#poked at the interior parts a little but did nothing that would change anything
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Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader
Chapter 9
Word Count ~ 5.5k
Rating ~ Explicit
CW ~ doppelgänger sex, body horror
Also available on AO3
Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok
taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl
Francis Mosses’ route is almost done for the day.
He normally started with the farthest destinations first and then worked his way backwards, finishing close to his home in the DDD sanctioned apartments.
But there had been a last minute add on, sending him back out again, further from the city and into the suburbs. He’s tired, as always, the early start to each shift, the thin walls of the building that do nothing to suppress the activities of his neighbors taking their toll. He rubs at the drowsy lids that keep insisting on shutting. Almost finished. Just this last one. Humming to keep awake. He should stop on the way home, pick up something for dinner. But that would mean delaying his return. Did he have the energy to even cook?
He’s thinking about you, the pretty young woman that guards the entrance now. The best part of his day. He should get you flowers. Say something, anything, instead of just polite formalities. Maybe today would be the day he found enough courage to express his feelings.
A little more alert now. His eyes flick to the paper on his clipboard. Yes, nearly there. He’s not familiar with this road. The houses are not as well kept. Some even look abandoned. Overgrown lawns. Broken windows. A tendril of misgiving curling around him. Something felt wrong. Maybe he should just say he couldn’t find the address. Offer up this part of the route to someone else working for the company.
But what if the person really needed it? It wasn’t fair to discriminate, was it? That sense of duty keeps his right foot pressed on the pedal. He’s going to finish the job.
He’s reached his destination. It’s difficult to see the numbers, half hidden by the weeds threatening to overtake the mailbox. At least the window panes are intact in this dwelling. Curtains cover the interior completely. The entire home is encased in shadow, darkness that seems to sap the sunlight from above.
The milkman shuts off the engine, easing out of his seat. He’s a little stiff from the long drive, the lateness of his shift. He touches one ear to a shoulder, repeating the process for the opposite side. A satisfying series of cracks. The rear compartment slides open and he lifts the wire rack from storage. The sun is strong against his back, a little perspiration making the white material of his workshirt cling to his skin. He’s suddenly craving something cold to drink. Maybe he should just invite you out. There would be enough time before curfew. Sodas at the local diner. He imagines you blushing that pretty pink shade, your hand covering your mouth. Shyly accepting his proposal.
Francis isn’t really paying attention to the cement walkway he’s traveling on that leads to the front door, ignoring the crab grass poking through the seams of each concrete slab. He doesn’t spare a glance for the peeling paint of the clapboards, the tarnish of the metal doorbell. The door creaks open and he’s got a smile on his face, his customary greeting for customers combined with thoughts of you. Just a heartbeat shy of reacting in time to who—what— waits for him in that dim interior, the hand reaching for the handle of the basket changing course at the last moment, latching onto his wrist and dragging him inside, the basket falling from his fingers, the glass shattering, spilling dairy product over the entryway.
He’s pulled off balance, thrust to one side, barely managing to keep his head from cracking against the wooden floor. Subflooring, not even a proper finished layer. No furniture inside. The home was stripped bare, except for the heavy drapes over the windows, the last illumination from outdoors disappearing from view as the door slams shut. The air is stale, musty. He feels the dust beneath his fingertips. No one has been inside here for a long time.
He’s barely started to struggle to his feet before the creature is upon him. Doppelgänger, he thinks with panic. It has to be. Hands pin his wrists down to either side of his face, his body shoved down beneath the heavy weight of the invader.
It’s not the first time he’s encountered one directly.
Once, when he was younger, he’d gotten separated from his mother at the supermarket. Not paying attention, distracted by the array of goods on the shelves, lost in whatever daydream had overtaken him, until he’d felt the hand on his wrist, the hand that didn’t belong to his parent or a concerned employee or fellow customer, but a doppel. The feeling of claws digging in. Seeking to break the skin, to draw out some blood, just the smallest amount needed to copy his appearance. The pain before an off duty DDD member had thankfully intervened had been sharp, hot, an intensity he’s still never forgotten years later.
This was not that feeling. This is like being submerged into a warm bath, but the water was sticky, cloying. It hurt, but there was something pleasurable about it as well. A kind of numbing tranquility. Pressing against becoming pressing into.
Hold still.
The command said aloud, or in the depths of his mind, he can no longer tell. One last burst of adrenaline making him struggle. The quick, disdainful flick of a claw, the alien’s true appendage, dragging across his skin. He feels the flecks of blood spattering near his collar, hears the wet collisions with the starched fabric.
“God help me…”
The only part of a plea or prayer he can muster. There was no escaping this. He can feel the thing burrowing inside of him. How was it even possible? The doppels only cloned or consumed humans. This merging was something new.
He can feel it digging around in his brain. Sifting through his thoughts.
A DDD establishment resident? Challenging.
Your face. He focuses on it in his mind, recreating each detail of every feature. The scent of you. Summer flowers.
Who’s this?
Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare—
The numbness has worn off. It is no longer a soothing feeling. He is burning from the inside.
I won’t let you harm anyone. If you’re going to be me, then be me. You’re not going to hurt anyone ever again.
Let me in. Let me in, stop resisting.
Forgive me.
What’s happening? Changing me, I’m not…
Not one or the other. Combining.
Something new.
***
“Francis, wake up.” The doppel’s eyes fly open. A moment of disorientation and panic visible on his features until his eyes find yours in the wan morning light spilling in through the farmhouse window. “I think you were having a nightmare.”
Your hand rests against his bare chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. What would an invader dream about that would make them so afraid? Being discovered? Destroyed?
He reaches a hand to touch your cheek. “Sweetheart.”
“I’m here, love. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kiss the corner of his mouth. He turns his face slightly and captures your lips again. Hungry. Nipping at your bottom lip. He’s turning, rolling you beneath him.
“My love. Mine.” Tasting your neck. His palm warm and heavy as it dips beneath the scooped neckline of your nightgown. He rolls your nipples between his thumb and index finger, tugging lightly, bringing them into stiff peaks. You squirm, writhing beneath his touch, the mouth of your sex watering for him. Always so ravenous. You can never get enough.
You’re not wearing panties. It’s easy for a pair of fingers to slide right into that warm, wet tunnel. Your breath hisses. He steals the next one, his mouth covering yours. Your fingers wrap around his forearm as he begins sliding the probing digits in and out.
“I want to devour you.”
“Yes, Francis, please…”
“Eat you and then fuck you,” the copycat’s voice continues low beside your ear. “You’re mine.” A growl. His tone coarser. A little more of the doppel side of him showing. Possessive. Aggressive. Acting in retaliation to something in the dream he’d felt threatened by.
“I’m yours.” Your pelvis rocks up against his hand. “It’s you that I love, that my heart belongs to.”
“What’s inside…”
“Yes, what’s inside.”
“Mine forever.”
“Forever.”
He moans against your neck. A broken, human sound. Lips trembling. Pressed gently in a line down your body, the fingers still thrusting in and out, tongue darting out to taste between the petals of your flesh, nose digging into your mound as he grinds his mouth against your clit, sucking. Your hand is now buried in his hair, your eyes watching the way the rising sun filters through the lace curtains, dappled light and shadows painting your torso, lighting threads of gold and chocolate in his hair, on the fine hairs that cover his forearms. A haze blooms around him, a shining halo, a precursor to the pink tinged eyelids, the exploring fingers now withdrawn, claws just peeking out, hinting at what lies beneath, his tongue replacing that vacancy, no longer the short one belonging to the man whose body he inhabits but something serpentine teasing inside, unfurling, squirming, reaching deep, fangs teasing the pink flesh outside, the reddened invader’s eyes asking, begging for permission.
You’re terrified, exhilarated, he’s never been there before, not when he’s like this, he’d been so careful to not let the beast out and you haven’t pushed him, it’s only been a week but it feels like so much longer and you want it, gasping an affirmation, fingers tightening in his tresses. The sensation of being so thoroughly tasted, explored, consumed as the intruder’s teeth sink, pierce, lost in that pad of fat above the start of your sex, his tongue buried inside while he sucks, drawing your bundle of nerves taut against the roof of his mouth drives you right over the precipice, the back of your skull digging into the pillows as you keen, whine, whimper, he drags every desperate sound of pleasure he can from you until you can no longer stand it, overly sensitive, overwhelmed, quaking as you see the rising face of Francis Mosses, no longer giving way to the monster inside.
His next kisses on your mouth are gentle, allowing you to recover, stroking your shoulder, carding through your hair.
“Where did you go,” you murmur, suddenly feeling languid, relaxed, your extremities tingling pleasantly in your post orgasmic state.
“You’re not afraid at all?”
“A little. But I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me.”
“It’s difficult to stop it.”
“So don’t,” you challenge.
“Oh, love, we’ve talked about this. I can’t…”
“Kiss me with that mouth. Your real one…”
“You want that?”
“I want you. I love you.”
“Sweetheart…” His tongue spears your mouth. Still human, still holding back.
You reach down, caressing his hardened cock. “What were you dreaming about? Tell me, I’ll chase them away. Won’t let anyone hurt you…”
“Hnggh…” He moans, his breath quickening. His body shifts, his erection nudging your entrance, your splayed legs tightening around him as he penetrates you, his mouth close to yours. “I was dreaming about the past. The day it happened, when I took Francis. He changed me when I went inside him. Weak body but strong mind. Faith. His feelings for you. I was terrified of being lost in that union. Sharing, merging…unmaking and rebuilding my identity. The way that feels, coming apart like that…”
You gasp and he settles his hips against yours, resting his weight there for a moment, buried inside of you. “He made me want to be him. I couldn’t resist. I’d never wanted anything so badly. Until I met you. The want I have for you, love. The sheer ache of it. I would do anything for you. Risk anything, give anything. You have become my entire world, my universe. The thought of losing you, because of a momentary slip of the reins, because of something I’ve done…I can’t bear it.”
You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. You’d asked him about Francis’ end so many times, halting after he’d stated it would be the end of your reason for he, the doppelgänger, to be with you. But that wasn’t true anymore, was it? Because you’d fallen in love with him. And you felt the same way. You’d risk anything, give anything to be with him. And now you know the truth of it. Why this doppelgänger was so different from the others. Different, because the human whose body he’d taken had irrevocably changed him. Altering his goals, his desires. Tempering the craving for annhilation. Seeking a more peaceful integration. A life with you. The milkman’s final gift.
“I know why you’re scared. I won’t try to push you. I just love you so, so much. I want you to know that.”
“Sweet girl,” he sighs. He’s blocking most of the sunlight now, his face looming above yours. “Just a little. I’ll try…”
You nod. “Let me feel you, love.”
His hips lift. Creeping out of you inch by inch. His eyes changing again. Jaw shifting, mouth evolving. A ripple across the surface of his stretched lips. Teeth parting. He’s entering you again, his cock mirroring the violation of the alien tongue now probing yours. Still gentle, cautious. Your flavor there. Closing your lips over this new shape and texture. Still muscular, smoother, thicker until it tapers at the end, coiling around yours.
Your body is on fire, your earlier release already forgotten as you roll your hips against his. A rough groan. The hand cupping the side of your waist tightens, thumb digging into your flesh. Every time his body collides with yours, the pressure against the bite he’s inflicting sends waves of pleasure through you, your swollen cunt throbbing around his prick.
You’re whining again, a needy, pitiful sound hummed around that foreign tongue invading your mouth, curling and stroking, sharp teeth dripping saliva down onto your lips, sliding over your chin and down your neck.
Then it is Francis’ mouth hovering over yours again, his soft brown eyes gazing into yours as he sheaths and withdraws over and over, a little crooked grin of triumph, pleased he’s done it, he’s maintained control.
“My bride to be, my future wife…” The words becoming temporarily incomprehensible, his face burrowing against your neck. “Forever…eternal…I am yours…” He’s looking into your eyes as he cums, filling you with hot spurts of seed, everything in that gaze begging, pleading, that this will be the time, the future he wants to conceive inside of you coming to fruition at last.
***
You’re watching Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger in the mirror.
Hair tidy, side parted, slicked into place. Dressed in a button front shirt and slacks. Freshly shaved. You love watching him get ready. The care and attention he gives the process. Wanting everything to be proper. Perfect.
“I believe I’m ready. What do you think?” He turns to face you.
“Very dapper. I’m sure everyone will be very envious when they see you leading me inside the theater.”
“I think it will be more the other way around. Beautiful,” he murmurs, admiring your dress, your lips and nails painted to match, a deep, dark shade of red. “And what is underneath this loveliness, I wonder?” His fingers tuck beneath the neckline of your dress, trying to sneak a peak at your lingerie.
“If you start that, we’re never going to make it out the door.”
“Would that really be so terrible?”
“After, Francis,” you reprimand gently. You’re not used to rejecting him. But you think it will be good for both of you to get outside, have a date together. You want him to enjoy every element of the human experience. So much of what he knows is based on war, on violence. Sometimes you yourself get so caught up in your work you forget what it is you’re struggling so hard to protect. Not just lives, but the quality of those lives. You want the best for those residents you guard.
You want the best for your fiancé, too.
***
You’re screened at the entrance of the theater.
It’s nowhere near the level of scrutiny you provide working for the DDD; the likelihood of doppels wanting to infiltrate an old movie house was very unlikely. The bored looking attendant barely glances at your ID’s before waving you through.
“That man is terrible at his job,” your beau murmurs as you enter the theater, heading towards a pair of seats near the back row. There aren’t many people present; perhaps lured by the nice weather outdoors. Enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon. “Maybe we should have started the invasion here.”
“Francis!” He’s not speaking loudly, but you look around hurriedly. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“I’m only teasing, love.” He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss against your temple. “No one’s listening, anyway. I’m sorry. It was in poor taste,” he apologizes, seeing your persistent scowl. “Forgive me?”
You tuck your dress beneath you before taking your seat. “I’m not cross with you, I’m just worried.” You didn’t want to draw any attention. As much as you like being out in public like this with the invader, you had to keep reminding yourself that you’re still at war. He’s still seen as the enemy, and no amount of declarations of affection for you would ever convince the DDD of his innocence. It was dangerous for both of you.
“Stop worrying. You’re meant to be having fun. Relax and enjoy this,” he whispers beside your ear. “No one knows. We’re okay.”
You try to comply, willing your furrowed brow to straighten. This had been your idea, after all. He was right. No one was paying any attention to you. Everyone present was seated in front of you, all facing the curtain shrouded film screen. Your doppel’s arm curls around your shoulders and you let yourself melt against him, the tension easing. Trying to recapture some of that feeling you have when you’re together at the farmhouse, away from the city, away from prying eyes. Your own little safe haven.
At last the heavy drapes shift aside, revealing the screen beneath. The sound of murmured conversation is extinguished, the only noise the occasional rattle of a straw in a cup, fingers digging into a box of candy or bag of popcorn. You have some chocolate in your purse. You withdraw it now, thumb dragging along the paper wrapper, trying to be quiet as the film begins.
The Warner Brothers logo appears. Then there is a map overlaid with the opening credits before the focus shifts to a rotating globe. You glance at your companion. His eyes are fixed on the screen. There was the invader’s original goal, so tantalizingly out of reach, that objective shifting to a very normal life with you, pretending to be human.
You squirm a little restlessly in your seat. The copycat’s thumb strokes your shoulder. “Easy, love. It’s okay.” His breath hot by your ear. “I love you.”
The words instantly soothe you. You manage to tear the foil and extract a piece of chocolate, already starting to melt. It was warm inside the theater. You offer it to your companion, watching his features as he takes the rectangular sweet between his teeth, breaking off a section and chewing, considering. “Good. Not as good as the jam. Not as good as you, but nothing is,” he whispers, mouth pressed close to your ear again. He accepts the remainder and his tongue darts out to taste your fingers, reminding you of the previous morning, when he’d invaded you with his real one, your pussy and your mouth teased with it, the familiar warm pulse between your legs asking for more.
You struggle to return your attention to the screen, absently slotting the next piece of candy into your own mouth.
It’s different watching the film again now that you’re older, in a serious relationship. The sheer ache of the tragedy of it all. The woman thinking her husband was dead, killed trying to escape a concentration camp. Falling in love with another man. Leaving abruptly to nurse her spouse back to health after learning he’d survived. The bitter conflict of the backdrop of the world war. Meeting again. Forced to choose between both men she loved. The nightclub owner insisting she leave, promising she’d regret it if she didn’t, a famous line of dialogue that was so often quoted.
It’s impossible not to see some parallels with your own romance. Choosing between Francis and the doppelgänger. A war that encompassed the world, this one not with other nations within that globe but alien invaders. What was the greater sin, betraying your heart or betraying the human race?
You’re quiet as you leave the theater, squinting against the dazzling sun outside. Francis’ doppel offers to drive your car and you let him, staring out the passenger window, watching the brick and mortar surrender to the trees and fields you’ve been missing already.
“This melancholy concerns me.”
You turn to find the milkman’s copy staring at you, eyes darting occasionally to check the road ahead. Empty, as it so often was.
“I’m sorry. I meant to ask if you enjoyed the film.”
“I enjoyed being with you. I always do.” He focuses once more on the path, steering around a deep dip in the ground. “That’s the hole the truck struggled with,” he murmurs. You’re so accustomed to it your body runs on autopilot, maneuvering around it without even thinking. “You’re worried about us being discovered.”
You chew on your bottom lip, silently cursing yourself. “I didn’t want to ruin the experience for you.”
“You didn’t, love.” One hand leaves the steering wheel to cup your cheek.
“I don’t want to get caught. It would kill me to lose you. Absolutely destroy me. I can’t, Francis. I can’t lose you twice.”
You’re jostled as the car abruptly leaves the road, pulling into one of the fields near your house. The doppel hurriedly shifts the gears into park, cutting the engine with a rough turn of the key. He turns to you, one arm resting on the back of the bench seating. “Listen to me. You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going to let anything happen to either of us.”
“You don’t know that, though. Sooner or later someone is bound to find out.”
“Leave the DDD.”
“Francis, we’ve talked about this.”
“Leave the DDD and move in with me. Here. At the farm. Or wherever you want. Just get away from all this.”
“Francis…”
“Be with me. Please, love.” His fingers curl around the side of your neck, his lips brushing yours. “I couldn’t do it. I could never give you up like Rick did with Ilsa in the movie. You’d be safer without me, but how could I ever want that, how…”
“I love you. I’d never leave you. Never.” You kiss him, your mouth rough against his. His tongue strokes yours and the heat you’d experienced in your core earlier returns. Your fingers break through the carefully coiffed stiff strands of hair, returning them to their natural, untidy form. His fingers work on the buttons of your dress, his mouth now laving at that exposed patch of skin below your throat.
You’re so close to home, but it’s impossible to wait just those few more minutes, exiting the car, allowing your body to be pressed down into the fragrant grass. He strokes up your thigh, nudging aside the fabric draped over you, a little hum of appreciation escaping when he feels the new satin that covers you.
You’ve never owned so many pairs of lingerie, so different from the standard fare you’d worn before. You like the feel of it clinging to those intimate places, like the reaction of the doppel every time he reveals them, like unwrapping a gift, fingers shifting each piece, palming your breasts, your sex. He makes love to you under that open blue sky, in that clear air that’s just starting to turn a little cooler as the afternoon bows to evening.
Back at the house, you’re assisted in preparing dinner, steak and baked potatoes and green beans while Perry Como croons in the background.
Till the end of time
Long as stars are in the blue
Long as there's a spring, a bird to sing
I'll go on loving you
“Move in with me,” the pretender says again, drying his hands on a dish towel, then slotting his hands on your waist after you’ve finished sliding the potatoes into the oven. “I want this every night.”
Till the end of time
Long as roses bloom in May
My love for you will grow deeper
With every passing day
“After you meet my parents. Then we’ll move in together. One more week.”
Till the wells run dry
And each mountain disappears
I'll be there for you, to care for you
Through laughter and through tears
The smell of the meat sizzling in the fry pan on the stove makes your stomach growl. You’re starving. Always so ravenous, now. Working up such an appetite.
“Dance with me after dinner.”
“Yes.”
So take my heart in sweet surrender
And tenderly say that I'm
The one you love and live for
Till the end of time
After dinner, in his arms as promised, he steers you in a neat circle.
“I had a wonderful weekend with you.”
“It’s not over yet.” He kisses your neck, his hands sliding over your abdomen. “I hope…”
“I know. We’ll keep trying, love.” You want to give him a child. That fear still there. Discovery. You were never as devout as Francis had been. Would it be blasphemous to pray? To ask for help, protection, mercy for a creature that was so reviled?
He switches off the record player and the final lamp in the living room. There is now nothing but moonlight to guide you.
He settles onto the couch. You sit beside him. The ticking of the grandfather clock is loud in the sudden stillness. Your mouths collide. A different kind of hunger afflicting you now.
“You’re still hiding from me,” you chide gently, sliding a hand over one thigh, moving to the front of the fly of his pants, where the bulge fits neatly into the curve of your palm and fingers.
“About that,” he murmurs. “Partly it’s for fear of losing control.”
“You won’t,” you reassure him, sucking at his bottom lip.
“Partly because I wanted to fill you with human seed. Our best chance to make a baby.”
“And the other part?” You prompt, sensing there is still something left unsaid.
“I’m not sure if you’d like it.”
“You mean find it appealing?”
“Yes,” he admits reluctantly.
“I love every part of you.” Your hand squeezes and he sucks in his breath sharply.
“You really do, don’t you?” This said with a kind of wonder and disbelief.
“Is it really so strange? You find me attractive, and I obviously don’t look like your kind.”
“You are beyond attractive. You are gorgeous. The softness of you. That texture. The flavor…” He kisses your jaw. “I can never get enough.”
“So you can relate to that feeling of being addicted.” You’ve slowly begun to unfasten his belt, now working on the button and zipper.
“I wonder how much of that isn’t a result of the bites.”
“I think that contributes to it.”
“I didn’t know they’d have that effect.”
“It’s all new. Uncharted territory, didn’t you call it?”
He hums in agreement, the sound changing to a moan when your fingers dip beneath his briefs. “I’m tempted.”
“Do it.”
“What if you don’t like it? It would ruin things…”
“No. I want it feel it. In my hand. In my mouth. Inside of me.” He shudders against you. “I love you, my doppelgänger.”
A growl. The leash slipping. He nips at your ear lobe. “Sweetheart, if that’s what you really want, I’ll give it to you. It’s all for you…”
Heat against your hand, not the customary warmth of that reproductive organ but something else, a scalding kind of sensation. The flesh morphing, rearranging beneath your fingertips. Growing slicker. Reminiscent of his true tongue, the structure thicker at the base, narrowing at the end. Root, tentacle, something else, no word for that pulsing member you hold in the near darkness.
He’s sweating with the effort of restraining himself, tasted every time your mouth touches his, salted kisses accompanied by your hand cautiously sliding along the length, exploring, forced to stretch your arm as you caress the alien’s cock, finding the head at last not so unlike the human one, ending in a kind of domed, mushroom shaped tip. Fat, thick, it would definitely stretch you. The thought of it makes you shiver, your body drooling arousal.
“Does it feel good? I don’t know if I’m doing it right…”
“It is…” He says a word you don’t recognize, something in his native tongue. You can’t replicate it. “That’s why I didn’t tell you my name. You could never say it. Even what I just uttered isn’t quite…fuck. Right there. Oh sweet girl, you’re always so perfect for me. Sit on it, sweetheart. Let me fuck you.”
Your heart is pounding as you stand long enough to pull your dress off overhead and remove your panties, climbing over the doppel’s thighs, that foreign prick tapping impatiently against your bare stomach. His hands clutch your buttocks as you raise yourself, guiding his dick into position. Your breath saws in and out roughly. Almost panicked. But so aroused. It’s too late to stop now. You’d asked for this. You asked for this and now…oh. Inside of you. A burning stretch, like having your maidenhood taken again for the first time. A whimper escapes you. Somewhere between pleasure and pain. Blurring from one to the other. Filling you. So warm inside. You can’t possibly fit all of it in there. A sob of frustration.
“My love,” he croons soothingly. “Our bodies weren’t meant to fit together, the anatomy, you can’t…”
“I want all of it,” you say stubbornly, disappointed. Feeling like you’ve failed him somehow.
“Look at how well you’ve done, sweet girl, letting me inside…” His hand strokes over your abdomen and you mirror his movements, feeling the bulge there. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I want to make you feel good.”
Your hands grasp his shoulders as you lift yourself up, supported by his hands, some supernatural strength from the invader providing assistance. Back down again. Up and down. A rhythm building. You’re getting used to it, slowly but surely. That tender ache within you starting to evolve into something else. A coil of pleasure knots your insides.
“Tell me your name. Even if I can’t say it…to hear it…” A foreign word. “No. From your tongue. That mouth…”
“Risky, love. Can’t…” The hands holding you are shaking. “Even this is…”
“What…what is it? Tell me.” You’re properly riding his cock now, grinding yourself down as far as you’re able.
“It’s dangerous. The desire to be let out…tear free…love, it’s…I can’t stop it…”
The coil inside of you snaps, your orgasm ripping through you. There is something else, something searing hot spilling into you, the stream of it running out as he lifts your body clear of his, then cradles you against him.
“You didn’t warn me,” you chide softly when you’ve recovered, your fingers gliding curiously across the trail of slick cum streaking your thighs. “There’s so much of it.”
“Wanted it to be a surprise.”
You slap his arm playfully, then rest your forehead against his. “I told you you’d be okay.”
“Are you sore?”
“A little. It’s okay.”
“I don’t like hurting you.”
“I wanted it. I don’t regret it. I’d like to do it again sometime.”
“My love, what am I going to do with you?” He says in mock exasperation.
“Hopefully marry me.”
“Oh, that’s definitely happening. Speaking of which. We need to plan that out. The details of where and when.” He makes a little disgruntled sound. “Can we go take a bath? This is getting rather…unpleasant.”
You can’t disagree, the feeling of being so damp and sticky, the decreasing temperature and congealing nature of the ejaculate getting more and more uncomfortable to be lingering in. “Yes. Let’s go upstairs. We can plan things out while we wash up. Then it’s bed time. We both have work in the morning.”
“I love you,” he says softly. “I’m so grateful you love me. The real me. I like being called your doppelgänger,” he adds, stealing a quick kiss before you scoot off his lap, allowing him to stand. You manage to find your discarded clothing.
“Well, it’s the truth. You are mine.”
He hastily buttons the front of his pants to keep them from sliding down as he rises, reaching out to take your hand, leading you to the foot of the staircase.
“Do you have a last name?”
The doppel chuckles. “Get upstairs, you.”
“I think I’m entitled to know, seeing as how I’m going to be your wife.”
“I’ll tell you my real name. Soon.”
Another kiss in the dark, the promise of a shared secret.
#francis mosses#thats not my neighbor#francis mosses x reader#francis mosses x you#milkman#milkman x reader#milkman x you#the milkman#doppelganger#that’s not my neighbor
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i keep having tech issues where the solution seems to be to like wait and stare at it and poke at it a little and be annoyed and then it spontaneously resolves itself
#my laptop was only booting into BIOS mode or w/e and giving me a 'no bootable devices' error#i eliminated all possible causes besides a hardware issue but didnt have a small enough screwdriver to open up the back#waited about a week and would repeatedly try to restart it to see if anything changes#(it didnt)#finally borrowed a small enough screwdriver and opened it up only to remember i have no fucking idea what i was doing#poked at the interior parts a little but did nothing that would change anything#booted up the computer again expecting it to go into BIOS as it had been up to 15 minutes prior (so i could get the right errors to search)#my laptop boots up normally with zero issue whatsoever
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PART 5. THE INHERENT EROTICISM OF BUTTONING SOMEONE’S CLOTHES
SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.
PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader
WORD COUNT. 3.0k
GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut
WARNINGS. sexual tension !! and umm sexual frustration ;p, not explicit but prob rated 16+, just read the title of this chapter BAHAHA
A/N. sorry this is coming a little later than planned ! :( but i hope the dressing room scene can make up for it u.u tysm for reading and for all the feedback! enjoy :3 xx sof
SERIES MASTERLIST
© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.
What were you supposed to wear to a shopping date? you asked yourself. Not that today was a date or anything. Though maybe you sort of wished it were…
The Naruhata Charity Gala was in a little over a week and Shouto would be coming over to pick you up in less than one hour and you still sat in your room with nothing but a towel on feeling more and more hopeless.
It was a strange dilemma. He met you in your work apron wearing an unflattering work shirt and work pants. And when you met up over the weekend previously, you never paid too much mind on what you would wear. In fact, you were positive he wouldn’t even care how you looked. So why was it such a big deal to you now?
Probably because of your recent admission of your growing feelings towards him, you thought crossly.
In your defense, it wasn’t like it was your fault! Right? Seeing someone everyday… Wanting to see someone everyday… Texting regularly about the most random things, having the most banal objects you saw throughout the day remind you of something Shouto did or said… With all those occurrences it would’ve been practically impossible to not start crushing on him!
Time passed as you stared at your ceiling blankly. If you kept this up, he was bound to show up in your house and find you half-naked. (Now that you mentioned it, that didn’t sound like the worst idea. But it wasn’t something you’d randomly spring upon someone.)
“Get up, Y/N!” you scolded yourself, rolling off your bed and heading towards your closet.
In the end, you ended up settling for another variation of your usual go-to outfit and called it a day. It happened to be perfect timing since, by the time you finished getting ready, you got a new message on your phone.
Shouto: Parked in front of your place
Shouto: Sorry I’m a little early. You can take your time getting ready :)
Y/N: it’s okay i’m ready now!!
After hitting send, you put your shoes on, gathering your belongings you wanted to bring with you, and headed out the door. Excited to hang out with Shouto again, you walked with a skip in your step down the path until you reached his car.
“Hi!” You waved through his half-opened, tinted window. To no one’s surprise, his car was a sleek black color with dark, tinted windows, and gold details along the sides. If it didn’t look so oddly sexy you would’ve laughed at how cutely dorky he was for matching his car with his credit card. “This is one hot car.”
He turned his head to the side when you entered the passenger’s seat. “Should I turn the AC higher?”
“Huh— Oh!” You stifled a giggle when you processed the pun he made. “You’re funny, Shouto.”
He only looked a little confused. “Thank you.”
The interior of his car was no less—for lack of better term—sexy than the outside. Leather seats, a large screen for the radio and carplay, and the dashboard and side doors lit up a nice blue color.
“Pretty!” you complimented, poking at the colorful light.
“Want to pick a color?”
Your eyes widened. “It can change colors?!”
Shouto nodded.
“Can it be pink?” you asked intently.
“Light pink or hot pink?”
“Light.”
He swiftly obliged and with a hit of a touchscreen button, the interior lighting changed from blue to pastel pink.
“Green!”
It turned green.
“Orange!”
Cue the orange.
“Purple?”
Purple.
Once you were thoroughly satisfied with Shouto showing you the whole color selection (you were almost embarrassed to admit it kept you entertained for a good ten minutes), you settled on a bright turquoise that reminded you of the color of his left eye.
“Ooh, this color! My favorite,” you said simply, giving him a wide smile.
A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he developed a sudden interest in adjusting his rearview mirror. “Hm.”
Shouto drove the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, occasionally asking how your week was outside of work and what type of outfit you wanted to wear so he could have a better idea on where to take you.
“Did you eat?” he suddenly asked when he hit the next stoplight, one hand holding the wheel and the other resting comfortably on the gear shift.
His hands looked nice and slender and soft to the touch. Pretty hands, you thought but shook yourself out of it because you could go down a rabbit hole of examining his hands and going into detail about them.
You remembered the single, measly granola bar you had due to your rush getting ready. “I didn’t really eat yet, no. Did you?”
