” James asked, raising his voice.

“No, we don’t know, Bucky,” Walker responded, also raising his voice. Alyx looked at him funnily. “But, it’s only a matter of time before we find out.”

“Things are really intense for you, aren’t they, Walker?” Alyxandria got off of the car and moved so she could face everyone.

“Take it easy,” Sam told him. “Look, Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement, and all kinds of authorizations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.” Sam and James started walking off and Alyxandria took one last look at John and Lemar before following.

“A word of advice, then,” Walker said, stopping the trip for a second. “Stay the hell out of my way.” The two walked off dramatically. Sam, James, and Alyx were watching them leave, but turned back to go do their own thing.

“Asshole,” James mumbled under his breath.

“So, what are you thinking?” Sam asked James after walking for awhile.

“Well, I know what we gotta do,” he responded. “When Isiah said, “my people”…”

“Oh, don’t take that to heart. That’s not what he meant.”

“No, he meant HYDRA. HYDRA used to be my people,” James explained. Sam scoffed.

“Not a chance,” he said.

“Walker doesn’t have any leads.”

“I know where you’re going with this, no.”

“He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?”

“So, you’re just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” James replied, hesitantly.

“Wait, what’s happening?” Alyxandria asked.

“We’re gonna pay a visit to someone,” Sam said, stopping on the sidewalk.

“Who?”

“We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

———————————————————————-6/25/21

#bucky barnes #tfatws #sam wilson #captain america #sebastian stan #marvel #anthony mackie #john walker #wyatt russell #oc character x marvel #marvel fanfic #tfawts fanfic #tfatws fanfiction #tfatws oc #tfatws x oc #the captain’s kid

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drprettyboyspence · 4 years

Text

Spencer Reid can dance?

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader

Summary: Y/n has been planning to take a ballroom dance class for a while, but what she hasn’t planned on was needing to find a partner four hours before the class. With no one left to turn to, she asks her best friend and secret crush Spencer Reid. As it turns out, the night couldn’t end any better.

words: 3.3k

warnings: some mentioning of anxiety, there’s one kiss scene, nothing else to my knowledge, it’s a lot of fluff!! :)

a/n: I thought this was a cute idea, it isn’t a part 3 of Beach Day and A Perfect Date, that will come sometime soon! (This is set in season 14/15). I hope you guys enjoy!!

“A partner?” Y/n asks the male voice on the opposite end of the phone, “I wasn’t aware that I would need a partner for this class, yes I understand there are no refunds, alright, I’ll find a partner, thank you.”

Y/n hangs up the phone and sighs heavily, finding herself in a tricky situation all of a sudden. She had signed up for a ballroom dancing class, I know, sounds stupid, but she’s almost 36 years old and she’s never learned how to dance, so she figured why the hell not. The problem is, she had figured it was a “you don’t need a partner, we’ll set you up with someone” type of deal, turns out, she’s expected to come up with a ballroom dancing partner in the next, oh lord, 4 hours before the first class. She debates blowing it off altogether, but it was expensive, and Y/n wants to learn how to dance. She sits down at her kitchen table to think, the obvious choices would be Emily or Garcia, they’d be up for it and it would be a fun girls night. Plus, it wouldn’t be awkward when they see how ungraceful she is on her feet, ironic, an FBI profiler who chases down the worst of humanity every day is nervous to walk into a ballroom dancing class.

Right as Y/n is about to send a text in the BAU girls group chat, she’d go with anyone from that group, even Tara who she honestly doesn’t know that well, Y/n remembers that Emily took Garcia and JJ to Memphis for a lower-profile case centered in technology, and Tara is off on a sabbatical teaching a lecture and interviewing serial killers, so Y/n finds herself back to the drawing board once again. An idea pops into Y/n’s head that seems so absurd she almost pushes it out immediately, but she’s desperate and hey, what’s the worst that could happen? She dials the phone number before she can find herself too nervous to click call.

“Hey Spence! I have a question for you, what are you up to tonight?” Y/n says to her best friend Spencer Reid, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice from the genius profiler on the other end of the line.

“Hi Y/n, I was thinking about having Doctor Who marathon and maybe reading some Chaucer, but I’m honestly free, why?”

Okay, now Y/n has no excuse to hang up and forget any of this ever happened, Spencer’s free, which means he can totally come to a ballroom dance class with her this evening.

“I know this isn’t something you’re usually into, but I signed up for this ballroom dancing class, and I didn’t realize I needed to bring a partner with me, all the girls are busy and I have no one to go with, so I was, um, wondering if you would come with me, please Spencer?”

“Oh Y/n you know I would do anything for you, but I’m really not the dancing type, you don’t want to see me dance, trust me, I wish I could help, I’m sorry.”

Y/n has to frantically turn this around, because Spencer is her last option, she tries to use what she’s actually good at, profiling. Her mind jumps to a few months ago, she had been in the elevator with Luke and Spencer, her and Luke having a conversation about their weekends, and they'd been playfully teasing each other, you know, as friends do. After the elevator ride, Spencer had been so grumpy and confrontational towards you for hours, Garcia teased you for days about Spencer’s obvious crush on you, but you figured he was just sleep-deprived or stressed about his mother, you know, plausible reasons for Spencer to be distressed.

“Alright Spencer thanks for telling me, you know I’m thinking about Luke to come with me, he looks like the kind of guy that would be good at ballroom dancing, you know? I’ll give him a call right now. Anyone, thanks-”

“Wait, you know what, maybe I can spare the time after all Y/n, I’d hate for you to have to go with Luke, plus, you never know when ballroom dancing might come up on a case, I’ll go with you.”

Y/n smirks to herself, honestly shocked that had worked but excited to tell Penelope about it when she gets the chance.

“Spencer thank you so much! I owe you one, can I pick you up at 6:30? The class starts at 7.”

“Yes I believe that will work fine, should I wear something special, I obviously don’t think I have the correct ballroom dancing attire but uh, I’ll try and find something appropriate, see you then Y/n.” The click of the phone hanging up makes Y/n realize the truth of the current matter. To be honest, Y/n has had a huge crush on Spencer for years, like a lot of years, she had been secretly thrilled when Garcia decided that Spencer was pining for Y/n as well, but she had kept it hidden, not letting herself belief that someone as handsome, funny, and brilliant as Spencer would ever be interested in someone like her. No matter how many times Spencer says he isn’t the dancing type, Y/n is sure she’ll be twice as awkward and ungraceful, but she lets herself, for just a split second, think that in a few hours she’ll be dancing with Spencer, pressed up against his lean but muscled torso. Y/n isn’t ready for this, that’s for sure, but she only has a few hours to get ready for the class, she better get started.

“Spence! Thanks again for coming with me, if it makes you feel any better, dancing isn’t really my thing either, it’s part of my ridiculous New Years Resolution to learn new hobbies that don’t involve studying the likelihood someone will become a cold blooded serial killer, I figured ballroom dancing might be fun.”

“I’m sure you’ll be great Y/n, there are very few things you aren’t good at, I’d despise you if you weren’t so funny and nice, its unbelievable.”

Y/n laughs and hides her blushing cheeks as Spencer’s words sink in, he thinks she’s funny and cute. It’s embarrassing really, Y/n is a 35 year old woman, laughing and blushing over a simple conversation with her best friend who she has a goddamn crush on, it’s like high school all over again. Before long Y/n pulls into the dance studio, feeling anxious but rather excited, which when she thinks about it, is how she feels whenever she’s around Spencer. “You alright Y/n?” Spencer asks, noticing she seems rather pale and sweaty all of a sudden.

“Yes Spencer, I’m just feeling rather anxious to go in for some reason. It’s funny isn’t it? We’re FBI agents, we follow armed unsubs into darkened basements and chase down psychopaths in high speed car chases, but I can’t seem to get over the fact that I’m going to look ridiculous in there, and everyone is going to judge me.”

“Oh Y/n, it’s totally okay to be feeling anxious about something like this. Did you know that 6.8% of the United States population suffer from social anxiety disorder, which is characterized by intense anxiety of being judged in a social situation, and obviously not everyone who feels anxious in a situation like this has the disorder, so it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Plus, don’t you worry, remember this is a beginners ballroom dance class, I’m absolutely sure that every single one of the people in this class are sitting in their cars nervous about the same things you are right now. Besides, if even one person judges you, we can employ the one and only Penelope Garcia to totally legally cyber stalk them and embarrass them back, that’ll teach them to mess with the BAU.” Y/n giggles, she knows Spencer is too respectful to ever sick the powers of Garcia on anybody, but his joke does it’s job, it gets her to laugh, and she feels that she can overcome her anxiety and enter the class now, which is good because it’s 6:58 and she’s really not looking to be late. By the time the two of them walk into the class just as the clock chimes 7 p.m., the room is already filled. It’s a large room with high ceilings, it’s well lit but not overly bright, and there are two people at the front who are obviously the teachers, the man being the one Y/n had spoken to on the phone earlier that day.

“Welcome to the ballroom dancing class! This class is a no-judgement space and it’s specially designed for beginners, so don’t feel nervous, we are going to take you step by step and by the end, you’ll be on your way to being a great ballroom dancer! Spencer leads Y/n to the middle of the room, not the very back but not the front either, which Y/n is grateful for. As the class begins, Y/n realizes that somehow, she and Spencer had not been shockingly off the map with their choice of attire. She had read an article that recommended a loose skirt or pants with a comfortable blouse for females, and a dress shirt with dress pants for males, she assumes Spencer and probably most of the others in this class had read a similar article. She does notice that Spencer is the only man in the room wearing a tie, which is so on-brand for Spencer that it makes Y/n smile, Spencer is always the best dressed member of the team, wearing formal wear every single day, even when they’re not on a case. Y/n likes the teachers more than she expected to, she expected them to be bossy and pretentious, plus the man on the phone had been border line rude, but they are kind and explain each move in detail, so even Y/n and Spencer can keep up. They haven’t done anything too awkward yet, they’ve spent a while warming up, the teachers explaining that they must be warmed up because ballroom dancing takes more muscles and flexibility than one might think, and they don’t want anyone pulling a muscle or injuring themselves in any way.

“Imagine that,” Spencer whispers to Y/n “I can see it now, Emily disappointedly asking why I have a sprained ankle, and we have to shamefully admit that we were ballroom dancing.” Y/n laughs just a little too loud earning her and Spencer dirty looks from the older couples around them, which honestly causes them to laugh more.

“Alright, it’s time for us to turn to our partners, the taller partner should place their hand on the back of the shorter partner’s shoulder, they should place their hand on the front of the taller’s shoulder. The couple should hold hands with their other hands.” Y/n’s lessened nervous feelings come back full force when she realizes this is the moment she’d been anticipating, she’s about to be holding hands with Spencer and dancing with him. Spencer waits for Y/n to make the first move, she places her hand on the front of his right shoulder after she nods at him, getting his consent to do so.

