#the disconnect from my hand to the screen is gone... i can just draw on the screen..... raving rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

duskholland · 3 years

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Okay but, Dom!tom making you ride him reverse cowgirl while he’s on a phone call meeting, and harrison being like what’s that slapping noise? And Tom being like I’m fucking my girl rn because he knows how SHY YOU ARE but he knows you get wet at ppl knowing and him being like the view I have rn mate, and Harrison just being like you’re the worst. He’d love tormenting you but also would reward you for still riding him like a champ during his work call 😏

fuck... I would lose my mind. I definitely had mob!tom in mind when I wrote this, but if you squint, it also works with normal tom. nsfw - 18+ only!!! extended warnings beneath the cut...

extended warnings: thigh riding, elements of exhibitionism, unprotected sex (please practise safe sex!!)

---

“There you go, darling. Making a nice wet spot on my leg, aren’t you?”

A strangled whine travels up your throat, and you moan softly as you nod against Tom’s shoulder. Your breaths come out in short pants, arcs of fiery pleasure travelling up your spine from the point at which your soaked, throbbing cunt presses to Tom’s leg. He’s had you grinding against his thigh for what feels like forever, teasing your neck with rough kisses as his hands guide your hips.

“Tell me how badly you want it,” he murmurs, lips by your ear. Shivers pass down your spine as his husky tone travels straight to your clit, and you feel your hole clenching around nothing. “Tell me how badly you want to feel my cock.”

You bite at your lip, pushing your forehead further against his shoulder as you try to keep your composure.

“Bad, Tom. Really, really bad.” This hadn’t been your intention when you’d walked into his office, smirking quietly. You’d expected Tom to take you over his desk, or unravel you with three fingers buried in your heat. You hadn’t expected him to hold you on the edge, passing your soaked heat over his thigh, over and over until you’re practically blubbering from the stimulation. He’s enjoying it - enjoying the whimpers and the moans and the slick that coats his thigh - you know he is. Tom thrives off reducing you to this almost feral state of existence. “Please let me feel you.”

Swallowing back the lump in your throat, you pull your face away from his shoulder and blink up at him, desperation in your eyes. Tom seems to melt, his pupils expanding and his jaw slackening as he takes stock of the flush to your face and the way you’re practically begging him with your eyes to indulge you.

“Mmm, well, because you asked so nicely…” His heavy hands push at your hips, moving you out of the way so he can reach down, play around with his belt, and then carefully pull free his cock. You lick your lips at the sight of his member, flushed and weepy, but as you reach out to touch, Tom bats away your hand. “No, darling,” he murmurs. One of his hands smooths over your cheek, thumb resting over your lower lip. You let your tongue slip out, wrapping around the tip of his finger before drawing it back into your mouth. As you suck on his finger, Tom curses. “Such a fucking minx, aren’t you?” He muses. “Look so fucking innocent, don’t you? Hmm? You walk around like you’re an angel, but both of us know that’s a lie.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth and lets his palm fall over the curve of your ass, causing you to jolt.

“Tom,” you whine, grinding back against his thigh. Now you’ve seen his length, all flushed and full like that, you know there’s nothing you need more than to feel him plugging you to the hilt. “Please.”

Tom smirks at you, brown eyes glinting darkly. Both of his hands pull at your ass roughly, causing you to whimper.

“Turn around, love,” he asks, already helping you with his hands. “Want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock from behind.”

A flush travels through you as you turn in his lap and back up, whimpering when you feel his hard cock, stiff between your swollen pussy lips. You sit up straighter, feeling Tom’s mouth ghosts over your shoulder as his hand slips between your thighs, guiding his cock until you feel his head, hot and wet, stiff at your entrance

“Gonna ride me, angel?” He asks, voice gruff. He nibbles at your neck until you whine. “Don’t want you to stop until you’ve cum, yeah?”

You nod, almost delirious with want. “Yes, yes,” you murmur, biting back the desire to buckle down. You need to wait for his command. “Please, Tom.”