He shook his head and pulled into a food plaza with lots of stores to choose from. The two of you agreed on a noodle restaurant that apparently had some of the best cold soba (once you learned it was his favorite food, you wanted to be able to have some with him and today was the perfect opportunity to do just that) and promptly headed to the location.
In the shop, a waiter sat the two of you down at a dimly lit booth with the perfect amount of ambience that if someone were to casually look over, they might even mistake this outing as a date.
You grinned at the thought.
“Excited for the soba?” asked Shouto, examining the smile on your face thoughtfully.
That’s not why you were smiling, but it was close enough. “Mhm. And the udon. You can never go wrong with noodles!”
Yes, you got both udon and soba. But in your defense, where else would the fun in life be if not in sugary sweets and carbs?
As the two of you waited for your main dishes, you ate some fish cakes and edamame while talking about the ways in which capitalism could be dismantled. Rather sexy of him, if you did say so yourself.
Before you knew it, you were done with your meal and headed back into his car to go fancy-people shopping. On the remainder of the ride, you asked yourself what color you should pick that would match well with both you and Shouto. After all, nothing said a cute couple who totally liked each other going on a totally real date to a gala like color-coordinated outfits, right?
He parked in front of a street of buildings with a dark glass reaching from ceiling to floor with security guards at the door. Just standing near it made you feel fancy.
“This is a place my sister told me she liked,” he said, leading you to the store front with his hand on the small of your back to guide you. “I hope you’ll find something to your liking.”
You tried your best not to pay too much attention to the warmth you felt both on your back and your stomach from the fuzzy feelings that spread.
“Hello, welcome!” the both of you were greeted as you walked through the doors. The interior of the store was lined with designer dresses, some long, some short, and all incredibly stunning. There were only a few other patrons in the store, but all of them looked so elegant as they tried on their dresses. “It’s so lovely to see you again Mr. Todoroki.”
Shouto nodded subtly. “Hello. This is Y/N, my date to the gala who’ll need your assistance today.”
“Hi!” you chimed in at his cue. “Nice to meet you.”
The worker smiled and made her way over to you. “And you as well. I’m Masuda and I’ll do my best to make sure you leave the store satisfied with your purchase! Did you have a particular style or perhaps color in mind?”
“Umm,” you said sheepishly, looking around the wide variety of clothings and unsure where to start. “I’m not too sure. It’s my first time going to one of these things so maybe something comfortable, but also still...fancy?” You scratched the back of your neck. “Does that even exist?”
“Of course— Just have to find something that feels comfortable to you.” She told you to hold on one moment as she disappear into the rows of fabric.
As Masuda collected some starter dresses for you to try on, a customer walked by with bags of clothes in her hands, her gaze lingering on Shouto, though neither of you paid her much mind.
“In this setting, you look almost fit to be a sugar daddy,” you said jokingly, looking around in awe at the sophisticated yet lavish dresses. “You take all your sugar babies here?”
“Only the ones I really like,” he teased back. His voice was deadpan but there was the telltale hints of a smirk on his face to let you know he was only messing with you.
The door chimed to signal that a customer left and by then Masuda had returned with bundles of fabric draped on her arm. She led you away in a hurry and you hesitantly looked back at Shouto who followed in a safe distance. Seeing your moment of panic, he gave you an encouraging smile that somehow was enough to ease a significant fraction of your nerves. This may be new and confusing territory, but at least he was here to help you through it.
Masuda set a dressing room up for you—it was one of those rooms in the middle of the store with curtains that reached the ceiling and mirrors all around—and placed a bunch of outfits she thought would suit your taste. It reminded you of when a bride would go wedding dress shopping with their family. When you had enough outfits for the first round, she told Shouto to sit down on a leather seat in front of your dressing room while he waited for you to try the different dresses on.
In a way, it felt oddly intimate: Shouto sitting just a few feet in front of you as you undressed, only separated by the veil of a curtain. Would he offer to help button the back of your dress up, fingers brushing against your bare skin? The thought made you feel almost hot inside as you changed out of your street clothes and into the first dress.
Unfortunately for you, this dress had no such difficult buttons to reach.
“How’s it look?” you asked shyly as you emerged from the dressing room.
The dress was pretty and didn’t feel uncomfortable to walk in, but there wasn’t any sort of attachment you felt towards it. In other words, it was simply...meh.
Shouto looked up from his phone to take in the sight of you. He smiled. “You look amazing as always.”
“You think so?” You spun around and curtseyed jokingly and he chuckled. “I don’t think it’s bad, but I’m not sure if it’s the right one.”
“We’ll be here until you find the right one you want, then. Take your time, Y/N.”
His voice was normally on the deeper side, but it sounded even more sensual and gravelly at this very moment. You felt goosebumps on your arms and it wasn’t just because of the sleeveless dress you currently had on.
“T-Thanks, Shouto,” you murmured, turning around and walking back into the changing room to hide the look on your face. You didn’t even know what kind of look you had on your face, but you knew it was one that might give too much away.
It wasn’t fair that he had to be so sweet and caring and thoughtful and handsome and rich… Most guys you met barely fit into one of those criteria, let alone all five. (Sure, the last two weren’t necessary in your opinion, but you couldn’t deny they were a nice bonus.) It was too bad you had no clue how he felt about you.
There were moments where he felt flirty and teasing, like maybe he viewed you in a more-than-friends way. But other times he was so polite and proper and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just being nice because that’s simply the sort of person he was to everyone.
While you were trying to sort through all your thoughts, you completely forgot to change into a new dress the whole time you were in here.
You saw a shadow at the floor of the curtain before a voice said, “Y/N? Are you okay in there?”
Jumping at the sound, you scurried to put the next dress on, a blue one with almost translucent fabric and a delicate neckline. Judging from the proximity of Shouto’s voice and the shadow of his shoes, he was right next to you as you changed.
“I’m okay!” you managed, hoping you didn’t sound as wobbly as you felt. You held the dress closed at the back, fumbling with the fastens. “I just, ah, needed help buttoning this one up.”
A light ruffle on the curtain then a pause. “Should I...come in and help?”
Your eyes widened, not expecting him to actually offer to button it up like you fantasized earlier. You fully thought he might called the worker to aide you just so he wouldn’t risk making you uncomfortable. (Not that he would’ve. At all.)
“I apologize,” he said somewhat tensely after you didn’t respond. “That was indecent of me—”
“No, no!” you said profusely, poking your head out of the curtain while holding the fabric at the front of your dress to your chest. You tilted your chin to meet his gaze with a determined one of your own. “I’d love your help, Shouto.”
With a dusting of pink coloring his cheeks, he nodded and entered your dressing room. “This dress is a nice color on you.” His voice was loud against the silence.
Shouto ran his hand down the length of your spine and then up to unfold the column of buttons on your dress that curved inwards at your movement, his knuckles grazing against your skin like lightning striking water. You jolted at the sudden feeling but he didn’t remove his touch when he felt it.
“Sorry.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. “Was just getting the buttons out.”
“N-No worries!”
His fingers began working on the bottom-most button at your lower back as he applied a steady pressure on the base of your spine to control the motion. Shouto slowly began his way up, fingertips cold to the touch. But you knew that wasn’t the only reason you felt yourself shiver. As he fastened the dainty buttons with immense concentration (much more concentration than was actually needed to fasten buttons, you were sure), you felt the heat of his breath tickling the back of your neck. You almost couldn’t keep yourself from arching your back in a mixture of anticipation and delight at his constant touch.
When he finished the last button, Shouto let one hand rest on your hip, grasping the fabric between his fingertips to examine its silken texture. Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped back and bumped into his chest, but he was already there to steady you.
With his arm on your waist and your back leaning against his chest, you made eye contact through the mirror in front of you. You weren’t sure if the pounding you felt was from your heart or his or a combination of both.
There was something almost erotic about holding each others’ gaze in the mirror after Shouto just helped you dress, the two of you still not letting the other go despite the task being complete.
“The dress… You look gorgeous,” he said, not taking his eyes off you for one moment.
You nodded slowly. It did look amazing on you. And it was breathable and soft. (Plus, Shouto liked it, which made you happier than you’d care to admit.) “The only downside would be I need help getting into it.”
“We could get ready together so it’s no issue.”
“I’d...also need help getting out of it.”
You held your breath as his eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly in a way that made you curve your back before you remembered you were flush against Shouto and he could feel even the most subtle of movements coming from your body. But by the time you stopped yourself, it was too late. He already felt it and you wanted more.
His voice was hoarse. “I could help you with that too.”
Instead of beginning to unbutton the dress like part of you thought he would, he surprised you by spinning you around to face him, your shoulder blades pressed against the cool glass of the mirror and your palms lingering on the muscles of his warm chest. The contrast of the cold glass and Shouto’s body heat left a shiver down your spine.
“And how do you plan to help take off my dress when you can’t even see the buttons?” you said challengingly, a smirk on your face despite knowing full well your body was showcasing just how affected you were by this situation. By Shouto.
He tilted his head to the side in response to your daring tone, hands swiftly finding their way to your back and unbuttoning the top five buttons. It wasn’t enough to completely expose your breasts, but it was enough to loosen the fabric at the neckline in a way that made you gasp.
“Seems doable to me,” he commented.
You tugged him down slightly by the collar of his shirt. “I don’t quite believe you. Maybe you should prove it.”
A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he cupped your jaw and leaned in closer. You inched forward, eager to meet his lips. But before they could touch, a knock came from the wall next to the curtain, causing the two of you to freeze in your spots, bodies pressed against each other in an intimate flush.
“Hello, Y/N?” said Masuda cheerfully, blissfully ignorant about what was about to happen in a public dressing room in the middle of the store. “How are the dresses coming along? Did you like any?”
“Ah, actually…” you trailed off, exchanging frustrated but amused glances with Shouto. “I think we’ll take this one.”
a/n: so...mirror sex/sex in a dressing room as a bonus chapter? u.u why yes of course. i’m one step ahead; did u even have to ask? LMAO and hm i wonder if y/n’s fEeLiNGs~ are reciprocated skfkfkdg ALSO THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO KISSING BUT DIDN’T I CRY hopefully the wait will be worth it ;3
what to expect in the next part:
GALA TIMEEEE
yes y/n finally gets the fancy candy they so desired
we get to see shouto’s sexy penthouse
shouto says eat the rich >:c
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha#mha#bnha imagines#bnha fanfiction#mha imagines#mha fanfiction#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#todoroki shouto#todoroki shouto x reader#todoroki shoto x reader#todoroki x reader#shouto x reader#shoto x reader#todoroki shoto#bnha scenarios#mha scenarios#todoroki imagines#bnha todoroki#bnha fluff#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#shoto todoroki x reader#shoto todoroki
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For the First Time (What’s Past Is Past)
Pairing: Neighbor!Hoseok x f!reader
Summary: After your eight years relationship comes to a brutal end, you don’t really see yourself getting back into dating — ever, probably. And then, your new neighbor who has the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen needs to borrow a corkscrew, and you don’t realize it just yet, but your resolve doesn’t stand a chance.
Also available on Ao3.
Word count: 15.7k
Genre: Fluff, (light) angst, eventual smut
Warnings: heavily discussed/referenced cheating, cursing, soft and gentle smut, penetrative sex, some pining, alcohol consumption, reader is not great with feelings, hoseok is good with feelings, the boys make cameos
A/N: Woohoo, first work in this fandom! This is actually the longest one-shot I’ve ever written (by my standards it’s LONG). Enjoy!
He doesn’t beg you to stay. He doesn’t tell you that “it’s not what you think”, doesn’t tell you that “it didn’t mean anything”, doesn’t ask for your forgiveness, doesn’t tell you that the two of you can work it out, that you can get through this together.
Instead, he tells you that he loves her, and when your entire world shatters in front of you, there is nothing you can do. You are completely and utterly alone.
When you first meet Jung Hoseok, he’s coming out of his apartment right as you’re getting into yours. He looks a little startled at first, but then he smiles at you, and you just stare.
You’ve never been good at interacting with people, especially strangers, especially when you’re not expecting it. You have to prepare yourself for those things, and right now, you’re very much not.
“Oh,” you say, looking at him.
The thing is, you recognize him — sort of. You’ve seen him around the building, and you immediately noticed him. You think it would have been impossible not to, frankly. You have ever seen someone who shines as bright as he does.
There is no other word for it. Hoseok shines.
It’s everything about him, and nothing at the same time. It’s his bright smile, first and foremost, and the way his brown eyes sparkle. It doesn’t hurt that he looks the way he does, all tall and thin and muscular, carrying himself like a dancer, but it’s his smile that you can’t get out of your mind. You’ve barely seen it, he gave you a quick, polite one when you passed him by in the parking lot, and yet you’ve thought about it more than you should have.
You’re surprised to see him here, though. You’ve been here for a month now, and you had never met the person who lived right next to you. You certainly never even considered that it could be the man with the bright smile and kind eyes you saw around, though the laugh you got used to hearing through the walls certainly completes that picture beautifully.
His smile widens a little, and he has a silent chuckle at your reaction.
“Hi,” he says.
You nod. You forget to reply, or to smile back, and you only realize that after you’ve closed your door behind you and Hoseok is already in the elevator.
You decide, firmly, to push that encounter out of your mind and to forget it ever happened.
(You can’t.)
There’s a gentle knock on your door, and you go to open it, surprised and a little confused. Your friends don’t live in the area and aren’t the type to drop by unannounced, and you don’t know anyone in your building. You wish you could add ‘yet’ to that sentence, but you are quite terribly antisocial, so you doubt you’ll ever get there, unless someone actually wants to get to know you. Which is not going to happen.
Hoseok’s smile greets you, and you blink. You note that his cheeks are slightly flushed, that he’s wearing a nice shirt, and that his hair is a little ruffled. He looks good — very good.
“Hi!” he says, when you forget, once more, what your lines are supposed to be in such a situation.
“Hi,” you remember to reply, but you’re late and offbeat, so you actually interrupt what he’s trying to say next, and you know you would be furious at yourself if you cared.
It’s been a long time since you’ve last found the energy to do that though.
“Sorry,” he smiles again, “I— I was wondering if you had a corkscrew I could borrow?”
You look back at your kitchen, mentally making an inventory of what you own. You know for sure you’ve never bought a corkscrew, you wouldn’t have the use for it, but there is a distant memory of—
“Just a second,” you say, walking to your kitchen.
You rummage through your cupboard for a few moments, before emerging victorious, holding a corkscrew you’re pretty sure Hyejin bought you when you first moved after The Break-Up, telling you that you would need it. You hadn’t, but you didn’t like throwing things away, so you had kept it, even after you had changed apartments a second time.
“Ah, you’re a life savior!” Hoseok rejoices when you hand it to him. “I’ll give it back to you as soon as possible, okay?”
You want to say that he doesn’t have to. You don’t.
“Sure,” you say, lifting a corner of your lips in a poor attempt at a smile. “Enjoy yourself.”
He seems a bit taken aback by the comment, but then he nods, and something strange twists in your stomach because of how he looks at you. Fondly.
God. You must be terribly deprived of affection if that is all it takes.
“Thank you, I will! Have a nice evening!”
The “Thank you” you reply with sounds awkward to your ears, and you grimace as you close the door. You’re pretty sure you’ve handled that interaction terribly, and you half regret not telling him to put the corkscrew back into your mailbox when he returns it, to save you the embarrassment of going through something similar again.
But you also don’t regret it that much, and that’s something.
Hoseok catches you again a few days later. This time, he pokes his head out of his apartment as you’re turning the key into your lock. You’re not that surprised. If he can hear you half as well as you can hear him, it’s no wonder he hears you coming in.
“I have your corkscrew!”
The weirdness of that sentence, out of context, amuses you. You wait for him to reappear, and when he does, he gives you the corkscrew back with a strange reverence, like you did him a huge favor.
“Thanks,” you say. “Did it, uh, did it help? Was the— was what you drank good? Was it wine?”
That’s too many questions.
“Yeah— Yeah, it was good!” Hoseok lightens up, like he hasn’t even noticed that you can’t, for the life of you, have a normal conversation with someone. “We had some wine. I don’t have wine often, but I thought it was good. Not that I know much about it, though,” he laughs, and the sound is extremely nice. “You drink wine?”
You shake you head.
“No, the— the corkscrew’s a gift from a friend. I barely use it. You can keep it, actually.”
His eyes widen.
“You’re sure?”
You nod.
“I probably— I shouldn’t accept that. It’s yours. And it’s a gift.”
He looks genuinely worried, and you find it extremely endearing. He seems so worried about whatever rules are to be followed when it comes to accepting gifts from a neighbor you’ve met twice and— You think it’s sweet, is all.
“It’s fine, I don’t really drink. And when I do, it’s usually beer.”
And mojitos. You’re a big mojito fan. But he doesn’t need to know that.
“Well, if you’re sure…”
The corkscrew changes hands. Again.
“I’m Hoseok, by the way,” he says.
You don’t tell him that you know that. You do, because you’ve looked at the mailbox to see what your neighbor’s name was — when you moved in, mind you, not after finding out what he looked like — but you think that maybe that’s not the type of things people normally do.
Instead, you tell him your name, and Hoseok’s eyes seem to twinkle when he smiles at you.
You part awkwardly, the awkwardness mostly coming from you, as usual, and you think that’s the last you’ll see of your neighbor, outside of the occasional run-ins that you should be able to escape without having to talk to him. So that’s a relief.
(But it’s also just a tiny bit disappointing.)
You don’t drink, but Hyejin does. Especially wine, especially after a break-up, which you guess explains the corkscrew gift. When she arrives at your apartment, you’re first worried that she’s going to get offended you don’t have it anymore, but it quickly becomes clear that she doesn’t remember giving it to you. That doesn’t stop her from sending you out to get one from one of your neighbors. Usually she’d do it, because she knows how much you hate asking strangers for things, but she’s not herself tonight. The relationship was nearing the six months mark, something she had been really excited about, so you want to do what you can to help
That leaves you in an uncomfortable situation, though. You could ask another neighbor, but there’s the risk that they wouldn’t have a corkscrew — you’ve thought of that word way too much recently and it’s starting to lose its meaning in your mind — or that they wouldn’t want to give it to you, or that they’d slam the door in your face, or—
That’s irrational. You know that’s irrational and unlikely to happen. Still, knocking on Hoseok’s door is going to be awkward, but at least you’re pretty sure that he will be nice about it. So you do.
“Yeah— Oh, hey, (Y/N), what can I do for you?”
He does have a truly beautiful smile.
“Well, I have a friend over, and she actually drinks wine, and—”
Hoseok lets out a loud laugh that has you freezing like a deer in headlights first, then brings a careful smile to your lips.
“I’ll give it back,” you mumble sheepishly.
“It’s fine, it’s yours,” he chuckles, stepping back in his apartment, but leaving the door open behind him. You wonder if you should follow, then decide against it. Instead, you stand in the hallway, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. About as uncomfortable as can be.
You do take a peek inside, though. The rooms seem to be laid out pretty much the same as in your own apartment, with the kitchen on the left when you walk in, and you guess the bedroom door is the one you can see facing you, after the lounge. The interior design is simple, but stylish, and you notice movie posters on the walls. It’s nice and, though you barely know him, you can’t help but thinking that it’s a distinctively Hoseok place.
You haven’t really done anything to decorate, apart from bringing in your plants. It’s not your thing. At all. Maybe Hyejin will do something about it tonight. Wouldn’t be the first time she decorates your place while drunk. Last time, she’d ordered wallpaper. You’d forced her to come to help you put it on, and she had found it hilarious.
That was probably why she’d told you you were ‘better than therapy’.
“A-ha!” Hoseok exclaims before quickly returning to you. “There you go,” he says. “Is the wine your friend brought any good?”
You honestly have no idea. You don’t know the first thing about wine. Hyejin does, but you doubt that is something she feels very concerned with tonight.
Right as you’re thinking that, she opens your apartment door, calling out your name, way too loud, and seems satisfied when she sees you so close.
“Got one,” you tell her, waving the corkscrew. “Thanks, Hoseok, I’ll—”
“You look like you need a drink too,” Hyejin says bluntly, eyes set on him. “Wanna join?”
You look at him, surprised. You didn’t notice anything. You thought he looked fine. A little tired, maybe, and not quite as nicely dressed as he was that first night he had knocked on your door, but not any different from when you’d see him around. Hyejin is good with those things, though, so you suppose she’s probably right, but you don’t want Hoseok to feel pressured.
“You don’t have to—”
“You know what? I think I’ll take that invitation,” he says, and Hyejin nods in approval. “If it’s fine with the hostess,” he adds politely, giving you a wink.
As if. You already can’t deny Hyejin anything, so there’s no way you can deny him, especially when that wink has you weak in the knees.
“Sure,” you smile. “Let’s get you guys drunk.”
“That’s the spirit!” Hyejin shouts, raising a hand for high-five, which Hoseok gives her enthusiastically, a light-hearted laugh leaving his lips.
You shake your head, but you’re grinning.
As you expected, Hyejin passes out on your couch, drunk and sad and tired. Her and Hoseok had an amazing time, talking about their love life, while you sat on a stool by your kitchen island, sipping the same glass of wine for the entire evening. You don’t drink, you don’t even like alcohol that much, but you want to be supportive, and you’ve noticed it makes people feel better when you at least have a glass in your hands.
You listen to them, though. They have the same type of chaotic energy, and they get along immediately, in a way you could never dream of getting along with a stranger. Hyejin talks about her break up, and she’s as devastated as she always is. Hoseok nods along with just the right amount of intensity, at just the right times, and punctuates her talking with gasps. When it’s his turn to share, he talks about ‘people who don’t know what they want’, and his bitter tone worries you a little. You guess things didn’t go that well with whoever he was sharing that bottle of wine with. It comes as a surprise, because you certainly heard that it was going fine, that night.
After Hyejin falls asleep, Hoseok looks around your room, and, as soon as his eyes lock with yours, he walks over to you. He’s a little tipsy, and there’s a red tint to his cheeks. He sits across from you, then leans on the island and rest his chin on his hands.
“So, what about you? Any terrible break-up you want to talk about?”
The question almost makes you jump, but you manage to keep your composure. Still, you can feel a cold hand wrapping around your heart and squeezing it. You hate that you’re still so affected by any mention of it. You should be over it by now. You certainly don’t have any feelings left for Minsu, so you don’t understand why this is still so hard.
At the same time, it feels kind of refreshing to hear him asking that without sugar-coating it. You friends have been walking on eggshells around you ever since The Break-Up, and none of them know exactly what happened. They just know that Minsu has a new girlfriend now.
“It’s been almost a year,” you tell him, keeping your voice light. “I’m okay. You two look like you need to talk a lot more than I do.”
“That depends,” he says, frowning, though you’re not sure if it’s because of what you said or because he has a hard time focusing with all the alcohol running in his blood. “I wasn’t serious. Were you serious?”
Ah.
“Yeah.” You shrug. “I was.”
You don’t date someone for eight years unless it’s serious. Sure, it started when the two of you were in high school, and a lot of people probably didn’t think you would make it that far, but you felt— you felt comfortable with Minsu. You felt good around him. You liked talking about your work with him, liked hearing him rant about video games, liked how you goofed around when you did the dishes. You hadn’t seen anything coming.
A third of your life. When he’d broken up with you, you had spent a third of your life with him.
“Then you probably should be drinking some more,” Hoseok says decidedly, grabbing the bottle of wine to refill your glass. You remove it just in time, and he stops in time not to spill anything Looks like his reflexes aren’t too bad, even after drinking. He pouts at you, and it’s, actually, adorable.
“What about you?” you ask, trying to change the subject, trying to push aside memories you want nothing to do with anymore. “Things didn’t work out with the girl you had over the other day?”
His face falls, and you feel bad, but at least you’re not talking about yourself anymore.
“I thought it was going good. I mean we— You probably heard it, right? I can hear you walk around at night. At ungodly hours, by the way. Your rhythm of sleep must be fucked.”
You laugh.
“I did hear you,” you admit, unable to stop yourself from grinning. “So I thought it was going good too.”
“Well, she ghosted me,” Hoseok sighs dramatically. “I couldn’t even get a nice ‘it’s not me it’s you’!” He tilts his head. “Wait. No.”
“You’re drunk, Hoseok,” you say affectionately. “You should get back to your apartment.”
“I’m not drunk,” he protests. “Hyejin’s drunk. I’m doing great. Could a drunk person do that?”
The second the words leave his mouth, you get ready to stop him. Every single time you’ve heard those, disaster followed. You’ve seen drunk men fall into bushes of nettles with their pants down, watched several girls faceplant, and, once, witnessed someone breaking a wrist. He’d been lucky, though, because his bike had never been the same after that.
You get out of your stool, worried both for Hoseok and for your apartment, and then he breaks into some elaborate dance moves. You can only stare in disbelief. You couldn’t do that at your most sober. You can’t take your eyes away from the graceful, efficient way his body moves, like he has absolute control over every single one of his muscles. When he shoots you a satisfied smile at the end, there’s only one thing you can think to answer.
“Wow.”
“Exactly.” He makes finger guns at you with his right hand, clicks his tongue, and winks. In doing so, he somehow upsets his balance, which was perfect only seconds ago, and has to catch himself on your table, but he doesn’t fall. That is, possibly, even more impressive. “So I’m not drunk,” he says, shaking his head to push some hair out of his eyes and leaning against your table like he’d planned for it all to happen exactly that way.
You look at him, and an unexpected softness blooms in your chest. Hoseok’s hot, you knew that already, but that’s not what you marvel at right now. No, you’re impressed by how endearing he is. How lovable.
All thoughts of Minsu are long gone. If you noticed it, you would probably hate the impact any mention of the break-up has on you, even though Minsu is such a small part of what you think about.
You would also realize how easily Hoseok takes your mind off it.
“You’ve convinced me,” you nod, hoping he’s too drunk to pick up on the sarcasm. “But I’m sure you’re tired.”
He tilts his head, considering it.
“This time, I think you have a point.”
He’s so serious that you have to laugh, and that makes him smile. It’s not one of those wide, bright smiles that you’ve gotten used to. It’s much more subdued, lifts only a corner of his lips, and yet it feels… intimate. It’s not performative. It’s just for himself, and it takes your breath away.
“I’ll get going,” he tells you softly. “Thank you for tonight. Your friend was fun and it was nice of you to let us bother you.”
“You didn’t bother me,” you answer honestly.
Hoseok smiles and looks down at his feet, and you wonder if he believes you. It’s true, though. You like listening to people talk. You don’t mind that you weren’t included. Him and Hyejin needed to vent, and you were happy to be there for it.
“If you ever want to talk to someone about that again, I’ll be here,” you find yourself saying, hoping it doesn’t come off as strange. “And Hyejin won’t mind either, if she’s around. I think she liked you.”
Hoseok laughs, and you feel relieved. You’ve noticed it before, but he does have a nice laugh, and you’ve gotten used to it since you’ve moved in. It would suck if you couldn’t hear it anymore.
You walk him out, then wait for him in his embrasure until he gets to his door. He sends you a mocking glance while turning his key into the lock.
“I’m not going to collapse in the five meters that separate our apartments, you know.”
“I don’t. What if you fall asleep between our doors and you spend the night there?”
He laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and you nod. Yup. He’s definitely drunk, and you’re definitely making the right choice by waiting for him to be back in safely.
“Say goodbye to Hyejin for me!”
“Don’t forget to lock the door behind you!”
Another laugh, but no reply. You smile, then close and make sure you lock your door behind you.
Inside, you cover Hyejin with a blanket, clean up around your apartment a little and then, after brushing your teeth, let yourself fall into bed. You’re exhausted, and you know you’re probably going to regret that one glass of wine in the morning — you can’t do alcohol.
It was a strange night, all in all. Fun, by your admittedly low standards, but strange. You don’t know where you stand with your neighbor now. You like things to be clear-cut, otherwise you risk getting lost in the awkwardness of the in-betweens, and they’re definitely not — are you friends? Are you neighbors? Were you too cold? Too friendly? Does he think you’re weird?
“G’night, (Y/N),” a sleepy voice says from the other side of the wall, and you smile. He’s drunk, and you’re sure that’s why he says that, but it’s still nice.
“Goodnight, Hoseok.”
Maybe, for once, the in-between you’re standing in is not that bad.
Hoseok has another date. You know, because he asks for the corkscrew back. He looks as excited as the last time when you open your door, and you can’t help but compare him to a puppy. You note, again, the nice white shirt, which does marvels for his arms and shoulders, with the top buttons open, revealing some skin. Hoseok looks— he looks good. You knew that, of course, and yet it still hits you.
You find yourself a little jealous of the girl who’s in his apartment. Not just for that, but because, from what you’ve seen of him so far, he’s a pleasant guy to be around. He’s nice, energetic, funny, he has a great laugh. There’s simply nothing not to like.
For the first time since— For the first time, you think that maybe you should date again. Not him necessarily, he’s probably way out of your league, but someone. Surely, you could find someone. You don’t think you’d look as happy as Hoseok does now, but maybe you could have some fun.
You give him the corkscrew, wish him good luck.
“You don’t need luck when you look like that,” he says, putting a hand under his chin and winking, and it makes you laugh. “Thanks,” he adds. “I’ll invest in one of those so I don’t have to keep annoying you, by the way. I promise!”
That night, you spend a lot of time with your headphones on, and you end up sleeping on your couch, in a weird attempt to give him some privacy.
(You hope he doesn’t keep his promise.)
You’re surprised to see Hoseok at your door the next time. Not because of the promise, though you remember it — you doubt that he does. You’ve learnt through time that people often forget things they don’t find important. You never do, and you wonder if it’s because your brain has trouble separating what matters and what doesn’t.
No, you’re surprised because it’s too early for him to have a date, and because he already has your corkscrew.
“Hey,” he says, and the smile he gives you is a little droopy and tired, “does your invitation still stands?”
Your eyes widen and you nod, pushing yourself out of the way so he can come in.
“Of course, but I don’t have alcohol. Do you want me to call Hyejin?”
He laughs, and you wonder if that was a weird thing to say.
“If she’s available, absolutely. I don’t know how I made it without a Hyejin in my life until now.”
That makes you chuckle, and you whole-heartedly agree. Hyejin’s indispensable.
Unfortunately, it turns out she can’t make it that night, but she sounds excited by the idea. She asks you to tell Hoseok you’ll invite him next time she’s around, so you do, and he’s as happy about it as she is. The two of them make an obvious pair, and you’re sure they’d grow to be good friends if they spent more time together.
After that, Hoseok gets a pack of beer from his apartment, and you grab one, which you keep in your hand while he downs several others. He talks about things that are happening around him. His job as an accountant — “Can you tell me why I thought that was a good idea?” —, the dance lessons he takes on the side — “otherwise I’d go crazy“ —, his friends — “Idiots! All of them! They’re lucky I love them so much!” —, and also, your taste in music, which he’s very aware of given the complete lack of soundproofing between your apartments — “Listen, sad ballads are well and good, but have you considered listening to something happy?”.
At this point, he gets on his feet and starts to dance, and just like the last time, you think he’s amazing at this.
“C’mon!” he says, dancing his way to you and grabbing your hands. “You have to join me!”
You try to protest, but you know you’re not going to be able to resist him. When he makes you spin, you let out a loud laugh, and you try not to think too much about the way his hand naturally falls to your hip to help you keep your balance. You’re sure he hasn’t noticed, that it’s normal behavior for him, and you don’t want to look too affected. Your cheeks likely betray you, but Hoseok doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he lets you go after rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, once.
“You need to enjoy yourself sometimes!” he says, almost threateningly. “If you don’t, I’ll come over and make you!”
You wish he would.
“So,” you say after he’s fallen back into silence, staring at his beer bottle with a little too much intensity, “things didn’t work out with the girl you had over last time?”
Hoseok sighs.
“No,” he mumbles. “She said I was moving too fast for her.”