“You can put your hand around my shoulder, Spencer, it’s alright.” Y/n says with a hint of teasing in her voice, but she’s secretly very happy that Spencer is so respectful and doesn’t want to push her past her boundaries or anything, he’s so sweet. Spencer nods and Y/n sees just the hint of a blush on his face, she assumes she’s adorned with the same by now, which deepens when she feel Spencer’s strong hand wrap around her shoulder and stay there. The two of them raise their free hands and intertwine them, this surely isn’t the way Y/n had imagined the first time she holds hands with Spencer, and she’s imagined it a lot if she’s being honest with herself. They’re then instructed to start moving their feet back and forth, just back and forth, Y/n can handle this. It’s awkward at first, Spencer steps on Y/n foot then profusely apologizes, which Y/n finds adorable, but they get it rather quickly, and they sink into a rather choppy rhythm, but a rhythm nonetheless.

“You’re doing great Y/n, see, I told you you’d be good at this.” Y/n smiles up at Spencer and their eyes meet, it’s all of a sudden like they’re the only two people in the room, the other couples and the teachers fading into the background as the two of them find themselves enamored with each other. It’s honestly something unlike anything Y/n has ever experienced, she feels more comfortable in Spencer’s arms in this moment than she ever could have expected she’d feel at a dance class. She’s suddenly overwhelmingly graceful that the BAU girls had been out of town, this moment is nearly magical and it ends too soon for both Y/n and Spencer, judging by the disappointed looks on their faces that they both try and hide. The class is over so fast it’s almost laughable, Y/n had spent so much time being anxious about something that she actually enjoyed, how ironic. There’s a sort of silence that follows Y/n and Spencer as they descend the stairs and walk out into the parking lot to Y/n’s car. It’s bordering on awkward silence by the time Y/n is pulling out of the lot to drive Spencer home. “Did you have fun Y/n?” Spencer asks, Y/n grateful that he finally had the courage to break the strong tension the silence had created.

“You know what Spencer, I really did, I can’t thank you enough for coming with me, I was thinking about just blowing off the whole thing.”

“Thank you for inviting me, you better not tell the team this, but I enjoyed myself too.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid likes ballroom dancing! I can just see the headlines now! The unsubs are terrified!” Spencer laughs and playfully swats Y/n’s arm in response to her unabashed teasing. The two of them are about 10 minutes out from Spencer’s house when he suddenly asks Y/n to take a turn in the opposite direction, leading them to a park.

“Spencer what’s up? What are we doing here?” Y/n says in confusion, she’s been to this park before a few times, with Spencer actually, they’d gotten coffee here when they were getting to know each other years earlier.

Spencer gets out of the car and they walk in the summer evening, it’s almost dark but not so dark that Y/n feels unnerved by the absence of light. They sit down on a park bench not far from Y/n’s car before Spencer begins speaking. “What you said about New Years resolutions earlier, it got me thinking, we’ve known each other for almost five years now Y/n, and in that time I’ve been to jail, gotten out of jail, been reinstated, and seen enough horror for a lifetime, you’ve been through a hell of a lot too, but here we are, and that’s why I need to tell you this. You don’t have to say anything, but I don’t express my feelings enough, I guess I’m afraid of getting disappointed, but I need you to know.”

Y/n’s heart is racing with the same combination of nervousness and excitement that characterizes her moments with Spencer, but now it feels exaggerated, because she can’t remember another time she’s seen Spencer like this, so honest.

“You can tell me anything Spencer.” She says to him and he nods, grabbing her hand lightly, which makes Y/n’s heart jump almost dangerously.

“I’ve never met someone that makes me feel like you do Y/n. I know there’s no such thing as a perfect person, it’s impossible in every definition of the word, but if there were, it would be you. Your imperfections only add to your perfection, you’re hilarious, brave, kind, brilliant, and gorgeous. You’re the most independent and strong woman I’ve ever met in my life, you inspire me every single day to be the best I can be and when I look at you, any doubt I have about if I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing in life disappears, because I met you, I’ve been falling in love with you over the last five years Y/n. The first time I realized how much I cared for you was right here, we were drinking coffee and you saw a kid fall of his skateboard across the way, you jumped up and helped him right away, and I suddenly realized, wow I could fall in love with her. It terrifies me but I have to get this out, because who knows what is going to happen tomorrow, it could be my last day on this Earth, and the thought of leaving this life without telling you how I feel is more terrifying than any unsub I’ve ever come into contact with. I know this must be a lot for you to take in, but just say the word and we can forget any of this ever happened, I will never stop being your best friend Y/n, and if that’s all you want me to be, then that’s all I will ever be.” Y/n finds herself with tears in her eyes, Spencer’s loving words making her extremely emotional, too good to be true. She knows she needs to respond before Spencer begins regretting telling her all of that, but she doesn’t know how to respond in a way that would ever accurately express her feelings towards the amazing man in front of her. Y/n leans forward and kisses Spencer, attaching their lips together firmly but not over aggressively. Spencer seems startled but leans into the kiss after a split second, he reaches up to cup Y/n’s face and she reaches her hand up to tangle her hand in the back of Spencer’s hard, causing him to let out just the smallest noise of pleasure. The kiss ends too soon, the two of them breathing way too heavily after just a 15 second kiss, their eyes glazed over as they look at each other passionately.

“I love you Spencer Reid” Y/n says, feeling like she’s in a dream, the words that had been hanging over her head for the last five years had just left her lips, and she momentarily worries that the last 10 minutes had been some sort of daydream, and Spencer would laugh in her face and walk away.

“I love you Y/n Y/l/n.” She says back. They sit there in silence for who knows how long, it honestly could have been hours and the two of them wouldn’t be any the wiser. They eventually get back into Y/n’s car, the two of them having seen way too many late-night park abductions and murders to allow them to stay any longer. As they’re pulling up to Spencer’s apartment building Y/n says teasingly,

“So Spencer, I’m guessing you’ll be accompanying me to the next ballroom dance class, would that be okay? Or should I ask Luke?” Even in the dim light of the car Y/n can see Spencer’s eyes darken almost imperceptibly, most likely with jealousy of hearing Luke’s name once again. He grabs Y/n’s hand and responds “You’re mine and I’m yours now Y/n, I’ll ballroom dance with you for the rest of my life if that’s what you want, and Luke Alvez surely isn’t lucky enough to ballroom dance with the goddess that is you, text me when you get home please, goodnight.” Y/n giggles and lets Spencer kiss her hand like a true gentleman. Driving home she feels like she’s in a trance, this evening having been better than she ever imagined. Ballroom dancing, who knew?

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #fluff #spencer reid x reader #reader insert #y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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purple-phantoms · 3 years

Note

Hi lovely!

Can you please do a Nick imagine where the reader is a really shy piano player with anxiety? Like maybe she has to perform in front of the class and after she’s done she runs out crying?

Thanks bb!

The Pianist

Nick x Female!Reader

Thank you so much for requesting this! I totally love this idea and I think it’s so cute. I’ve experienced that kind of anxiety before when singing in front of people I’ve just met and it just sucks. I tried including a bit of that in this, so I hope it worked out well! Again, I’m writing this on the mobile version of tumblr so this will not be properly edited for a little bit. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Being in the music program was hard. You’d think that all you have to do is to just create music. That part is just fine for her. But then you have to perform it in front of your class or sometimes in front of an audience. Performing in front of one or two people that I know isn’t bad, but when when it’s a big group of people, it just gets bad.

She was an outcast in school and didn’t mind. She had a few friends here and there, but nothing to big. Never anything to draw attention to herself. She never had the courage to talk to people like Julie Molina or Carrie Wilson. They were always the ones to volunteer to go first on days where they had to present their work to the class. Julie was always nice to her. She sometimes tried to bring y/n out of her shell. She’d invite her to eat lunch with her and her best friend, Flynn, sometimes but she always declined the offer. Carrie was like Chris Hargensen (from the movie Carrie)... except she wasn’t that aggressive. Carrie loved making fun of her in class by saying things like, “are you going to talk today, y/n?” she just wished you were more sociable like Julie. In theory, it would be so amazing to be a part of Dirty Candy. Even if you hated Carrie, there was no denying that their music slaps. But she would never be able to perform with all those people staring at her, so instead she just opted for teaching herself their choreography in the safe space of her bedroom. That way she wouldn’t have to experience the stares of her peers.

Today was Wednesday, a.k.a., the day her parents were always a little bit late for picking her up. she preferred staying away from the crowds of students who were also waiting on their parents. Dirty Candy always practiced right after school on Wednesday’s in the dance studio. Their practices were closed to everyone but Nick, the guy Carrie said was off-limits to anyone but her. They weren’t dating, but everyone expected them to be like if Sharpay and Troy dated. Nick was the cool guy who everybody liked. He was the star of the lacrosse team and an amazing guitarist. Carrie, on the other hand, was the girl most people feared. You’d never see her wearing an outfit in a dark color or without her backup dancers. Anyway, back to business. The door to the dance studio was always locked, but there was a tiny glass frame in it where you could easily use your phone to record their routine. They were dancing to their new song, Wow. It was her favorite so far. Well, she says that about all their songs.

They finished and paused for a couple seconds to catch their breath. She ended the video and started walking away, only to bump into another person, making her drop her phone. She leaned down right away to avoid any sort of eye contact or conversation with that person, but they just had to speak, “sorry, y/n.” It was Nick.

She looked up at him in shock. “You-you know my name?” Barely anybody acknowledged her existence in the school.

“Of course I know you,” he chuckled. “You’re the girl in class with the killer vocal chords.” His smile was contagious. Wow, she now understood what Carrie saw in him.

“Um, thanks, Nick,” she muttered. Then her phone went off, her mom was finally in the parking lot. “I gotta go-“

“Hey, what song are you doing tomorrow?” Nick asked. Did he not hear her say that she had to go?

“Uh probably just something by Adele,” you smiled. “Sorry, my mom’s here to pick me up.” This was probably the fastest she’s ever speed-walked away from someone before. Talking to people is weird. If it had been any other guy, she wouldn’t have had to get into a conversation. Nick is great and sweet and cute and all of this is besides the point. Nick is a nice guy but she just wanted to pick up her phone and leave.

When watching someone play the piano and sing at the same time, it looks so effortless. Nobody takes into account what they’re really doing. Nobody considers how long they must have trained to learn all the right chords and memorize the ones that go with their song. Nobody considers how long it must have taken them to perfect their song, whether it be alone or with the help of anothe person. Nobody considers what goes on inside the person’s head. Nobody considers what they think of themselves as they play. Nobody notices that maybe that person wants to be invisible.