“Go ahead.”

A loud whine rattles past your lips as you finally let yourself down onto his cock, Tom’s hands firm as they shift to your hips to guide you. He’s big - so big that it makes you whimper as you slowly start to ride him, enjoying every pleasurable sensation as you feel his cock rock against your hot centre. You reach out to hold the edge of his desk, the glass cold against your clammy skin as you use it as an anchor, keeping you in place as you start to lose yourself in the feeling.

“Doing so well for me, sweetheart,” comes Tom’s voice, raspy and thick with accent. Every now and again, he ruts his hips up to meet your pelvis, and you groan loudly as his tip knocks up against your sensitive g-spot. “Look so fucking good like this, fucking yourself on my cock. Wish I could look at this forever.” He drops his hand over the curve of your ass again and you whimper, feeling a tightness forming in the pit of your stomach.

You move in sync for a while, your pants and the sound of slapping skin filling the office. Tom’s giving with his praise, soothing you with his low uttered sentiments, praising you for the way you’re making him feel, urging you to go faster, rougher, to push the both of you over the edge. You’re lost in it, gasping and biting at your lip, pressing yourself closer to heaven with each rotation of your hips.

You’re so lost in it that you don’t hear Tom’s phone ringing, not even aware of it until you see him reach out and grab the device on the desk. One of his hands shifts to your lower back.

“Keep going, love,” he mutters, voice tight. “Don’t fucking stop.” Your jaw drops as you realise what he’s doing, but before you can question him, Tom answers his phone. “Haz? What’s up?”

For a moment you considering stopping, embarrassment churning alongside your arousal as you contemplate the thought of Tom’s friend hearing something obscene down the line, but then Tom angles his hips up to meet you, and the sensation of his tip brushing against you so deeply makes your mind go numb. So, you grip the table harder and continue, your orgasm only drifting nearer as you hear Tom carry his conversation with Harrison, his voice tight and rushed.

“Aye, yeah. The papers are a mess, you’ll need to look at them tomorrow. Hey, wait a second bro, yeah, just-“

You can’t see what he’s doing, and for a moment, you think Tom’s disconnected, but then he reaches out and puts the phone on the desk, the screen bright and showing the call.

“-Right, keep going. Just put you on speaker.”

Tom’s hands return to your hips, and immediately you turn around, an ache building in your neck as you glare at him. He raises his eyebrows, fingers squeezing at your flesh as he gives you a look as if to say go on.

“Yeah, so, as I was saying, I think I’ll come around in a couple hours to get the scans-“

You grit your teeth, trying to drown out the sound of Harrison’s static voice as your thoughts travel back to the matter at hand. You’re so wet - you feel your arousal dripping down Tom’s cock as you continue to ride him, a sweat breaking out across your forehead. Somehow you manage to reduce your moans to laboured breaths, and for a few minutes, Tom keeps up conversation, Harrison seeming none the wiser. But it all falls apart when Tom tilts you to the side and the position shifts, your eyelids fluttering shut as the angle brings him in deeper - at the expense of a few very loud sounds of skin against skin.

“-What’s that noise? Sounds like slapping?”

Tom keeps his hands on your hips, urging you on as you bite back a whimper.

“I’m fucking my girl,” Tom replies, easily. You bite back a gasp, and you’d have looked around at him if he didn’t distract you by weaving a hand between your legs to play with your clit. The added stimulation adds to your desperation, and the fact that Harrison knows you’re getting railed makes your cunt clench.

“Fucking hell,” Harrison mutters.

“I have the best view right now, mate,” Tom adds. “You should see her.”

You let go of the desk, sitting up and pressing your back against Tom’s front, your breathing heavy as you feel your climax linger. As you continue to move up and down, his lips work across your shoulder, biting at your skin as you hold back your whimpers. Tom’s lips travel up to your ear, and he adds, softly,

“I can feel how wet you just got. I know you fucking love the thought of Haz hearing us. I know how close you are too, darling. You want to cum, don’t you? You want to cum, with Harrison on the line? Let him hear those pretty little screams, hmm?”