“Were you?”
He looks taken off-guard by your question.
“I don’t think I was,” he replies after giving it a second of thought. “I didn’t pressure her or anything. I think she didn’t want a relationship, and she didn’t want to tell me that.”
“That sucks,” you say, shaking your head. Hoseok seems pretty calm about it, if a little dejected, but you feel annoyed just thinking of that girl that you’ve never met. “She put the blame on you instead of being honest.”
“Better now than later, though,” he says, sounding deep in thought. “I’m disappointed, but I’m not hurt. If she realized after the date that we weren’t a good fit, she did the right thing.”
For a fleeting second, you wonder when Minsu knew, how long he’d had doubts, what he could have done differently to hurt you less, but the thought quickly vanishes. You still think the girl should have been truthful about it. You’re about to say so when Hoseok lets out a little laugh.
You’ve come to realize that there is a lot of depth to both his smiles and his laughs. They don’t always mean that he’s happy. He does them even when he’s sad. You’re not sure why, but if you were to guess, you’d say he doesn’t like giving in to the sadness, and the smiles and laughs are ways of fighting it off.
“The thing is— I get it. I know I can be… a little too much,” he says sheepishly, and you can tell that the words are painful to say, even if he’s acting nonchalant. He might have heard them one too many times.
Hearing that makes you feel bad. It makes something deep inside you ache. Maybe because the corners of his lips are falling, or maybe because, for the first time since he’s walked into your apartment, he looks like he’s about to cry. Maybe it’s because of how unjustified it seems to you. You love Hoseok’s energy, his enthusiasm, but you’re not sure how to tell him that.
So, instead of trying to come up with something, you reach over the table and grab his hand gingerly. The gesture is not the most smooth, because you’re pretty bad at physical demonstrations, but Hoseok immediately squeezes your fingers in his.
“That’s fine,” you tell him, doing your best to smile at him. “I can be… a little not enough.”
“You?” he protests immediately, shaking his head, “No way! I refuse to believe anyone’s ever told you that!”
His offended tone makes you chuckle, but you don’t miss how relieved he seems by the distraction, and you don’t blame him.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you tell him conspiratorially, “but I can be a little awkward, and I’m not the best at making conversation.”
At that, he bursts out laughing, but when he stops, the look he gives you is so soft that you feel yourself melt under his gaze.
“But you’re the best listener,” he says, and his tone is gentle and fond and you don’t know what to to do with yourself. You feel rooted to your spot, unable — and unwilling — to escape. You have the feeling your hand is burning up in his. You’re sure you’re blushing. There’s no way you’re not blushing right now.
“I don’t think you’re too much,” you blurt out. “I think you’re just the right amount.”
You really, really wish you were even just a little better at speaking to people.
Hoseok’s eyes widen at your statement, and then he smiles at you. It’s a genuinely happy smile that you couldn’t have imagined on his lips a moment ago.
“Thank you,” he says.
He doesn’t add anything. He doesn’t have to.
After that night, after you made sure once more that Hoseok got back to his apartment safely, even if he was far less intoxicated than the last time, and after he wished you goodnight from his room again, Hoseok and you start making small talk when you see each other. It doesn’t seem like much, but it’s a huge victory for you. Before that, you’d stayed years without exchanging more than a nod with your neighbors.
There are a couple more times at your place. Him and Hyejin meet again and, like you’d predicted, get along perfectly. Sometimes, your stomach twists a little when he puts his hand on her knee, or when she wraps an arm around his shoulders for a brief hug, but you try not to think too much about it. You don’t want to think about it, even if deep down, you know what is happening.
You’ve been through it before, after all, and it didn’t end well for you.
You blink when the lights turn back on, trying to adjust to the light. Next to you, Hyejin stretches.
“Well, that was something,” she says.
You feel too awestruck to reply just now, so you nod.
“Hoseok really is that amazing, isn’t he?”
“He is,” you say, and you let out a soft chuckle. You remember him dancing in your kitchen, completely wasted, and you remember how impressed you’d been then. You hadn’t realized then how much better he would be when he was sober.
“We owe him one for inviting us,” Hyejin continues. She’s used to making the conversation for the two of you anyway. “Think he could introduce me to one of the other dancers?”
You laugh and, in an unusual demonstration of affection, link your arm with hers. It’s not like you, but you’re feeling great after watching the performance. Hyejin’s right, of course. It was really nice of Hoseok to give you tickets to his dance group’s show. He’d looked so nervous, and after seeing this, you absolutely cannot imagine why. He has to know how incredible he looks, right?
You and Hyejin wait around for a little while, until Hoseok comes out. You’re not the only ones here to see him and the other dancers, and though Hyejin would happily call out to him, you manage to make her wait until he approaches you. His smile is bright and blinding when he finds you, and you feel your heart flutter. Hoseok’s smile has the strangest effects on you.
“So,” he starts, rubbing his hands together, “what did you guys think? Did you like it?”
“You were incredible,” you say, and the way his eyes shine when he looks at you disarms you completely. For a second, the world fades out around you. The people, the noise, the voices — gone in an instant. It’s just the two of you, and the affection with which Hoseok looks at you has you frozen in your spot.
You’re familiar with the feeling, have tried your best to dismiss it in the recent months, but this time, you don’t shy away from it. You like how Hoseok makes you feel, and even if a part of you is whispering in your ears that you’re taking a risk in letting anyone make you feel like that again, you ignore it. You’re willing to take that risk, and that realization makes your head spin.
You can’t look away from Hoseok, and he isn’t looking away from you either.
Then Hyejin starts to talk about the show, and the spell is broken. You don’t mind the interruption, and in fact, when you hear her speaking, you quickly find yourself interested. Hyejin is good with visual arts, in a way you aren’t, and it’s fascinating to hear her commentaries. Hoseok seems sucked in, too, but there is a strangeness in the air, a feeling, between you and him. You feel it in the briefest of looks, the softest of touches, his hand brushing against yours, in a smile that’s much softer than the ones he usually gives. You’re aware you could very well be imagining it, but there is also a chance you aren’t.
(God, you hope you aren’t.)
You weren’t too happy when Hyejin told you about the party. Now that you’re here, you want nothing more than to run away. You’re seriously considering it when Hyejin grabs your arm, and you know that she knows you were about to bail on her. Usually, you’d feel bad, but not tonight.
Minsu is here.
With his new girlfriend.
The one he cheated on you with.
You knew it was only a matter of time, because you have the same group of friends, and because it’s not like anyone knows what he did to you — you’re not sure they would pick your side even if they did —, but you still aren’t looking forward to seeing him again. In fact, it could never happen, and you would find it to be too soon. It’s not like this is still a gaping wound. It’, You don’t think you will ever forget about it, about the feelings you experienced then, sure, but the love you felt for him is long gone. Now it’s more like a phantom limb that throbs every once in a while.
Part of you is somewhat afraid that seeing him will revive it, though, and you never want to go through that again.
But it’s been over a year now. You need to be over this, and you guess tonight might as well be the acid test for that.
You expect Hyejin to berate you, but the look in her eyes is one of pity, which you hate. When she leans to whisper in your ear, you think she’s going to say some encouraging words. Instead, she hits with something else entirely.
“Hoseok’s by the drinks.”
…What?
“I invited him, I thought it would be a good idea.”
Right.
“You should go keep him company!”
Then she quickly vanishes, but not before you can throw her a piercing glance. You know your friend. You can tell when she’s trying to set you up with someone.
She’s lucky you don’t mind, but you’re pretty sure she knows that. You don’t tend to be the best at hiding your feelings, no matter how hard you try, and you’ve been in the situation before when she knew you liked someone before you did.
You guess the set-up merely confirms something you had felt building up for a while now, all while avoiding the obvious conclusion.
You like Hoseok.
You find him quickly, making small talk with some of your friends, and some more people you don’t recognize. The group isn’t what it used to be. Over the years, some people left, others brought in friends of theirs, and while there are still a good portion of your high school friends — well, of people you went to high school with — you definitely don’t know all of them.
For a second, you wonder if you should interrupt. Hoseok’s a natural when it comes to all this social stuff, a real extrovert. He looks amazing, right now, in one of those shirts you’ve seen him wear on dates, his hair nicely done. Everyone he’s talking to looks absolutely charmed, and for the second time tonight, you consider running away.
Then Hoseok sees you, and his smile widens, and he waves you over. You give polite nods and introductions, finding out that you actually do know some of the people you originally didn’t recognize, and grab yourself a glass of wine to feel a little more included. Hoseok puts his hand on your shoulder at first, and then if falls to the small of your back. You find yourself relaxing a little, standing by his side. You don’t know what it is about him and his touch that you find so grounding. You’ve never disliked physical contact, even if you don’t tend to initiate it, but with him it’s— different. Everything is.
That doesn’t stop you from feeling relieved when the group moves on and you find yourself alone with him. Maintaining a conversation with a lot of people is exhausting.
“Is everything going okay?” you ask. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Well, it’s not a party until I walk in,” Hoseok grins cockily, tilting his head towards you. “Why, are you tired of seeing my face everywhere you go?”
“I don’t think that could ever happen,” you laugh, and there it is again, on Hoseok’s face, that look he gives you from time to time, for a reason you haven’t figured out yet. His eyes widen, and his lips curl into that smile that’s not as bright as the one he usually gives, but just as sincere. It makes heat pool in your stomach.
“That’s good,” he says softly.
There is probably something more there than you realize, and you want to ask about it, but you see Minsu and his girlfriend from the corner of your eye. Before you can think about it, you’ve grabbed Hoseok so he can serve as a shield between you and the rest of the room. The move surprises him, and he grabs onto you to stabilize himself, fingers wrapping around your arms. He’s close, but you can’t think about this right now.
“My ex is here,” you mumble when he shoots you a questioning look.
“Oh,” he says, and you miss the hint of disappointment in his voice. “The one you were serious with?”
You didn’t think he would remember that.
“Yeah,” you reply with a grimace. “With his new girlfriend. I just— I don’t want to speak to them.”
A decided expression settles on Hoseok’s face.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he whispers at you.
You barely have the time to blink at him before he starts leading you towards the exit. You don’t know if it’s that much more discreet, not with the way he keeps his back turned to the room and his shoulders squared, taking his role as your human shield very seriously, but you’re still grateful.
The second you’ve set foot outside, you burst out laughing, and Hoseok quickly joins you.
“Thank you, Hoseok,” you smile once you’ve caught your breath. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Walked out the door, I guess,” he replies, lifting his hands to arrange your hair.
You stay still for him. You don’t mean just that, though. You can’t express how much you appreciate his support right now, instead of the pity you usually get. You like that Hoseok turned this into— a joke. That he made you laugh about the way you’re hiding from your ex, instead of making you feel pathetic.
Just as you're thinking that, a wave of affection for him bursts in your chest, filling you with warmth, and you have no idea what to do with it. Especially not when he’s standing so close to you, biting his lower lip with concentration as he runs his fingers through your hair.
You kind of want to kiss him, but something tells you the timing isn’t right.
Finally, Hoseok takes a step back with a satisfied smile.
“There. Perfect.”
“I’ll have to let Hyejin know you’ll replace her as my personal hairdresser,” you chuckle.
“Oh, I’ll fight her for that spot!”
And there it is again. You’re laughing. You just saw Minsu again, and yet you’re laughing. The very idea would have sounded ludicrous a few months ago. Not because of Minsu per say, but because you didn’t think there would be anything to joke about. Or anyone to laugh with.
But Hoseok is here. By your side, in your life.
In your heart.
Someone clears their throat next to you, and you know even before turning around.
Minsu’s standing there. He looks good, if you’re being honest. He doesn’t have the dark circles under his eyes that you had gotten used to when you were dating, from the all-nighters he pulled when he was in college, and he’s clean-shaven. He’s wearing his favorite jacket, and that might be what you’re most taken aback by. The fact that you know this jacket. He used to put it on your shoulders when you got cold.
You suddenly feel an unexpected hatred for it.
“(Y/N),” he says, softly, and you can only look at him. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect that he would say your name so gently, with such affection. It wasn’t— It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. You’d told yourself he hated you, that he would make fun of you, that he was such an asshole. This is so much worse, and yet you can’t say you haven’t thought about it. This is so much worse, because if he’s not an asshole, how could he do that to you?
What kind of person would you have to be to deserve to go through that?
“Hi, I’m Hoseok!” Hoseok exclaims next to you, filling the uncomfortable silence. He extends a hand to Minsu and, while doing that, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you feel a little better.
“Hi,” you say, belatedly, while Minsu shakes Hoseok’s hand and smiles genuinely.
“Minsu,” he tells Hoseok before turning his gaze back to you “This is great,” he comments, pointing at you and Hoseok, and you don’t get it. “The two of you— You look great together. I’m so happy for you.”
You’d like to say that you snapped, that you lost control, that you didn’t know what you were doing, but that would be a lie. Sure, in that moment, you feel burning, seething rage running through your veins. Sure, you consider murder for a hot second. But you’re in control of yourself when you dismiss the idea, just like you’re in control of yourself when your hand makes a circular movement, splashing Minsu’s face with the entirety of your glass of wine and, hopefully, ruining that stupid jacket of his.
Minsu looks at you in disbelief. You look at him in disbelief, as wine drips from his chin.
Then you run. Hoseok’s hand slips from your shoulder, and you’re all too aware of the way people stare at you as you beeline towards the exit. You hear Hyejin, and perhaps Hoseok, call your name as you put your glass back on a table, but you’re out before either of them can get to you, and as much as you love them, you think it’s probably for the best.
You get home at 7 am, which is late, even for your fucked up sleep patterns. You feel a little better. You spent a good chunk of the night outside, walking, before finding a café that was open. You didn’t want to go home.
When you arrive at your door, and find a sleeping Hoseok leaning against it, you think you may have made a mistake. He looks peaceful, but he’s still sitting on the floor in the cold hallway, in front of your door, and guilt spreads through you. You kneel in front of him, and try to gently shake him awake.
He barely budges. You try again, and he lets out a sleepy groan, head rolling to fall on his shoulder. He looks adorable.
“Hoseok, hey,” you call out gently. “You can’t stay here. We need to get you to bed, okay?”
The only reply you get is another groan. With a sigh, you pull on his arm, trying to lift him up. He’s heavy, way more than you would have thought with his figure, but you guess muscle weighs a lot. You’re about to give up when you feel him straightening a little. Not enough to walk on his own, but enough for you to half carry him. You make it to his door, fish the key out of his pocket while trying not to think about his muscled thigh under your finger or— anything else, then struggle to open it and get the two of you through.
Inside, you bump against his couch, and you swear between your teeth. You’ve always met at your apartment, and you’ve only been in his for a few minutes at a time, so you’re not familiar with the lay-out. You make it to the bedroom, unsteady under Hoseok’s weight, and are delighted to be able to push him down onto the bed.
That delight lasts for less than a second, though, because as he falls, the arm that you’d put around your shoulders to carry him drags you down with him. Your exhausted brain manages a ‘fuck’ before you collapse into Hoseok’s chest. It’s not the most pleasant feeling, feeling rather hard under you, but that doesn’t change anything to the fact that your heart is beating like crazy. Your nose is pressed against his neck, and you breathe in the smell of his after-shave, and you want to stay here.
But, as tempting as the idea is, you can’t do that when Hoseok doesn’t even know you’re here. Gathering all your willpower, you push against his chest to get up.
And then Hoseok rolls over, suddenly covering you with his body while all you can do is squeak.
This is the dumbest thing ever, you think as you vaguely try to push him off, already knowing that this is a lost cause. There’s no way this is happening.
Yet, as the minutes pass by and Hoseok shows no sign of moving again, instead wrapping an arm around your waist with a contended sigh, you have no choice but to accept your fate. You’re trapped, in Hoseok’s bed, underneath him, he’s probably drunk — that would explain why you can’t wake him up — and tomorrow morning is going to be unbelievably awkward.
It should be hard to fall asleep, in those circumstances. In fact, you shouldn’t fall asleep at all, just wait patiently until he lets you go to slip away. But right now, engulfed in Hoseok’s warmth, you can’t manage to stay awake and, as you drift into sleep, you cannot find it in yourself to regret it.
You wake to the feeling of hands gently moving up and down your back. The second you stir, though, they stop, and the warmth they provided you disappears. Whatever you’re laying on also tenses, hardening under you, and you want to protest. Fortunately for you, even in that state, you realize that mattresses and pillows can’t harden, which helps you piece together that you’re not laying on a mattress, which means you have to be laying on—
Oh God. Your eyes snap open, and you sit up way faster than you probably should have.
“Careful!” Hoseok protests, sitting up as well, reaching out to steady you. He removes his hands quickly once he’s sure you’re not going to fall over, burying them under his blanket.
“You— you’ve been awake a long time?” you ask, voice thick with sleep.
“Um, a little while,” he admits, shifting under your gaze. “I assumed you needed the rest. You must have come home very late.”
There is a hint of reproach in his voice, laced with something else that you cannot identify, and you grimace. You take a second to rub your eyes, but even once that’s done, you find you can’t look at Hoseok.
“I did,” you mumble. “I’m sorry about last night, by the way. It must have been very— very uncomfortable. Especially after I left you with— I’m so sorry.”
Hoseok lets out a soft laugh, but you get the distinct feeling that it’s to make you feel better. You’re getting good at telling what his laughs mean.
“It’s fine. Your, erm, your friends told me about you and Minsu. I didn’t realize you guys were that serious.” Silence. “Eight years, huh?”
You press your hand against your forehead. Talking about you and Minsu’s long relationship always makes you feel weird. The fact that he was in your life, practically everyday, for eight years, and that he disappeared from it without a warning and now he’s gone and everything is practically the same is unbelievably confusing to you. Maybe you should miss him, and you do miss some things about the relationship, like being in love, and sharing an apartment, and having someone to come home to, but you don’t miss him. Not anymore.
You know Hyejin’s worried you moved on too fast, after him. That she thinks you didn’t take time to heal. Truth be told, it hurt for a lot longer than she knows, but it was still relatively short, compared to what you’ve seen her go through after some of her relationships. You don’t know what to say about it. After the break up, you couldn’t find it in yourself to still love him, or to miss him.
“Eight years,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is that all they said?”
“…Not exactly, no.” Hoseok sounds so different from his usual self, all serious, looking at his hands, anywhere in the room but you. You can’t blame him, though, considering you’re doing the same thing. “They said you were high school sweethearts. That you were basically— perfect for each other.”
You want to scoff at that. It’s true that you got together in high school, and it’s true that people thought you made a nice picture. They were surprised that you would have gotten a boyfriend, usually, but the surprise vanished once they saw Minsu. You two clicked, in so many ways. The two of you worked. You made sense.
But you don’t believe there is such a thing as ‘being perfect for each other’. The two of you always had to try to make the relationship work.
Until one day he stopped trying.
“So I wanted to say— I get it. It must have been hard to hear him say that. You should try to deal with your sadness in other ways but—”
What? What is he talking about?
“—but I know what it’s like to see an ex you still have feelings for with their new partner, and it sucks, though, again, next time you could—”
“That’s not it,” you blurt out, and Hoseok stops in the middle of his rambling to finally look at you.
“What do you mean?” he asks, tone cautious, almost guarded.
You can’t believe what you’re about to tell him. You haven’t told anyone before, not even Hyejin. If she finds out, she’s probably going to kill you for not telling her and for telling someone else, and yet, in that moment, you can’t not talk about it. The thought of Hoseok thinking that you did that out of jealousy, that you still have feelings for Minsu is unbearable to you.
“What did they say about the break-up?” you ask.
Hoseok blinks, then frowns as he tries to remember it. He drank a lot last night, especially after you left. More than he had intended to.
“That no one knew what happened.”
“And Minsu didn’t have anything to say to that?”
“…I think he was cleaning his jacket at that point.”
You hope you stained it and he wasn’t able to get them off.
“We didn’t just— break up. I— We lived together back then. In an apartment. Because— That’s not important. What I mean is that— I walked in on him. And her. In our bed.”
You hadn’t made a noise for a few moments, so you’re not sure how they noticed you, but next thing you knew she was shrieking, covering her chest, and Minsu was walking towards you, awkwardly pulling up his pants.
“He— He told me he was in love with her. And that was it.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. Hoseok isn’t saying anything, and you don’t want to look at him for now.
“That’s why I got angry. It’s not that I was jealous, it’s that— He doesn’t get to say that to me. Not after doing that.”
Hoseok grabs your hand, intertwines his fingers with yours.
“You didn’t tell that to anyone?”
You shake your head.
“Why not?”
You stare in the emptiness for a while. Reliving the story had been unpleasant, even if you don’t feel anything for Minsu anymore, but it’s the answer to that question that brings a choked sob to your lips.
“Because— How can you do that to someone? How can you— how can you do that to someone you’ve been with for eight years? Someone you said you loved?” You feel small and the weight on your chest is painful, unshakeable. “What kind— what kind of person would they have to be for you to feel that it was— that it was okay to do that?”
At that point, the tears are rolling down your cheeks and your sobs make it impossible to talk. Not because of Minsu, but because of the fear that is building in your stomach even now. The fear that you deserved that. You hiccup loudly, and then you’re pressed against Hoseok’s chest and he’s holding you tight, hand gently caressing your hair.
“It’s not your fault,” he tells you softly.
“You don’t know that. M-maybe I’m a terrible person.” You don’t believe that, not when you say it out loud. But… what if?
“(Y/N),” Hoseok says, almost sternly, “you’re not a terrible person. Sure, you listen to Taylor Swift at two am, and you cook at two am, and you take your shower at two am, and— Actually, you could fix all of those issues by going to bed like a normal human being.”
That has the benefit of making you giggle.
“None of that makes you a terrible person,” he continues, satisfied with that small victory. “And I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I have never thought you were anything close to terrible.”
You let a long breath out. It doesn’t quite rid you from your fears — Minsu knew you for over ten years, he had much more time to discover all of your ugly parts — but it still helps.
“You know, I was doing really bad, the night you and Hyejin invited me to join you for a drink.”
“That was mostly Hyejin,” you say with a sniff. You’re not crying anymore, thankfully, but you don’t want to leave Hoseok’s embrace just yet.
“Because you’d rather die than talk to a stranger unless you absolutely have to,” Hoseok laughs, and you think that he’s gotten to know you quite well. “But you were really nice to me that night and I think I needed that.”
He lets go of you carefully, like you made of porcelain and he’s afraid you’re going to break if he’s too brusque. You don’t, obviously, but the world suddenly feels cold, without his arms around you. He grabs a box of tissue from the night-stand and hands them to you.
“Minsu’s an asshole for what he did to you,” he tells you, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen him. “He should never have put you through that.”
“But—” But if he didn’t love me, he was right to leave me. He had the right to fall in love with someone else, even if it was going to hurt me. Sure, he could have done it another way, but is he to blame here?
“Not buts!” Hoseok protests. “Look, I know you must have loved him. I know that it’s not easy to reconcile that image of him with his actions, but you don’t have to look for excuses for him. You don’t even have to forgive him.”
You stare at Hoseok and, without a warning, you feel the absolute need to kiss him. You’ve thought about kissing him before, certainly, but it’s never been such a powerful urge. You can’t think of anything other than his lips against yours, his body pressed against your own, and it takes all your willpower to resist it.
Because, of course, kissing him as you’re talking about your ex would be a terrible idea and send all the wrong signals.
“You understand that, right?” he insists. He leans towards you so that his eyes are on the same level as yours and you think you really shouldn’t be looking in his beautiful brown eyes right now.
“I do,” you reply, glancing away.
“I’m serious. You shouldn’t blame yourself for—”
“I get it, Hoseok. I promise.” Then, still without looking at him: “Thank you.”
He sighs.
“I’m so angry you had to go through that,” he says with a pout. “If I see him again, do you give me permission to break his nose?”
It should worry you that you actually consider the proposition.
“He’s not worth it,” you decide. “But I appreciate the offer.”
“What if I accidentally kick him in the shin?”
“Well, if it’s an accident…”
Hoseok bursts out laughing, and you’re utterly and completely in awe at the sound.
“You can count on me!” he winks, and he doesn’t know how he makes your heart flutter, how in this moment, you realize how utterly head over heels for him you are.
(It’s a pretty nice feeling, actually.)
Hoseok has another date over. You sleep on your couch again, and you try your best not to think about it.
(You take it back. It sucks.)
You run into Hoseok after coming back from doing your laundry. He’s in a good mood, and you hate that pang in your chest at the thought that it’s because of the girl he saw the other day. You should be happy for him. That’s the least you can do.
“Hey!” he greets you cheerfully. “Need some help with that?”
“Not really, I—”
But he’s already taken it from your hands. You shake your head with a smile as he gestures for you to get into the elevator before him. God, you like him.
“I can do that, you know,” you tell him at the doors close.
“Sure, but I can do it better.” Hoseok winks at you, then regains some seriousness. “How are you doing?”
From his tone, you know he doesn’t mean ‘in general’. He’s probably worried because of how you cried in his arms the other day, which you find a little embarrassing, but you still like that he asked.
“I’m doing great,” you tell him honestly.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” Then you nudge him playfully. “Thanks to you.”
He has a little laugh, sounding unsure what to make of that, but you mean it. Talking about the situation did more good than you would ever have expected, and you’re… you’re just happy you did it with him.
“What about you?”
“Oh, I’m fine!” he says, one second too late, like he’d been lost in his thoughts — except he wasn’t, he was looking at you. “Work, neighbors keeping me up, you know how it is.”
“Ugh, neighbors are the worst,” you grin.
“You’re telling me!”
The doors open with a ding, and the two of you step out, slowly making your way to your door. It’s silly, but you don’t want to leave his presence. You linger at your door for a few more minutes, talking about the weather, of all things. Finally, when all the small-talk you can muster has left your mouth, you hold your hands out to get your basket back.
“I feel like I’m constantly thanking you, these days,” you chuckle. “I wonder how I ever got anything done without you.”
“I think that deserves a kiss!” Hoseok exclaims, and your heart stops, but when you look at him, you see he’s tapping his cheek. He’s probably not serious and not expecting you to do anything.
But you get on your tiptoes and plant a brief kiss right where he was pointing.
“Thanks!” you say quickly, slamming the door behind you as fast as possible so you don’t see his reaction. “Have a nice day!” you yell from behind it.
Hoseok looks at your door. You’re leaning against it on the other side, dying to look through the peephole to see his reaction, and yet not daring to. Because of that, you miss the way he rubs his cheek, the amused smile that follows it, and the way he skips away. You do hear his happy whistle, though, so you decide you can’t have gone completely wrong, and you’re happy with that.
You hesitantly knock on Hoseok’s door. Things didn’t work out with the girl, and he texted you to come over for one of your usual pity parties, but he didn’t seem as down about it as he usually is. Still, you stopped at a grocery store to pick up some wine while coming back from the publishing house where you work as a proofreader. You usually work from home — hence your ridiculous schedule — but you had needed to drop by to discuss some things. The conversation had been difficult on your end, taking a lot of energy from you, and you were definitely happy about going home and blowing off some steam with your neighbor.
From inside, you can hear Hyejin’s voice, but also several others, and that makes you recoil. Talking with strangers is not something you want to do tonight. But before you can choose to run off, the door opens, and you’re greeted by Hoseok’s beautiful smile, so of course, there is no way for you to leave.
“(Y/N)!” he exclaims happily. “And you’ve brought wine! That’s great, Hyejin was worried we might not have enough. Come on, I have some people I want to introduce you to.”
You don’t even try to escape when he puts an arm around your shoulder — you have to remind yourself that it’s Hoseok and that’s just a thing he does, that it doesn’t necessarily mean anything — and leads you into the apartment.
There, you find Hyejin sitting next to a tall, dark-haired guy you recognize from Hoseok’s dance performance.
The introductions and the smiles they give you almost make your head spin, and once they’re done, you’re relieved to be able to fall on a chair next to the one that’s been the most quiet so far — Yoongi, if your memory isn’t playing tricks on you. That relief only grows when he doesn’t try to talk to you. Instead, you give each other a silent nod, and you both seem very content to let the others do all the talking.
As it turns out, they don’t limit themselves to talking. They clearly all have a lot of energy to spend, and you can merely stare at it, mesmerized. The blonde guy standing by the kitchen sink — Jimin, you remember, forcing yourself to recall their names — starts to demonstrate some dance moves with perfect grace, and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to abandon his spot next to Hyejin to join him, not as precise, but very enthusiastic. Hoseok jumps in, too, and suddenly there’s a dance crew in his living-room. These three have no business being this good.
“Jin, aren’t you going to join them?” Yoongi yells to a guy who has carefully moved out of the dancers’ way.
“Do you want to fight?” Jin shouts back, and Yoongi chuckles, clearly delighted he got a rise from his friend. “Why don’t you join them?”
Then Taehyung — fluffy brown hair — seemingly comes out of nowhere and tackles Jungkook, Namjoon — tall guy with glasses — who’d been pretty quiet so far gets up and tries to separate them, everyone picks a side and— It’s chaos.
It’s kind of like watching a car crash happen, except you’re having a lot of fun.
“They’re always like that,” Yoongi says next to you. His expression is perfectly stoic but his voice betrays his fondness.
“I guess now I understand where Hoseok gets all that energy from. He just doesn’t have a choice,” you smile, and Yoongi sighs.
For a moment, you don’t speak, happy with simply observing the others’ antics. You’re not sure how or why it happened, but Jin and Jungkook are the ones fighting now, and Hyejin, who’s clearly in her element here, is shouting some encouragements from her seat, which she hasn’t bothered to leave.
“Hoseok’s doing well,” Yoongi comments suddenly.
“I was thinking that, too,” you admit. “Usually, after things go wrong with a girl…”
“Is something happening between the two of you?”
You… had not been expecting that bluntness.
“Um,” you say, taken aback. Yoongi turns to look at you, and the way he glares at you makes you feel compelled to answer. He looked harmless a second ago, but now you’re thinking if looks could kill, you would be seconds away from getting murdered. You’re not sure what you did to deserve that, though. “I don’t think there is.” You tilt your head, thinking. “There definitely isn’t anything official.”
“I think Hoseok likes you,” Yoongi says without batting an eyelid.
You’re pretty sure telling you that breaks some kind of code, but, with the wonderful warmth spreading in your chest, you don’t think about complaining. Not for a second.
“I think I like Hoseok too,” you reply instead. You don’t know why you’re saying that to a near stranger, but when Yoongi nods, you feel that there is a deep understanding going on between the two of you.
“Hurt him and I will kill you,” he says matter-of-factly.
“That’s a little dramatic.”
“Hurt him and I will steal your doormat.”
Yeah, that sounds more reasonable. If you hurt Hoseok, you��ll deserve to get your doormat stolen.
Yoongi doesn’t say anything else on the subject, so you’re happy to drop it. You bring your attention back to the room to discover that Jungkook has wrestled Jin to the ground.
“How…”
“Don’t ask. I stopped trying to understand a long time ago.”
But, despite what he says, when Jin calls him, Yoongi jumps to the rescue. Namjoon takes his place next to you, making polite small talk, and it doesn’t feel as difficult as those things usually are for you. You’d even go as far as to say it’s… pleasant.
When you look up, you meet Hoseok’s worried eyes, and he smiles at you, silently asking if you’re okay. You smile back, and it’s like something melts inside you. It’s because of him, you piece together. You feel comfortable because you trust Hoseok to make you comfortable. And because those are his friends, and he wanted to introduce them to you… You feel safe.
Yoongi’s words replay in your mind. You have a hard time believing them, if you’re honest, but something has bloomed inside you, something you haven’t felt in quite some time, and something you don’t want to get rid of so quickly.
Hope.
“Will you be okay, Hobi?”
“We could help you clean!”
“I’m sorry about your lamp…”
Hoseok is quick to dismiss his friends’ concerns.