The next day was the day of class performances. Per usual, the teacher allowed volunteers to go first. Julie sang first, then Carrie, then Flynn and so on and so forth. It got to the point where everybody who wanted to perform had already performed, so her teacher started getting frustrated. “Guys, it’s just two minutes of spotlight.” Silence. “Y/n, how about yo give it a go?”

Her head shot up so quickly at that and just froze. The teacher knew about her situation and has let her perform just for her during lunch. It just made things easier. “Ms. Jacobs, can I just perform during lunch,” she asked timidly. Everybody was staring at her, expecting her to go so that the teacher wouldn’t call on someone else.

But Ms. Jacobs shook her head. “Sorry, y/n. You’ve got to get over that stagefright somehow.” But did it have to be now!? There was no way she could argue with her without causing a scene. Come on, y/n, don’t cry.

Within what felt like a lifetime, she stood up from the chair and lifted her feet, one by one, to walk over to the shiny black piano. It was brand-new, just bought buy the school that summer. It was sleek and clean, practically begging to be used to make music. The walk to the piano’s bench felt exhausting and slow. It was silent, you could easily hear a needle hit the ground as her classmates waited on her to play. But oh god, what note does she even start with? What’s the first line of the song?

“Ms. L/n,” her teacher called. “Any day now.” Y/n looked up-nope, big mistake. Why is everyone watching her so intently? Ba. Did she just press a note? She looked at Ms. Jacobs, who gave an encouraging smile in return. Okay, y/n. Just pretend nobody’s watching you. Pretend you’re just singing in your room.

Her fingers started playing as if it was the only thing they knew to do. They couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop thinking.. Just get it done, y/n.

When will I see you again?

You left with no goodbye, not a single word was said.

No final kiss to seal anything.

I had no idea of the state we were in.

I know I have a fickle heart and a bitterness

And a wandering eye and heaviness in my head,

But don’t you remember?

Don’t you remember the reason you left me before?

Baby, please remember me once more.

Y/n closed her eyes and sighed as she finished. That wasn’t that bad.. Then the applause came and her perfect setting of playing the piano at home where nobody could hear her was gone and was filled with people. People who knew her were staring at her and applauding her. Performing in front of a random audience is one thing, because you have no idea who’s in the audience. You’ll never know (until afterwards at least) if your best friend happened to be in the crowd, or if one of the Kardashians were there. Plus, you’ll never have to worry about someone saying things about you when you’re right next to them because they don’t know you and you don’t know them. When you’re performing in front of your class, there are no rules. Anybody can think anything they want about your performance and nitpick it in their heads or out loud and that’s just how they’ll look at you. She was brought out of her thoughts by Ms. Jacobs talking to the class again, “see folks, this is what I’m talking about!” She looked like she had just met the queen of England. There’s no way she’s smiling like that after her performance. Was she really that good? This is too much.

Y/n managed to slip away from the classroom unnoticed as Ms. Jacobs kept talking. She couldn’t breathe. Oh god, why couldn’t Ms. Jacobs just let me perform at lunch? That was so bad. Does google offer tips to give yourself amnesia? Because she just wanted to forget about all of that mess- “Y/n?” Oh no, it’s Nick again. “What are you doing out here,” he asked.

“I just needed to catch my breath,” she muttered. Why is a cute guy paying attention to me like this?

“Wait, why are you crying, you were amazing,” he said. What? She wasn’t even crying. Oh, there we go... Why am I crying!?!

“I don’t know,” I sobbed. “I hate it when people are watching me.” She didn’t understand why the majority of her classmates could perform efortlessly and not even consider that they did badly later on. Why couldn’t she feel that way?

Nick put a soft hand on her shoulder. “But if nobody watched you, nobody would know how great you are,” he proclaimed. Woah, headrush. He thinks I’m great now? She nodded and smiled. Maybe he was right. “What if we work together next time,” He offered.

“But we don’t even know if the next project will be a group one,” she chuckled. People never wanted to work with her. They always thought that she’d never do the work because she couldn’t even bother to speak, or she’d just take over the entire project.

“Let me at least get your number,” he replied. He seemed genuine, there was going to be no foulplay in this, so she agreed to that and to him walking her home from school. And on the next project, they got to work together and y/n got through it wih his help. They did it together.

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Audio

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES

Member: j u y e o n

Genre: drama with chaebol/lawyer juyeon

A/N: I’m investing way too much feelings and emotions into this i might cry when it ends. this chapter is more serious i guess i can’t be writing angst and smut every chapter LOL

Link to other parts:

I Never Wanna See You Again

Frustrated (light smut)

Love Somebody (light smut)

Play With Fire (smut)

“i’m playing with fire.”

all you wanted to do was have breakfast, but you walk out along the hallways of the second floor only to watch an entire crowd of staff members push and pull countless of racks across the living room.

the female staff member who recognised you from the previous week notices you standing awkwardly behind the wall, struggling to process the crowd at the foot of the stairs.

you watch her say something to another staff member, before she strolls across the living room and heads up the stairs to greet you.

“i’m going to hope you don’t have any clothes of your own,” she smiles at you, eyes flitting to your neck for a split second and looks at your bare legs.

“uh--” you stumble on your tongue, having trouble finding any words to say. you completely forget about the marks on your neck, and you were only in his underwear with the large pullover barely covering your rear.

“i’m gonna get you a robe while you choose your clothes for today and i’ll run you a bath before you have breakfast.”

you watch as she walks away into the bathroom, and again, you wonder why it was so difficult to think of anything to say. you had expected the house staff to be judging you for sleeping with him, but they all seemed so nice and candid, it was a little difficult to believe.

you just couldn’t get the idea of juyeon being such a kind, relaxed boss out of your head.

she returns from the bathroom with a robe, the water now running and a rose scent begins to waft through your nose. “here,” she hands you the robe and waits for you to put it on.

“mr lee wanted you to pick out as many clothes as you wanted, and he wants you to know not to worry about the price.”

you reach the bottom of the stairs with her standing right next to you, and you see at least three racks of clothes surrounding the living room. there were at least two full-body mirrors next to the sofas, and a separate mobile shelf with shoes.

“uh... do i have to? where are my clothes from yesterday?” your hand unconsciously reaches up to your neck to cover your skin.

“in the laundry! we’ll get it steamed and ready for you by lunch, but right now, he’s told us he wants to see you in something from any of these racks. he didn’t exactly give us much choice either,” she gives you a look that comforts you, gently patting your arm to encourage you.

you choose out exactly five different sets of clothes, which included shoes. you suddenly feel like you went on a splurge and your credit card would’ve exceeded by now, judging by the brands the clothes were from.

you soak yourself in the bathtub, the light from behind you illuminating the white, black and golden surfaces. you couldn’t help but to let your head replay the memories from the night before as the rose scent pulls all the knots in your body apart.

it felt like you were on vacation, when you were really just... feeding off your boyfriend’s wealth. you felt guilty, and frankly, a little worried that people were going to start thinking you were with him for his money.

you haven’t done anything for him besides curse at him, take the credit for his workings for the case and sleep in his bed.

you shake your thoughts away, deciding that it was time for you to get your due breakfast before working on the case.

you were pushing the last few bites of the strange looking pudding around in the bowl, and the female staff from before was in the dining room with you, arranging the cutlery and utensils away from sight.

“hey, uh--” you call out, looking at her while mrs jung comes out of the kitchen. you wonder why it took you three meals before you notice that you could see into the kitchen. the dining table was right next to a black counter where mrs jung would leave the food right after it was prepared, and the kitchen itself looked extravagant.

“you called?” the female staff lays down the plate and walks over to your side.

“yeah, uh...” you scratch your temple, slightly pulling on the turtleneck you chose to hide the bruises he left. “you don’t-- happen to think that... i’m with mr lee for his money... do you?”

the female staff blinks in surprise at you, and before she could respond, mrs jung does the honor.

“oh, my dear, definitely not! you’d be surprised at how good juyeon-nim is at picking out who’s genuine and who isn’t.” you turn and watch mrs jung carry some leftover food back into the kitchen.

“we were very surprised when he asked you to stay last friday, past the time where the house staff gets off work. he doesn’t like guests over, unless they are his parents... so it was nice to see him bring someone back.”

you let a small laugh escape your lips, feeling the blood rush up to your ears and cheek.

hold on.

‘someone’?

“you mean he’s never brought anybody home before?”

“not willingly, no.” mrs jung responds from the kitchen. “juyeon-nim is only friendly to people he trusts and even then he’s extremely cautious, though sometimes a little dense... but now that we know how comfortable he is with you, and we’re all just happy for him.”

you feel a second wave of embarrassment wash over you, your hand now wrapping around your own neck and pulling up the material to hide any possible marks that were peeking out from under.

“you don’t have to hide those as long as you’re here. everybody knows what happened,” the female staff member teases you, clearing the plates that you literally licked the crumbs off from before.

“awh... nooooo,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

the staff member laughs at your embarrassment, encouraging you to finish your dessert before she tells you where his office was.

you get the door open, and the first thing you notice was the similar L-shaped glass windows like his bedroom had. the desk sat on the right side, with a main leather seat back facing a large shelf. the levels were alternated between files and small, expensive-looking statues and souvenirs.

right before the glass panels were two single-seaters with a small coffee table between them, and your eyes took awhile to notice the little fridge under the table.

you log into the computer with ease, surprised that there wasn’t a password required. you remember mrs jung saying that he doesn’t have anybody over, and you figure that nobody else has been in his office anyway. the worry about someone hacking into his files was non-existent.

your suitcase was already placed by the table, and you wonder when did it get here. did he leave it in here last night? this morning? or did he get a staff member to do it?

the online system was perfectly synced with the system you had in the office, and all you needed to do was log in with your information before your case displays itself on the screen.

you get to work almost immediately, every now and then looking past the computer screen to look out the large glass windows.

the clouds were so fluffy against the bright blue sky today, and you couldn’t help but imagine chanhee, eric and sunwoo’s reactions when they notice you didn’t clock in today.

oh. chanhee, eric and sunwoo.

you reach over to your suitcase and pull out your cellphone, noticing the nearly ten missed calls you got from them starting about five minutes before the supposed reporting time.

chanhee: where the hell are you? its 7.55am!

eric: did she oversleep

chanhee: she doesn’t oversleep

sunwoo: not with that annoying ass alarm she’s got

you smile to yourself, unable to contain your happiness as you scroll down.

chanhee: why do we have to hear about your absence from our manager?

sunwoo: wait

eric: OH MY GOD

sunwoo: mf WAIT

eric: DID THE BOSS TELL OUR MANAGER THAT YOU WEREN’T COMING IN TODAY

sunwoo: DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM AGAIN

chanhee: but he’s in office!

sunwoo: so? he could’ve just left her at home and came to work to reduce suspicion cause it’ll too obvious if the both of them are absent

eric: unless...

sunwoo: i’m betting on that and OTHER REASONS

eric: i was thinking about other reasons

chanhee: whatever the reason, call us during our lunch break!

eric: yeah we want details

sunwoo: fucking disgusting

you snort to yourself, ready to keep your phone away and finish up the case.

but the aggressive vibration from your phone stops you just as you laid it down, and you sigh heavily when you see the caller ID.