You find yourself nodding, squirming in Tom’s lap as his calloused fingers play with your clit.

“Please,” you whisper, eyes screwed shut.

“Do it,” Tom mutters. “‘Cos I’m about to blow it, love, and I want to feel you cumming around me as I fill you up.”

Your eyes roll back as you finally tip over the edge, your orgasm sweeping over you in large, warming waves. Tom’s hands are slippery on your sides, wet with hot sweat, and he bites at your shoulder as he follows suit, cumming with a low groan. You feel his cock pulse, painting your walls with his seed, and together you unravel.

It’s all pants and lazy open-mouthed kisses as you twist in his arms, still attached at your centre. You hold the back of his head with shaking fingers, kissing him roughly until Tom’s hand moves away from your clit.

“Fuck,” you mutter, pushing your forehead to his. After a moment, you pull back and look at the desk, nervous until you realise his phone screen has gone blank. You reach out for Tom’s phone, grabbing it and turning it on curiously.

Harrison: you’re ridiculous.

“What does it say?” Tom asks, pecking your cheek. You repeat the message, and he grins, eyes dancing with amusement. “He loves it really,” he says, before wiggling his eyebrows. “You do too, don’t you?”

You shrug, licking your lips. “Maybe.”

Tom chases your lips with his mouth, inflamed and warm. “Did well for me, though,” he says, eyes glinting. He kisses you again, hand shifting back towards your clit. “I think I should reward you for taking me so well, don’t you?”

You nod, a smirk biting at your lips. “Go ahead.”

#im crying #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.filth #anonymous #smut

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Stray Kids Reaction || Deletes Something Important [Request]

A/N: I’m still trying to get into the swing of writing for these babies, BUT Please go and VOTE! VOTE! VOTE! And Stream (depending on when this comes out) these babies deserve the world honestly

A/N: My writing is under keep reading signs to stop from blocking up peoples dashes, sorry again to everyone it annoyed.

Chan:

Chan was supposed to be asleep beside you but he'd tried to drift off but couldn't his mind was elsewhere. You were asleep next to him and he was getting nervous about work he was supposed to have been emailing with JYP but he'd left his laptop at the JYP building and he didn't want to get into trouble but not replying at all so he took hold of yours and opened it up. It was no big deal you always let him use your laptop so he logged in and began emailing with JYP when a document popped up on the screen without giving it a second thought he clicked off it without saving and then his eyes widened as he realised what it was, across the screen were the words.

''Deleting 10K Essay For English'' He scrambled trying to get back what he'd deleted but the laptop wasn't cooperating with him and he was starting to get stressed. You stirred in your sleep turning over and facing Chan and he panicked looking down at the screen once again trying to recover the file but it wasn't working,

"Chris, what are you doing?" You grumbled realising he was still awake, normally he could sleep when he was beside you but clearly not tonight.

"I was writing an email and then I accidentally deleted your essay I'm so sorry though. I'm trying to get it back but it's not working." You rubbed your eyes and sat up in the bed taking the laptop away from him and going into the deleted system to recover what he'd deleted.

"I hadn't started it yet anyway." You said showing him that the only thing on the document was your name, date and title of the project. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he realised he hadn't deleted anything too important,

"Will you cuddle me now? I'm tired." You mumbled to him laying back down beside him, he shut the laptop and snuggled up behind your so his arm was dropping over your side and he dragged you closer to him.

"Goodnight baby," He whispered in your ear, you hummed and closed your eyes listening to him breathing to help you drift off back to sleep and Chan laid there listening to you snore softly while drawing invisible patterns into your skin.