“It’s fine! (Y/N) is staying to help me, so you guys get home safely, okay? Namjoon, we can figure something out for the lamp.”
The tall man grimaces at that, and self-consciously rubs the back of his neck. You haven’t known him long, but something tells you it isn’t the first time something like that happens to him, which might explain why Hoseok is so calm about it. Then again, Hoseok always makes the best of every situation, so you can’t be quite sure.
“Here are your keys!” Jungkook says, handing them to you. He had just half-carried Hyejin to your apartment, where she’s going to spend the night. It’s for the best — she’s too drunk to get home by herself.
“Thanks,” you smile. It’s obvious that him and Hyejin have taken an interest in each other and, well, you think it wouldn’t be that bad if something happened there. He’s nice.
“So you guys are good?” Jimin insists, sounding worried. “You don’t want us to help?”
Hoseok firmly shakes his head.
“You get a good night of sleep!”
Greetings are exchanged, and then the door finally closes behind them, and it’s just you and Hoseok. He lets out a little sigh, then smiles at you.
“They’re a lot, aren’t they?” he asks, proudly.
“They’re great,” you reply, and you mean it. Sure, you feel tired, but you actually had fun tonight, which is not something you can say about most of the parties you go to. “Namjoon knows a lot about books. It was nice talking to him.”
Hoseok hums, moving past you to start cleaning up.
“I’m glad you liked them! They were really looking forward to meeting you. Yoongi said I was talking about you too much and that it made him curious.”
“I think Hoseok likes you.”
“You were only telling them good things about me, of course,” you joke, picking up the dishes that are laying on the table to put them in the sink.
“Well, there’s nothing bad to talk about,” Hoseok replies with the same tone, but there’s an underlying note of honesty to his voice.
“That’s simply not true.”
Hoseok laughs. You wonder if he means it, even a little. There are bad things to say about you, no doubt, but you wonder if he at least thinks the good outweighs the bad.
You’d take that.
You do some more cleaning while talking about his friends, and you end up perched on a worktop next to him while he does the dishes. The rest of the room isn’t spotless, and you doubt that lamp can be fixed, so Hoseok will need to get rid of it, but you think you did a pretty good job, all in all.
Hoseok starts humming to himself, and in that moment, you feel— satisfied. There’s nothing in particular to produce that feeling, and yet it’s exactly it. Cleaning a room at one am with him and being by his side while he does the dishes… You’re happy like that, you realize. It’s a strange thing to think about, and maybe that’s why it gives you the courage to talk.
“Hoseok?”
“Hm?”
When you don’t reply immediately, he looks up at you.
“What is it?” he asks. You take in a deep breath, run your fingers through your hair.
“What would you do if I kissed you?”
His eyes go wide, and his movements stop completely. He just stares at you, and in that moment, you really, really hate yourself for asking.
“That’s— That’s cheating,” he manages to say after what feels like an eternity. “You have to try it to find out about that.”
That’s fair, you decide, and before you can question yourself further, you lean forward, choosing to take that as an invitation. You’re slow in your movements, in case he wants to pull away, but he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still as your lips part, centimeters from his, as you put your hand on his shoulder to stabilize yourself, and he’s still perfectly still when you finally press your lips against his mouth.
He tastes salty, like the snacks you had earlier. You don’t mind it.
The first thing to move is his mouth, pressing back against yours, and it’s the softest kiss you’ve ever experienced.
Soon after that, his hands come out of the water and he quickly removes the gloves he was wearing. The second his right hand cups your cheek, the kiss turns urgent, passionate. His tongue darts into your mouth, and you wrap your arms around him with a pleased sigh, running your fingers on the back of his neck. A shiver runs through him, and next thing you know, he’s positioning himself between your legs, one hand firmly pulling you closer to him.
His body’s warm, toned, everything you’ve wanted for the past few months. He feels so good, and you’re quick to pull him in, hooking one of your legs behind his knee. He buckles, catches himself on the worktop and his lips stretch into a smile against yours. He tilts your head up ever so slightly, kissing you like he’s starving and wants to devour you whole. You respond with the same energy, fisting your hands in his shirt. It’s like you can’t get him close enough.
“How dare you,” Hoseok finally whispers when he pulls away from you, out of breath.
You shake your head, confused and a little dizzy. He’s grinning widely and looking at you like you’re one of the seven wonders, so he’s definitely not mad at you, but you have no idea what he means by that.
“How dare you make the first move?” he says, pressing a kiss against your jaw. “You’re the— the most infuriating person I know.”
You laugh at that, let him kiss his way down to your neck. You trail your foot up his thigh to wrap your leg around him, beckoning him closer.
“Yoongi said he thought you liked me,” you admit to him, with one hand in his hair, softly caressing his scalp.
“Seriously? I feel like I should beat him up— but right now I kinda want to buy him flowers.”
“A cactus.”
“Joke’s on you, Yoongi loves cacti. Hey—” He stops kissing you, straightens, and looks into your eyes. Affection is dancing in his, but you can tell he’s being serious. “I like you. Like, really like you. So, um, if you’re not— if we’re not on the same page here…”
He can’t think that.
“I’d just— I’d just appreciate if you could let me know. Because I don’t think I can have something with you if you don’t— don’t really want it.”
He sounds worried, genuinely so. He’s looking at you, and you know he’s baring his heart out to you in that moment. It almost shatters you, this moment, this honesty, his fear. Somehow, the idea that you could hurt him, without meaning to, is the most terrifying of them all. Your mind flickers to Minsu, and you wonder how he could hurt you like that, if he felt that way about you even for a second — but you don’t care. All that matters is that you know you would never hurt Hoseok like that.
You kiss him and he closes his eyes, hand tightening on your waist.
“I really like you,” you whisper. “Really like how you smile,” He smiles softly against your mouth. “really like how you laugh,” You start unbuttoning his shirt. “really like it when I see you in the hallway and you always take the time to ask me how my day has been,” You run your fingers over his chest, enjoying the feeling of his skin underneath yours, “really like the way you shine.”
“I shine?” he asks, stopping your hand to bring it to his lips, placing soft kisses on your fingertips.
You hum.
“More than anyone else.”
He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but decides against it. He can’t find the words to respond. Instead, he kisses you.
“Bedroom?” he asks. As much as he would love to have you, right here, it’s not the most comfortable setting for the first time, and he wants to give you an opportunity to back out, if you don’t want that now.
But you very much do.
“That sounds perfect.”
It’s a small miracle that you make it to the bedroom when you can’t keep your hands or mouths off each other. On the way there, which is extremely short when you actually look where you’re going, you manage to bump into the table, several walls, and to kick down a plant.
“We’ll blame it on Namjoon,” Hoseok mumbles into your mouth, and you laugh. You’ve been doing a lot of that, ever since meeting him.
He pulls away from you to take off his shirt, and you’re quick to get rid of your pants, discarding them on the floor. You’re about to do the same thing with the top you’re wearing when Hoseok’s hands stop you.
“May I?”
Of course he can. He pulls it over your head, and kiss you when you emerge from it. First, his hands settle on your naked shoulders, then, slowly, he trails them down your arms, intertwining your fingers with his. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, and you yourself get lost in the sensations, in how he’s towering over you, in how his hair brush against your temples, in the heat that radiates from him.
You inch closer to him, and he lets out a soft moan when you press yourself against him. You reach behind to get rid of your bra, and when it falls to the ground, your finally feel his skin against yours.
“Fuck,” Hoseok whispers in a low voice.
You pull him towards you as you climb onto the bed, and he follows, just like he follows when you lay down. Everything, his kisses, his touches, his body on top of yours— it all feels slow. Intimate. His long fingers run over your side, and you shiver. You want so much more than this, and yet it already feels overwhelming.
“Are you sure?” Hoseok asks you.
You look up at him. He’s kneeling between your legs, still wearing his black pants, draped over you. His pupils are wide, his body is so hot it could be on fire, and you can definitely feel his hardness pressed against you. He’s perfect.
“I’m sure,” you say, and when you kiss him again, his response isn’t slow anymore. Instead, he rolls his hips into you, and the friction forces a low moan out of you. That makes him smile.
One of his hands runs over your thigh as he gently spreads you open.
“I want you so bad,” he tells you in an urgent whispers.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“You’re impossible.”
But he listens, and after that, you don’t know what to focus on. His lips and his tongue, making their way down your neck, kissing your breasts, teasing your nipples, or his hands, as his thumb rubs against your clit and he slides a long finger inside you.
Your fingers dig into his hair and you bite on your lower lip harshly. You’re not usually loud in bed, but you know that moans and whimpers and pleas will come cascading out if you don’t stop them. You wouldn’t normally have a problem with that, but Hyejin is sleeping in your apartment, and you would appreciate it if she didn’t hear you.
Hoseok easily pushes another finger inside you, scissoring you open, and your entire body arches into him. You close your eyes, quietly calling out his name.
“You’re doing so good,” Hoseok whispers to you, voice so full of affection you feel that your heart is going to burst. “You look so, so beautiful for me.”
You’re so wet, so tight around his hand, and you want him so badly, want more than that, but there is no way you can stop him right now. You feel at his mercy and, fortunately for you, he’s the kindest tormentor there is.
“Fuck,” he says one more time, eyes roaming over your body, the way you’ve completely abandoned yourself in his arms, head thrown back, eyes closed. He wants to give you everything.
He increases his pace and wet sounds fill the room. You can’t think of anything other than him, and your mind is filled with Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok!
You come when he adds in a third finger. You tighten around him, letting out a high-pitched moan over which you have absolutely no control. Hoseok lets you ride your orgasm before removing his hand, still whispering praise in your ear.
It takes you a few moments to come down from your high, and when you do, you’re only too aware that he hasn’t gotten much from this at all, still painfully hard against your hip. You reach out to cup him through his jeans, and he groans, burying his head in your neck.
“You don’t have to,” he says, despite bucking against your hand. “I’m fine with—”
“Hoseok, trust me, I want this as much as you do.”
You kiss him, fumbling around to unbutton his jeans, and he joins you in pushing his pants down. He moans, louder than you did earlier, when you wrap your hand around him. You stroke him at a devilishly slow pace. His body is tense as a bow, his kiss turning sloppy when you tighten your grip ever so slightly. You love it, love the way he moans for you, love how vocal he is, love how his hips jerk to meet your movements even though you’re pretty sure he’s trying to keep still.
“If you keep that going, I’m going to—” Hoseok starts, small gasps breaking off his sentence, and you regretfully take your hand off him.
He’s thankful for it, because he desperately wants to have you, but he still can’t help the moan of disappointment that escape his lips. Someone else might feel embarrassed at how it makes you giggle, and maybe he would, but he sees adoration in your eyes when you look at him, when you lift a hand to stroke his cheek, and he simply doesn’t. He can’t when everything about you screams how much you care for him.
You slide your drenched panties down your legs and wait not so patiently as Hoseok reaches in the nightstand for a condom, then struggles to open the wrapper. Your foot rubs against his calf as he struggles to open it up, working as a painful reminder that you’re there, so close, so wet, so ready…
“Not helping,” he mumbles, fucking finally opening it. You join in to roll it on, your hand feeling so damn good around him, and when you lay on your back, there’s impatience in your eyes. He kind of wants to tease you about it, make the moment last, but he doesn’t have the strength to do that right now.
Instead, he lines his cock with your entrance and slowly pushes himself inside you. Your moan sounds loud, even with you trying to muffle it, and he replies with a groan. You push yourself on an elbow, shifting to find a more comfortable position, and you end up sitting on his thighs, straddling him. One of his hands comes rest on the small of your back, stabilizing you, while he puts the other one behind him to support his weight.
It’s overwhelming already, you around him, your breasts pressed against him, the kisses you’re peppering against his mouth.
And then you start moving. At first, you roll your hips experimentally, making sure you’ve adjusted to his cock inside you. When Hoseok throws his head back, though, you start bobbing up and down. It’s not a movement you could do for too long, but you don’t think you’re going to need long.
You wrap your arms tightly against him as you find just the right angle. You barely know what you’re doing, hips moving almost uncontrollably so he keeps hitting that sweet, sweet spot. Your thighs’ muscles start burning, but Hoseok’s moans, the desperate way he repeats your name like a mantra, keep you going.
“(Y/N), I’m— I’m gonna—”
You reach down to touch yourself, fingers rolling over your clit so you get just what you need to get over the edge.
Hoseok comes seconds before you do, with a loud moan. His fingers dig into your hip, and it’s probably going to leave a mark, but you’re doing the same thing with his shoulders. You chase your second orgasm of the night frantically and find it as he’s starting to soften inside you.
You collapse on top of him, both your bodies sweaty and exhausted but so, so deeply content.
It takes a while before either of you speaks again.
“Shower?” Hoseok asks, sleepily, and you nod. You feel good. You feel good against him, and you feel good when the two of you stumble towards the bathroom. You feel good when your body is pressed against him inside, all tensions gone, and you feel good when you rest your head on his chest in bed, drowsing into sleep next to him.
That’s all him, you realize. That’s all Hoseok.
And you’re more than happy with that conclusion.
As you’re getting ready for the marriage of two of your high school friends, you idly wonder how it’s going to be, to see Minsu there again, and then it hits you. You haven’t thought about him in a long, long time.
It’s not like he was always on your mind, after the break-up, but it did feel like you took a piece of him everywhere you went, a pain that never quite disappeared, a constant thorn in your side. You had tried your best, fully aware that it wasn’t doing you any good, but it was hard, after eight years, to get used to a world without him again. You wonder when you became okay with it again.
There’s a knock at your door, and you find Hoseok waiting for you when you open the door. He looks amazing. Perfect. Like all you ever wanted. You've been together for months now, and yet you can't seem to get used to it. You don't know if you really want to, either. You like being dazzled every time you see him. He flashes you a smile and leans in to give you a quick peck on the lips.
“You remember that you have a key, right?”
“Oh, I do remember, I just like knocking here. Brings back some memories I like.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning.
“You look beautiful,” he tells you, eyeing your dress, and you humor him with a little twirl.
“Hyejin helped me pick it.”
Hyejin is probably the reason you’re invited to the wedding, actually. She had never cared about your outburst against Minsu, but some of your friends definitely hadn’t appreciated it, and you understood why they wouldn’t want that kind of crazy to their wedding. However, after you’d told her about how the break-up went down, she had pleaded for you, and gotten you off the persona non grata list.
She would probably have murdered you for not telling her sooner, but you used that same conversation to tell her about you and Hoseok, and that had overshadowed the first half of that discussion entirely.
Yes, you’re aware, that was a little manipulative, but it was that or being killed by your best friend, so you have no regrets.
“Hyejin has great tastes.”
“Don’t tell that to Jungkook, or we’ll never hear the end of it.”
Hoseok bursts out laughing, something akin to pride shining in his eyes. He loves that his friends are your friends now, loves that his favorite people all enjoy each other’s company.
He extends his hand to you, smiles when you take it. He initiates physical contact more often than not, but you never decline it.
“All good to go?”
You nod. You don’t tell him that honestly, he’s all you need to face the rest of the world.
It doesn’t make it any less true.
You don’t like weddings. You know, shocker, considering how sociable of a person you are, but seriously, the more weddings you go to, the less you enjoy them. It’s not that you don’t love your friends and don’t want to see them happy, because you do, and they’re the only reason you put yourself through that. You guess you’re put off by how many people there are, and how big it all is. Hyejin’s a bridesmaid here, so you heard a lot about the planning, and it sounds like something straight out of your worst nightmares. It’s simply not for you.
Hoseok puts his hand on the small of your back, palm open, and it immediately ground you, calms the anxiety that had been bubbling inside you. Your anxiety is such an old companion when you’re in a public setting that it’s almost weird to feel it disappear. It’s not like Hoseok is a magical way of making it go away, it doesn’t always work, but it definitely helps. Just another one of the many perks of being with him.
“Everything okay?” he asks gently, and your heart explodes with the love you feel for him.
Without thinking, you push yourself up to kiss him. It’s a chaste kiss, appropriate for the situation, but Hoseok closes his eyes, loses himself in it. When he opens them, he looks a little surprised, like he always does when you’re the one to initiate a kiss.
“Everything’s fine,” you say.
His eyes glide to stare at something behind you, and you turn around before he can stop you.
There, of course, are Minsu and his girlfriend. It looks like it’s working well between the two of them.
You can’t say this doesn’t make you feel anything. That would be a lie. You don’t think you can forgive Minsu, don’t think you want to, and you certainly don’t want to be his friend, or even to talk to him, but you’re not angry anymore. If he did come over, you’d probably handle it better than you did last time. Hyejin might not, though, and judging by the way Hoseok tenses next to you, he might not either.
But instead of walking over and throwing a glass of wine at Minsu’s stupid face, Hoseok wraps an arm around you and you put your head on his shoulder.
You definitely like that better.
“They—” He clears his throat. “Your friends told me they thought he was the love of your life.” You snort at that. “That you guys had so much in common, and that they didn’t know how you’d ever find someone you were as compatible with.”
It’s so strange to you that Hoseok is the one who has insecurities about your relationship. As if he let you any choice but to be completely and utterly taken in by him.
You put his hand over his, which is spread over your stomach.
“They were wrong. He’s happy without me,” you tell him quietly. “and I’m definitely happy without him.”
At some point, maybe Minsu was the love of your life. When you were sixteen and you thought you would never love anyone else, or when you were twenty and moving in together, or even when you were twenty-four, the day before he shattered your heart.
But he isn’t anymore, and you can’t even imagine what your life would be if you had stayed with him, can’t imagine what your future would have been like. Can’t imagine your life without Hoseok.
“I love you, Hoseok,” you say, and he takes in a deep breath. “I don’t care how compatible I was with him— clearly, it didn’t change anything in the end. You’re the only one I want.”
“We’re not very compatible,” he comments.
“That’s true.”
“Your schedule is the absolute worst.”
“I think it’s fine.”
“You like horror movies.”
“Horror movies are great, but I promise I won’t make you watch them.”
“You refuse to ask the landlord to break down a wall between our apartments.”
“That is objectively a terrible idea.”
“Then we should find a place where we can live together.”
That quiets you for a few seconds as you think about it, before turning towards him. Hoseok has a cautious look on his face, but hope is shining in his eyes. No matter how scared he is, he is always willing to try. That’s only one of the many things you love about him, but that’s exactly what gets you right now.
“We should,” you say.
Minsu disappears from your mind, goes back to the oblivion where he belongs, and you only focus on the present, on the man you have in front of you.
“I love you,” he says before kissing you, and in that moment, everything feels perfect.
As long as Hoseok is by your side, you know you can take on anything.
#hoseok x reader#jhope x reader#bts#bts imagine#bts x reader#jung hoseok x reader#hoseok imagine#hoseok fluff#hoseok smut#bts fic#hoseok fanfic#candywrites
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DOLL (Yandere!Illumi x reader)
Word count: 1,850
Warnings: Yandere content warning. Illumi being himself.
Everything about this situation felt like it was out of a nightmare, it was the ideal situation in a kidnap scenario. This basement was cold, dark, and the only way you could see things is if the man who held you captive turned on a lamp that scarcely lit the dark interior, and it wasn't very often. You were helplessly chained to the wall through the hands and throat. Your legs were free to move around and walk around freely in the two feet you could move around with, but it was still a slap to the face to chained in the first place. . .or even be here, for that matter.
Your head remained down and your eyes remained closed until the sound of a door opening pierced your ears. You cringed away from it due to the pressure it put on your ears and squeezed your eyes shut to prevent the light that temporarily poured in from reaching them.
The door closes, you can hear the locking mechanisms move into place. It was him, Illumi Zoldyck.
You refused to turn your head up to meet his gaze. That damn stare. Unceasing, unwavering, unnerving. His eyes could bore holes into your very soul, and maybe they already did, that was the worst part.
A phone flashlight shone down on you, making your body cringe again, this time due to the LED light being far too bright for your sensitive eyes.
"Look at me."
His words sent chills up your spine, you could feel the goosebumps raising on your skin. Every part of your body begged you to stop listening to him, but you couldn't. Going against his wishes, though it hasn't happened before, felt like a death wish, so you listened. Your eyes opened, your head turned slightly, and like a doe in headlights, you looked in his direction. You could see his pale features just barely past the illumination of the phone flashlight, and those dead eyes staring at you. "Good." He simply stated.
He moved away from you for just a moment. When he returned, he was carrying a chair that he could sit in. He sat it down just before your body and sat in it, returning the gaze of the phone's flashlight back on you. Your body tensed, your eyes narrowed, but you couldn't do anything against someone like him.
"When am I going to be free of these chains?" You asked. You tugged on them to give the man before you a gentle reminder that you were still in them. However, no visual or audio cue made the man break his unnerving stare that settled on you. He didn't say anything to you either, but only made himself more comfortable in the chair he currently sat in. It must've felt nice to be in a chair and not on the cold floor.
"Are you going to answer me?"
"Why do you want to know the answer when you know every time you ask me that it's going to be a no? Your actions are questionable." Illumi finally piped up.
"And yours aren't? Look at what you've done to me!" You snapped at him. Your voice raised for a single moment before your headache caused you to lower it back to a whisper.
"I've already told you before. I want you."
It was so simple. The logic behind it made perfect sense to him but made little sense to you. "..." what was there to say in response to that? He was a selfish monster, capable of acting on his own personal whims without hesitation. He didn't care that he didn't know you or that you had a life of your own with people who cared for you, all he cared about. . .was keeping you here.
All returned to silence. You had to deal with Illumi's unnerving presence and the light that he shone on you. If this was what zoo animals felt like, then you were sorry for them.
After some time of sitting in silence between the two of you and the phone flashlight, Illumi spoke. "Want to go out?"
Was this a joke? You couldn't help but turn your eyes to him when he spoke of something so promising. A chance to go out and see the real world? Maybe even escape? It sounded like a heavenly idea. "Y-yes." You stammered. "I want to go out."
"Okay, then let's go out."
This wasn't your ideal look for a trip outside. Once you were set "free", you weren't given any chance to put on a different set of clothes, nor were you actually free. . .he slapped another pair of cuffs on you. Ones that were far more mobile than the others, as it was just a smaller version of the ones he hooked you up to the wall with. Your cheeks furiously blushed with embarrassment as he strung you along into the grand halls of the Zoldyck mansion. Everywhere you looked, there was someone standing there with their eyes on you. "Illumi, I..."
"Don't like their eyes being on you?" Illumi questioned. "That's unfortunate. I thought you would enjoy everyone taking in your beauty." He turned his head to observe you. "I think you look beautiful."
Beauty?? Did he mean the dirtied clothing you wore and the scrapes on your cheeks, knees, and elbows? You didn't even want to know what your hair looked like. This was ridiculous, and it wasn't what you had in mind. . .but what did you expect when it came to Illumi?
"Before we leave," Illumi broke the silence, you must've been daydreaming the entire walk. You glanced over at him questioningly, only to grimace in horror. A needle... it was a large needle between Illumi's pale fingers that glimmered when light struck it, gold in color, with a large ball attached to the end of it. The needle itself was thin and almost transparent, but Illumi was so pale that you could see it against his flesh.
"What are you doing..?"
"Just taking necessary precautions. I can't have anyone thinking you're a prisoner, anyway. No, no... you love it here... you always have, doll." He began to bring the needle to your forehead. "Now stay still, this won't hurt if you don't move."
"No-! No! You don't have to use that, Illumi! I love you!" You whined at him. Your body moved back when the needle was presented to keep the distance between the two of you. "Please, please! I'll be good!"
Illumi stared at you. Nothing left his lips, no change came out of his expression, he simply stared at you. He didn't raise or lower the needle either, it hung in the air between the two of you.
"Please..." You whispered, as you came close enough to lift your bound hands and put them behind Illumi's head to lock him in an embrace. As your body met with his, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "I can prove to you that I won't leave... I promise. I'm not a prisoner, I-I'm... I'm your lover. I'm yours."
But you already knew what he was thinking. It was insane to think that he could hold off from acting on his own desires for this long. You could see the needle in the corner of your eye, how it was visibly shaking from a clear lack of restraint. He itched to shove that needle into your body and have it be over with, but it seemed that he wasn't going to. He tilted his head to see you, and you met his - inches from each other. He said nothing and only stared in his deep silence, it was so unnerving.
"Fine." He finally said, as he stuck the needle back to his vest. "Let's go then."
To know that you were going to be paraded around with tattered clothing, unkempt hair, and chains around your wrists and throat was a very humiliating thing. But, there was no fighting Illumi. You knew enough about the man to know that going against what he wanted was often a dangerous idea, but you were blessed by a stroke of kindness, if you could really even consider it that.
There was silence between the two of you as you stepped out into the outside world. The sun's warming rays crept through the breaks in the branches of the trees to give you light, which both hurt you and blessed you at the same time. The feeling of warmth wasn't an unwelcome feeling, so sitting out in the sun was a welcome thought. You knew he wasn't going to take you anywhere else. However, you were surprised when he continued walking. "Where are we going?" You ask him.
"Out." He responds. There's nothing more to it. No sense in continuing to poke and prod at him for an answer you wouldn't want. You should've just been happy with the fact that he even let you outside at all- and you were, you were very happy.
The two of you were surrounded by nothing but forest. For you, this was a relatively peaceful feeling. If this was something that happened every day, you could get used to this, until you were able to map out a discrete way to get out of here as quickly as possible. "Is this an estate?" You asked with a small smile on your face, "it's very beautiful. Your family must be incredibly rich."
Illumi said nothing, but you could see the smallest curve of his lips turn upward in the corner of your eye. You were still miserable... anything but happy. You missed being free, you missed being able to be with people and society, and more important, you missed your job as a hunter. How did you even reach this spot? It's only been two weeks, but it felt like months. A soft sigh left your lips. At the very least now, you were outside. Before this, he wouldn't even let you walk around in that dungeon. Many people weren't out here so you didn't have to feel embarrassed for what you currently looked like, so you were alone with him - and he was so quiet, the only real indication that he was even there was a tug on your chains if he felt that his grip was slipping.
The two of you came to a stop, just as you approached a door. This wasn't just any door, it was a mark of importance. You paled before its giant stature and domineering aura. If anything, Illumi was just like this door.
"We've reached the end, [Y/N]."
You squeaked as you were tugged in his direction. Your elbows bent and placed themselves against his chest as he pulled you taut against his. His free hand went onto the shy of your back to hold you in place. "But that's too bad..."
A sharp feeling plunged itself deep into your forehead before the feeling disappeared altogether. A fuzzy feeling invaded your body, making your eyes hood with confusion. "Illumi..?"
"Doll, you're never going to be free of me."
#yandere#illumi zoldyck#illumi x y/n#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere x reader#reader insert#gender neutral insert
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Ask Her [G.W.]
Character: George Weasley
Word Count: 5000
Requested?: Yes/No
Summary: George gets jealous when Cedric takes an interest in Y/n.
Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it
A/n: requested by nonnie, hope you enjoy my love! (also my first full george fic, feedback is appreciated!)
~*~
PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3
+ + + + +
“Y/n, wake up!”
“Hmm?” You mumbled as your eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the view in front of you, “What’s going on?”
“You need to get up, it’s nearly time to go!” Hermione announced loudly, before rushing up the stairs - most likely to wake everyone else up. You sat up on the couch you had fallen asleep on, stretching as much as you could before your hand hit someone.
You turned to see a familiar mop of ginger hair belonging to the younger twin and smiled. Your movement caused him to wake up, yawning as he sat up himself, in a half delirious sleepy state and looking more adorable than you’d ever seen him.
“Morning Georgie,” you grinned as you pushed the thin blanket off your legs. “Morning love,” George replied, his voice rough from sleeping.
You heard the sound of pans clanging together and stood up, heading towards the kitchen to help Molly with making breakfast.
“Good morning my darling!” Molly greeted as you entered the kitchen. “Good morning Molly, in need of any assistance?” You asked politely. “Don’t you worry, I’ve got it all under control. You couldn’t do me a favour and make sure Ron is up could you? I sent Hermione but I’m afraid it may not be enough.”
“Of course Molly!”
You made your way upstairs, finding Ron’s room and poking your head inside. Seeing that Harry and Ron were at least awake - although not yet out of bed - you headed over to Ginny’s room instead.
Finding Ginny packing and Hermione sat on her bed, holding a backpack on her knee, you smiled at them from the doorway.
Ginny looked up at you and smirked, “Any particular reason why I had the room to myself last night?”
“I found her curled up with George on the couch,” Hermione teased, grinning over at you as you sat down on what would have been your makeshift bed, rummaging through your belongings to find a brush for your hair.
You looked over at them as Ginny giggled, “We literally just fell asleep there last night. It could just as easily have been anyone else.”
“And he could’ve easily woken you up and got you in here but he chose not to, what does that say?” Ginny countered.
“Plus you woke up with a blanket around you both, who do you think did that?” Hermione added.
“Might’ve been Molly,” you mumbled, turning back to your bag and letting your hair fall into your face, hoping it was hiding the redness of your cheeks.
“It was George, don’t kid yourself!” Ginny shook her head as she went back to packing.
“Are you sure nothing happened hmm? Your cheeks are awfully red.”
“Nothing happened, nothing ever happens, you know that,” you sighed.
“But you want something to happen!” Ginny exclaimed, “You know you do!”
“I... I might,” you said lightly, pulling out your change of clothes and rolling your eyes as you heard the girls squealing and yelling, “I knew it!”
Once you’d all got changed, you headed downstairs for breakfast, shooting glares at them both to make sure they didn’t say anything, however you couldn’t stop them from wiggling their eyebrows when the twins entered the room, George taking a seat beside you.
You’d all left soon after, following Arthur who was leading the group into a field.
“Ron, where are we actually going?” Harry asked from beside you. “Don’t know,” Ron shrugged before yelling out, “Hey dad, where are we going?”
“Haven’t the foggiest, keep up!” was his reply, making you laugh.
The sun was just starting to rise, the crisp early morning air making you shiver a little as you followed Arthur’s lead across the large field, then through a group of trees. As you emerged into a clearing, you noticed a shorter man seemingly waiting under a tree for you.
“Arthur! It’s about time son!” the man called out as he walked over to meet you all.
“Sorry Amos, some of us had a sleepy start,” Arthur replied, shooting a pointed look over at Harry and Ron, making you giggle.
“This is Amos Diggory everyone! Works with me, at the ministry!” Arthur introduced you all. Suddenly, someone jumped down from the trees above you, making you jump and almost stumble back into George’s chest, who evidently was stood just behind you.
His hands automatically rested on your hips to steady you, “You alright there, love?” You turned to face him, wearing a sheepish smile, “Yep, sorry I nearly stood on you.” “If it means you’re this close to me, feel free to nearly step on me more often,” George said with a grin.
“‘Step on me more often’?” Fred laughed from beside him, “Bloody hell Georgie is that the best you could come up with?” George nudged Fred in annoyance and shot him a glare as he nodded to you. However, you were no longer paying attention as your focus laid on the extremely good looking boy who had just jumped down from the trees.
“And this strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?” Arthur asked the brunette boy.
“Yes sir.”
You shared a look between yourself, Hermione and Ginny, all of you thinking the same thing as you glanced between them and the good looking lad stood in front of you.
George narrowed his eyes as the group began moving on.
“Pretty boy Diggory trying to steal my girl,” he grumbled to Fred, who nudged him with a mocking laugh. “You do realise she’s not your girl because you won’t tell her how you feel, right?” Fred grinned.
“She knows how I feel,” George insisted, staring over at where you were laughing with Cedric, who had fallen in line with you whilst walking.
“You sure about that?”
As you arrived at the top of a hill, the group began to circle around an old boot, sitting in the middle of the grass.
“Why are they standing around that manky old boot?” Harry asked in confusion.