“yello,” you put the phone down on the table, keeping it on loudspeaker.

“why do you sound so glum? i return from a two month trip and this is how you greet me?”

you roll your eyes, laying your hands right at the keyboard. “hi mom, how was your trip to san francisco?”

“oh, it was gorgeous!” she says with a strange accent. must’ve been the american air for two months. “i was pretty sad to leave, but nothing can stop me from coming back to see you!”

“when have you ever needed to see me?” your tone was unenthusiastic, and you resist the urge to hang up altogether.

“aw, no, honey,” she whines. “are you still mad about last year?”

“just so you know, i’m gonna stay mad for quite a bit, so don’t expect anything different.”

“aw, but you did say you wanted swavroski--”

“yeah, a swavroski ring! not the damn brand!” you huff, burying your face into your hands. your eyes were on the screen, staring at the case document, but all you could hear was the heavy breathing over the phone.

“i take it that you haven’t signed the contract to claim ownership of the brand.”

“of course i didn’t! i left home so i could build a life for myself. you promised me that you’d leave me and my finances and my life alone. you know i don’t want you or dad’s help but you go ahead and buy a whole jewellery brand?!”

silence.

“i’m never signing that contract, just so you know. it’s been sitting at home since you had it mailed to me while you ran off to canada.”

“are you still living in that tiny flat by the lake outside of town?”

you pick up a pinch of contempt in her voice. “yeah, what’s so bad about my 'tiny flat’?”

“nothing,” liar. “i just want you to have the best we can afford.”

“again with the ‘we’. how many times do i have to tell you that i don’t want you or dad’s help?”

“but--”

“no,” you snap into the phone, picking it up and hovering your thumb over the hang up button. “i’m gonna go now because i have work to do. don’t call me unless it’s to tell me that someone else already owns swavroski.”

you finally hang up and you throw the phone back into your suitcase, hands on your forehead as you return your attention to the screen.

needed me? what a load of bullcrap.

maybe if she didn’t treat you like some kind of trophy when you were younger, you’d believe that she genuinely loved you.

you were called to lunch when the sun was at its highest, the blinding rays bouncing off windows and the metal from buildings that it heated up the room like a toaster.

mrs jung’s food never fails to deliver, and the female staff from before struggles to tuck your napkin into your clothes so that the gravy doesn’t fly about.

you were mindlessly praising the hell out of mrs jung’s pasta when you hear a staff outside the dining room shout. you turn at the sound of the doors swinging open, and you find yourself standing immediately at the sight of a lady who looked like a million bucks.

“what do you mean he’s in offic--” the lady finally turns her attention from the staff outside the dining room and to you. “and... who are you?”

so much for that lunch phone call to your friends.

you find yourself sitting awkwardly opposite her, carefully watching as she swirls the wine in her glass. you feel her eyes pierce right through you, and your hands reach up to your turtleneck in a bid to pull it upwards.

“there’s no need to hide,” she nearly scolds you, and the harsh tone strikes a chord in you. “i know who you are.”

what?

“you’re the reason why my son’s fiance is in shambles right now.”

his what--

“i’m sorry, who?” you squint your eyes at her, for a split second forgetting that she was the mother of your now-boyfriend.

“he didn’t tell you?” she offers a smile of disbelief. “and here i was thinking he changed for the better.”

“’for the better’? he wanted to leave the country to do charity work, not run away.”

“he was running away from the responsibilities he was born to shoulder. we do enough charity for him to stay,” she leans forward on the table, one palm pressed flat on the surface.

“but he didn’t even want the damn law fi--”

“mother!”

the both of you turn to the door of the dining room. every staff member within your line of vision looked like they were scared shitless, which was a strange sight, considering how relaxed and candid they were in the absence of this... crazy lady.

who might be my mother-in-law? ugh.

“you should’ve told me you’re visiting,” juyeon walks in the doors and the staff members shut them behind him. he grabs a seat next to you, and it visibly stuns his mother.

“i wouldn’t have bothered if i knew you weren’t even at home,” she watches in slight disgust as juyeon leans into your face and plants a kiss on your cheek. your eyes widen and your heart feels extremely heavy. “care to explain what is going on?”

juyeon carefully sits his suitcase next to his chair as the kitchen staff serves him a glass of wine. you remember the only food that was prepared was only for you and the staff members.

“what’s there to explain? i never said i agreed to marry anybody i was told to.”

you watch anxiously, eyes switching between juyeon, who was calmly sipping on his wine, and his mother, who was so angry that you could almost see the steam escaping from her ears...

“and so you run off and sleep with some random girl?”

ouch.

“will she still be ‘some random girl’ if you knew what she was capable of? she’s closed more cases in six months than i did in a year, mother.”

“i didn’t think a lawyer would let someone leave such savage marks all over her body like this!” she berates you, hand carelessly gesturing to all of you.

“which year did you walk through a portal from? it’s not the 1800s, mother.”

wow, so she blames me and not the one who made these marks?

“girls nowadays.”

you could feel juyeon’s frustration hit the roof, and the atmosphere in the dining hall gets heavier as each second passes in silence.

“what are you here for, anyway? just to ask me about me dumping my fiance who i never even loved? i don’t even like her face, mother. she’s an incapable princess who does nothing but sit around and gets waited on.”

“forget about that, you’ve gone ahead and spent your weekend breaking off the engagement anyway,” his mother glares at the two of you.

didn’t he spend his weekend with his family--

“but i do want to know why you’re back in the office.”

juyeon locks his jaw in odd angles, and if you didn’t know it was his mother who was pissing him off, you would’ve thought he was going to throw a punch across the table.

“what do you mean ‘why i’m back in the office’? doing my job and accepting my responsibilities like you wanted to!”

“and you didn’t have the decency to at least inform us? we were ready to re-sell it to the bureau director!”

juyeon sucks in a deep breath and stands up, eyes tightly shut as you watch him collect his feelings. his mother remains relaxed in the seat opposite you, arms tightly crossed over her chest but her face still brimming with anger and dissatisfaction.

“okay,” he leans downwards, pressing his palms flat against the surface of the table. “if you’re so upset then i assume a contract has already been drawn up, yes?”

his mother doesn’t respond.

“alright, i’ll contact the bureau director and i’ll explain the situation. it’s you the bureau director has a problem with, anyway. it’ll be easy for me.”

your face was turned to juyeon, but your eyes couldn’t resist the temptation to look at his mother. she had just been outspoken by her son, and you felt so proud of him for standing up for himself.

his mother finishes the win, visibly angry. she gets up and leaves the dining hall, and when you hear the lift ‘ding’ followed by the sound of its gears shutting its doors, you heaved a sigh of relief.

the entire room relaxes and begins helping to clear the table. juyeon was the only one who looked like he was about to burst from anger and frustration.

you stand up and wrap your arms around his torso, leaning your chin on his shoulder.

“hey.”

“i’m sorry you had to see that.”

you shake your head, pulling away and hugging his arm instead.

“i’m sorry that i lied about what i did over the weekend, and i’m sorry i didn’t tell you i was already engaged.”

you let the pain of the realisation sink in for a moment, before giving him a weak smile. “well, it wasn’t really a lie. you said it was something to do with your family... and besides, you broke off the engagement.” you reach over his chest and find his arm to pull him to face you, looking up at him whose eyes were filled with remorse.

naturally, a shitty feeling swamps you when you lose sight of his prideful, authorial self, so you pull his face down to meet yours and you feel him melt into the kiss.

“do you need to go back to the office?” you let him go, his hands now resting on your waist.

“yeah,” he sighs apologetically. “i only came back because the lobby called to tell me my mother was here.”

“aw,” you grin in attempt to shake off the tension that was still hanging in the air. “nice to know you came back to save me from your mother.”

a smile appears on his lips, and he pulls you in all so suddenly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“maybe i shouldn’t leave my marks so high up your neck next time.”

you sigh with your lips in smile, pressing your head into his chest as he wraps his arms tightly around you.

THE NEXT DAY

your arm was linked tightly with juyeon’s as he walks you up the stairs of the grand hotel, the ends of your gown dragging along the marble surface to the restaurant where he would meet the bureau director.

you couldn’t take your eyes off him, though the simple suit was nothing compared to the dress he had prepared for you within a day’s notice. you reach the restaurant entrance and the lady immediately recognises him, turning to lead you two into the restaurant and in the corner where the private rooms were.

“so just to be clear, ignore your mother and be nice to the bureau director, right?” you giggle as the restaurant staff knocks on the door.

juyeon laughs and pecks you on your temple. “maybe if you ignore her enough, she’ll start wanting your attention.”

you snicker to yourself, watching the door pull open and the light from inside spills out.

you trail behind juyeon and look into the room, and your heart stops in your chest.

the world stops revolving around the sun and your breath hitches in your throat, your grip on juyeon’s arm tightening instantly when you see the two people in the room.

“mother,” juyeon awkwardly starts, only noticing your sudden grip on his arm.

mother.

she looks at you with wide, surprised eyes before they dissipate into a wide smile.

“this is the bureau director, mrs--”

“it’s alright,” she stops juyeon. “i know who she is.”

you gulp and your chest collapses in on itself.

of all people, THIS bureau director just had to be your mother?

Part 6: Bourbon

#timetohajima #timetohajima playlist feels #lee juyeon #the boyz #the boyz juyeon #juyeon imagine #juyeon scenario #juyeon fanfic #juyeon

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1264

Who are you subscribed to on YouTube? Oh man, I’m probably subscribed to over a hundred, if not 200. I’ve subscribed to channels relevant to interests I’ve had over the years, and since it’s not my habit to do spring cleaning on my feeds, the subscriptions have just keep piling up even if I no longer keep up with literally like 98% of them.

Do you like to go to the farmer's market? I don’t think I’ve ever been in one yet. They aren’t very common here and the ones we do have are pricey and mostly inaccessible to the everyday consumer, I’m sure.

What will (or was) the color of your wedding dress be? I wouldn’t want any other color than white.

What's your favorite melon? I don’t like fruits.

What was the name of the last pet of yours that died? Arlee. Technically my family mostly considered her as just Nina’s pet, but the sting was felt all the same when we learned she died.

When was the last time you wished the day would just get over with? Yesterday, because it was Friday. Pretty self-explanatory, I wanted to get to the weekend so I can finally let go of work for a couple of days.