Minho:

"Can I borrow your laptop?!" You heard Lee Know yell over the runner water,

"Sure!" You yelled back going back to washing yourself, you'd just gotten done with another dance video for your Youtube channel and you were looking forward to editing them all later now that filming was out and done for the next two weeks. Minho was clicking off the excessive amount of internet tabs that you had open not checking that he was now closing down the videos that you'd had ready to save without saving them and then doing what he needed to do he hadn't even noticed that he'd just deleted two weeks worth of work.

(X)

"Hey, baby?" You asked later that night when you sat down ready to edit everything you'd been recording but everything was gone,

"Yeah?" He asked looking up from his phone to look at you, you looked away from the screen with a worried look on your face,

"Did you delete anything earlier?" You questioned trying to stay as calm as you could without kicking off at him because it wasn't his fault,

"No, I just closed a bunch of internet tabs. You know it'll make your computer run slow if you keep those up all the time." You groaned laying your head down on the table in front of you trying to think of some way to recover everything he'd closed.

"What?" He questioned locking his phone and walking over to you and sitting down on the floor beside you and saw that you were tearing up,

"Jagi?" He asked but you lifted your head and wiped your face taking in a deep breath and trying to stay calm, Minho didn't know what he'd done so you couldn't get mad at him for it.

"It's nothing, I'll just see if I can find them." You mumbled looking through the deleted files but everything was gone since your computer did its own wiping system,

"What was it?" You didn't want to make him feel bad about something that he did by accident,

"You deleted my dance files, it's okay though I'll just reshoot everything." You told him shutting the laptop down and then going over to your dance room, you took one look inside and decided you would start filming tomorrow it was way too late to start filming them all now.

"I'll help you." He promised following behind you and began rubbing your shoulders kissing your cheek and promising himself he'd do anything to make up for deleting the files.

Changbin:

You'd been working on some songs with Chan for a while now and everything was starting to come into place, and you were starting to put vocals to it with the help from Chan and Seungmin who you were getting to sing for you because you weren't about that yet. Changbin hadn't known you'd been working on songs because you wanted it to be a surprise for him but it was about to be ruined because he'd just accidentally broke the USB that was containing everything you'd been working hard on for the last 2 months.

"Changbin?!" You called as you walked through the front door of your apartment, you were in a good mood since you'd just gotten a raise at work and Changbin didn't want to ruin that by showing you the broken USB so he hid it behind him and smiled at you but you knew that smile too well,

"I know that smile, that's your, 'I did something wrong but I don't know how to tell you' smile." He slowly pulled out the USB from behind him and you dropped your bag on the floor rushing over to him and look at it,

"Changbin? How?" You pulled it from his hand and took your laptop out to try and see if you could do anything,

"I was trying to use your laptop and I accidentally dropped it and the USB snapped." You groaned looking through the laptop for any signs of the broken USB being recognised but it was all gone, everything.

You called Chris after it happened to see if he had anything backed up and luckily for you, it was all backed up on a second USB stick for you sitting in his studio.

"What happened?"

"Changbin broke it by accident." You laughed looking over at Changbin who was staring at you with a guilty look on his face, you hung up on Chris and walked over to Changbin.

"I'm sorry, it was an accident." You shook your head sitting down beside him and snuggling your head onto his shoulder.

"It's fine, Chris has everything backed up for me." You whispered then telling him why you had been in such a good mood when you first walked into the apartment.

(Grr in tiny)

Hyunjin:

You were giving directions over the phone to Hyunjin, you were sitting in your office at work when you realised that you'd left your important work at home.

"Just email them over to me." You told him as you looked through the door, your boss was making his way over and if you didn't have the photographs you were most likely going to get fired for them being so late. You were already a week behind and you couldn't believe that you'd left them at home, you'd spent hours editing them to be perfect.

"The big red button?" Hyunjin asked and you assumed he meant the one that said send in your email so you told him yes, waiting patiently for the email but then you heard him yelling to himself.

"Hyunjin?" You called out looking at the phone to see if it had been disconnected but it hadn't.