“That isn’t just any manky old boot mate!” Fred replied. “It’s a portkey,” George added.
“What’s a portkey?”
But Harry’s question went unanswered as Amos began counting down, everyone grabbing hold of the shoe. You were overly aware of the feel of George’s hand half covering your own and as you glanced up at him, he gave the back of your hand a squeeze and shot you a lazy smile, just as you started whizzing through the air.
“Let go, kids!” Arthur yelled out. “What??!” You heard Hermione screech out. “Let! Go!”
At his command, you let go of the boot, and found yourself toppling down onto the ground with a thud. You groaned in pain as you rolled onto your back, just in time to see Arthur, Amos and Cedric land gracefully on their feet.
Arthur chuckled at you all laying on the floor before joking, “I bet that cleared your sinuses, eh?”
You were about to try and stand up before a hand was offered out in front of you. You took it gratefully as Cedric easily pulled you to your feet. “Th-Thanks,” you stuttered out, his hand still in yours. He gave you a small smile and a nod, before running to catch up with his father who had already began walking off into the distance.
Unbeknownst to you, George had stopped in place as he watched Cedric help you up, glaring at the brunette boy as he ran a hand through his ginger hair, earning an amused head shake from Fred who patted his twin on the shoulder as he passed him.
You made eye contact with Hermione who grinned at you and nodded in Cedric’s direction. Shrugging, you pulled your backpack further onto your shoulders and began following after the group.
You felt an arm wrapping around your waist and you looked up in shock, before relaxing as you realised it was George pulling you towards him. His mouth was set in a straight line as he stared intensely ahead at Cedric’s back.
A few minutes later you had arrived at a busy campsite, crowds of people laughing and cheering, waving flags and sporting face paint and accessories relating to the Irish Quidditch team, due to play later on in the day.
“Well kids, welcome to the Quidditch World Cup!” Arthur announced, much to the excitement of everyone around you. You began weaving through the crowd, listening to the music playing and watching people fly on broomsticks above you.
“Parting of the waves I think old chap, see you at the match!” Amos bid his goodbyes as you arrived at a small, worn tent. “See ya later, Cedric!” Harry yelled as Cedric and his father left.
You all entered the tent, finding many rooms inside, decorated and made homely. Looking around in disbelief, you marvelled at how big the interior appeared compared to when you were stood outside.
“Girls, choose a bunk and unpack. Ron, get out of the kitchen, we're all hungry,” Arthur called out as he made his way through the tent.
“Yeah, get out of the kitchen, Ron!” The twins mocked in unison as they sat down at the wooden table at the back of the tent, making you laugh. They put their feet onto the table just as Arthur turned to them, “Feet off the table.”
“Feet off the table,” the twins repeated.
They took their feet off the table but put them back on as soon as Arthur had walked past.
***
The match was due to start any moment and you’d all taken your seats high up in the stadium. You looked around in awe at the sheer amount of people who had come out to watch Ireland vs Bulgaria.
“Come on!” Fred yelled out as the Irish team flew out into the stadium, the crowd cheering and screaming. A big, glittering leprechaun appeared in the sky and started dancing, and you cheered loudly, waving the Irish flag you had purchased previously in the day.
“Here come the Bulgarians!” George yelled from beside you. The Bulgarian team began flying around the stadium in much the same fashion as the Irish had, and the crowds started chanting the seeker’s name.
“Krum!!” The twins yelled out. George leant down to whisper in your ear, “He’s going to catch the snitch, you just watch.”
“I thought you wanted Ireland to win,” you raised an eyebrow as you looked up at him.
“Oh they will, but he’s going to catch the snitch. Me and Freddie would bet on it,” he shared a knowing look with his twin as you rolled your eyes with a smile.
***
“I can’t believe you were right!” You laughed as you all were celebrating Ireland’s win of the match.
“You should know by now that I’m always right, love,” George replied with a smug grin, “Ireland is the better team, but Krum is the best seeker in the world. We knew he’d catch the snitch.”
“There's no one like Krum. He's like a bird the way he rides the wind. He's more than an athlete, he's an artist,” Ron announced dramatically to the tent.
“Think you're in love, Ron,” Ginny joked, grinning as the twins started singing.
“Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on,” Fred laughed as the loud sounds from outside entered the tent, getting louder when suddenly Arthur rushed towards them, “It's not the Irish. We've got to get out of here. Now.”
You grabbed your bag from the floor beside you and followed the group out quickly, clutching Hermione’s arm as you stood watching the chaos unfold.
Crowds of people were rushing to get away from something, screaming and trampling tents, belongings and even others in their attempt to escape.
“Get back to the portkey everybody, and stick together. Fred, George... Ginny is your responsibility,” Arthur announced.
Fred grabbed Ginny’s arm and pulled her with him, as you and George followed. George grabbed your hand ensuring you wouldn’t be carried off with the stampede of witches and wizards, all trying to get away from the fire and danger. You fought your way through the crowds, finally finding a safe clearly to catch your breath.
“Are we all okay?” Fred asked, peering around at you. “‘Course we are Freddie. Right, Y/n?” George looked to you to make sure you weren’t hurt. “Yeah, yes, of course,” You swallowed, staring around at the burnt tents as screams filled your ears. George sensed your apprehension and reached out to take your hand in his again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Ginny was chewing on her lip. “We need to find everyone else. C’mon,” she said as she began running off.
The twins looked at each other before beginning to run after her, “Wait up!”
***
The aftermath of what happened at the World Cup was worrying and you’d had a weird feeling about what it all meant. The school year had just started however, and Hogwarts had a great way of feeling like home, comforting your worries, at least for now.
You decided to sit with your friends at the Gryffindor table, laughing with them as Dumbledore walked up to take his place at the stand at the front of the hall.
“Now we're all settled in and sorted, I'd like to make an announcement,” he called out, “This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well. You see Hogwarts has been choosen to host a legendary event - the Triwizard tournament!”
There was a surge of hushed but excited whispers throughout the hall, smiles arriving on students’ faced at what this news may mean.
“Now for those of you who do not know, the triwizard tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school a single contestant is selected to compete. Now let me be clear, if choosen you stand alone. And trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint hearted, but more of that later. For now please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of magic and their headmistress Madam Maxime!”
The large wooden doors at the back of the hall swung open and a group of pretty girls dressed in blue uniform danced up the aisle. As they ran between the tables, male students couldn’t help but stare - particularly, you noticed in amusement, Ron Weasley.
“And now our friends from the north, please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff.”
A group of older boys walked down the aisle, stabbing bo staffs into the ground to create spark effects.
“Blimey it's him, Viktor Krum!” You heard Ron yell out as the seeker from the World Cup followed his headmaster to the front of the hall.
You could hear the excited chatter of everyone talking about the triwizard tournament as the students from the other schools sat down and you wondered who would enter. Your eyes caught George’s and he gave you a grin, which you returned.
The twins would definitely be entering.
“Your attention please! I would like to say a few words,” Dumbledore continued, “Eternal glory, that is what awaits the student who wins the triwizard tournament. But to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks.”
“Wicked,” you heard Fred and George say.
“For this reason, the ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this we have the head of the department of international magic cooperation - Mister Bartimus Crouch.”
The man in question - Bartimus Crouch - stood beside Dumbledore and began to speak, “After due consideration, the ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the triwizard tournament. This decision is final.”
The hall erupted in yells and students began booing. “That's rubbish!” George yelled. “Come on!” Fred added, “You don't know what you're doing!”
“Silence!” Dumbledore yelled out, “Anyone wishing to submit themselves for the tournament merely write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame of the goblet of fire before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly, if choosen there's no turning back. As from this moment the triwizard tournament has begun!”
***
You were sat with Hermione watching as students placed their names into the goblet, other students applauding as they did so.
“Go on Cedric, put it in!” You heard a student yell. Looking up, you watched as Cedric laughed, before looking over to you and smiling as he dropped his parchment into the goblet.
Hermione nudged you with a grin, “He definitely fancies you.” “I doubt that,” you blushed, “Besides... you know I like someone else.”
“Speaking of...” Hermione muttered as the room suddenly filled with cheering as the twins ran into the room.
“Thank you, thank you! Well lads we've done it!” George announced. “Cooked it up just this morning!” Fred continued.
“It's not going to work,” Hermione said in a sing-song voice, causing the twins to kneel beside you both.
“Oh yeah?” Fred asked. George grinned at you, smiling wider as he noticed the slight blush rising on your cheeks at the proximity between you both. “And why's that Granger?” He spoke, however he kept his eyes on you.
Hermione gestured to the white circle on the floor, “You see this? This is an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself.”
“So?”
You hid a smile as Hermione sighed, “So a genius like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled by something pathetically dimwitted such as an age potion.”
“That's why it's so brilliant!” Fred grinned.
“Because it’s so pathetically dim-witted,” George added.
The twins stood up.
“Ready, Fred?” “Ready, George!”
“Bottoms up!” They yelled in unison.
You watched as they jumped inside the age line. They paused a moment before cheering and dropping their names into the flame.
Suddenly, the flame rose up and the twins were flung across the room. You stood up immediately and ran over to make sure they were okay, “Fred! George!”
They rolled around fighting on the floor with beards rivalling Dumbledore’s, as the crowd cheered. You shook your head with a laugh, thankful they weren’t too hurt.
***
“Sit down! Please! And now the moment you've all been waiting for - the champion’s selection!”
Dumbledore dramatically dimmed the candles around the room and approached the blue flame. It began glowing red and a piece of parchment flew out, “The Durmstrang champion is... Viktor Krum!”
The Durmstrang students cheered loudly and you clapped for him as another piece flew out.
“The champion from Beauxbatons... is Fleur Delacour!”
Students cheer again and you laughed as Ron sighed happily as he watched her walk up to the front of the room. The third piece of parchment flew out and Dumbledore caught it, “The Hogwarts champion... Cedric Diggory!”
Cedric stood up with a grin, he friends cheering and whooping and clapping him on the back. He walked up to the front of the room, choosing to pause as he passed by you. He lifted your hand carefully and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before continuing on his way.
George grit his teeth, his jaw tense, glaring at the brunette boy who just dared to kiss you. Sure, it was just the back of your hand but even so, the audacity of the Hufflepuff had George’ blood boiling. By now, he assumed everyone knew you and him had a thing. And whilst no, neither of you had put a label on it, you were balancing precariously on the line between being friends and being more, and George did not want anything - or anyone, in this case - making that balance tip more towards ‘friends’.
“Excellent! We now have our three champions! But in the end only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice of champions, this vessel of victory... the triwizard cup!”
Just as students began chattering amongst themselves, the goblet glowed red once more and a fourth piece of parchment flew out. Dumbledore caught it much like the others.
“Harry Potter?” He read out in confusion, before repeating himself with more confidence, “Harry Potter!”
“Go on Harry! Harry, for goodness sake!” Hermione pushed the boy who lived to walk up to the front. Harry seemed in shock as he reluctantly made his way towards Dumbledore, just as students began yelling out angrily in protest.
***
“It’s dragons!” Harry yelled out as he headed over to your group who were sat in the Great Hall.
You looked up, “What?” “The first task,” he said as he took the seat opposite you, “the first task is dragons!”
Hermione immediately grabbed her care for magical creatures textbook and started flicking through for information, anything that may help.
“Bloody hell, mate,” Ron said, “Our Charlie works with dragons and he’s got more scars than he can count. And he’s a professional.”
“Might come out of this task a bit crispy, eh Harry?” Fred joked, nudging him.
“I’m gonna have to tell Cedric, he won’t know! Madame Maxime knows, she’ll tell Fleur and... and Karkaroff knows so that means Krum will. He’ll be the only one who doesn’t know!” Harry said in worry.
You smiled. Trust Harry to worry about Cedric instead of how he himself would beat a dragon. “I can come with you to tell him if you want Harry,” you told him.
“You’re going with Harry?” George’s head snapped up immediately at your comment.
You shrugged, “Yeah why not, he said he had something to ask me anyway.”
“Could be about the Yule Ball, Y/n!” Hermione said excitedly, looking up from the book, “He might ask you to go with him!”
George felt his cheeks flushing with anger, his fists clenching. He wanted to ask you. He did, but he didn’t exactly know how. Or when, for that matter.
“I don’t see why we have to tell that git about the dragons, let him figure it out himself,” he grumbled with a frown.
“George! Dragons are dangerous - you should know that, what with Charlie working with them. We need to warn him,” you scolded.
***
The first task was about to start. Harry had just entered the champions tent and you were stood in the awaiting crowd, worry racking you as you sat fidgeting in your seat.
“So um, don’t think I ever ended up asking but... did pretty boy Diggory end up asking you anything in particular?” George asked casually, trying to act like he hadn’t been thinking about it constantly for the last few weeks ever since it was first mentioned.
“He actually didn’t ask me anything... he looked like he wanted to, but decided not to,” you shrugged.
George couldn’t help the relief he felt to know Cedric hasn’t asked his girl to the ball, a weight falling off his shoulders.
“I hope he’s okay,” you chewed on your bottom lip as you peered down at the champions tent, waiting for the starting announcement.
“Who, Harry or your pretty boy Diggory?”
“Well I was talking about Harry but yes, I suppose Cedric too. I don’t understand why you’re always so rude about him. He’s really not as bad as you make him out to be,” you rolled your eyes though only half seriously.
“I’m not, I just don’t really like him is all. No one can be that nice and that good looking... there’s something up,” George insisted.
“Aww Georgie, you think he’s good looking, do you?” Fred teased, earning a glare from his twin as you laughed.
“Of course not. I think he’s a git.”
“He’s actually really nice once you get to know him,” you said. George scoffed, only half playfully, “Oh and you know him, do you?”
“Maybe she’d like to,” Fred grinned, enjoying winding up his brother.
“She doesn’t! You don’t... do you?” George quickly turned to you with a frown. You leant on his arm and snuggled into it, “Nothing to worry about here, Georgie.”
***
“This is mad. At this rate we'll be the only ones in our year without dates,” Ron grumbled and he stared down at the work he wasn’t doing, “Well, us and Neville!”
Hermione leant over to him, “It might interest you to know that Neville's already got someone.”
Ron sighed, “Now I'm really depressed.”
“Now you’re depressed?” You joked. Ron shot you a mocking smile as Fred pushed a note over to Ron. You watched Ron read the note and frown before he looked up at Fred, “Who are you going with then?”
Fred smirked, before throwing a scrunched ball of parchment over at Angelina. He proceeded to ask her to the ball and she shrugged and nodded in agreement.
Fred winked at Ron, earning a few laughs.
“Well Hermione, you're a girl,” you heard Ron say as you continued doing your work.
“Oh well spotted,” came Hermione’s sarcastic reply.
“Come on. It's one thing for a bloke to show up alone. For a girl it's just sad.”
You threw a piece of parchment at Ron and shot him a glare for his rudeness. He may have been one of your closest friends but you knew that his comment would hurt Hermione’s feelings.
“I won't be going alone because believe it or not someone's asked me. And I said yes,” Hermione growled in anger as she collected her work together and stormed out.
“Bloody hell,” Ron said as you picked up your textbooks before rushing after her. He watched as you ran out before sighing again and turning to Harry, “Look. We've just got to grit our teeth and do it. Tonight when we get back to the common room, we'll both have partners. Agreed?”
Harry nodded, “Agreed.”
***
“So that plan failed miserably,” Harry groaned, “‘Grit our teeth and do it’ you said. Well Ron, I think that’s easier said than done.”
Harry collapsed onto the space between Hermione and Fred on a couch in his common room, Ron and George sat opposite.
Ron was quiet in thought for a moment, before responding, “Suppose I could ask Y/n.”
“Like hell you will,” George suddenly jumped in as he sat up.
“Why, are you planning to? She was my friend first, she’ll say yes to me if I ask before you,” Ron faced him, crossing his arms across his chest.
“She won’t,” George insisted.
“Oh yeah? What makes you so sure about that?”
“Because I’m gonna be the first to ask her,” the younger twin said determinedly, nodding in triumph.
“If that’s the case, you better ask her soon,” Hermione spoke up, “Cedric is also looking to ask her - today, from the way he was speaking”
Fred laughed, “You hear that Georgie? Better go ask out your girl... unless you want Diggory to take her instead.”
“She won’t say yes to him,” George said, but he didn’t sound certain. He didn’t feel certain either.
“She might. He’s cute, he’s a Triwizard champion and, most importantly, you haven’t asked her yet, and the ball is getting closer and closer. She won’t wait around forever for you to ask her. So yes, she absolutely might,” Hermione shrugged.
George paused for a moment before jumping up off the couch, causing Ron to nearly fall off it too with a surprised yell. He made his way towards the portrait door quickly, tugging a hand through his hair.
“Hey, where are you going?”
George looked over his shoulder, “Where do you think? I’m going to get my girl!”
If he received a reply, George didn’t hear it as he was already racing through the hallways of Hogwarts, weaving through groups of students, scanning around to see if he could spot your h/c hair.
He rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt as his eyes fell on your frame, stood in front of Cedric.
“... so I was wondering if you’d maybe accompany me to the Yule Ball?” George heard as he stepped towards you.
“Sorry mate, she’s already going with someone,” he called out, making you turn to him in confusion.
Cedric’s eyes widened as he took in George’s dishevelled appearance from his running from the Gryffindor common room, “I-I’m sorry?”
“She’s going with me. Must be gutting I know, I’d be disheartened too if I were you, considering she’s the most beautiful girl in school but she’s mine and I’m keeping it that way,” George wrapped his arm around your waist and stared intently at Cedric.
Cedric, though thoroughly confused, nodded, “O-Of course, yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll um... I’ll see you later Y/n.”
“See you later,” you replied as the Hufflepuff boy retreated down the hallway.
You turned to George, raising an eyebrow, “You wanna explain what that was about?”
George swallowed, now feeling nervous, “Look, I should’ve asked you earlier. Not just to the ball but to be my girlfriend too. Because I’ve fancied you since I can remember and I don’t want anyone else to be with you except me. If you, you know, like me too. If not I’m sure you can chase down Diggory-“
“I fancy you too, Georgie.”
His breath hitched his his throat as he processed what you just said.
“You do? Brilliant,” he breathed out, his heart beating fast as you stood close to him, “That’s just- yeah that’s great I mean I- do you want to go to the ball with me?”
“Yes,” you nodded, not being able to help the smile crossing your face, “Yes of course I do!”
George grinned, his hands finding their place on your waist, your faces inches apart. You could feel his breath fanning across your lips as he whispered, “Would you be my girlfriend?” You laughed, “Nothing would make me happier.”
George started leaning forward to close the gap between your lips as he mumbled his reply,
“Wicked.”
#george#george weasley#george x reader#george weasley x reader#george weasley imagine#george weasley imagines#weasley twins#weasley twins imagine#weasley twins imagines#hp#harry potter#all queue have to do is follow the spiders
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Peace of mind part 2 / 2
pairing : Levi Ackerman x Reader
word count : 3,206 K
summary : you’re the captain of your own squad, and you have a habit to go spend some time alone in a cabin located near the young recruits quarters. One day, you found Levi there who didn’t mind your company.
themes : deep talks, rain, maybe new beginnings, feelings development (on your side at least), slight interest from Levi’s side if you squint hard enough, life choices, fears, insecurities.
warnings : tw astraphobia (extreme fear of thunder), mentions of death.
You can read part 1 / 2 here
“Oi, why are you leaving? Isn’t this the place you come to for some “peace of mind” ?
“Yes, but you’re here now” you replied in a quiet yet steady voice.
“And i’m ruining the view for you” ? He asked looking at you nonchalantly. His tone was sarcastic, his eyes pressed you for an answer.
«Looks like it’s going to rain »
When the captain let out these words, it wasn’t long before cold droplets started to spill one after the other, soon the cabin was draped in watery curtains, making you and the captain take a step back to avoid getting soaked.
If you wanted to get back to your quarters, it was already too late for that, as the rain intensified rather quickly, both of you have been a bit too slow to react. But then again, who could have anticipated such a heavy rain in this time of the year.
« Dammit, i think it’s best to wait. We’ll get soaked down to the bone if we walk under this downpour»
You let out a small « yes », both startled and worried by the sudden change in weather. You were rather...uncomfortable being trapped in here with Levi Ackerman even though your mind was running with reprehensible scenarios right now .
Let’s face it, you always had a thing for the man, even if your only interactions with him consisted in you admiring him quietly from afar and frankly, you’d imagined you’d be thrilled by the idea of being stuck alone with the captain, but you were in such a state of unease right now because of the weather that you couldn't really care about that right now, because generally, heavy rain also meant-
Your thoughts were cut abruptly by the mention of your name.
You actually heard your name ?
Levi was facing you, and had just called you by your name. Not in a million years would you have thought he has it registered in his mind. He said it again as to carefully confirm he was not mistaking.
« That’s your name right ? »
«Yes » you let out in a breath, a little confused.
As if he was reading your mind, taking notes of your interrogative expression, he answered your inner pondering.
« I asked your superiors for your name not long ago. You may have heard of the initiative by now, Erwin and i are in the process of creating a special squad that i’ll be leading. Details are still confidential, but i can tell you that i have been granted complete freedom in selecting the members. »
He paused before continuing, focusing on you.
« and you might be in it »
For a moment, you forgot how to breathe and your mind went blank with the new information. You did hear something of the sort, but you did not imagine Levi considering, well, you. You'd imagined you need more than just skills to impress him. You did give your heart and soul to the cause, you chose to be a soldier, you didn't get thrown into it, you also made the conscious effort to be better and more effective on the battlefield. And right now you, were having a hard time believing that your efforts were actually paying off. Levi’s devotion and dedication served as a fuel to your own, and here you were, both of you discussing the possibility of working under his direct orders. You felt your stomach flutter, it was impossible to tell if it was from fear, anticipation or anything else.
You ignored the feeling when Levi broke the silence again.
« I’ve seen your ranking and your score since you enrolled in the Survey Corps. A few years ago your skills weren’t the impressive kind, but with time you managed to outgrow yourself. Forty titans taken down solo and more than thirty taken down in team, now that's impressive, so i went and asked for your name. »
The thought of Levi walking up to your superiors and asking specifically to be given informations about you made you feel a certain type of way you couldn’t quite pinpoint at the moment. He must also have asked Keith Shadis you thought then. That man always held you in high regards, and you were grateful for it. You never caused trouble, you were discret but efficient, you started to convince yourself that you were indeed, worthy of Levi’s interest, additionally, he did like quiet and efficient people.
The cabin was getting extremely cold with each passing minute, and you were still stuck with no sign of the downpour stopping any soon.
You started shivering, you were both in uniforms, with only your military jackets to keep you warm, neither of you brought your cloak.
If he had his cloak with him, would he offer it to you to keep you warm ?
A bright dash of light appeared somewhere far away but close enough to brighten the interior of the cabin.
Lightning ?
Your heart started pounding voraciously in your chest, and you were afraid Levi was about to witness a side of you that you were afraid might change his mind about you. Not noticing your hands that already started trembling, anticipating what’s to come, you swallowed a thick lump, trying to ground yourself on the wooden structure.
Levi seemed to notice the change in your demeanor but brushed it off. You stayed quite the whole time, you didn’t say anything at the news he just handed you.
You tried to pin your attention on the captain and what he just said, you tried to compose an answer to give him, or maybe just keep a thread of conversation going, but when you opened your mouth, a blasting sound echoed all around, followed by menacing vibrations in the air. The start of a thunderstorm, the sound was as if the sky got torn in half and soon enough, a harsh light spilled through and painted the entire scenery white for a second.
Instinctively you pressed your eyes shut at the sound. When you opened them, you were one inch away from Levi, gripping at his clothes for dear life, as if you were afraid to drown in the harsh light.
As if you were afraid to die.
Your fingers digged so hard into Levi's shirt beneath his jacket that you were positive you were leaving marks on his skin. When you realized what you were doing, you quickly backed off, body still shaking and lips starting to quiver.
« I’m so sorry Capt- »
Another thunderous blow tore the sky a second time, and this time you ducked on the ground with your two hands covering your ears, your eyes closed so hard that little watery pearls started forming at their corners.
To you, it seemed like it was going on forever, and then, you heard Levi pronounce those words you hated to hear about yourself.
« You’re afraid of the thunder ? »
Yes, yes you were
As horribly embarrassing, childish and pathetic as it was, you were.
Since you were just a child, the sound of the sky tearing up was something that made you unreasonably vulnerable. But you couldn’t help it, such an irrational fear was beyond your control and you were fortunate that a thunder erupting during a storm wasn't a very common event inside the walls.
In the rare occasions where it did happen, you felt your mind losing its grip on your body.
You didn’t answer Levi, you couldn’t focus on him, you just kept the palm of your hands pressed flat on your ears to try and hear the least possible of what was going on outside. You knew nothing was going to happen to you, you knew your body shouldn’t be trembling in this way, but you couldn’t reach your mind in these moments and ask of it to calm down, and this is what scared you the most.
That’s it. You thought
The only thought that emerged in your mind for a moment was how pathetic of a side you were showing levi at this moment. Just after he confessed he was thinking about you joining forces with him in fighting for humanity, here you were, scared out of your skull, and out of your control by the big scary sound in the sky.
He’s probably gonna review his opinion of you.
He's probably reviewing his opinion of you right now.
He probably thinks your not fit to fight under his orders.
You kill titans by the dozen.
But here you were, scared of the weather
Sitting down, you had brought your knees up against your chest now, ears still covered, you moved your hands a little as the sound seemed to have ceased only to put them back on quickly as the sky screamed and shook again. You had opened your eyes just to close them again in terror. In terror how pathetic.
You didn’t here Levi shift or make a move until you felt the hem of his jacket poking at your forehead. For a second, the sound stopped and you opened your eyes to Levi who took off his military jacket and handed it to you.
« Here, put it over your head, it will muffle the sound »
Out of surprise, and still a bit shocked from your tourment, you mechanically took his jacket and covered your head with it, pressing the fabric over your ears as the sky screamed again. It was working, you felt as if you were underwater, you still heard everything, but it sounded so far that you felt somewhat safe, only then did you realize that Levi did what he did.
He didn’t threw an insult at you telling you to get your act together
Instead, he silently offered some comfort, acknowledging your fear,
Validating your fear.
The hellish concert went on for three minutes. Three long minutes during which the sky threw a tantrum with unrealistic vibrations rippling through the air, as a shrieking wind joined in the outburst.
A lot of things happened during those three minutes, Levi coming to sit next to you on the ground, waiting for the storm to pass, and you getting intoxicated by the scent of the inside of his jacket, Levi’s jacket. This is what Levi smells like. You thought.
You were glad your face was covered as you felt it flush. Sure there was a faint note of sweat, but hey, you were soldiers, and soldiers sweat. But you could also recognize different other scents all converging into something you found extremely pleasing, almost soothing to you; a bit musk and something that resembled a type argan oil, you inhaled in silence, taking it all in shamefully. The feeling of being almost afloat under his jacket, the storm seemingly far away, as if you were cut from reality, only being able to breathe Levi's scent, the thought of him soon consumed you, leaving you feeling light-headed.
It was the closest you had been to Levi, since all these years, working together from afar; since you saw him for the first time when he proved to be everything but someone coming from the underground, both in manners and values, since the time you used to watch him ruffle Isabel Magnolia’s hair and feel that ache in your heart that grew more and more hungry.
When you watched him giving the hardest time to the young recruits
When you watched how loyal he was to Erwin, always present by his side watching over their mentees.
When you watched him from a distance, putting his horses in their stables, and staying a little longer to care about them and give them small gestures of affection
When you watched him sitting alone, by himself sipping his tea, holding his cup in his strange little way.
When you watched him accidentally sleep in the stable, on a bench, on a chair, so many times, while hesitant-and scared- subordinates would shake him shyly to wake him up.
When you watched him, from this cabin.
You liked climbing up this cabin, it was quiet, calm, but mostly, you could watch Levi all day long without him even realizing it.
You liked the cabin because watching Levi from a distance was calming to you.
You liked this cabin because observing Levi put your mind at ease.
When you found him up here, you turned heels as quickly as your heart started thumping on your chest, ready to live right away. You knew, soon enough that it wasn’t mere admiration for a comrade, it was more than that. Observing him from this cabin, you realized you wanted to rest a hand on his shoulder and tell him to go rest, the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to touch him, to feel him. There was so many things you wanted to tell him. Thank you for doing so much, you’re killing yourself go have some rest, thank you for bearing the weight of shielding humanity against its terrors, thank you for devoting your life, please take better care of yourself, we need you, we love.
I love you
Just know you have someone who cares so much for you.
Who wants to be by your side.
So badly.
But never did you approach him enough to have this much of him. Sure, you had your exchange of words and your eyes met on more than one occasion, but it was all wrapped in formalities, it didn’t feel human enough.
This
This feels human,
Him handing you his jacket felt human
You crumbling in front of him in all your pathetic glory was also human.
Now all you could think about or feel was Levi, you chewed on your feelings while trying to imprint in your head the only thing you got from him, this memory.
You suddenly felt a forceful tug, his hand was trying to move the jacket, you released your grip as soon as you realized that he wanted to take it off of you. The thunder had stopped for good, there was no roaring, no blasting echoes anymore. Just the quiet sound of the rain now. You loosened up, stretching your legs in a timid relief, your body trying to adjust to the now foreign calmness.
The captain didn’t say a word, and you stayed quiet as well.
The rain was quietly softening and the air was seemingly less cold, you realized your body had stopped shivering at all.
« I’m so embarrassed you had to see me like this Captain» you confessed broking the silence.
« Don’t be. Every fear has its reasons, even irrational ones »
You really thought humanity’s strongest would be repulsed by such a sight, he required people to be always strong or so you thought, but come to think of it, he always acknowledged human unescapable states like fear, regrets and sorrow., especially when those were almost inevitable on a battlefield. You never seen him dismiss any of those emotions when he witnessed comrades and soldiers experiencing them, even outside off the field.
« Do you...have any fears Levi ? »
You called him by his name, your question had a personal undertone to it that it required you to, or so you thought. And you couldn’t believe you actually had the courage to ask the strongest soldier alive if he feared anything.
« Regrets »
You turned to look at him, he was looking down at his jacket, his white shirt slightly wet from the rain it caught, you felt a little guilty witnessing that. You didn’t have a clue what was on his mind right now, but saying that, Levi was thinking about all the soldiers he lost under his commands, his two only companions he lost because of the choices he made, everything he lost, everything he couldn’t get back and everything he have regretted but decided not to, because he feared that if he’d let those regrets slip into the crevices of his mind, he’d never recover from it.
« I think it has been fairly gossiped about, but i lost my two truest and most loyal companions, i let them choose for themselves even though i wasn’t confident with that decision, it ended up horribly, but it was also my choice. It was my first time outside these walls, and also the last time i saw them alive. I feared regretting all of it, i feared the disappointment with myself was going to swallow me whole, but someone...someone who refused to succumb to their demons taught me once how dangerous it is to surrender to regrets, they can make everything loose its meaning in a blink of an eye. I used to fear sleeping on an empty stomach, i used to fear that stealing and killing would be my only reason to live. Now i fear everyday for my soldiers life, but what i fear the most is the regrets i could have, if you let them overpower you, they can make you believe that everything amounts to nothing.
Putting his palms on the wooden wall behind him, Levi pushed himself up, putting his jacket on, arms sliding slowly into the sleeves you were protecting your ears with just minutes ago.
« That’s why i make the choice, every waking day, not to regret any of my actions »
« So you don’t see me as a weak person ? »
« You killed forty human-eating monsters all by yourself, i don’t call that weak. As long as there is no thunder while you’re killing them i think we’re good »
You chuckled a little, your face already a bit brighter.