Name one person you've never had a fight with: Andi. I think we’re both afraid of pissing the other off, which works out for us lol.

What are you currently listening to? I can just hear the really loud whirring of my electric fan because it’s a grossly humid day today.

What would you rather have: cat or dog? Dogs.

Who is your least favorite person in real life? I have a lot of uncles I just don’t like.

Do you ever watch anybody's live stream of... anything, really? Technically, yeah. I will sometimes tune in to livestreams of lofi music on YouTube, but I do it to listen, not to watch.

Does your house have security cameras? No.

If you go grey as you age, would you dye your hair or let it be? I think I might dye it for a certain period of time, but I also think I would eventually reach the point where I’ll just accept it and slowly let go of the dye.

What was the last establishment you stopped going to due to bad service? What happened? I haven’t run into much bad service, but I’ll never forget how long my order and bill took for Mad Mark’s. I never really vowed per se to never go back there again and I definitely didn’t confront the staff, but I haven’t eaten there since that incident.

What soundtrack do you listen to the most? Not a big soundtrack listener.

Was there a family secret you weren’t told about until you were an adult? Nah, they’re kept from us until now. The biggest one I’ve heard about was having a kleptomaniac in the family but we were never told who it is.

Do you have an opinion most people you meet seem to disagree with you? Yeah, my dislike for fruits.

What’s something you like to have many options to choose from? Clothes, I guess, like bucket hats. I don’t shop a lot and clothes aren’t a priority in my budget, so when I do pick out clothes, it has to be exactly what I want so that I don’t feel it was a waste of money.

What’s the strangest decorative object you own? We have several quirky, disconnected decor in the living room from gifts we’ve acquired over the years. One object I can tell you about is the polar bear glass figurine we have on the coffee table.

What’s a thing you couldn’t imagine doing with your life right now? Dating around.

What’s been your proudest moment? Managing to stay alive this year and turn my life around for the better when I thought there was no hope.

What’s the filthiest non-pornographic movie you’ve seen? Eyes Wide Shut, probably.

Do you know anyone who doesn't seem to be fond of animals? I don’t think so. Like any animal...? I would find that quite odd, honestly. And I wouldn’t want to be friends with them if we weren’t already close .

Are you planning any outings or trips anytime soon? Whereabouts? No, nothing set in stone. I do want to fly out to South Korea soon, though.

Do you know anyone who has a phobia of a certain animal? I know a few people who are afraid of dogs.

Is there a particular brand of technology/electronics that you prefer? Yeah, Apple.

Is there a singer whose voice gives you goosebumps/chills? Hayley Williams and Jin, especially when he’s belting; and I don’t listen to her much, but I find that Billie Eilish has a unique voice that sounds really nice.

And is there a singer whose voice you simply can't stand? Selena Gomez for some of her songs, Meghan Trainor for most of her songs.

Are there any authors that are particularly dominant on your bookshelf? No.

Have you seen any photographs or videos that made you smile today? Sure.

Which item in your fridge are you most looking forward to consuming? My aunt sent over this gigantic-ass slab of salmon that I can’t wait to eat as sashimi. I already had a few pieces last night and it was hea ven ly.

Has anyone you know got into a new relationship lately? Hmm, I don’t think so. I know my coworker Dev got into a relationship a few weeks ago but it fizzled out as soon as it started because the guy was shitty.

If you menstruate, do you experience much PMS prior to it? Only on the emotional side; I rarely get physical symptoms. I usually feel down or emotionally heavy a few days before my period.

Have you ever had a tattoo covered up or added to? No, I don’t have any tattoos. Can you remember the last time you had a sudden change of mind? Hmm, like last night. I wanted to stay up to maximize the weekend, buuuut I decided against it and slept instead since I had been up since 2 in the morning.

When was the last time you did something on a whim? Two weeks ago when I impulsively dropped a thousand bucks to have cheese tarts delivered to Angela and Reena, hahaha.

Were you raised by both of your parents? If not, then who raised you? My mom, grandma, and one of my aunts were the main people who raised me. Dad works overseas, so he was never at home much.

Have you ever began a relationship with someone you knew for less than a week? No, I wouldn’t do that.

Has one of your friends ever tried to ‘hook you up?’ Mik tried to pair me with one of his friends just days before I finally implied on social media that I was no longer in a relationship. It was a cool ego boost but I declined, since my emotions were still super turbulent then. Andi tried to initiate sex with me once too, but I also declined.

What is your card game of choice? I hate card games; I can never seem to understand them lmao, though that’s really more of a me problem than anything else.

What is your favourite books series? Growing up, I really loved the Septimus Heap series. But the thing about it was that I got into it while the series was still ongoing; and with how bad my attention span is, I always forgot the events/plot whenever the newest book came out.

So whenever that happened I had to read the entire series from Book 1; eventually the number of books I had to reread/revisit became too many (it was a seven-part series) and I simply just lost the time to read and I never got to know about the conclusion.

Do you prefer landmarks or street names when being given directions? Street names – more precise. Landmarks to me can be pretty subjective – a green building might look blue to me, and I could just end up being lost.

Do you read the prologues in the beginnings of books? Sure.

What was your favourite gym class moment? If I genuinely like or already play the sport that was being taught. That’s why PE table tennis was a lot of fun for me.

Do you think that ocean boardwalks are fun? I’ve never been on one but I imagine they are fun, yeah.

Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks? That’s not a tradition here.

Do you have a favourite Scooby-Doo movie? No. I was too young for Scooby-Doo in a sense that I do remember watching the movies as a 3/4 year old as they were kept on in the background at home, but I didn’t get any of the plots/didn’t really appreciate the films.

Do you think it’s cute when toddlers try to run away and fall down? Sometimes, yeah. If the fall looked nasty I would obviously be concerned.

Do you enjoy listening to your grandparents tell stories of their past? Honestly, only one of my grandparents would be the type to do this but he’s been dead for six years now. It’s a big shame he passed before I could bond with him the way I had always wanted to. My three other grandparents are either too closed off or too quiet to share stories from their youth.

Do you have a crush on someone? Nah, nothing more than a celebrity crush.

If so... what does his/her name begin with?

What attracts you to them?

Do they know that you like them?

If they don't know, why didn't you tell them?

Name two people that you miss: Angela and Laurice.

Have you ever seen Titanic? More times than I can count. I’m sure I memorize like 80% of the script, too.

Have you ever swam with dolphins? No. I’m not so sure if I’ve seen dolphins, either. Maybe I have? Or maybe I’m confusing it with whales...idrk.

When was the last time you had a stomachache? Wednesday.

What's going to bed early for you? 11 PM or midnight.

Do you want to have a big family in the future? I used to, but I don’t think that’s the future I want anymore. One or two kids should be okay.

What was the last thing you did that gave you a rush? Technically speaking, an orgasm, I guess?? Lmao idk

Favorite Nicholas Cage movie? I don’t think I have one.

Have you had your Covid vaccine yet? Which one, if you have? Yeah, I’m fully dosed. Sinovac.

If you've had your vaccine, did you experience any side effects? I was suuuuuuper tired right after my first dose and I wanted to be knocked the fuck out, but I went right back to work after the shot because I am allergic to filing leaves hahaha. Second dose went smoothly.

What's the next item of clothing that you intend to buy for yourself? A bucket hat or maybe one of the Fila x BTS shirts because the collection is actually quite cute!

What Facebook groups have you found the most helpful? I join Facebook groups to be entertained, not because I actively look for advice.

Do you like your butt? Why or why not? Yeah. It...has a good form hahahahahaha.

Have you ever personally been a victim of homophobia? Yes, a few years ago I went to a food park with my ex-girlfriend. I was already not feeling my best that day to begin with, so having to see an old woman stare daggers at us for what felt like years really stung. I felt small under her look and almost cried, but in the end I felt angry that I momentarily felt shame about my relationship. I decided to just piss the woman off on purpose and do PDA right in front of her.

Do you think you’d be happier if you had a pet? I have two dogs at present and I know they make me extremely happy.

Who was the last person you went on a date with? Gabie.

Were you ever hospitalized as a little kid? No. The first and only time I was hospitalized (other than being birthed), I was about 12, I think.

What’s your favorite way to curl your hair? I don’t do that. I rarely style my hair.

At what age did you start swearing? I was 11.

What is something you physically can’t do? Ride a bike.

What do like better, apples or oranges? I don’t like any fruits; but in terms of flavored stuff, I like orange-flavored food, especially chewy candy, slightly more.

Around the holidays, do you hope for snow? Well, no.

What are your top two favorite bands? Paramore and Against Me!

How many people do you 100% trust? There are a handful. I generally trust easily just because I like to believe all people are kind and loyal – but I can also take it away in the snap of a finger.

Do you care what others think about you? Not so much.

Has anyone ever called you a bitch? Sure.

Did you watch Teletubbies when you were younger? Yeah but just super super faint memories. It wasn’t one of my main shows.

Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license? I don’t.

Could you live the rest of your life without eating meat? I doubt it. I could try, but I think I’d get cranky and start looking for meat way earlier than I would like to admit.

Have you ever had a rolling backpack? Yup, if you mean a stroller. I think I’ve answered this on a previous survey.

Did you make any money today? No, because it’s a weekend. What was the highest place you've ever jumped from? Nothing dramatically high. I’ve had acrophobia-themed nightmares in the past, so even though I don’t actually have a fear of heights, the idea of jumping from a high place still makes me antsy.

Have you ever gone swimming in a river? Not that I can recall.

What was the last souvenir someone got you? I dunno if it counts but Andi bought merch from the AEW shop but made sure to also get a CM Punk sticker set for me :(

Do you have a favorite remix of a song? Remixes have never been my thing. What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument? Piano.

Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies? Yeah they can definitely affect the level of appreciation I hold towards a film. For instance, if I genuinely enjoyed a movie only to find out it has average to bad reviews, it invites me to think more critically about the movie.

Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar/etc.)? No.

If you had $500,000, what would you do with it? Give half to my parents and let them do whatever they wish it. With the remaining P12,500,000, I’d probably get myself my own condo and have it fully furnished, then get braces, then get a new phone and laptop. I’ll have a bunch of money still left, I’m pretty sure – the rest of it I’ll save.

Did the last person you touched lips with have a kid? No. I mean, I have honestly no clue what’s going on in her life now, but I know she doesn’t want kids so this is very unlikely.

"First loves are never really over." Is this true for you? It’s true in a sense that she left me a lot of trauma and self-esteem issues that will irrevocably always be a part of me now even though I’ve worked hard to resolved most of them by myself.

Did you like Michael Jackson before he died? Yes, because he has always been my favorite singer’s role model.