"Hyunjin? What happened?" There was mumbling and shuffling on the other line and then you heard a thick Australian accent and you knew Felix was in the room now,

"Felix?!" The line went dead and you stared at the screen wondering what to do when it started calling back but with Han's number,

"Han? What's going on!?" You panicked looking over at your boss who was getting closer and closer to your office,

"He accidentally deleted them but Felix is trying to get them back." You stared out of the window wondering if you could jump out of it without breaking a leg, it was two floors high so chances of breaking a bone were high.

"Fuck. My boss is almost here." You whispered to Han who could tell how panicked you were and began to rush the boys into fixing it faster.

"Check your emails." You heard Felix call out and you opened your desktop looking through the emails and finding them sitting there.

"Felix I could kiss you right now!" You yelled looking at the photos and getting them ready for your boss to view them.

"Please don't." He called out, you hung up the phone and got ready for your boss who was standing at your door with a small smile on your face, ready to see what you had ready fro him.

Jisung:

The USB was sitting in two pieces in Jisung's hand and he didn't know what to do, you were due home any second from work and he didn't know how he was going to fix this or tell you that he'd just broken 4 years worth of book writing in one sitting, he little sat down without looking and broke the USB stick by accident. He knew how hard you'd been working on that book since you were spending every moment of your free time on it and he felt terrible, the door clicked open and he looked up to see you standing there holding takeout containers ready for your date night, your hands looked down at his and you saw the USB stick but instead of getting mad like he had expected you too you were calm about it and took the food out into the kitchen,

"You're not mad?" He questioned following you into the kitchen and showing you the USB, you looked up at him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Nope," He watched you walking around the kitchen in search for your plates.

"But it's broken..."

"Baby." You giggled turning to look at him and he looked as though he was the one going to cry, you wandered over to the other side of the kitchen opening a small drawer showing him 3 other USB sticks.

"I back it up every day." You told him taking the broken one from his hand and putting it into the bin,

"Plate food up, I need to pee." You giggled kissing him quickly and running off to the bathroom, Jisung relaxed instantly. Feeling better that you weren't mad at him for accidentally breaking something with so much work on it.

Felix:

You'd been spending weeks working on the home project for your mum, you'd found all the old VHS tapes of you and your family when you were younger and you were converting them all so they would be on a DVD instead of a VHS tape for everyone to view.

"I swear I've been working so hard my fingers are numb Chan, I don't know how you do this all the time." You said to Chan as he handed you some food, he'd come over to see you and Felix at your apartment and you were sitting at the dinner table together looking over at your laptop.

"What have you done so far?" You got it out and showed him what you'd been doing that day, you were on the tape of your brother.

"He's going to kill me, I'm keeping every embarrassing moment I can find on it." Felix came running into the room when he realised he was late for dinner, he'd been up in the shower for the last hour singing.

"What did I miss?" He slipped on the floor and knocked the table sending a drink flying over and spilling onto your laptop.

"NO!" You screamed out as you watched the screen fade to black and then Felix look guilty,

"Fuck." You cried out taking the laptop and trying to dry it out but it wasn't going to work, it was ruined.

"Baby I'm sorry-" You looked at Felix and he stopped talking, he could see how upset you were about it and he knew how hard you'd been working so he felt even worse.

"I'll help," You shook your head at him,

"No, it's fine...I'll- I'll figure something out." You whispered taking the laptop and putting it on the table and staring at it.

"I'll see if I can air it out," Chan added looking at it and wondering how he was going to manage it but you were already on your phone looking at your contract to see what was covered under the warranty, Felix left the room going to get started on editing the video's he'd seen you starting with before.

Seungmin:

Lockdown was starting to get to you but your assignments were done and ready to be sent in for their due dates the only good thing about being on lockdown was that you were with your boyfriend Seungmin when everything was passed, meaning you got to spend more time in Korea with him so you were working from the dorms and staying with them. You'd become like a housewife, working on your assignment when they were at the studio and once your assignments were done you would clean up for them and cook for when they would come in.