« It already happened Captain, and i did just fine, seems like it doesn’t affect me when i’m concentrating on something bigger and more frightening »
He was already heading for the door, your eyes following the black and white wings on the back of his jacket, he stopped just before going down the stairs.
« I’ll see you tomorrow at Erwin’s office for some paperwork regarding your new responsibilities »
You watched his figure disappear like it from your view like it always does, even though you were just been announced you’re gonna be working while being even closer to the threat now, you never felt happier. Yes you will be closer to the danger, but you will also be closer to Levi, hoping you could watch over him and maybe just maybe protect him as a token of your love. Be it from your admiration or your strong feelings, you knew your devotion to him had no boundaries. He wasn’t only humanity’s strongest in spilling blood and cutting flesh, he was also humanity's strongest for having a heart equally as great as his strength, but the world had yet to give him credit for that.
Listening to the creaking of the stairs as he went down, you couldn't help but remember when you found him in the cabin, staring at the sky.
“And i’m ruining the view for you” ? He asked
You aren’t ruining the view
You are the view »
#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman reader#levi ackerman x y/n#levi ackerman y/n#snk x reader#snk reader#snk x y/n#levi fluff#captain levi#aot x reader#shingeki no kyojin reader#shingeki no kyojin y/n#attack on titan reader#attack on titan y/n#Erwin Smiths#levi ackerman fic#levi ackerman fanfiction#levi ackerman fanfic#levi ackerman reader insert#levi ackerman x you
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Who We Are || Russell Adler
Call of Duty Black Ops: Cold War
-PART THREE-
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CALL OF DUTY BLACK OPS: COLD WAR! IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED/FINISHED THE CAMPAIGN THEN PLEASE DONT READ! Gore, violence, course language, mature content.
Summary: Betrayed and alone after surviving the events that took place on the Solovetsky Islands, Y/n ‘Bell’ L/n faces new and more dangerous threats when she learns that Perseus has other plans for his failed nuclear detonation of Europe. It was only a matter of time before Y/n came face to face with her old team. There is unfinished business between Y/n and Adler, as this operation proves to be more deadly than originally thought.
Author’s Note: So, after finishing the campaign, I needed to do Bell/Player and Adler justice. I loved this game so much, and chosing to play as the female character, I felt like there was a genuine connection between Bell and Adler throughout the game. There is a tag list open for anyone that wishes to stay up to date with the series. Simply comment below. Gif by @travelllar
|PART ONE| |PART TWO|
A low whistle came from Woods as Adler stumbled backward, groaning in pain as he clutched his jaw with a deep chuckle.
Mason winced at the sound, his eyes flickering between both you and Adler with a worried gleam. Adler huffed, standing tall and giving you a deadly glare. “It’s nice to see you too-”
You surged forward, ready to attack the fucking prick and release all of the rage you had built up over the last four months, but Mason was quicker. Faster than you thought humanly possible, he appeared by your side and wrapped his arms around your waist, hauling you away from the scene whilst Woods apprehended Adler. Once you were a safe distance away, Mason released you only to spin you around and place his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey calm down...” He soothed, smiling softly as your wild and furious eyes met his own. They shone with unshed tears as he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
You didn’t know how to react, taken aback by his sudden display of affection. Despite the fact that he knew what had been done to you all those months ago, and even though he looked at you with sadness and pity, he still treated you like you were one of their own. The fact that you had once worked for Perseus didn’t matter. Everyone had their reasons, he didn’t agree with brainwashing you, that was something he absolutely hated. He hated lying to people he cared about. You returned Mason’s embrace, sighing into his shoulder as a way to relieve your anger.
“We all thought you were dead...” He whispered, tightening his hold around you “when Woods and I found out that Adler had shot you, we left the team”.
You pulled away from him, stepping back to look him up and down with an expression of confusion. “If you left, then why did you come back?” You asked quietly, tilting your head to the side in wait for his answer. Mason grinned, “Because we wanted to do you justice. You got us to Perseus the first time, and you helped us even though the CIA took away who you were, and you helped us even though we all lied to you. So we both thought we owed it to you to put a stop to Perseus once and for all”.
You felt your heart swell with mixed emotions, feelings you hadn’t felt in a long time. Your gaze fell to the floor as you released a long sigh, before lifting your gaze to stare across the room. Adler was already looking at you when you turned, there was something dark hidden behind his blank expression, something sombre yet guilty. You hoped he felt guilty at least.
Woods began to approach, a happy skip in his step as he left Adler to his own devices. “Holy shit, Bell. I’ll make a mental note that you can survive literally anything that is thrown at you” He teased, wrapping you in a warm embrace of his own. You returned the gesture, chuckling lightly before pulling away with a warm smile. He held you at arms length, looking you up and down with a fond expression. He patted your shoulder “It’s good to have you back” He spoke lowly, to which you nodded slightly in response.
Looking over Wood’s shoulder, your eyes met Adler’s once again. In fact, you didn’t think his eyes ever left your form. Carefully, you moved around Woods, half expecting the man to wrap his arm around you and stop you mid stride. But when he didn’t, you approached the man across the room with heavy and reluctant steps. When you stood before him, you had to force yourself to look up at him, through those aviators he wore and into his eyes. Even in the small time you had known him, Adler had always been a mystery. He was the type of leader that always kept to himself, never shared his thoughts with anyone. Until now.
You could see through his facade, through those sunglasses he used as a front to hide what was going on beneath. Though he tried to appear stern and authorative, deep down, there was something he wasn’t saying. Something that made you want to ask him-
A loud alarm blared through the bunker, red flashing lights gleaming brightly throughout various locations of the room. Adler huffed, shaking his head angrily. “Fuck, we need to go. Now” He ordered, giving you a small nod before moving towards Woods and Mason. You followed a short distance behind, the four of you now ascending the stairs leading out of the bunker. It was no easy task, trying to sneak out of the base while everyone was on high alert. But it wasn’t impossible.
The four of you made it out of the base relatively unscathed, making it to the jeep you had hidden atop one of the ridges without further hassel. With Adler in the passenger seat and Woods and Mason in the back, it made for a very awkward drive back into town. The cut on your arm stung painfully, you winced at the smallest movements. And of course, the man beside you just had to notice. “You’re hurt” Adler spoke lowly, his tone somewhat concerned, but more stating the obvious. You pursed your lips, wanting nothing more than to reach the safety of Viktor’s house faster. “I’m fine...” You replied shortly, turning left and taking the dirt path up to the house “it’s just a flesh wound”.
“It doesn’t look like one-”
“Did I ask for your opinion?” You quipped, harshly bringing the car to a stop. Ignoring Woods and Mason groaning in annoyance in the background, you turned to glare at Adler, your eyes narrowing dangerously. Adler held your glare, his chest rising and falling as his annoyance no doubt grew. With a long roll of your eyes, you removed the keys from the ignition and quickly jumped out of the car, slamming the door closed behind you with a violent ‘thud’. The others followed suit, closing theur doors a little more gently before joining you at the top of the stairs on the small wooden terrace.
Viktor had left the door unlocked, in the hopes of your eventual return. You smiled faintly at his kindness. Walking into the house, you were immediately met with the concerned expression of the old man, his mood quickly changing when he spied the three men standing in the threshold. “Friends of yours?” He questioned, his eyes now examining your form with a somewhat judgemental look on his features. You turned around to face the three men, finding Mason waving awkwardly in Viktor’s direction with a light chuckle.
Nevertheless, he old man beckoned them inside. Mason entered first, followed by Woods, who mumbled a complimentary ‘nice place’ as he walked past you into the living room. And last, of course, was Adler. After closing the door behind him, Adler let his gaze wander around the interior of the house, studying the off-white walls and the wooden furniture, before returning his attention to your form. His eyes remained focused on the large bloodstain on your chest, the whole in the fabric a reminder to him of the damage he had done.
After an extensive silence, Adler cleared his throat “We should talk, about what happened tonight-”
“No, not now...” Viktor suddenly interrupted, moving to stand beside you in a supportive manner. When Adler opened his mouthto protest, Viktor stopped him once again. “You are all exhausted, and injured. Some more than others...” He gave you a pointed look, one which you responded by poking out your tongue childishly “...there will also no doubt be soldiers looking for you. You will not talk tonight, but tomorrow, when all is safe”.
Begrudgingly, Adler agreed, his shoulders sagging heavily with exhaustion. Viktor clapped victoriously, before offering to show the three men to a room they could use for the night. As Woods and Mason followed Viktor upstairs, you disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve the medical supplies that were kept in the cupboard above the stove. Managing to retrieve a spare bandage, medical tape and disinfectant, you trudged over to the table and collapsed into one of the chairs with a loud sigh. Carefully removing your long-sleeved shirt and tossing it to the side, you figured that perhaps it was time to throw the torn and bloody piece of clothing away. There was no way the blood would was from it now.
After cleaning the wound and stitching it with small strips of medical tape, you wrapped you arm with the bandage, grimacing as a blinding pain shot through your veins. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you allowed your eyes to close briefly. The memory from the bunker kept playing over and over again, Perseus’ voice echoing from somewhere within your subconscence.
Operation Hydra, you are my most valuable asset.
You were brought back to reality by the clinking of glasses, and the chair beside you scraping against the floor as someone sat down with a light groan. Opening your eyes slowly, you were surprised to see Adler sitting there, pouring two glasses of what appeared to be whiskey. “Now this, is the last thing you expect to find in an old Russian man’s cupboard” He spoke lowly, extending one of the glasses toward you with a raised eyebrow.
Despite the mood you were in, you couldn’t belp but laugh softly, taking the glass from his grasp with a small nod of thanks. As if in unison, both you and Adler downed the contents of your glasses, causing you to sigh at the pleasant burning sensation. Your eyes met, and Adler shook his head. “How the fuck did you survive?” “Why? Have you come back to finish the job?” You asked quickly, watching with observant eyes as Adler’s hand tightened around his glass, his knuckles turning white as his shoulders tensed. “We came back to Solovetsky, because we picked up some Russian chatter about our old friend Perseus. He was planning to rebuild that base up there...” He breathed, his scarred features forming a scowl “we didn’t expect to find you”.
You laughed bitterly, leaning back into your seat and folding your arms over your chest “I bet that was a surprise for you-”
“Do you realise how hard it was for me to come back here Bell?-”
“That’s not my name”.
Adler paused at your threatening tone, huffing loudly as you glared daggers. If only looks could kill. You sat up straighter in your seat, jaw clenching as you spoke “My name is Y/n, but I assume you already knew that”. When the man before you said nothing, and instead found the surface of the table more interesting, you stood up abruptly.
“Did you regret it?” You dared ask, your voice becoming soft, grabbing Adler’s attention. When his gaze met yours, his lips parted in response “Regret what?-” “Don’t fuck me around, Adler...” You snapped, violently slamming your hands down atop the table “you’ve screwed me over enough. I don’t think you understand how hard this is for me. The man I trusted with my life, the man who fucked up my mind and shot me because he considered me a loose end, is sitting right in front of me. No more lies. No more bullshit. Tomorrow, you will tell me everything you know, and I will tell you everything I know, which admittedly isn’t much. But if your plan is to just fuck me over again, then I’m already out”.
When Adler didn’t respond, you took that as your sign to leave. You ignored Woods and Mason, who watched you storm past them up the staircase to the second floor of the house. You were beyond tired, overwhelmed by the days events.
Viktor brought you tea later that night, offering his company should you need it.
Tag List: @pookolokon @travelllar @basicwhiteasian @shellshockedbell @inteligentecat @staryozora @lovinggooppalacebanana @ktdragonborn @quietblogs-2-rd @cerezi
#russell adler x reader#russell adler#russell adler imagine#call of duty x reader#call of duty#call of duty imagine#call of duty black ops#call of duty cold war#call of duty black ops cold war
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The Red Witch
Jasper Hale x Reader part 3
A/N: Part 3 is here you beautiful people! Sorry it this is long! I will be working on part 4 soon! And if there’s anyone who wants to be a part of the tag list, let me know so I can make a list. Thanks lovelies! 😊💕
Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.
Warnings: Language. Violence and gore. Brief mentions of past abuse. Horror elements.
Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5
It wasn’t long after till you arrived to your home with Harper. It was a gorgeous Victorian style manor that you fell in love with right when you laid your eyes on it. The way it loomed over when you looked up at it, to the dark brooding trees with twisted branches that resembled gnarly hands that seemed to lunge at you, down to the immaculate details that you couldn’t help but admire that covered the house. It reminded you of a life you once lived. When you were a child, your mother would tell you stories of how old houses, these old and beautiful things, in time, would somewhat become a living thing. She’d mention how they had bones and skin, were able to feel and breathe, and how they have seen many things. That phrase always used to spook you as a child. You used to think that your house was always watching you wherever you went. But now, you believe that if you took care of your home, “this living thing”, it would in turn take care of you, and become your safe haven.
You opened the door to your home and inhaled deeply, taking in the interior and the evocative scent that you managed to surround your place with. You loved to lay candles and incense about, filling your home with notes like pumpkin, sandalwood, dragon’s blood, musk, almonds, cinnamon, frankincense, and roses. It always made you feel more at home.
“Maleficent!” You called out as you took your shoes off as Harper did the same.
You saw movement in the far corner, seeing a small blur of black fur before you feel it rub against your legs.
“Hi Maleficent.” You cooed as you picked up your black cat with your gloved hands and held her to your chest, smiling with your eyes closed in content as she nuzzled against your scarf covered neck.
Maleficent let out a little mew as she stared up at you with those adorable big bright green eyes of hers, her purring vibrating through her chest as her abnormally large fangs poked out of her mouth. Times like these were sweet but heartbreaking. You loved Maleficent with all your being but you could never truly pet her. Thus your curse.
Harper geeeted Maleficent as well while she was still cuddled in your arms as you went into the living room, walking up to the large metal birdcage to greet your familiar, a Raven.
“Hi Edgar.”
“Well look what the cat dragged in.” He squawked as he stared at you with those mischievous black beady eyes.
“Oh please behave yourself Edgar.” You rolled your eyes before handing him a treat.
“I don’t need your assistance human.”
“Oh?” You raised your brow. “I don’t remember you sprouting a pair of arms to help yourself, unless, if I’m mistaken, your wings can magically turn into hands.”
“Well if I wasn’t stuck in this form I would be able to do as I wish, but woe is me.”
“I can’t believe you have a stupid bird as a familiar. Wish you got something cooler instead.” Harper rolls her eyes at Edgar as she passes by on her way to drop her things in her room.
“How dare you.” Edgar held his head high. “I am not just any bird. I am a great poet! A writer!”
My goodness, the drama on this bird. You had only met Edgar Allan Poe once, but now it looks as if the fame had got into his head.
“Harper! Make sure to do your homework.” You turn to call after her, only to hear her mimic your English accent.
“Did you just mock me?” You asked with a scoff.
“..........no?”
Maleficent hissed at Edgar, which made him spread his wings and squawk in threat. “Get that thing away from me!”
“Maleficent is harmless.” You rolled your eyes as you set her down. “Besides, it’s not as if she’s going to tear through your cage.”
“I get no respect around here.” Edgar let out a little huff before turning away from you, obviously giving you the silent treatment.
I swear to god this raven is the biggest brat.
“Suit yourself.” You shake your head before making your way to the kitchen to see Melanie preparing a meal.
“Smells delicious.” You tell her as you stand next to her. “Is that vegetarian shepherds pie?”
“It is! I know how much you like those.” Melanie smiles at you, before turning back to her food and gesturing to the the little strawberry tarts.“Et voici, tarte aux fraises. I hope they’re as good as the ones mama makes.”
“They look absolutely wonderful Melanie. And I bet they taste just as great as your mother’s.” You squeeze Melanie’s shoulder before you call out to your sister as you set the table. “Harper! Dinner!”
“Alright! I’m coming!” She shouts back at you, making you smile and shake your head.
“So I’m guessing you’re fine?” Melanie eyes you while finishing up her dish.
“I took care of it. I’m much better now, thanks.”
“And what about him? What about Jasper?”
“Jasper?” You look up at her, feeling that same tightness in your chest from the mere mention of him.
“Mon amie.” Melanie rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “I’m not stupid. I know how much he meant to you. I just want to make sure you’re okay, you know, after seeing him when it’s been so many years.”
“I was just, shocked, if anything. I never expected to come across him again.” You look down at your hands, playing with the loose threads on the sleeves of your sweater. “But, he doesn’t remember me, so I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“If you say so.” Melanie sighed, she knew you weren’t okay, and she knew how much his presence ate at you. But she didn’t want to pressure you into focusing on this subject.
The dinner that Melanie made that night was delicious, the perks of having a best friend that was French and a kitchen witch. You had to remind Harper not to scarf down her food so she wouldn’t choke, only to receive a glare, as always. After dinner you and Harper retired to your rooms while Melanie went back to her little cottage that she preferred to stay in that was right next door to your manor. Maleficent decided to sleep with Harper that night. You were already changed out of your clothes and into your long white nightgown, cuddling into your blanket to do your nightly reading of classic literature before crashing out from exhaustion.
The night was dark and foreboding, and the skies were pitch black like the ink of a pen, and the air was crisp as the wind blew sharply through the trees. The thick clouds blanketed the sky, concealing the stars of their beauty and stripping away any form of light besides the moon. It was a full moon that night. And despite the stormy clouds that desperately tried to overpower the moon, the moon still managed to cast some light, illuminating part of your bedroom in this haunting glow. You were lying in your bed, buried beneath your blanket in a deep sleep with the windows slightly down to let in the cool breeze. You had a few candles lit to add some light to your darkened room, when suddenly, your clock struck 3. The wind came to a stop, and your room became disturbingly still. Not a moment later the candles in your room strangely went out all at once, leaving you in complete darkness. There wasn’t the slightest sound, not even the hooting of an owl, nor the sound of a leaf falling to the ground. Everything was as silent as the grave.
Then, as if on schedule, the temperature in your room dropped drastically, and you shivered, clutching your blanket closer to you. Still in a state of deep sleep, you began to have a nightmare. You remember seeing yourself in a beautiful wedding dress. You were waiting for someone, but no one came. The scene slowly shifted around you, then all you could see was fire, this bright and threatening fire. You looked around but the flames were the only things you saw, it completely obscured your vision. The flames seemed to surround you, enveloping you in this smoldering heat. You felt yourself sweat profusely while desperately choking for air, but to no avail, the smoke burned your lungs, you couldn’t breathe. And then there it was, that horrifying noise. That blood curdling scream of a woman in pain. It was your own. Your agonizing screams pierced your ears and the stench of burning flesh stung your nose. It was your own. You looked down in horror to see the flames licking at your flesh, leaving behind these gruesome wounds. You were being burned. Your screams never ceased to stop, but they were muffled by the chants of others. You tried to cry out for help, but no one came. No one cared. You couldn’t even see the faces of the voices. You could only hear those chants, over and over again. It was only a nightmare. And yet, the pain felt real. It all felt too real.
You woke up abruptly from your nightmare. It felt as if your whole body was set on fire in this excruciating pain. You were drenched in sweat resulting to your hair being matted to your face. You tried gasping for air, you tried to scream. But no sound came out. You tried to move but you stayed frozen to your bed, you could only move your eyes. Your eyes shifted frantically around your room and widened in horror at what they saw. You saw your mother in the corner as she stared at you with these white, dead, lifeless eyes. A rope was tied around her bruised neck which was bent at an unnatural angle. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to cry out for help but you couldn’t, the only sound that came out was a whimper as you watched her walk towards you, wailing your name. Tears pooled in your eyes and fell down the sides of your face as the furniture in your room started to shake. You then saw your father appear before you, those cold and calculating eyes stared back into yours. You had his eyes, those cold heartless eyes, and that sinister gaze that terrified you as a child become your own. You watched as your father’s cloaked figure brought out his hands, displaying a whip in one and a heated branding iron in the other.
“(Y/N!) You insolent child!” He boomed in his raucous tone that made you tremble with fear. Bloody boils began to appear on his skin, gradually turning into decay as pieces of his flesh began to fall off, one by one, revealing the bone underneath. “Look at what you’ve done to me! You demon! You bitch!”
You shut your eyes against the terrifying image, your breathing growing more rapid by the minute. He wasn’t real. He died many years ago. He can’t hurt you. And yet, the pain that you now felt said otherwise. The long slashed scars that covered your back and the brand on the left side of your chest still burned as if they had just been inflicted.
There was a knock on your bedroom door, making you open your eyes back up.
“(Y/N?)” you heard Harper’s muffled voice on the other side. “What’s going on?”
She tried to open the door, but couldn’t. The door was locked. You tried to cry out for her, but you couldn’t. You still remained frozen. Your parents had disappeared, but now another ghostly figure stood at the foot of your bed. It was you. You saw yourself standing at the foot of your bed, wearing that same wedding dress from your dream with your face barely hidden behind the white veil.
You heard Harper call out for you again, struggling with the door handle, but your eyes remained glued to the apparition of yourself.
“We deserved this. We are monsters.” The face of this manifestation of yourself was blank and conveying no emotion, yet it was filled with such heartbreak and pain. You saw yourself erupt into flames, the veil burning away to reveal your scarred face as it reached a skeletal hand out towards you. “He could never love a thing like you. No one can.”
Tag List: @shakespeareanbooty @justine-en @5sosfanforever2001 @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @holyhumorliteraturelight @toomanybandstocare @twilight-kpop @cricketlicket @ashdab2611 @pancake-pages @elisemurphy06 @ineffabledears @seraphpheonix @bella-stenbakken
#jasper hale#jasper hale imagine#jasper hale x y/n#jasper hale x you#jasper whitlock#jasper whitlock imagine#twilight imagine#twilight imagines#jasper whitlock x reader#jasper hale x reader
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Please Hate Me //part 48
Fandom: Marvel
Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?
Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut
Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman always gave Peter a sense of pride and purpose, even if he could only share it openly with a few people. It was the kind of accomplishment that made all the hardships seem worth it in the end. It also made him happy in a way he couldn't really explain, but which involved a certain connection between him and the people he protected and got familiar with over the course of his superhero patrols.
But being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman was difficult in a neighborhood where no one was actually friendly in return.
Peter’s frown grew the further into the building he went. He was pretty sure it was the same one Loki and you had been renting an apartment in, and since he was a rather frequent guest, the neighbours should recognize him by now enough to at least return his greetings.
That was what logic dictated, but Peter was pretty certain the people he met in the hallway only gave him a stern, disapproving look before walking past him quickly.
Peter was still frowning when he moved up the stairs, juggling the keys in his hand. Then he stopped. The unearthly screams of the damned were muffled, but most definitely coming from apartment number 13.
Opening the door quietly, he slid into the familiar interior, now echoing with pain and suffering so loud, Peter had to cover his ears just enough to move to the root of all evil - the bathroom.
There were many inexplicable things Peter had witnessed happening in the apartment 13, and to some extent he got used to the thrill of not knowing what he'd face next time he paid a visit. Still, he hadn't expected to see various parts of a half-drowned owl sticking out of the sink filled thick with foam and bubbles. The owl must've struggled a lot, judging by the amount of water splashed on every possible surface, and the iron grip you and Loki still kept on the bird. Even if Loki was not wearing his usual features, it was still obvious who your partner in crime was.
The two of you froze. Soap and foam dripped to the floor. Loki's new form shimmered with a glamour only magic could achieve.
"Um, what are you guys doing?" Peter asked.
"Trying a new disguise?" The curtain of Loki's new long hair was luscious and utterly drenched.
"No, I meant-"
"Listen, boy, as surprising as it might be for you, I'm still me, just with a less… criminally wanted image."
"Yeah, only if 'ME' stands for mischief embodied," you laughed.
"It literally doesn't. It's smooth, but it doesn't."
"Thank you, love. Now, could you please stop drowning poor Barbara?"
Loki sighed, but relaxed his grip on the bird just enough to allow it to peak its head out from under the surface and take a deep, long breath.
Peter put his backpack down and meandered closer, dodging the growing puddles. "Why is there an owl in the sink?"
"Because I'm not allowing any fleas into my house," you firmly stated, pushing the wings back under the water. "And I don't care how many hours we'll spend here, I'm getting all the mud and dirt out."
Barbara clung to her dirt with all her might, but was overpowered and utterly misunderstood. Loki's new form was slimmer, but held the bird with his usual strength and a big dose of satisfaction. The smirk on his face was unchanged, even if the features were new.
"What do you need a disguise for anyway?" Peter asked, looking for a towel. "Can I go with you?"
"I'm afraid that as wildly chaotic and lawless as our destination is, you'd still be age-checked," Loki cooled his enthusiasm.
Barbara rushed to the towel and clung to it, loudly exclaiming what, precisely, she thought about her caretakers. Peter tried to dry her up as best as he could through her wriggling and screams.
"Are you sure all this soap is good for her? Did you use any animal-friendly shampoo?"
Loki shrugged. "I doubt she can get any more dead."
The boy looked at the owl. The owl looked at the boy. The ruffled and drenched feathers were sticking out in all directions, uncovering a deep and no doubt fatal hole in her side.
"You got a dead owl…?"
"It was not my idea," Loki groaned, casting the bird a disgusted stare in the mirror where he tried to change the shape of his eyebrows.
"You're just angry because she likes me more," you laughed while mopping the floor.
Peter did his best to become invisible and not stare too openly at the ribs poking out of the feathers. Barbara puffed them every time he moved the towel around. The boy couldn't speak owlish, but the small, crittering noises she made were definitely far from happy.
"Where will you be going?" Peter asked. The owl sat on his knees and refused to move even after he finished drying her on the couch.
"To the largest casino on the Moon."
"Wait- There are casinos up there?"
"Not for kids your age," Loki said.
Peter slumped on the couch. "That's not fair."
"We'll be back before you notice." You threw the wet rag to the sink. "Of course, as long as a certain someone FINALLY decides what to wear."
Loki ignored your pointed look, too busy with changing his hair color. No matter how many little details he changed, he still struggled with finding a form he was sure would allow him to pass through the guards unnoticed and unrecognized. It was a shame he couldn't use his own - it felt like a waste to hide a face like his.
The owl settled on Peter's shoulder, immobilizing him with the claws buried in his skin. But even from the couch, the boy could see the remnants of a hurricane that had thrown a rather alarming amount of clothes around the apartment.
"I thought these were yours," he admitted. The owl kept on looking through his hair with the utmost scrutiny and very little gentleness.
"I've settled long ago on what I'm going to wear. As for the diva himself, though…" you gestured around.
"I need it to be perfect," Loki said. "I have an important role to play, I can't just waltz in there and be recognized."
"You could go blond," Peter suggested.
"Ew, I don't want to look anything like my brother- Wait, that's actually a great idea."
Before any of you managed to protest, a full-grown Thor stood in Loki's place, watching himself from all angles in the mirror. The clothes no longer fit, so he dropped them and dove into the closet again.
"...what have I done?"
You patted Peter's free shoulder. Barbara nested in the crook of his neck. "Nothing they can prove. Hopefully."
*
"I am not my father's servant," not-Thor downed another beer. "And if I want to relax for just one evening, I shall!"
The tankard broke into tiny pieces as he smashed it on the ground. The loud applause and waves of laughter followed the very Thor-like outburst, making Loki relieved he was playing his role well. Even in a place like this, crowded with drunkards and gamblers from all over the universe, it was common knowledge what the god of thunder enjoyed.
Loki forced his glamoured face to remain cheerful as another tankard of beer had been brought to him, disgustingly sour and rough. He knew his brother well, and was sure he'd love it, but Loki himself would rather bite off his tongue than willingly digest any more if only he had an actual choice. He didn't, and therefore swallowed another gulp to the cheering from the crowds gathered at his table. The cards had been laid out, waiting for the victors to celebrate their success, and the rest to decide how much more money they were willing to lose to the god of thunder.
Seated in a great hall of marble and gold, Loki wished he could play the way he actually wanted to, which was the very same way that got him banned from the Moon last time he had visited. But for the sake of the mission, he stayed just above the line between bankrupting and winning money, which added to the body he was wearing, was just big enough temptation to keep his table busy.
Everyone entering the biggest casino on the Moon was inclined to try their luck, or at least take a quick look. It was a perfect, if rather boring, way of scanning everyone who entered the rich complex of buildings. The few fountains set further in the back murmured as they shot curtains of water. The air was thick and warm, making crowds of people inevitably gravitate towards them in search of any cold. With the tall, lush plants artistically winding over and between the pillars, it created little areas dotting the impossibly high hall, where the pleasant breeze gathered the people looking for just a moment of relief. You occupied a spot beneath the fountains, where most people would wind up going to at some point, and used it as a second checkpoint, just in case anyone missed Loki's, or rather his brother's table.
"Come on, does anyone else want to lose their fingers?" Loki heard you call out to the crowds.
Between their never ending sessions of losing and winning the money back just to lose them again, there were many individuals in need of a drink and a quick break from the gambling. How easy it was to grab their attention with a loud voice and a dead owl.
Loki stretched his neck and looked over to where you had sat down the bird with all kinds of currency piled between its claws and a single coin shining through the open ribcage.
"All you need is to get the coin out, what's the matter, people? Is there no one brave enough to win all this money?"
Greed has always been a major deciding factor for the living beings regardless of race and the world of origin. The queue only rose in length as everyone wanted to try their luck.
The table under Barbara grew more and more slick with blood from cut and bitten fingers. Pure malice shone in her dead eyes.
"What an awful creature," Loki muttered to himself.
He could sense the stolen pin somewhere in the vicinity, but the casino was a loud and chaotic place, with multiple areas each centered around a different type of entertainment. More than an hour had already passed, but whoever was currently holding onto the pin, had not yet ventured anywhere near.
The two of you were slowly but inevitably running out of time. Odin might've been old and naive, but his spies' eyes reached far and wide. Loki had little doubt he would be interested in his favourite son's apparent evening fun, especially if he had that particular son with him, in the palace. Thor was a good cover, but not for much longer.
And then, by chance or a generous turn of fate, the shadows stirred and whispered.
Loki cast the dice, not paying attention whether he'd won or lost. His money wasn't real anyway.
There - by the high palms stood the Hoarders, clad in the worn out rags and way too much jewelry. With their grey skin and long limbs, it was no wonder how easily they blended in with the shadows, using their skills to warp their surroundings and get in places others would consider highly secure. But their success was not measured in how many places they were capable of breaking in themselves, but rather how many individuals of all races they could easily befriend and bend to their will. Although, to be quite honest, Loki doubted the necromancer had needed much convincing.
There were only three of them, each almost an identical copy of the others, but the Hoarders were encircled by both their partners for the evening and whatever scum tried to befriend them. That made it so much harder to approach them, but Loki was already thinking of a good excuse when he rose from his seat. People parted, giving him space - much more that would be granted to Loki's original form.
The shadows whispered again. One of the ladies separated from the group, with an annoyed expression on her face.
Loki stretched, making sure to put his hands high. Once he caught your attention, he followed the lady at a leisurely pace.
"What do we do?" You asked once both of you entered the corridor and disappeared behind the corner.
"She's got the pin."
One more turn took you in front of the ladies restroom.
"Time for Plan C.” Loki began undressing quickly.
Holding a spare dress in your bottomless pocket was not the wisest choice, but it apparently paid off, even if fishing it out took you a moment. Your hands shook. Someone might have walked in on you at any time. While Loki would be doing whatever it took to get the pin back, you would be the one making sure no one interrupted him…
Like distracting the waiter that was now staring at both of you. Focused on the contents of your pocket, you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. Loki clad in only Thor's skin, blinked.
The waiter turned on his heel and disappeared.
"I can already feel the gossip stirring," Loki shifted into a more feminine body, quickly putting on the dress. "They are going to eat my brother alive."
"Do you feel bad about it?"
"Oh, my heart is breaking into a million pieces," Loki assured you with a smile far too wide for that to be true.
He kissed you quickly before disappearing into the restroom.