What are some things that would make you break up with someone? I don’t know how to answer this question, honestly. All the red flags were thrown and tossed and slapped into my face and down my throat for six years yet I never left. I don’t actually know what my limits are, and I believe it’s because my coping mechanism has to just accept things and suck them up no matter how bad they get. That’s what I’m trying to change for myself now.

What was the worst breakup you've ever had? I’ve had two breakups with the same person, and the second one was worse.

#survey #surveys

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hamiltalian-creates · 4 years

Note

Oo!! I wish you would write a fic where... (ask thingy) Logan is totally oblivious to Remus’s attempts to score a boyfriend. He thinks that remus is just being impulsive and saying random sexual stuff at him when really Remus is trying to gain the other’s attention! Also hi!!

Hi, CJ! Thanks for the idea, I’m glad we’re on the same Intrulogical brainwave lol

Words: 3,424

Warnings: Remus being Remus

Remus was weird. All of the sides and Thomas himself knew it and acknowledged it and Remus wore the word like a bad Christmas sweater, but, lately, he’d been acting weirder than Logan would’ve expected from him. For the latest example, Logan was just trying to go about his day and get some reading done in the living room when Remus sat beside him and pulled him into his lap and began speaking.

“So, Logan, how does this sound: You and me, my side of the imagination, 8 o’clock tonight, anything you want.”

Logan hummed in thought as he skimmed the page for where he’d lost the his place once Remus had jostled him. “I’m not in the mood for a hookup, but thank you for the offer.”

Remus pouted, but he wasn’t one to give up that quickly. “Alright, no sex. How about now?”

“I’m busy at the moment. I’d rather finish this book uninterrupted.”

Remus huffed and moved to get up, stopping as Logan grabbed his shoulder.

“At least move me more carefully, I am reading.”

Were it any other side, Remus would’ve just stood up and let him fall to the floor with a satisfying thump and maybe even a nice snap or crack, but this was Logan. Remus wanted to date him and Logan had to like him for that to happen. So, he carefully lifted Logan out of his lap and stood up before placing him back onto the couch, patting his head as he set him down.

Logan nodded. “Thank you.”

But that wasn’t the last of Remus’s exceptionally weird moments with Logan.

Just the next morning, as Logan was making himself a healthy, balanced breakfast of biscuits and jam, hold the biscuits, Remus strolled in and smacked Logan’s behind, an action that Logan was pretty used to by then.

“How about some hang time in the library after breakfast?” Remus asked. “You might have to wait a while for me though, I’m getting hungry from staring at an absolute snack.”

Logan looked down at his jar of jam and then back up at Remus before handing it to him. “It is quite a delicious treat. And I’ll have to pass on the library, ‘hanging’ doesn’t sound very fun.”

Okay, that one was Remus’s fault, bad choice of words. “I mean, like, hanging out,” he clarified, dipping two fingers into the jar of jam and scooping some out before eating it.

“Hanging anywhere sounds uncomfortable. Keep the jar, I have plenty more.” Logan went over to a locked cabinet and pulled the key out from his pocket, unlocking and opening the door to reveal that the entire cabinet had been filled with jars of various Crofters jams.

“That’s quite the collection there.”

Logan shrugged and selected a jar before closing and locking the cabinet again. “I keep the bare minimum, I don’t want to take up too much kitchen space.”

Remus nodded as he watched Logan leave. That nerd really was obsessed with Crofters jams... Maybe he could use that to his advantage. Remus began grinning as he had a brilliant idea.

Logan went a surprisingly short time before having another run in with Remus and his stranger than usual activities, though this one almost made him laugh. Of course, laughing would’ve been a sign that Logan actually felt that Remus’s stunt was funny and, as someone who didn’t feel, that couldn’t happen.

As Logan came out for his afternoon jar of Crofters, Remus was waiting in the kitchen, facing the counters until he heard Logan walk in.

“Hello, Nerdilocks,” Remus greeted as he turned around, showing Logan the newest addition to his usual outfit.

Logan wouldn’t have looked down at his crotch to see it were it not for the fact that it was hard to ignore the large, white writing on his black pants that read “Open here for Crofters” and the large white arrow pointing right at his, thankfully hidden, penis. He took a deep breath as he read it, trying not to let himself show even a hint of the entertainment he felt seeing that.

Remus grinned proudly as he noticed Logan’s lips twitch just the tiniest amount and looked down at his outfit’s new addition before looking back up at Logan. “What do you think?”

“I think that somebody else might find that hilarious and I appreciate your attempt at making me laugh.”

Remus bounced on his toes and inwardly cheered. “Are you taking the offer? I know you’re here for your afternoon Crofters.”

Logan shook his head and went over to his hoarding cabinet. “I’m here for a jar of the brand of jam called Crofters, I’m not currently interested in your penis, which, I assume, you have nicknamed ‘Crofters’.”

“Okay, but what if I told you that my dick is literally covered in Crofters jam right now and you have the opportunity to taste it and guess the flavor yourself?”

Logan stared at him for a few seconds, wondering if he was serious before realizing that he absolutely was. “Then I’d say that I really admire your persistence and your dedication to this series of practical jokes you’re playing on me. And... I honestly wonder what that feels like.” Logan had absolutely no intention of doing such a thing, but to say he wasn’t curious would’ve been a lie and he wasn’t Janus.

Remus swooned, Logan’s sense of curiosity being the main thing that drove his attraction to the nerd. “It’s sticky and gross, just like we could be if you say yes.”

“As much as I love Crofters, I wouldn’t particularly enjoyed being covered in it. But I appreciate the offer, I suppose that would sound like an appealing activity to you, so I’ll take that as a good thing.” He grabbed two jars from his cabinet, giving one to Remus before grabbing a spoon and leaving with his own jar.

Remus waited until he left before groaning in frustration and going to take a shower. As much as he loved the warm, wet, sticky feeling that he was getting from the jelly that was covering his dick, it reminded him all too much of how he felt on the nights when he’d wake up after dreaming about Logan.

While he was in the shower, he decided to take advantage of the thought and daydream about those situations with Logan, hoping the post nut clarity would help lead him in the right path here.

And it did!

Remus snapped his eyes open and made quick work of scrubbing himself clean before throwing on a quick outfit and dashing over to Janus’s room. He was a nerd, just like Logan, and he was smart! He’d know what to do!

Remus stormed through his door and jumped onto the bed, where he had been reading peacefully. “Janus! I need your advice!”

“And I need a day to go by where I can actually relax,” Janus grumbled as he marked his place in his book and put it down. He was annoyed by Remus’s interruption, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to help him.

“I need help asking Logan out.”

Ah, yes, Remus’s very obvious crush on Logan. For such a smart guy, Logan was so stupid when it came to realizing that Remus had a huge crush on him. Then again, most people didn’t express their affection by saying that they’d want to rip your head off and place it on their nightstand. Janus supposed that it was just years of living with Remus that made it feel obvious that that was Remus’s way of saying that he wanted to wake up to Logan’s face everyday. “Maybe try speaking a bit more his language.”

“I already tried slathering my dick in Crofters and he didn’t even want to taste and guess the flavor!”

Janus wished he wasn’t surprised by that, but Logan did have a pretty unhealthy obsession with the stuff. “That’s not what I meant. I meant try being straightforward. Tell him in very plain words that you want to go on a date with him or fuck him or whatever it is that you do.”

Remus paused for a second and sat up, a dumbstruck look on his face. After a few more seconds, he smacked his forehead, looking absolutely enlightened. “Why didn’t I think of that?!”

Janus shrugged. “You and Logan have a lot in common and one of those things is that you’re both incredibly smart and, at the same time, incredibly stupid.”

Remus nodded for a second before looking at his friend with a grin. “You think we have things in common?”

“Get out of my room and go get a boyfriend.”

“Thanks, Jay!” Remus hopped up and ran out of the room, going to work on his latest plot: properly asking Logan out.

It took him a few days to come up with a plan and, as he did, Logan grew confused. Remus had been so friendly with him, talking to him everyday and constantly touching him, that seeing Remus just kind of vanish was almost worrying, except he didn’t worry. Remus was a grown man and a figment of the imagination, it wasn’t like he could’ve gotten hurt. The more likely answer was that he’d gotten sick of Logan’s lack of response to his actions and moved on to the next side.

Now, as the logical side, he may have put up a show of not being able to feel, but, unfortunately, Thomas didn’t allow him such a luxury and he was stuck with the burden that was human emotion, figment of the imagination or otherwise. And, currently, his emotions surrounding the idea of Remus going to find another side to mess with just because he wasn’t particularly responsive were anything but positive. There was sadness, a hint of anger, and a fair amount of jealousy that he especially wouldn’t want anybody to know about. After all, Logan already got picked on for the things he liked when they were philosophy, psychology, and astronomy. Who knew how the rest of the sides would react when one of the things he liked was Remus.

Fortunately for them and unfortunately for him, it seemed pretty clear that Remus had no interest in him, at least not in that fashion. Remus was just impulsive and there was a very high probability that he was sexual and touchy with everyone, so it wasn’t like he treated Logan any differently from his rest. And this was Remus he was thinking about here, Remus of all sides, would’ve made it the most obvious if he had a crush on him, even more obvious than Roman, as insanely open and honest as Remus was. Not to mention, Remus probably wouldn’t have stopped talking to Logan if he actually liked him.

So, all that was left to do was for Logan to start on the process of forgetting about his stupid crush. It wouldn’t have worked out, anyways. Remus got bored of him as a friend after a few weeks, there was no doubt in Logan’s mind that he would’ve gotten bored of him as a partner or boyfriend even faster.

Fortunately, with all of the practice he’d had, it wasn’t hard for Logan to hide how hurt he was by Remus’s absence. He went about his day as if nothing had changed whatsoever and attempted to enjoy a peaceful day, something he wasn't particularly used to anymore.

Thankfully, it seemed like he wasn’t going to have to put up with that kind of order for very long.

A few days into getting used to Remus’s absence, Logan was grabbing a jar of Crofters for his afternoon snack, fighting the urge to grab a second for a side who wasn’t even there, when he was interrupted by said side’s voice.

“Logan!” Remus called out as he stepped into the kitchen, hiding his hands behind his back. “I’m glad to see you here, I have to talk to you.”

Logan stood up and looked back at him, his jelly collection briefly forgotten. “Remus. I haven’t really heard from you in a few days...”

Aww, he noticed. Remus beamed and nodded. “Yeah, sorry about that, but I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk to you!”

Here it was. Remus was going to say he didn’t want to hang out with him anymore. “What is it?” Logan asked warily.

Remus stepped forward and shoved a bouquet of a variety of flowers in Logan’s face. “Here! I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I brought you some of everything.”

Logan blinked a few times, surprised, before hesitantly taking the flowers.