Life felt amazing. Loki couldn't help but imagine the amount of trouble his brother would get once the word spread about his whereabouts.
His imagination was running wild, but the one thing Loki couldn't imagine was how, merely thirty minutes later, he'd find himself in the dungeons deep beneath the surface of the Moon, half-drowned, and viciously bitten.
#please hate me#loki x reader#loki x you#Loki Laufeyson#Loki Laufeyson x Reader#loki laufeyson x you#loki mcu#loki imagine#loki#mar#mcu#loki series#loki laufeyson imagine#loki fanfic
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DAISYPOOL Chapter 1: Here there be backstory
Summary:
“Just read the story, fuckers.”
“Be nice Wade!”
“Fine! PLEASE read the story, fuckers.”
“There is a LOT of cursing... and some sexual situations. You’ve been warned.”
"Are you kidding me Wade?! Wilma?!" I yelled when I picked up my new ID. "What's wrong with my ACTUAL name?" I demanded whirling on him.
"I did use your actual name, see?" He said pointing to my new middle name.
"Yeah, I see that. Why isn't it in the right place?"
"You're a Wilson now, you needed a name that started with a W. It's the rule." He supplied with a shrug. "You know how these things work, Peter Parker, Jessica Jones..."
"Tony Stark, Steve Rogers... it isn't a rule. Besides when have YOU ever been one to follow the rules? There are also a ton of W names you could have used! Willa for instance."
"Willa is from another fic." Wade shrugged again and patted my shoulder. "Now nut up and shut up, Wilma. Time to reveal your tragic backstory to the readers."
"Really? This is the beginning to my story?" I deadpanned glaring around the room as if I would be able to see my invisible audience.
"It's a fanfic, the readers aren't here for you so it starts when things get interesting. You told me you saw my movie, why do I have to explain this to you?" Wade sighed giving me a disappointed look.
"Whatever, how does this work? Do I just tell them what's going on and how I know you're not just a crazy person?"
"It's your story, you do you boo boo."
Yet before I was able to open my mouth the microwave beeped and Wade jumped to his feet to pull out a bag of buttered popcorn. "When the hell did you start making popcorn?! Ugh, nevermind." I shrugged and took a breath trying to figure out where to start. "Well... It all started when I was born" I begin.
"Jesus, God Almighty, Wil. We want to entice our readers not info dump on them. Have I taught you NOTHING?" Wade exclaims.
"How the hell am I supposed to tell them everything without telling them, WADE?"
"You show them shit head. Cue flash back."
"That's more your thing, I don't know how to-"
The apartment around me fades into the interior of my old chevy aveo, the one I drove before all this mess starts. "Oh... this is weird." I yelp, taking a peek at my old face with all it's acne scars and laugh lines.
"Damn Wil, check out those tits!" Wade said poking at my old DDD's
"Focus Wade, cause shits abou-" I was cut off at the sudden impact of my car into the trailer of the semi I had been behind on the freeway. "I knew I hadn't seen brake lights." I huffed.
"Shut up, this is the good part."
Of course he thinks this is the good part, there he is blowing up Francis's lab and attempting to save me only to be attacked by fuckin' Francis. "That was when you gave me your powers." I pointed out to when I had grabbed Wade's hand for comfort before he was thrown across the room. "They already know all this, we don't need to watch the whole thing."
Time seemed to be on 2x speed as we watched Wade and I emerge from the ashes, naked and confused. A training montage so I could help Wade get his revenge on Francis, along with some bonding time where he took on the role of my big brother. Our first adventure to see Xavier to learn about my powers, which trust me was not as exciting as it sounds. Xavier is cool in his own way but I am POSITIVE Patrick Stewart is a million times better. This part I really will just info dump on you, trust me it's much more interesting than the lecture I got that day.
Essentially we found my power is the ability to mimic another mutants power indefinitely. I do it by touching the palm of the other mutant with my own palm, and while it may sound like I'm some sort of OP character it isn't that straight forward. I don't know how to control the abilities and they're a watered down version of the mutants I got them from. The day I met the Professor I managed to shake hands with Logan and Iceman before Xavier put a stop to it.
"That good enough? They know how your movie ends, my presence didn't change anything since I wasn't there that day." I asked Wade who had started dozing on the couch, mouth wide open with popcorn stuck to his tongue. "WADE! Ugh nevermind." I grumbled, then with another paranoid glance around the room decided it was time for a walk to clear my head. I hadn't been expecting my 'story' to start today, hell I was convinced Wade was full of shit when he told me I would probably become the character of a fanfic.
Don't think about it too hard, it'll give you a headache... trust me.
My feet led me toward the Sanctum, my guilty pleasure place. I'd waited until I was sure Stephen Strange was the Sorcerer Supreme before beginning to mess with things. Just little things, freezing the bottom of the steps in the middle of summer with the weak ice powers I'd learned to control, ordering a ton of pizzas to be delivered there, making up a fake party and spreading a bunch of invitations using the sanctum for the address. I'd managed to sneak a few bags of dog poo I'd lit on fire, they just used magic to extinguish it but it was still hilarious to me. Mostly it was just stupid juvenile kind of pranks and I was slightly surprised I hadn't been caught by Stephen or Wong, but I will admit I was more concerned about Wade finding out I'd been causing trouble and leaving him out of it.
I had just crossed the street when a couple of giggling girls bumped into me, drawing me from thoughts. I was just about to chew them out when I caught the end of their conversation.
"-that we met Thor!" The one shrieked.
Chapter 2
I will try to update once a week, so check back next Friday, or let me know if you’d like to be added to a taglist.
@evening-starlight
#wade wilson#wade wilson imagine#wade wilson fanfic#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel fanfic#oc#original character#original content#original story#original series#loki (marvel)#loki imagine#thor: ragnorak
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They Speak the Language {Tech Boy x Reader}
Requested by: Anonymous
Wordcount: 2181
Summary: Tech-Boy’s bad mood is starting to get to you, so you start to look for inspiration to turn it around.
Notes: Contains bad language.
You knew it was a bad idea to get involved in the war between the old gods and the new. You were somewhere in the middle, along with a couple of others, who could very well tip the scales. And it wasn’t that you believed that one side was better than the other either. But one side had someone that you cared for more than the others. And that was the dangerous, marvelous, grumpy little thing that you knew as Tech-Boy. Of course you had thought that he was a bit of a douche when you met him for the first time, shortly after his emergence into the world. Everybody did. It was a part of his charm. But deep down, yeah, there was a heart there. After all, not all technology is meant to be cold. Most of it was built to help others, or to improve lives. He just took the functional part of it a little too seriously at times.
You took a lot of rides with him in his special car. Sitting in the back with him as it drove itself - or rather, one of the faceless minions drove - around the different cities. Anywhere you wanted to go, you could. New York one minute, LA the next. Technology had no bounds, no limits, and so - neither did Tech-Boy.
“Why are you wearing your shirt like that,” You scoffed once you realized what it was that he was wearing. The jacket itself was nice, but he only had the top three buttons fastened. The rest were undone, showing off the red shirt underneath. “You look like you’re preparing for a huge dinner or something. You don’t even eat. What gives?”
You poked at his thin stomach, and he shoved your arm away. He adjusted the coat so it was exactly how he liked it, the open flaps down. “It’s the new look, y/n. Not that you know anything about what’s new.”
“Wow, someone’s being fucking harsh,” You said, folding your arms around yourself. You’d grown used to his rather ... delicate temper over the years. You knew not to take offense. “What crawled in your vape and died?”
“New Media,” He grumbled. You nodded, knowing that was a pretty good reason. The bubbly but bitchy new form of Media was a pain in the ass. You preferred the old. At least she had class. And a pretty good David Bowie impersonation.
“Say no more,” You said, sinking into the interior of the seat. You made yourself comfortable as the car went. You didn’t know where you were, nor did you know where you were going. It was more so about the journey than the destination. And with this teched-out car, the journey was definitely in style. “Just don’t forget that she owes her existence to you. Without the printing press, smartphones, internet - all that you have created - she’d be nothing. Lord it over her. I do it all the time.”
“You talk about me to her?” He asked, eyebrows shooting up towards his curls.
“More like I brag about you to her,” You snorted. “Okay, she might be a bit more superior than I am in the hierarchy, I’m barely anything, but you? Bitch is kidding herself if she thinks that she’s better than you. And guess what, you like me-”
“Barely fucking tolerate-” He muttered.
“-way more than you do her, so in her stupid face.” You didn’t allow his interruption to bother your momentum. You knew that behind that hard, technological, douchebag exterior was a heart wrapped in microchips. A soft, beating heart.
“She just doesn’t have to be so fucking smug,” He said. You could still feel anger coming off of him like heat waves. You just chuckled at his attitude - he really let things get under his skin. And he tried so hard to pretend to be this big tough guy.
“Don’t worry about it,” You said, patting his knee. “You’ll be around for the rest of time, and media is just going to be a fad. Especially her kind of media. She’ll get reborn again and again, as media changes. So -- forgedd abou-it.” You attempted your best accent, trying to sound like the Italians in the movies.
“You’re fucking horrible, you know that?” He said to you. But before he turned his head, you could just make out the corner of his lips going up into a smile. You would call that a success.
“So where are we off to, today? Silicon valley to go and mess with the nerds? Seattle to go and talk to Bill Gates? Come on, hit me with something fun.”
He just shrugged in retaliation. “I don’t feel like fucking with anyone today. I just want to .... go.”
“Okay, then let’s go...” You said, eyebrows furrowed. It really didn’t feel like it was a success anymore. He was closing off from you again, and you didn’t have any other choice but to let it happen.
-
You drove around for hours. There wasn’t anyway to measure the time, and the windows were permanently dark so you couldn’t see if it was day or if it was night out there. It didn’t matter. You had nowhere that you had to be, nor anywhere that you would rather go. He did slowly start to open back up. He bitched a lot, but he was well known for doing that. You would be much more concerned if he suddenly started to be positive. But he was slowly getting there.
It must be hard for him. He always provided what the people wanted, and what they needed. There was a difference between the two and he gave both. But there was always so much pressure to do more. To be better. He could outdo himself on one thing, and the next day, people would be clammering for bigger and better. He never got to actually enjoy what he gave.
Even those who had helped to bring into this world, like Media, and New Media. They came from him. They wouldn’t be here without him. And yet, they also just asked for more, more, more. They took, and they took. And gave nothing in return. They claimed some of his gifts to this world. They made it all about them. Look what I can do! If you worship me, you’re worshiping yourself! Narcissism at the touch of a button! Look at this celebrity’s ass! Look at these tits! Oh, a dick pic! Look, look, look.
What a lonely existence that he must have, you thought, as you watched him take puff after puff out of his vape. You don’t really know what he did outside of these drives with you. He never talked about it - only mentioned World and Media in passing. Not what he did with them. Not how the war plans were going. He tended to keep you separate from that part of his life.
“Fuck it,” You said, leaning forward in your seat. “Pull over.”
The driver did what he, or rather it, was told, and pulled the car over to the side of the road. You didn’t even know where you were. It could have been in a field, or a dark and creepy alley, or the suburbs of Albuquerque.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tech asked, looking at you like you had suddenly gone insane.
“You’re acting like an asshole,” You said, shrugging, and opened your door. “And it’s honestly killing my vibe so... I’m going out to find it again.”
“Find your vibe? Here’s your vibe check-” He said, making a gun with his fingers and pointed it at you. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“And?” You got out of the car, and felt the cool night breeze on your face. It blew through your hair, and it felt pretty good after the staleness of the inside of the car. You looked at your surroundings, and grinned as you saw some lights not too far in the distance.
A movie theater. Absolutely perfect.
Tech-Boy slid out of the car as well, and stood in the middle of the street. His facial expression left you no doubts that he was doing this against his will. He didn’t want to be out here. “What the fuck are you doing?” He finally asked.
“Come on, you big grump,” You said, taking hold of his hand and started to pull his thin frame towards the theater. He grumbled, but he walked along. Once you were inside, you noticed that there was an arcade area, for those who came too early for the movie. “Let’s have some fun. You really seem like you need it.”
Eventually, you had him paying air-hockey. He only half-ass played until you scored on him three times in a row, and then his more competitive streak started to show. He was moving back and forth, using his striker to block off all of your attempts. And just when it seemed like you were slowing down, he went from defense to offense. The puck shot across the table and straight through the slot on your side. The table let out a clang, and added one to his score. You picked out the disk with amusement as you watched him do a little shimmy dance. His thin little hips stuck out of his designer jeans, making you chuckle.
“I’m still ahead, douche,” You said, putting the puck down and shooting it while he was distracted. He was quick though, and blocked it, sending it back your way.
You played five games, until best three out of five, which he ended up winning. You hadn’t let him either - that wouldn’t have been fair. You then went onto the motor-races, with the chairs and the steering wheels. This was also something that he was better at than you were, but you didn’t mind losing. It was seriously so good to hear him laugh. And to hear him say ‘fuck’ in joy when he won, rather than annoyance at someone else.
You got a bag of popcorn and some soda just to watch him play Pacman. “Little - color - fuckers -” He mumbled when they came too close to his circular, yellow character. Only to let out barks of laughter when he got the big pellet and was able to eat them down. “Eat my ass, losers.”
Eventually you were both thrown out due to Tech-Boys language, but you didn’t even care. You didn’t even know which city you were. The likelihood that you would come back was slim to none. You got back into the car, the good mood still going.
“Well, this has been fun,” You said, resting your head on top of Tech-Boy’s shoulder. You were starting to get tired - even some of the minor Gods needed to sleep at times. “I should probably go home though.”
“Okay,” Tech-Boy said, and with a snap of his fingers, the car started to head in that direction. The rest of the ride remained silent, but it was a comfortable silence. Once in a while, a little laugh slipped through as the energy of the night stayed with you.
Eventually it all came to an end as the car stopped outside of your place. You reluctantly took your head off of his shoulder, and got out of the car, but paused before you would close the door. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Yeah,” He said with a nod, picking up his vape once more.
“Okay - bye Techie. Love you!”
He looked at you like you were crazy, then did a shooing motion to try to get you on your way. But you didn’t move.
“Aren’t you going to say it back?” You questioned, leaning on the top of the door as it swayed under your weight. He curled his nose at you, and then tried to dismiss you again. But you didn’t move, just stood there grinning at him. “Not gonna leave until you say it back, big guy.”
He mumbled something under his breath. You cupped your hand around your ear. “What’s that?”
“Love you too,” He said, finally in a voice loud enough for you to hear. “You fucking freak.”
“Aww, you’re such a softie,” You grinned, sticking your tongue out between your teeth. You finally closed the door and made your way up to your place, the car idling outside until you were safely through the door. Tech-Boy held up his hand to snap his fingers, but didn’t until he saw the light in your window come on. Despite being alone, he smiled, chuckled, then finally told the car to keep on going. He might as well head home - the best part of his night was over.
#Tech Boy#Tech Boy x reader#Tech Boy imagines#American Gods#American Gods imagines#request#imagines#techboy#x reader
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Tis the damn season
a folk of the air fic based on tis the damn season by taylor swift.
Summary: after years away from her quiet hometown, Jude returns for the weekend. Someone is still there, waiting for her (Jude x Cardan) All human AU
Snow drifted lazily through the sky as her legs took her on an all too familiar path, collecting in her hair. This path was one well-traveled, Jude remembered it from ditching class with Larkin and Liliver and early morning study seshes before exams. The path had hardly changed in the years she had been gone, the quiet little town she called home hardly changing either. Small, old houses still lined every street, decorated with bright, twinkling lights. Children chased each other through the snowbanks, throwing loose powder at each other with gloved hands. Memories of her and her sisters doing the same pushed to the front of her mind, memories of a life long abandoned.
Taryn would be home, she knew, Vivi might be. Jude hadn’t been back since graduation, not for holidays or birthdays or anything. If her family needed her, they would pop over to her apartment hundreds of miles away.
And yet, she was here. After nearly five years of absence.
With a chime of the bells on the back of the door, the door swung open, Jude hastily slipping inside. Stopping the snow of her boots, she entered the room. Coffee assaulted her nose, freshly ground and made. Inhaling deeply, a small smile pricked at her lips, shoulders dropping she fell into the comforting warmth of the small café.
Plush armchairs sat scattered around, varying shades of reds, oranges, and greens, the colours rich and inviting. Tables and chairs were mingled with them too. The glow of the lights cast everything in a bright and warm hue. Making her way to the counter, she smiled at the barista. Fand, she remembered, only a year or so younger than herself. Footsteps sounded behind her as she ordered, light as a cat and barely audible. Moving to the side to wait for her coffee, Jude turned, catching a pair of dark eyes already fixed on hers. A familiar smirk danced across the mans even more familiar mouth.
“Cardan,” She said, keeping her voice stiff and polite. He nodded at Fand as she asked something about a usual, dark hairs stirring on his head. It was longer now, styled in a way that simultaneously looked like it took seconds and hours.
“Jude,” her name rolled of his tongue smoothly. Jude’s stomach fluttered at it, at the way his lips curved around her name. Like it fit perfectly in his mouth.
Cursing herself quietly, he moved to stand next to her waiting on his own cup.
“How’s the city?” he asks, leaning closer. It was small talk, but somehow it didn’t feel like small talk.
Small talk was boring, and absolutely nothing about Cardan was boring.
Black eyes bore into mine as he waited intently on her answer. Refusing to look away, she shrugged, “It’s okay.”
After a moment, “How’s the town.”
Cardan shrugs, “It’s okay.” He mirrors her, “Empty now.”
“Empty?” she can’t stop herself from asking. Curiosity fell on her, forcing the words out far quicker than she wished.
Noticing he smiled a bit, but his eyes were still melancholy, “We seem to be missing a fiery brunette with a tendency to threaten people. Have you seen her?”
Jude’s throat tightened, “I don’t think you’d want her back.”
Looking around he muttered, “I think we would.”
The Greenbriar’s had known Jude and her family for a long time, Cardan was in her and Taryn’s grade, Rhia used to babysit us, Dain had given Jude her very first job. The Greenbriar’s had been a part of this town for as long as it’s stood.
A cup landed on the counter, nearly black steaming liquid inside. Grasping the cup, careful not to burn her fingers, she moved to an olive green armchair in the corner. Barely two minutes had passed before an extravagantly dressed man sat across form me, his own mug full of some sugary smelling, light coloured, drink.
Looking at him expectantly, as she took a sip, she waited for him to begin.
He was off, acting so much like and unlike himself at the same moments. Who he had grown to be was a mystery Jude, their last interaction at eighteen as he begged her to stay and she refused, chasing her dreams outside of the bubble they had lived in.
Seeing him now a small bubble of regret bubbled in her stomach. Jude didn’t regret leaving, didn’t regret going to university and finding her job. But for just a moment, she looked at him and imagined what it would have been if she didn’t.
“How long are you staying?” Cardan asks, eyes barely meeting hers.
“Just for three days,”
He nods, “I can work with that.”
Cardan had walked her home, standing beside her, arms gently brushing. Warmth pooled in her chest at it, at the feeling of him next to her again. They had stayed and talked about everything and nothing for nearly an hour before she looked at the watch on her wrist. Everyone should be at home by now, and the sun would no doubt begin to fall on the horizon soon.
At the gate out front her parents place, Jude turned, pulling the lapels of her coat tighter around her body. A larger hand slipped into hers, squeezing it gently.
“I’ve missed you, Jude.” His voice was quiet.
Without room for another word, he turned and continued his way down the road.
Knuckles hitting the door, she waited for just a moment. Nerves spiked, choking her out slowly. Dark wood pulled open in front of her, light and warmth escaping quickly. In the doorway was a tall, slender woman. Features of her face sharp and angular. Before Jude could even open her mouth arms wrapped around her.
“What are you doing here?” Viviane asked, excitement lighting her face.
“Thought I’d come for a visit, if you’d all be okay with that?” Jude tapped her boots together nervously.
With a small shake of her head, she pulled Jude inside.
“Who’s at the door?” A dark head poked out of the doorway to the kitchen, long hair in perfect curls. Taryn’s face dropped in surprise; mouth agape as she stared.
“Jude’s here.” Vivi said plainly, pulling the coat from Jude’s shoulders and hanging it by the door.
Rushing over, her body collided with her twins, hair of the same exact hue mingling in their embrace.
“Come on, Dad, Mom, and Oak are going to be so happy to see you.”
The next time Cardan appeared was in a sleek looking black car pulling up next to her as she walked off the large breakfast she had been stuffed with. The window closest to her rolled down. Hesitantly she leaned into the open space, her nose just reaching the interior of the car.
“My darling Jude,” a broad smile fell across his mouth, “Get in.”
After a moment of debate with herself and against her best judgement. She got in.
The town had hardly changed since she left, still trapped in its own bubble. Just like the café, they talked easily, slipping back into who they were in high school. Jude’s shoulders felt lighter than they had for a long time. They drove up and down every street, and then back again, filling their time like they did when they were teenagers.
Eventually they came to a stop, climbing out into the busy streets. A small store selling handmade novelties sat quietly. It was always the best place for buying presents, and despite the fact she had purchased a gift for everyone before she came, one name had been missing on her list.
Holding the door open for her, Cardan followed her inside, moving silently through the rows of shelves. Items crowded the space, each marked with a little twine and tape price tag. Scanning the shelves, Jude searched.
“Look at this,” Cardan muttered behind her, grabbing her hand to keep her from walking any farther forward. They still fit together perfectly, calluses and soft skin in the same places, slotting like the final pieces of a puzzle. He held a small charcoal grey box. Inside was a necklace, a simple chain with only one pendant. A silver dagger, highly detailed for its size.
“It’s beautiful,” escapes her lips. After a moment, he sets it down, pulling her along the isles, not dropping her hand.
After a moment she managed to snag something while he was off looking for last minute gifts for his brothers. A small bag slung off her wrist as he met with her at the front of the store, his own bag in his hand. Silently, he slipped his hand into hers ago. And surprising herself, Jude did not let go.
The third time Jude found Cardan was at night, right after Christmas dinner. Her family has already unwrapped their gifts, muttering apologies that Jude didn’t have any to unwrap. They had already sent them in the mail.
One final gift stayed heavy in her pocket.
The Greenbriar estate was the largest in town, built and added on over two centuries, maybe even more. It was light up, brilliant lights lining the doorways and rooftops. For a moment she paused, debating on whether approaching was a good idea. Her chest tightened, unease settling in her bones.
“Looking for someone?” a playful voice reached her ears.
Turning quickly, and very nearly slipping on the ice, she found the source of her conflict standing right behind her, leaning against a tree lining the street.
“Indeed I am.”
“May I be of any service then, my darling?”
Jude’s heart sped at the nickname. Cardan looked unphased by their teenage term of endearment however.
Pulling the small box from her pocket, she held into him.
“For me?” his dark rows raised, looking more unsettled than he had any other time this weekend.
“For you.”
Gently, he pulls the small box from my hands, popping open the lid.
“Are you proposing darling? I must admit that is one hell of a gift.”
Jude’s cheeks burned as blood rushed to them, “No I just know how you never go anywhere without them.”
Nestled on the black satin was a silver ring, one thick band. Scales were etched all around it, the head of the snake swallowing the tail.
Pulling it out, he slipped it on, fitting it perfectly on his middle finger. Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear he whispered, “Thank you, I love it.”
Throwing all her judgement and reservations aside, Jude’s palms brushed against his cheeks, pulling his face to hers.
Cardan responded quickly, entangling his fingers in her hair, grasping right at the base of her neck.
“What are we doing?” he asks between kisses, lips sliding over each other’s.
“This,” she answers, “Just for the weekend.”
The last time she saw Cardan was when her car was loaded with her suitcase and she was idling outside the driver’s door. Waiting for something she didn’t want to admit to.
She had already said her goodbyes to her family inside, hugs and tears shed from all of them with promises of visiting more often.
As he always does, Cardan rounds the corner, already walking toward her.
Jude’s heart thumps in her chest, she had done this once, she could do it again.
Standing close, voice small and steady, he asks, “There’s nothing I could say to get you to stay is there?”
Shaking her head slightly, voice thick she whispers back, “No.”
Cardan nods, looking much like the eighteen year old she had left the last time.
Soft lips meet hers, slowly. A finale.
A goodbye.
Without wasting anymore words, he steps back, giving her room to slip into the driver’s seat. Moving forward she refuses to look in the rearview mirror and the man she is leaving behind.
As she drives along the busy highway and the town shrinks behind her, Jude pretends she doesn’t feel her heart shattering in her chest.
Back home, she had unpacked her bags, throwing a load of laundry in and beginning to dust every available surface in her house. Anything to keep her busy, her mind away from the images of dark eyes, long ring covered fingers, soft pink lips.
Finally, she collapses against the couch, a thin sheen of sweat coating her body.
A knock sounds against her door. Moving quickly, she pulls it open. Her whole body stutters as she takes in the image on the other side.
Leaning against her doorframe casually, Cardan smiles, “Hey.”
A/N: so its been awhile. I’m not sure the last time i even wrote and i think this SUCKS but im trying to get back into it. The characters both seem pretty ooc to me so sorry bout that but im trying to get back into the grove of things.
#jude duarte#jude x cardan#cardan greenbriar#high king cardan#The Folk of the Air#the cruel prince#the wicked king#the queen of nothing#tfota#tfota fanfic
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Queen of Hearts pt 10
10. Stacked Deck
“You’re really alright?”
Stacie smiled and dipped her head in a slight nod. The last few hours of her life had been a rollercoaster of unexpected emotions and events but by far the most unexpected was this. Helene gave her daughter’s arm a gentle squeeze before hesitatingly pulling her into an awkward but heartfelt embrace. It was the first in a long time that actually felt…unscripted.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Really.” It wasn’t the ideal introduction to her life that she’d wanted for her mother but it was what it was. Stacie shook her head a little and pulled back so she could look her mother in the eye. “We’re going to be fine.”
“I wasn’t asking about Aubrey.” There was a decidedly crisp tone there, shattering the tender hope that maybe things might be okay and Stacie felt the muscles in her back tighten in anticipation of what was coming. Her arms dropped away in from the short-lived hug. “Aubrey is not my child. You are.”
“No but she’s a part of my life and she’s going to be my wife, mom.” Stacie sighed and shook her head realizing that to continue would only bring a fight she didn’t have the energy for. Especially when all she wanted to do was go home with Aubrey and find out what happened. “You know what…never mind. Thank you for your concern but you don’t need to worry about it.”
She started to turn back to get in the car when Helene pulled her back with a desperate grasp. “Wait…”
“For what? I know how you feel already.”
“No, you do not. That has always been your problem Anastacia, you are so brilliant and observant that you think you know everything! Admittedly, you’re correct an irritating amount of the time but you do not know everything. Don’t presume to know what even I do not.”
Helene took a breath and settled her posture in a camera-ready pose. It was a habit so deeply ingrained that she doubted her mother was aware of it. She gave a nod of apology and Helene let the rigidity of her spine relax.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re worried about me but…”
“I don’t have to be. Yes. You’ve said.” The older woman took a step forward and sighed softly. “I came looking for insight into your life. That old adage of be careful what you wish for suddenly rings truer than ever before.”
Stacie chuckled and nodded her head. “Yeah. Today was a lot. Thank you for coming with me to the station. It meant a lot to me that you were there. Maybe I don’t know how you feel about things but I know what all this looks like.”
Silence swallowed them up as her mom considered her next words. “It looks to me that you care about Aubrey very much.”
“I do.”
“It also looks like she cares very deeply for your happiness.” Her head came up quickly in question but Helene gave no further explanation as she went on. “Politically speaking this could ruin your father’s career and standing within the party.”
“Spoken like the wife of a Senator.”
A small smile graced Helene’s face making her eyes soften. “Speaking as a mother…I worry that this life will put you in physical danger.” Stacie’s brows came up and she opened her mouth to speak but Helene raised a hand to stop her from saying what they both already knew. “I know. Perhaps too little, too late. What I am saying is that…I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. I failed you in many ways Anastacia, I don’t want to fail you again.”
Oh. It was hard to hear that, perhaps because she’d always wanted to hear some kind of acknowledgment that her mother ever cared about her at all. She’d been holding on to a resentment knowing this moment would never come, so sure that her mother had given up all real maternal feelings for her the moment the umbilical cord had been cut. And now she didn’t know what to do with the feelings she never thought she’d have to let go. It was going to take her some time to unpack all of that and process it.
“Can you be happy for me?”
It was the only question that actually mattered at the moment. What she needed from her mom wasn’t a protector. Not anymore anyway. What she needed was support. Some kind of affirmation that no matter what her mom would be a part of her life even if some aspects of it caused her to worry.
“Will it undo our tentative truce if I say I’m trying?”
Stacie smiled and wrapped her arms around her mom in a tight hug. It wasn’t a rousing yes, and she didn’t expect it to be. But it was honest and real and that was enough for her. Helene stiffened for a second then retuned the hug with a gentle squeeze. It wasn’t totally okay and they both knew that. Life wasn’t a sitcom where differences were resolved with a heartwarming hug and a cued laugh track. But there was a new understanding between them. Maybe now they could start rebuilding the bridge they burnt down so many years before.
An hour and a half later she was still replaying the conversation in her head. Aubrey unlocked the door and pushed it open before glancing inside and stepping in. Stacie was right on her heels, lost in thought and unprepared for the arm that shot out across her chest to keep her from walking in further. Keen green eyes searched the interior of the entry as she reached to the small of her back and pulled her gun from its holster.
“Stay close.”
Stacie nodded and placed a hand on Aubrey’s back, following her in past the stairs and into the living room. The blonde stopped abruptly with a growl and put her gun away before stepping into the entrance of the large room. Stacie edged behind her fiancée and poked her head around the other woman’s shoulder only to see Detective Mitchell in all her smirky glory lounging on Aubrey’s white leather couch with her motorcycle boots propped up on the glass topped coffee table.
“Hey, Daddy. How was the pokey?”
“I swear to Christ, Mitchell…one of these days I’m going to shoot you. Get your damn feet off my table.”
Detective Mitchell grinned widely and lowered her feet to the ground. “Sorry. You’ll be happy to know that your lawyer filed a restraining order against our department but I don’t know if that will stop the Feds.” Aubrey nodded and moved to the mini bar to pour them all a drink. “Water for me, thanks.”
Stacie and Aubrey looked at each other in surprise then glanced at the small brunette. Aubrey shrugged and grabbed three bottles of water from the mini fridge. Had it been anyone else neither of them would have batted an eye at the request but it was Beca. She never turned down a drink.
“How did Agent Esposito take the news that LAPD is backing off?”
Beca took the water bottle and shrugged. “Well I’m pretty sure she’s possessed cause her head almost started spinning.” She took a sip of her water still smiling at the memory. “But I don’t know, Posen, we’re missing a beat somewhere. I talked to my guy at the Bureau and he seemed to think you’re just some low-level capo. I don’t think they were looking at you seriously.”
While she appreciated the visual, Stacie didn’t think Alice’s tantrum meant anything but more trouble despite Beca’s assessment of the FBI’s interest. Aubrey seemed to think so too because she nodded and settled herself on the couch next to the detective. “She’s like a dog with a bone. She’s not going to let this go if the Feds can really pull together a case.”
Stacie frowned at that as she settled into a chair. “How can they have a case, no one knows anything and Weston is dead.”
Aubrey sighed deeply and leaned forward so her elbows rested on her knees. “They have images of me boarding Whitman’s boat. It’s not enough but it gives them wiggle room to try and find something else.”
She knew there had to be something; they wouldn’t have pulled Aubrey in if there wasn’t. But Stacie hadn’t been prepared for actual hard evidence. It left her struggling to figure out how that fit in with their life and future plans. Detective Mitchell gave a low whistle and shook her head.
“It’s bad yeah, but not the worst. Circumstantial at best and I’ve seen street thugs get out with more on them than that.” There was a bitter edge to Mitchell’s voice as she stood and headed for the door. “I’ll see if I can find out exactly what they have on you. Not that I can do anything about it but at least it gives you a place to start cleaning up.”
“Something bigger is going on, it feels like a stacked deck. Watch your ass, Bec.”
“See, Daddy? I knew you liked me.”
“Gun is still loaded, Mitchell. Call me Daddy one more time and see what happens.”
Stacie watched the detective smirk and make her way to the door in the kitchen to sneak off the property. The second the door shut she turned her gaze on Aubrey. The other woman had a faraway look as she pondered everything she had learned that day. The brunette moved from the chair to straddle her fiancée’s lap.
“You weren’t kidding about what our life could be like.”
Aubrey searched her face for a long time and Stacie suspected she was looking for any sign that this was going to break them. Stacie smiled gently and smoothed the wrinkle of worry in the blonde’s brow. This was new and a little bit scary but it wasn’t even close to changing how she felt about the other woman or any of her plans to get married.
“Ready to run away yet?”
“Only if we’re running away together.”
The thread of tension that had been just under the surface released and Stacie slid her hands under Aubrey’s jacket and over her shoulders to slip it off. Running anywhere wasn’t on her list of things to do, and especially not running away from the only person that she truly felt safe with. There were a lot of unknowns in their life right now but what she did know what an immutable truth. She loved Aubrey Posen with every bit of her being and nothing was ever going to come between them. Not their exes or families, or even the FBI.
“You know you’re quite the woman, Ms. Conrad. Thanks for coming to my rescue today. How’d you know?”
“A tiny birdy with a big mouth.” The corners of Aubrey’s lips quirked in a grin and Stacie couldn’t help but kiss each corner. “You should give her a bonus.”
“Oh yeah? Got any other business ideas?”
“Tons.” Stacie smiled into the kiss Aubrey pulled her into. Warm hands trailed down her back in a promising caress. “We should have the wedding catered by Flo. The food is amazing and the price will be right. It’ll strengthen our business relationship by giving her a foothold to a new client base. And what makes her money, makes you money. Besides my mother loved her food.”
“You know I love it when you have ideas.” Aubrey nipped at her lip playfully, hands gripping her hips to pull Stacie in closer. “Speaking of your mom…that was surprising. How much does she hate me over this?”
“She dropped by the shelter and was there when Beca called. She’s not thrilled, Bree. But. I dunno. I need space from it for a bit. It was a lot.”
Her shoulder came up in a shrug and she leaned forward into Aubrey’s body. There was no pressure to talk about anything, just reassuring acceptance and it meant the world to Stacie. She wasn’t ready yet to sift through her feelings on Helene’s visit. The arms around her tightened comfortingly and she smiled against the soft skin of Aubrey’s neck.
“I think we both need a little space from this whole scene. Maybe we should take a trip back east.”
Stacie sat up and raised a brow in question. Aubrey never did anything without a good reason. “Why back east?”
Aubrey gave a half shrug, trying not to look as nervous as Stacie knew she suddenly was. “I was thinking it was time you met The Family.”
“Wow. Did not see that one coming.”
“I figured I got to meet yours…”
“Is this business family or…”
“A little of both. You’re not just gonna be one of the wives in the family, you’re my partner. I think it’s better they know from the start how it’s going to be from now on. And I have a feeling we’ll find the answers to some of our questions there.”
The confidence was exhilarating, and Stacie found herself inhaling deeply against the rise of arousal. Aubrey wasn’t asking anyone’s permission to include her in the business side of things. Either old school mafiosos had gotten a lot more progressive in their thinking or Aubrey didn’t expect to be challenged in any serious way. Stacie’s eyes narrowed slightly. Everyone had a boss they answered to and she didn’t think for one second that she would be accepted just because Aubrey said so. Unless.
“You’re not just ‘some low-level capo’ like Detective Mitchell’s Bureau buddy thinks, are you?”
Amused pale green eyes rose to meet hers as Aubrey gave her a sinfully cocky smirk. Whatever flimsy control she had over her arousal was battered away by the tidal wave of raw lust that slammed through her. Stacie slid her hand down over the blonde’s chest and pulled the silk tie free from the vest. She stood on legs already shaky with anticipation and tugged lightly to urge Aubrey up.
“I think you should take me to bed now, don’t you?”
Aubrey gave a soft grunt of agreement as she let herself be led by the tie. “Like I said, I love it when you have ideas.”
Later they could figure out everything from wedding plans to avoiding prison, right now however Stacie had more pressing needs.
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eight minutes || jjk (m)
Genre | very light smut, angst if you squint, car salesman!jungkook x reader
Word Count | 2.2K
Warnings | language, dry humping in a Mercedes Benz (fancy!), infidelity
Summary | A mid-shift rendezvous with your favorite stupid salesman, Jeon Jungkook.
A/N | Hi everyone...I’m back?
“Eight minutes, Jungkook,” you say, poking a finger to his chest. “No more. And if you try to persuade me this time—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. “It’ll never happen again, you’ll get in so much trouble, blah blah blah.” He opens the rear passenger door to the shiny, black-on-black Mercedes Benz parked beside you two. “You gonna get in?”
You nod, although somewhat stubbornly with a clenched jaw, and duck into the low-sitting vehicle, sliding across the black leather so that you’re behind the driver's seat. Jungkook ducks in after you, shutting the door and grunting as his knees hit too close to his chest due to the small proximity of the luxury model you two were about to make out in.
It probably wasn’t the best—or easiest—place to have an after-work rendezvous at, but you would take what you could get.
“Man, fuck these small ass cars,” he mumbles, reaching for the seat motor button on the passenger side. “I don’t know why anyone would want a GLA anyways, this shit has the smallest, low-roof interior of any car on our sales lot. A real downer to anyone over five-foot-seven.”
He grumbles to himself as the seat slowly moves forward, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing at the expected cuteness of it all.
“Mmmmm,” you say, grinning as you rub your hand along his leg. “Love it when you talk cars to me, baby.”
Jungkook smirks back at you, finally able to free his legs and sit with them wide open, and he settles against the leather seating, patting his lap.
“That wasn’t part of my eight minutes,” he warns you. “It starts the second you come over here, princess.”
You nod, already up in your seat and ready to swing your leg over his and straddle his lap. “You bet your ass it does,” you murmur, placing your hands on either side of his face and bringing his sweet, sweet mouth to yours.
He sighs a little in content, arms slithering around your body to press one palm to your hip and the other to the small of your back, ultimately bringing you as close to him as possible. Jungkook alters between kissing your bottom and top lip as always, making you melt into him—the thoughts of the previous difficult workday fading with each flick of his tongue against yours, every nibble of his teeth against your lips.
“Fuck,” he grunts as you pull away, mouthing a trail across his jawline to the taunt skin of his neck. “I needed this—this fucking—customer today changed their mind, at the last minute—”
“Jeon,” you say, pulling back to look into his eyes.
Although they are half-lidded, they stare at you with an amused sort of curiosity, and his teeth sneak out to sink into his bottom lip in anticipation of your oncoming scolding.
“Is this really what you want to talk about right now?” you ask, eyeing the situation of your bodies in the backseat of a dealer-tagged Mercedes on the lot. “Think about it real hard.”
Jungkook just flashes you his signature shitty salesman grin—one that you’ve seen him give to female customers when he knows he’s about to get them hook, line, and sinker. His hand that was previously kneading one side of your hip comes up to caress your face, and he rubs his thumb across your cheek with delicate swipes.
“No,” he says finally, his eyes dropping from yours and lingering on your other features. “Fuck, you’re so pretty—you know that?”
Your face warms even though he’s said a multitude of things like this in the past. If there was one thing Jeon Jungkook was, it was a sweet talker. You’d thought at some point over the past few months of fooling around with him you’d get used to it, but every time he said something your heart beat just as fast as the first. It was sad, really, how hard you’d fallen for him, but you’d never let him know.
“Shut up,” you say, unconvincingly. “And why do you hate on GLA’s? Millennials like us are supposed to love them.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“And you sold that annoying woman one today, remember?” you say spitefully, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’d look absolutely stunning in a GLA, Mrs.—”
“Hey, stop wasting my time,” he teases, interrupting your rant while easing your mouth down to his for a small lick at your bottom lip. “You only gave me eight minutes to kiss the life out of you, and I can’t when you’re looking at me all mad like that.”
A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, but you roll your eyes anyways. “I’m not mad,” you say, leaning back down and brushing your lips against his.
“Good,” he murmurs, closing his eyes and leaning up to press a small kiss against your mouth. “I hate it when you’re mad,” he sighs.
Your heart does a weird, warm flip-flop in your chest and you push the feelings that threaten to rush to the surface with a hard press of your mouth to his. Jungkook takes it as you getting back into the mood, and his hands grip at the bottom of your work shirt tucked into your slacks, pulling it up and out so that his hands can palm the warm skin of your stomach.
You groan a little, threading your hands through his thick locks, licking into his mouth with fervor. Jungkook was an incredibly good kisser, you’d give him that, but what really took the cake was the way he couldn’t keep his hands off you whenever you two were in a secluded space.
He was constantly running his palms along your body, threading his fingers through your hair, massaging the base of your neck with a tender touch, running his fingers along your lips, the slope of your chin, the curve of your earlobe. A single touch from him set your nerve-endings alight with life, and it didn’t help that in your current situation you were fixated right on his lap--everything you had was touching Jungkook, and Jungkook was certainly touching everything you had, making your brain one melty, jumbled mess.
You take a breather from his intoxicating mouth as he presses wet, sloppy kisses to your neck. You grin up at the ceiling as you tilt your head back, a breathy laugh escaping.
“What?” he murmurs against the dip of your clavicle. “You’re always laughing at me, Y/N.”
“I am not,” you argue, but the grin on your face gives you away. “Okay, I do laugh a lot, but it’s like a nervous tick—”
Jungkook noses his way beneath your ear, pressing a kiss to the hollow space there. “You have a lot of those, by the way.”
“Oh yeah?” you say. “Elaborate.”
“Well, there’s that one,” he pauses to place a small kiss to your chin. “And you’re constantly messing with your rings—you always take the one on your right hand on and off.”
“True,” you hum. “Anything else?”
Jungkook eyes your mouth with a kind of hunger that makes your insides jump, before saying, “You do this thing with your tongue sometimes—it’s like running it across all your upper teeth while you’re thinking, or before you’re about to say something you’ve been thinking. Honestly, it drives me fucking crazy, Y/N.”
“Yeah?”
You grin easily at him—for some reason his praise gives you confidence, and you lean closer to his mouth.
“Yeah,” Jungkook murmurs, struggling to maintain eye contact when he can feel your breath on his lips. “Feels like an invitation.”
“Oh, it is,” you say with a smile, before leaning down agonizingly slow until your lips barely brush against his. You do it once, twice, before finally giving him a real kiss, letting your mouths meld together into a mess of movements that get increasingly hot and heavy as moments go by.
When Jungkook sneaks his tongue out, letting it slide against your bottom lip, you sigh heavily into his mouth, which he takes advantage of by inviting himself to taste any remains of the coffee you tried to cover up with the breath mints you snatched from the lobby right before you walked outside to meet him.
Jungkook doesn’t mind, of course. That’s what makes it all worse. Jungkook was so vocal all the time with his opinions, whether they be on cars, sales, business, music, movies, or how he felt about you. The latter of those was what really fucked you up. You didn’t understand how someone could be so good with saying exactly what they were thinking all the time, but he was.
As if on cue, he pulls back from you to rest his head against the seat, looking up at you with curious eyes that has your heart hammering in your chest.
“What?” you say, nervous. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just—seriously mad about this back seat,” he says, exasperated, looking around. “I haven’t spent much time back here but I seriously can’t believe how small this shit is—”
“Jungkook,” you groan, taking your hand that was entangled in his hair and giving the strands a small yank. “I fucking—”
“You fucking what?” Jungkook asks, giving you a teasing grin that lets you know he’s messing with you. His hands slip down to your ass just as he flexes his hips, letting his hardened cock in his pants brush against your center. “Tell me.”
“You tell me first,” you say, breathless, automatically returning the motions of his hips with little swivels of your own.
It was so effortless like this all the time with Jungkook--switching back and forth between laughter and sexual tension that made for your whole relationship to be much more intimate than anything you could have ever imagined.
In the early stages, you were a nervous mess around him; you were always unsure of yourself, unsure of how he was going to take any of your advances or the things you said or did, but Jungkook was nothing like the man he seemed.
In the dealership he was clean cut—prim and proper in his slacks, button-up and tie, with a blinding smile straight out of a Crest 3D White commercial--and the only time you ever got to see him goofing off was if you walked past the sales manager’s office at the right time, or happened to walk out on the smoking stoop in the middle of one of his conversations.
It started slow, a conversation or two about mild topics letting you get to know each other, until suddenly you realized you were looking at the clock anxiously as it neared time for him to come in, making one too many trips to the bathroom to walk by his office, and spending a little extra time on your lunch to sit in the break room in case he came in.
But that was all it ever was. A bunch of rendezvous at the dealership, a few sneaky, short-winded texts after work, and an infinite amount of longing on both ends. This was how it had to be, though, and you could either take it or leave it.
For now, you were going to take anything you could get, no matter how it made you feel after it was over. It mattered in the moment.
And in this moment, currently, Jungkook was grinding his dick in just the right spot against your clit that you were digging your fingernails into his shoulders, breathing into his mouth heavily in between sloppy kisses that were really just smashes of lips against each other with no real rhythm.
“Damn it, baby,” he growls, nipping at your bottom lip. His hands lay heavily on your ass, aiding you in grinding on his lap. “I want you so fucking bad.”
You nod, leaning your forehead against his. You both know that you can’t do anything right here on the lot, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to—or from grinding on each other in a way that’s going to make Jungkook have to think about dead puppies to soften up, and leave you with sticky panties for the rest of your shift.
But hey, no one told you to fall in love with a salesman. You did that all on your own accord. And it wasn’t so much the fact that you and Jungkook didn’t want to take your relationship to the next level, it’s that you couldn’t.
Later—way past your eight minute mark—when you are sitting beside Jungkook in the backseat with your body pressed against his, his head leaned down onto yours where he presses a soft kiss into your hair, you reach over and grab his hand and thread your fingers through in a tight hold.
Sunlight breaks through the dreary, cloudy day for just a moment, beaming through the windshield and catching light on the solid, silver band wrapped around Jungkook’s left ring finger. Your eyes trail down to where his thumb traces a soft pattern over your own, and you flip his hand on instinct so that the cool metal is pressed against your slacks.
Out of sight, out of mind—right?
#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts jungkook scenario#bts scenarios#bts imagines#jungkook imagines#jeon jungkook#honeyedhoseok#eight minutes#kpop smut
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2 _ 19 _ Brewing Storms
First
The past few days of calm weather and mild drizzles, managed to build up into a punishing electrical system of blazing assault. When the rain ceased entirely was the first indication that something was amiss, and the Thin Man became relentless to demand Mono pay attention, and made certain he kept better tabs on the child. In case. Rain cease was not uncommon, weather patterns did change in the Pale City, though it retained consistency depending on the airwaves and ozone flooding the atmosphere above the beacon.
As time wore on and they worked through the unsuccessful search for substantial foods, the Thin Man remained preoccupied by the buzzing air. It was possible the boy sensed the ion charge and became more aloof than usual, at least, that is what he theorized. The boy didn’t wedge himself into hiding, but he lingered here or there in a place, exploring artifacts and rubbish alike. When Mono was like this, it was a challenge to keep him mobile on his own. That, and his reluctance to accept assistance if a pathway became too perilous or they reached a snag. Barriers meant nothing to the man in the hat, but they became something else to Mono, who had not the strongest grasp of his abilities yet.
Setbacks cropped up around every bend of the road, buildings collapsed, or a throng of Viewers captivated in one narrow alley by one lone television. Then there was Mono lagging, locked amid a persistent stupor. Not one of the stores they could break into yielded anything to draw the child out of it. This whole prospect was unmotivating, and the Thin Man suffered secondhand misery from the boy’s dour mood. Until at last, he determined shelter was unavoidable, much to Mono’s silent disinclination. The boy was still sour about earlier, and that stubborn streak threatened what little health he retained.
Ever since the train, the Thin Man has not favored electrical storms. They were his least favorite of all the Pale Cities resumé of inclement weather, given the interference and stress it placed upon the transmission, the circulating airwaves, among regular vibrations humming through the atmospheric currents. Through the shoddy window of the small house – it was a pathetic, ramshackle, ugly little place – he could spectate as another blaze of light washed across nearby identical homes. The disturbance did not affect him as much as it used to, when he was young – especially not during his penance in the Tower; buried within miles of concrete and Flesh.
For Mono….
It was a colossal storm of force. Not a drop of water fell, not a net of mist in the air; only the splash and lash of glow conducted within the room. Nearest to the center of the home collapsed in a corner, lay a lopsided bookcase with broken shelves. The child huddled under a plank of wood, wrapped entirely in a pillowcase and cringing with each whip of radiance and tremendous snarl. The room and surrounding spaces held better shelter, such as a collapsed sofa chair beside a wall, or a closet. But Mono sought the area furthest from the outside, and open sky. Nearly all the rooms in this small abode had a window or more, the radiance made each pulse brighter than the memory of sunny day. Whatever those were.
The buffeting clamor wasn’t terrible, barking and surging through the bellowing wind. It was the current slicing through. Mono was especially tuned to it, tensing before each brilliant ark belted through the dense cloud canopy. Blue, grays, bleak mauve.
Not that a lightening bolt could hurt either, but it would not be pleasant. It did impede the Thin Man’s conduit to his powers, so best to lay low. He was not in the mood to challenge a faux supernatural force of nature, nor deranged denizen of the Signal Tower. After the day he had, it was an excuse to stop for a time and evaluate the situation. The last few days had not endured with anything but agitation, and the child was not receptive to pay attention when he d̴e̸m̶a̶n̵d̸e̶d̵.
For a time Mono had done well not to stray off when the fancy struck, the child had even settled to get regular rest without persuasion. A stark change had come about, he almost missed the child constantly underfoot. During these moods the boy became inconsolable, curling into a corner or wedging himself in a crack in the wall where it was neigh impossible to extract him. Delaying the long and tedious venture to navigate the ruins of the city, a perilous task for a child.
Once more he paced near Mono, scrutinizing the lump under the bent panel as it cringed. Not a second later, bleached radiance seared along the walls. The Thin Man hummed as the ions fizzled out.
It had been a sequence of bad events, and now the electrical surge hovering. If not for what occurred the other day, he may have reserved the opportunity to escort his child self to a more suitable area, rather than this wretched hovel. It drilled out his patience, this struggle to keep the boy on task while Mono was dedicated to being led astray by any iota of thing that snared his interest. Maybe he did do it to spite him, the whole fiasco exasperated him.
“Mono, no.” A sigh. “Come along.” Another sigh. “What now? What is it?” Sigh. After sigh. “You are going to collapse, and I won’t drag you O̸f̷f̷ ̸T̴h̶e̵ ̵S̴t̶r̵e̵e̸t̸.” Even that had not deterred the child or seem to spur his attention.
This is what led to the end of what might’ve been a successful hit on substantial edibles.
The road on one side remained whole for the most part, and it was the first day of no rain. Regardless visibility issues due to a thick fog, the Thin Man deemed the path safe. Somewhere along the route they (or he) passed a chain linked fence, which dissuaded interest due to the sum of Viewers gargling on the other side. Thinking back, Mono must’ve teleported through to investigate something. The Thin Man never saw what initially occurred, he was busy retracing his steps, after Mono failed to catch up. That failure made sense now.
One of the Viewers gave an aggravated squeal from their shared club alley, and he put the two together. He flashed behind the fence in an instant, on the fringe to witness the whole swell of disgruntled denizens to swarm. Where was the child!
The mob hurtled after a fluttering thing, bounding across the sidewalk and scrambling under mounds of ruble.
“Mono! Here!” The Thin Man stalled time and discarded caution, opting to move fast and intercept the child before the agitated Viewers. However, Mono ducked behind a cracked piano flattened beside the building, and the Thin Man missed where he went next. The tempering enabled him to reach the piano before the deranged adults, and he traced along the only trail among rubbish piled high, seeking the shared transmission. The pace of time resumed its dutiful roll, and the piano began to bellow and clanged when the Viewers began shredding it; the attack becoming much louder and more violent with the escalating agony the instrument blurted out.
By the time he realized Mono was not hidden nearby, he barely caught a flicker of the boy for the last time right before he squeezed into a drainage access cut into a gutter.
The Thin Man didn’t hesitate to deal with the horde proper and well, before launching an investigation. The delay cost him spare few moments, but Mono was long gone from beneath the grate access. He leaned low peering into the depths, listening to days old rain gurgle deep within, the humid puff of grunge assaulted him. “Mono? Child?” No answer, and no tinge to the transmission. Gone.
Damnit.
Despite his firm admission not to pursue a desertion such as this, the Thin Man rationalized this wasn’t desertion. The child was frightened, and they were separated by unavoidable circumstances – those being Mono C̸o̶u̸l̵d̴n̶’̶t̴ ̶F̵o̴l̷l̵o̶w̷ ̴T̶h̷e̵ ̸S̵i̵m̶p̶l̴e̸s̴t̸ ̶O̷f̴ ̵O̸r̵d̵e̵r̸s̸.
If the child didn’t revert to his flighty tendencies, he might locate him easily. Further down the road or in an alley, some opening would present certain liberation. Should. He only had to pursue the line and meet with Mono. He was not devoted to this task, but who could say, it was possible Mono was prepared to detach from his nightmarish future shadow and roam on his own.
Navigating the twisted pathways was not a difficult trial (not alone), and every other city block or patch of alley presented one or more of the drainage accesses. However, no Mono. The Thin Man carried on, encouraged by the mild ebb of the transmission, and hoped the boy didn’t stumble onto a television or whisk away.
After a prolonged search, he pondered concluding this lunacy and leave well enough alone. Until he came upon a sequence of collapsed skyscrapers, eviscerated over a shallow gulley, which was sculpted out from where the road once stretched through. For a brief time, he stood among the hollowed interior, while the gale whipped through tattered clothing snagged on the cleaved edges of the walls. The ground was at least stable, for now. Somewhere within the ruin, the ties to the transmission lingered strong.
Within the splayed cavern of a building, he at last approached upon the irrefutable location where the boy was secluded. He poked around slanted and precariously stacked ruble, though not a sound gave Mono away. Only the dull threading of water carved through the stale atmosphere. He just knew by the transmission this was where he would be, he was waiting. Or… hiding. He was chasing the child when he asserted, he wouldn’t.
The boy sat hunched beneath a collision of cement and rebar, back pressed to the wall. One knee drawn up, the other leg hooked over his ankle. The hat he wore lay low, the Thin Man could barely find those little eyes beneath its rim. Was he asleep? He reached a timid finger toward the hat—
Mono twisted sideways and crawled into a small opening beneath the ruble, scooting on his knees and hands until he hit a barrier. He huddled there, body tense and eyes agape.
“Mono?” he crooned, withdrawing his hand and tilting his head. “Are you staying? Here?” No answer, only that unwavering glower. On the cusp of his decision, the Thin Man leaned back on his knees. Then, Mono crept forward a bit and gazed up at him. “Ah, there he is. It’s not very hospitable under there, is it?” Still no speek, but this open place was not safe to risk such luxuries.
In due time the boy did come around and departed the secluded cuvee. The Thin Man seized the chance and gripped Mono by the shoulder, in order to turn him one way then the other. “Are you hurt?” The child fussed and writhed in his grasp, but didn’t lash out or dig his heels into the cement. “Your eye is looking much better.”
Cautiously, he released Mono so the boy wouldn’t lose his balance. Mono withdrew a step or two, but didn’t launch into the tight hide space. He fluffed out his damp coat, eyes fixed on the tall-tall figure.
In a crackling flicker, the Thin Man shifted to his full height and adjusted his hat. The boy was all right, that was all he needed. This time he would not beseech, Mono could figure this out on his own. Without further suggestion, the man in the hat turned and began walking. He settled on no landmark or ambiguous recollection, his first goal was departing these dreary ruins.
Beneath the steady trickle of rain from days ago escaped, the near imperceptible sound of a coat flashed around its wearer. With a careful glimpse from the corner of his eye, the tall thin man spied the boy trailing – bounding over debris and whatever else, whereas he stepped over with graceful ease. Perhaps one day, Mono would tire of this and discard him, the same way S̵h̶e̴ discarded Them. That was the boy’s right. That would never change. Not ever.
Within this hushed bubble, the two navigated their own misgivings. The Thin Man engrossed by the presiding dilemma, and Mono wondering where he was going to find food, let alone when. Through raiding dwellings that remained put together, they didn’t find anything, at all. Not a crumb, aside from spoiled boxes, ruined merchandise, insect infested kitchens. Before they could commit to a firm scout of the grounds in good, the weather began its shift with all the force and power it had accumulated.
It was Warhammer to anvil, the canopy of clouds crackled and surged.
Under the plank of wood, Mono stifled his whimpering and tried to stay very quiet. He’s certain nothing can hear him through the horrendous ignite of each thunder blast, but he took no chances.
Briefly, he has to kick the blanket off and rub at his hair and shoulders. Pins and prickly needles rolled through his nerves, some of the flashing beams felt aflame. Even his toes ached. At first he dismissed it as something that came from the train cart, but his teeth ached and his whole scalp sizzled. He didn’t remember what all happened that day, it felt so far away. It was hard, he hated that day. Thinking about it made the tingling worse, it wasn’t exactly painful, not all the flashing bursts. Some of the more intense whiteouts made him go stiff, while the air sizzled around his head.
He wound the blanket up around his bundled shape (something that should never be done – it became a net) and thumped on the hard wood. Even his face bristled. The cracked slate shielded him from the flare blistering the sky, but couldn't blot the surge beating his senses. Beneath the next flowing crackle and groan, the clack of the Thin Man’s shoes passed close.
The Thin Man paced occasionally. Coming to check him, before going back to the window. He said this bothered him too, but was lie? Mono didn’t care, he was mad.
“It would help if you tried to relax.”
Mono didn’t want do speek, or anything for that matter. He wanted to suffer.
The boards creaked too near, and Mono poked his head up. He twisted around and snagged a crease in the panel beneath him, straining to anchor against the hands enclosing around his body, snaring him within the blanket. Mono had an impressive grip on such a thread thin space, but he couldn’t begin to contend with the Thin Man’s strength.
“Nuhn,” he mewled, when his hands popped loose.
“Calm, Mono. You need to be calm.”
Mono hissed and flailed. Up until he was settled against the Thin Man’s chest – then he was clawing at the dense fabric, twisting, gnawing, fighting to dislodge from the hands clasping him. Or, express his agitation in a most vivid fashion. Naturally, the Thin Man wouldn’t let up. And that made him angrier.
“This only makes it worse,” the Thin Man was saying, as he ambled around the room. He tugged the blankets edges tighter around Mono, confining his thrashing. “Don’t be tense. Relax.”
The little rubbing motion on his back made the achy prickle lessen, but he didn’t have to show he liked it. For a while Mono would be still. He winced, as another sparkling sensation needled through his body. “Sad?” he creaked.
The Thin Man stopped beside the window, checking for the flares far distant through the clouds. “No. The weather is a nuisance, but it will pass. These intense storms cannot endure long.” He continued to knead into Mono’s back, trying to uncoil the knotted muscles. Electric current is what made him, and to an extent the child. When the lad refused the lash given off by the polarity, it ‘stung’ him. If the boy was too resistant, he could work to distract him while he looped around the room. “You can feel the pricking before the surge. Don’t resist, do not withdraw. Relax, and let the current roll through.”
That seemed too ambitious. Mono whined in his throat, while another wash of painful tingling coursed through his skin. It did sort of help, what the Thin Man was doing. “Hurt.”
The Thin Man hummed through the sparking interference. “Try less.” He slouched back on the sofa chair and settled a glare on the window. “Don’t think about it. Don’t think about anything.” The child squirmed, but he tried to keep him still and steady. Until the storm expelled itself completely, if necessary. Mono made some displeased sounds, quietly, but it wasn’t the ferocity from earlier.
He could not maintain the stare off with the force of nature beyond the window, and thusly uncoiled to let himself lean on the chair’s arm. Mono stopped twitching, which was a good sign that the storm was losing its potency. Perhaps giving it the promise of eternal damnation moved corrupted nature to tears.
“Sound,” Mono mumbled.
“Pardon?” The child didn’t answer. Was likely asleep, which would be better. He would need the rest, as after this storm he was going to be sore. Then the prospect of escorting this child, stiff and aching. Joy-O-joys.
Keeping track of the boy… was tedious. Much of the time the Thin Man would have preferred stay reserved for examining through building spaces, however, Mono was eager with distractions and inconsequential things. That was a fault of the child’s drive to puzzle through obstacles on his own, and then the resulting backtracking if an open route ended with no feasible means for navigation. Quite a bit of backtracking, and lost time.
Unless the Thin Man could deal with the barrier, without bothering Mono. Such as something simple, open a door – usually the case – or, maneuver an item for him to leap onto, nudge a board over a gap. Simple alterations to the decrepit environment, which Mono was receptive of.
Then! This opposition for assistance when it was only practical. Unforeseen barriers, stumbling through an alley wherein a new chasm now resided, or entering a room where the floor has vacated the premises…. Stirring up a horde of creatures into shambling pursuit.
The Thin Man took a breath and sighed. The child was reluctant to really test his abilities – in relatively safe conditions, or under supervision. When he was child and dismissed the man in the hat, he came into those powers so effortlessly. Like slipping on a new hat. He remembered how it had been, the way it felt. The relief that swept through him after ‘conquering’ his foe. The thrill and sense of duty upon racing blindly through the massive doors, opened for him, inviting, straight into the Tower’s embrace. Not a thought or doubt in his mind. Foolish, reckless… gullible.
Mono shifted, drawing his knees up and curled his hands over his face.
Children learned fast to be self-sufficient or they just didn’t live long. For Mono, the entire drama ended when he was discarded. Left to the Tower, he would grow and age with no need unsatisfied, but for invoking his retaliation on the world. Rejected his inclusion, despised him, damned him to fail. That never changed… child or elder. The story never changed. The world wanted him to surrender all his ambitions, and when he did… he made them regret.
Regardless his younger-self’s placement in that world, the Thin Man maintained stark apprehension. None of the dominate issues would resolve, the day-to-day struggle remained ever present; not helped by Mono’s preoccupation with mediocre… things. It worked well enough to settle Mono into a remote dwelling and bring the necessities he needed. Though that was inconsequential, Mono was driven to explore and seek – he was nothing but a child. He hoped to curb the compulsion and get that boy to rest, if possible, maintain a refuge for Mono to seek when one was needed. One day perhaps, one day that child would venture too far into the distance, and he would surrender all ambition to follow.
Mono was relentless. The Thin Man... was not.
Some while later and no further cringing from his charge, the Thin Man deemed it appropriate to disconnect, and with a grunt eased back on the sofa arm. The storm was dispersed, some residual charge lingered in the atmosphere, but that was nothing but empty particles sputtering on the damp wind.
The Thin Man set his hat over his face but made sure to gingerly stroke Mono’s back. Until he could no longer maintain the effort, and let his thoughts dissolve into distorted shadows, static, and four bleak walls.
An hour or more of calm passed, aside from a dull creak of the building chastised by the howling wind. Then, Mono opened one eye and peered up at the Thin Man.
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#little nightmares#mono#the thin man#thin dad#little nightmares fanfic#little nightmares fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#the thin man being the disgruntled parent that can't his kid to bed#thunderstorms!
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