“Don’t be so scared, there’s nothing dangerous there. Except for the thorny roses, but nothing too crazy,” he said with a shrug, smiling as Logan started analyzing the flowers.

“Thank you... These are really nice. Um... May I ask what they’re for? It’s not a holiday or my birthday or anything.”

Remus put his hands over Logan’s, glad that he’d arranged the flowers so that the few roses were in the middle, unable to stab Logan’s hands. He was too excited to not grip Logan’s hands as tight as he could. “I had a special question to ask you! Would you like to go out with me?”

“Go out?...” Logan asked slowly, putting the pieces together as he looked between his and Remus’s hands and the flowers enclosed in them and the bright blush on Remus’s face as he beamed. “You mean... Like on a romantic outing? Forgive me if I’m wrong, that’s just the context that is usually meant by the phrase ‘going out,’ at least to my knowledge. Unless you’re asking me to go out with you as in die in a fiery explosion and these are a sample of the flowers that you’ll leave to be left in my grave?” It was an unconventional use of the phrase in comparison, but it was more likely in this scenario, considering that it was Remus he was talking to.

Remus cackled and shook his head. “No, Logan, I would like to go on a romantic outing with you. If you are interested, I would like to partake in a romantic relationship with you and I’ve been trying to ask for a while now. It’s kind of my fault for forgetting how crazy literal, but oh my god, you’re really stupid literal.”

Logan laughed awkwardly and nodded. “Yeah.. That’s kind of your fault, you’re so straightforward that I can’t help but to take everything you say literally... And you’re so straightforward that I almost think you’re serious right now.”

“Uh, I am always very serious,” Remus responded, feigning offense before grinning again. “I am serious, I want to date you! You’re smart and cool and you’re curious enough to not be afraid of everything I say and I don’t like that you’re helping Thomas not be scared of me, but I love that you’re helping him not be scared of me. I really, really want to be your boyfriend and I can’t believe I didn’t think of just outright asking you like this any sooner.”

Logan liked to think he was the most composed side, but right now, he was an absolute disaster of a gay. His brain was figuratively short circuiting and he couldn’t find very many words to say, much less figure out how to put them together in coherent sentences. “You think I’m cool?...”

“Of course I do!” Remus was getting excited again, bouncing on his toes and fighting every urge to grab Logan’s stupid face and kiss him all over. “You’re so cool! You’re not scared of the weird things I say and you’re not afraid to call out the others when they’re in the wrong and I really really like hanging out with you. You’re totally cool and it’s taking every bit of restraint for me not to kiss you silly right now.”

If Logan were a more impulsive and a less composed side, he would’ve gladly invited Remus to do just that. Instead, he freed one of his hands and loosened his tie ever so slightly - he wasn’t sure when it had gotten so hard to breathe, but he was pretty sure being this flustered didn’t help, not that he’d admit it - and cleared his throat, hoping that his own brain would start working with him again. “That sounds like a very lovely proposition.”

Just as Logan had spent a while misinterpreting Remus’s romantic advances, Remus misinterpreted Logan’s acceptance as consent for what he wanted to do and grabbed his face, pulling him in for a kiss. Just like everything else that Remus did, it was passionate and chaotic, a mess of mashing lips and clicking teeth - Remus was saving using his tongue for later.

Logan wasn’t one for displays of romantic affection, especially not ones that were so public, but Remus’s passionate kiss was too hard not to get into and he found himself lost in the kiss before he could control himself, putting his previously freed hand over one of Remus’s and keeping the other wrapped around the bouquet that he was holding.

Unfortunately, just as they had a tendency to do every single time Logan showed even a sliver of vulnerability, one of the sides decided to show up right at that moment.

“Hey, Logan, would you mind if I grabbed a- Aaaahhhh!” Roman screamed as he walked in and saw his brother making out with their nerd.

Logan was too used to ignoring Roman’s every word and too into his current activities to pull away at the sound of the scream, but Remus was pretty sure that, in a more clear state of mind, Logan wouldn’t have wanted Roman to just watch them make out, especially not when it was their first makeout session, so he took every bit of his will power and pulled away from the kiss, turning back to glare at his brother.

“Fantastic timing, dipshit.”

Roman made a series of offended noises and gestured vaguely at the two of them, unsure of where exactly he went wrong in this scenario. “You’re making out with Logan in the middle of the kitchen where anyone can see! It’s not my fault that I happened to walk into our shared kitchen!”

Logan began pulling himself out of his daze, standing up straight and clearing his throat. “Roman, you’re not usually one to just walk into a room without loudly announcing yourself first.”

“You’re not usually one to just make out with anyone in the kitchen, especially not my brother!” Roman leaned against the wall and dramatically gripped his stomach. “Oh my god, I think I’m going to be sick... I have to leave!”

And just as fast as he’d arrived, Roman ran out of the kitchen, leaving the other two sides behind.

Remus sighed and turned to Logan, his usual smile making its way back onto his face. “So, we’re boyfriends now?”

Logan nodded and adjusted his glasses. ”Yes, we’re boyfriends now.” He decided against adding on the fact that their relationship was what he’d been agreeing to before, not the kissing, not wanting to let Remus think for even a second that he didn’t enjoy that amazing kiss. “And perhaps we could do more kissing later, when there aren’t any sides around to bother us?”

Remus’s eyes lit up. “Wait, will that include sex? I’ve been asking for a date, but I’ve also been asking for a lot of that.”

Yeah, Logan had noticed that much, he just preferred to be in an established relationship before going to that level. ... Wait, was asking for sex also one of Remus’s ways for asking for a relationship? That didn’t matter now, they were dating and there was no confusion about that. “Maybe after you take me on a few dates, yes.”

Remus cheered to himself and grabbed Logan’s shoulders, leaning in and kissing his forehead before letting him go. “Meet me in my side of the imagination at 8 o’clock tonight, dress according to whatever kind of activity you want to do, you’re choosing our first date.”

Logan simply nodded and watched as Remus left him alone in the kitchen, staring down at his flowers once he was out of sight. He and Remus were dating now... Sure, they could’ve been in a relationship sooner, had Logan been better at understanding the meanings behind his words, but that didn’t matter. They were dating now. And, for once, Logan couldn’t think about anything else.

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Never Have I Ever

A demon, an angel, a witch, several bottles of whiskey, and a 6000 year old secret. What could possibly go wrong? (2848 words)

“Never have I ever …” Aziraphale glances around the table, pausing on Anathema, poised with shot glass in hand, then Crowley, sinking into the yellow-and-brown paisley tablecloth, having already polished off an entire bottle of whiskey on his own and starting in on a fresh Jack Daniels “… plotted to overthrow King Richard the III!”

“Jesssusss Chrissstmasss!” Crowley hisses, picking up his shot glass and throwing back his whiskey, filling it immediately after and throwing that one back as well.

“Wait!” Anathema says. “You only have to take one shot for that!”

“Technically, I have to take three since that’s how many tries it took to dethrone the bastard.”

Aziraphale giggles as Crowley sloppily sucks down his final shot. He’s slightly less sloshed than his demon compatriot, but only just. Crowley’s eyes have begun to cross, and he’s toppled out of his chair twice.

A dozen more shots and Aziraphale may succeed in knocking the idiot out.

That would be a first.

“You know, I appreciate the fact that the two of you have been around since the dawn of time, but the things you guys pick are both obscure and bizarrely specific.”

“So …?”

“So, the point of Never Have I Ever is that you choose things that could apply to anyone. But the two of you seem to be on a vendetta to get one another wasted.”

“Fine, book girl,” Crowley drawls. “Let’s try this one on for size. Never have I ever … finished college.”

Crowley and Aziraphale both turn to Anathema - Crowley grinning like a jackal, Aziraphale with a snarky eyebrow raised. Anathema rolls her eyes and downs her shot. “Touché.”

“Congratulations! Ya got one!” Crowley says smugly. “May we continue? Never have I ever ...” The demon’s eyes glow with delight as they bounce from Aziraphale to Anathema … then back to Aziraphale “… sunken a ship!”

“Wha---what the Devil are you talking about?” Aziraphale barks, but he quickly reconsiders. “Are we talking a rowboat? Or an ocean liner?”

“Steamship.” Crowley pops the p, making Aziraphale’s head ring.

Aziraphale peers into Crowley’s eyes, silently enquiring, but he tuts in disgust when he figures it out. “You’re not going on about the Waratah, are you?”

“Oi! That was mah ship and you sank it!”

“I did no such thing! I commandeered it because I knew you were going to sink it!”

Crowley drops his head back on his shoulders and groans loudly – too loudly for drunk Aziraphale. “I already told you! No one would have gotten hurt!”

“No. You were going to do what you always do! Abandon those poor men on some deserted island with no way off! It was the 1900s! They had no cellular phones! No one would have known where they were!”

“And …?”

“They had families, Crowley!”

“Their fault. Not mine. What did you do with them anyway?”

“I reunited them with their loved ones, wiped their memories, and reassigned them to secure locations. It all turned out fine.”

“Still …” Crowley sniffs “… seeing as no one’s ever found the wreckage, it’s considered a sunken ship (hard k and another popped p).” He crosses his arms over his chest, affecting a superior pout. “Drink up.”

“I don’t see how that works in your favor but whatever helps you sleep at night. But you’d better take a shot, too.”

“Why’s that?”

“You mean to tell me that in 6000 years you’ve never sunken a ship?”

Crowley’s eyes pop slightly. “Quite right, quite right. Forgot about that.”

Aziraphale downs his shot, then reaches for the whiskey to refill it. He grabs the bottle around the belly and lifts, nearly tossing it across the bookshop when it comes off the table too easily. He brings it up to his swimming eyes and peeks around the label to get a look inside. “This one’s empty, I’m afraid.” He puts it back and rises unsteadily to his feet. “We’re going to need another.”

“Hold up!” Anathema grabs Aziraphale’s wrist and stops him. “We need to change the parameters of this game somewhat if we’re going to keep playing! I’ve taken maybe three shots to your, oh, let’s call it one-hundred-and-fifty!”

“You’re just sore … because you’re losing,” Crowley accuses with a belch in between.

“Wait wait wait …” Aziraphale slurs.

“Wait what?”

“Are we sure she’s losing? What exactly is the object of this game? Does the first person who falls down drunk win? Or does the person who remains sober win?”

“I …” Crowley squints his eyes painfully as he gives it a think. “I think it’s … it’s probably … oh, I don’t care! She’s being a sore loser! That’s why she wants to change the rules!”

“But you don’t even know what the rules are!”

“Don’t care. Things were going fine before she (*mumble mumble mumble mumble*) sore loser …”

Aziraphale surmises that his demon friend is grumpy because he thinks he’s winning, but Anathema has a point. They’re supposed to be having fun, and a game isn’t fun if you don’t get the chance to play. “Change how, my dear?” he asks her in an attempt to smooth things over.

“First off, anything that happened before the 90s is strictly off limits.”

“The 1790s?” Crowley asks, swaying like a snake as he tries to figure out which of the three Anathemas he’s seeing is the real one.

“The 1990s.”

“Pffft! The 1990s were dull!”

“Plus, be vague. I mean, believe it or not, there are things I have done in the broad sense that you may not have …”

“Not likely …”

“… but never have I ever …” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, trying to come up with the most ridiculous thing she can think of in short order “… sold Napoleon Bonaparte’s dismembered penis on the black market.”

“Ha! Cheers!” Crowley crows, snapping his fingers to refill Aziraphale’s glass. They hold up their shots ceremoniously, then drink them down, slamming their empty glasses on the table in unison when they’re done.

“Good lord! You two can’t be serious!?”

“I sold it first,” Crowley admits. “But he sold it by accident trying to return it.”

“How do you sell a penis by accident?”

“It’s a long story,” Aziraphale says sternly, the thin line his mouth makes clearly translating his distress at the mention of his faux pas, “and I’d rather not go into it. But all right. From now on, we’ll be vague.”

“Great!” Anathema smiles triumphantly. “Let’s start over.”

“In that case, it might help if we were a little less sozzled,” Crowley suggests.

“Right.” Aziraphale clunks a second empty whiskey bottle on the table beside the first. “Fill’er up, Crowley.”

“What?” Anathema watches wide-eyed and grossed out as Crowley strains, bending over at the waist, white-knuckling the seat of his chair between his legs, making the most revolting noise imaginable, the level of the liquid in the bottle rising with every grunt. Aziraphale, in contrast, is much quieter with regard to his own evacuating, but the whole process between the two is far too reminiscent of something else entirely.

It almost puts Anathema off her drink.

“That’s your guys’ bottle now,” she says, getting up to retrieve a brand new bottle from a nearby shelf.

“Obviously,” Crowley grumbles.

She cracks the cap on a fresh bottle of Jack and returns to her seat. “Okay, since I’m still not convinced you guys fully grasp the concept of this game, I’ll start.” She sits up straight and clears her throat as if preparing to make an important announcement. “I’ll make it simple. Never have I ever been rock climbing.”

“Ugh!” Crowley drinks his shot, revolted at how banal her selection is. Of all the things she could have chosen, she went with rock climbing. What? Did baking seem like too much of a stretch?

When he’s done with his drink, he notices Aziraphale’s glass has gone untouched. He glares at the angel, who stares back in confusion.

“What?”

“You’ve been rock climbing. Take a drink.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Whaddya call that big stone gate ‘round the Garden of Eden?”

“A gate, not a rock.”

“If it’s made of rock, I’ll allow it,” Anathema declares.

“But I didn’t climb it.”

“You were on top of it.”

“Yes, but I just sort of … appeared there. And after I gave away my sword, I miracled my way back up.”

“Ya climbed a rock. Take a drink.”

Aziraphale sighs and raises his glass. “Whatever.”

Anathema beams. “There. Isn’t this fun?”

“Loads,” Aziraphale says. Crowley sputters obscenely in response.

“I’ll pick another one,” Anathema offers. “Never have I ever stolen anything.”

“Oi!” Crowley gestures at Aziraphale after he sucks down his shot and the angel hasn’t moved. “You need to drink!”

“Whatever for?” Aziraphale asks, righteously offended.

“You’ve stolen stuff before! I’ve seen you!”

“I’ve acquired. I haven’t stolen.”

“Same diff! Right, book girl?”

“I’d say so.”

“Name one thing I’ve stolen. Go ahead.”

“You stole that … that … wooden chalice thingy from the Knights Templar! And they were on your side!”

“I’ll have you know that wooden chalice thingy, as you so smartly put it, was the Cup of Christ! And I was moving it to a safe location. I tried to explain that to the chap on duty, but he couldn’t hear me.”

“He was six-hundred-and-seventy-three years old! He was deaf as a stump!”

“Yes but he looked amazing for his age, didn’t he?”

“After you took the cup, he died!”

“It was in the job description. He understood his fate,” Aziraphale says, dismissing the demon’s commentary with a wave.

“Right. And I’m sure that was a huge comfort to him!”

“I couldn’t say. Anyway, you haven’t proven anything. I have not stolen.”

“Fine,” Crowley growls, pouring his shot. “My turn. Never have I ever killed a six-hundred-and-seventy-three year old knight!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Anathema waggles a scolding finger. “That’s against the rules!”

“It’s necessary.”

“Of course it is, you sour serpent,” Aziraphale mutters, draining his glass. “My turn. Never have I ever nearly mowed down innocent pedestrians whilst behind the wheel of a vehicle traveling 90 when it should only go 30 tops!”

“What did we say about specific?” Anathema says.

“I don’t know. I think that could apply to anybody,” Aziraphale returns icily. “Have you seen the way you ride a bicycle?”

Crowley drinks his shot, mimicking Aziraphale while he does. When his glass hits the tablecloth, Aziraphale refills it. “Good of you to take your medicine, my dear,” he says. “Now whose turn is it to think of something?”

“I will,” Anathema says. “Someone needs to get this game back on track. Never have I ever worn high heels.”

“How high?” Crowley asks.

“I’ll say … four inches.”

With shaking heads and irritated sighs, Aziraphale and Crowley take a shot.

“Never have I ever ridden bare back,” Crowley says. This time Aziraphale and Anathema drink.

“Never have I ever eaten a rodent,” Aziraphale says. Crowley drinks his shot, snickering into his glass.

“What’s so funny?” Aziraphale asks.

“You picked one you’ve done, so you have to take a drink, too.”

“What? I’ve never eaten a …!” Crowley nods through Aziraphale’s protesting and the angel goes pale. “When?”

“1683. At that little restaurant in Naples. That crooked asshat of a chef wat served everyone rat and claimed it was chicken?”

Aziraphale goes numb, jaw slack, the abject horror growing on his face making Crowley snicker more.

“You had seconds,” he reminds him.

“Oh my Lord, you’re right!” Aziraphale’s lower lip trembles as he drinks his shot. “I’d forgotten. Though I think I forgot on purpose, to tell you the truth.”

“Don’t blame you.”

“Yikes. Okay. Never have I ever …” Anathema bites her lower lip, hemming and hawing between two questions - both of them fairly blah, she has to admit - when a third pops into her head that’s too good not to use, if for no other reason than to possibly get back at these two imbeciles if it lands the way she hopes it will “… had a crush on my best friend.”

Anathema half expects glaring yellow eyes behind dark lenses boring through her skull as a sulking demon reluctantly takes a drink, but Aziraphale downs his shot before anyone can reach theirs, leaving Crowley and Anathema looking at him strangely before he realizes what he’s done.

“Oh!” he squeaks when he sees two sets of eyes trained his way. “I … I was … I was in a rhythm. I don’t think I was paying attention to the question, I …” Aziraphale gulps, wiggling nervously in his seat. “Come again?”

“Oh, well, that’s all right,” Anathema says, pretending to believe him. She refills his glass and pushes it in front of him. “We’ll call a re-do. Do you want to do the honors, Crowley? Or shall I?”

Crowley doesn’t answer her. He leans towards Aziraphale, as amused as Anathema but much more invested in Aziraphale’s answer. “Never have I ever …” he says slowly, chewing each word thoroughly before it leaves his mouth, drawing Aziraphale’s full attention to it, “had a crush on my best friend.”

He stares Aziraphale down, unblinking, the angel shrinking farther and farther back as the demon inches closer, eyes locked so hard on Aziraphale’s, he can feel their hold on him like physical hands keeping him rooted to the spot. Crowley’s eyes don’t unnerve him. Not in the slightest. It’s the idea that the secret Aziraphale has held on to the longest is about to be unearthed, and by virtue of a common, vulgar drinking game.

Whose idea was this anyway? he thinks, mentally side-eyeing Anathema before he comes to the sobering realization that, in truth, it was his. He’d seen it on a TV show – the first TV show he’d watched in decades. He’d fancied it, thought it could be a lighthearted and fun way to pass the time, get to know new friends.

Ha.

But the longer Crowley stares at him, the more the expectant grin on the demon’s face begins to wither, and if there’s one thing Aziraphale doesn’t want, it’s Crowley’s feelings hurt.

This had to come out sooner or later. Might as well be now.

Aziraphale grabs the glass and throws it back, grimacing at a burn on the finish that has nothing to do with the alcohol. “Happy? Now you know.”

“Ecstatic.” Crowley bypasses his shot altogether, grabbing the closest bottle by the neck and downing what’s left in a single impressive chug.

Aziraphale gasps. “Are you … are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“How long?”

“How long do you think?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shoot up with the outlandish suspicion that he knows exactly how long. That he’s always known. “That long?”

“Yes, Aziraphale. That long.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think I was being subtle about it, really.” Crowley fidgets his fingers, worrying the thumbnail of his left hand with the index fingernail and thumb of his right. “I just … I figured that if you didn’t say anything about it then you probably didn’t … you know … feel the same.”

“But I did,” Aziraphale says softly. “I … I do. Feel the same.”

Crowley’s face lightens, something resembling hope lifting the corners of his mouth into a cautious smile. “Really?”

“Really.”

Crowley rises from his chair and saunters over to Aziraphale. Aziraphale starts to stand but stops when Crowley gets down on his knees, removing his glasses and tossing them aside to get an unfettered view of him as if Anathema isn’t sitting mere feet away.

“I … I thought …” Crowley starts, interrupting himself with a bittersweet cough of a laugh.

“Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale runs a soothing hand through the demon’s hair. “What do we do now?”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Crowley whispers, “I’d really like to kiss you.”

“I think … I’d like that, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Now that he has permission, Crowley wastes no time capturing Aziraphale’s lips with his own. After 6000 years, he’s tired of being subtle. From now on, he’s going to lay his feelings for Aziraphale on the line, out where the angel can see, and pray the important ones find their match alongside his.

Feeling like an awkward third wheel on a broken velocipede, Anathema begins gathering her things. “I’m just gonna go,” she says quietly, hopping out of her chair while demon and angel continue kissing. “Have some important, you know, witch business to get around to. I’m going to leave you two alone to … ahem … talk. But we should do this again some time. It was … educational.”

“Mmm … mind how you go, my dear,” a breathless Aziraphale mumbles between kisses.

“Right,” Crowley concurs, his hand sliding up into Aziraphale’s hair and pulling him deeper.

“Okey-dokey then.” It takes several tries before Anathema verifies she has everything, hugging books, a newspaper, a scarf, and her coat to her chest as she scurries away through the stacks and shelves with a laugh in her throat when the moaning begins.

#good omens #Good Omens Fanfic #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #Frankie writes

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