"You're an angel, you know that?" Felix said as you laid a plate down in front of him, you laughed and shook your head at him and looked over at Seungmin who was looking guilty,

"What's up with him?" You questioned with a small laugh behind your voice, Felix shrugged.

"He's been weird since we got in," Jeongin mentioned as you placed food in front of him as well,

"You haven't told her yet have you?" Han asked looking between you and Seungmin but he was met by a death glare from Seungmin you sat down next to him.

"Tell me what?" You questioned him but he stayed silent not wanting to bring it up at the dinner table but it was him or Han that was going to.

"I accidentally deleted four of your assignments." You dropped the fork that was in your hand and everyone stared up at you, even Chan who was getting ready to go back to the studio again.

"You what?" You asked looking at him and you could tell he was guilty about it, he took you out of the kitchen and towards his form room so he could explain everything and you told him it was fine. That you'd tried to get them back and if not you would rewrite everything again.

"You're not mad?" He asked taking your hand in his and running his thumb along your knuckles but you shook your head,

"I was ahead anyway, it's fine I'll just redo them if I have to." You reassured him but he still wasn't convinced about it, you kissed him on the cheek and told him to go and eat before the food went cold.

Jeongin:

Everything was ready to be sent off for your first job interview, you'd just gotten done with your skype interview and you were getting ready to send all of your art projects over to the interviewer who was waiting to view everything but nothing was where it was supposed to be on your laptop and you couldn't find any of the original files.

"Jeongin?" You called out picking up the laptop and carrying it through to the living room of the dorms to find him playing video games with Felix,

"Yeah?" He asked glancing at you and then back at the screen,

"Were you on my laptop today?" It was normally never a problem but once everything was gone it was starting to be a problem, he paused the game much to the disgust from Felix who looked up to see you. They could both see the panicked look on your face and Felix didn't know what to do about it, Jeongin got up and nodded at you.

"Yeah, why?"

"All my artwork is gone, the ones I needed for the interview, did you delete anything?" He shook his head and you sat on the floor putting the laptop on the table and double-checking that it wasn't there in case you missed something, but it was all gone.

"Don't you have it backed up?" Felix questioned and you shook your head at him,

"I broke the back up USB and I'm fucked if I don't get this in right now." You whispered looking at the screen, Jeongin asked what the folder was called and as soon as he heard the name and he felt awful.

"I may have accidentally, deleted it." You stared at him and Felix backed out of the room not wanting to be there for the discussion that was going to happen,

"How?" Jeongin took the laptop from your hands and began to look through the files on everything that was deleted earlier.

"You told me to clean it all up and I thought it was one of my folders. I'm so sorry." He continued to search for them and he finally found them in the recently deleted section, recovering it all and helping you send it to your interviewer.

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tonystarktogo · 3 years

Text

Last part of the time travel crack ‘verse for now (and sorry for making you all worry about the scepter, I didn’t mean it that way, it just seemed like a good cut-off point tbh):

"The scepter! Did anyone keep an eye on the scepter?"

"I assure you," Agent Agent, who looks a little singed and has a bandage wrapped around one ear, yet continues to rock the personality-free drawl that tricks people into thinking he’s not worth paying attention to, speaks up, "that the scepter is still safely in SHIELD custody, Dr. Banner."

Banner scoffs.

Rogers grimaces.

Barton winces.

And oh, all other issues aside, the vindication of this moment is glorious. Tony feels fully justified in the doubtful look he aims at the screen. You know your show sucks balls when even your own operative doesn’t buy what you’re selling.

"That’s great," Banner says in a painfully droll voice. "But I’ll feel a lot better when we hand it over to our resident Asgardian prince for safekeeping rather than put it into a secret high-security facility and hope for the best. Like the one you stored the Tesseract in took Loki what, five minutes to take over?"

Woah, talk about burn. Tony doesn’t bother muffling his snicker. Who’d have thought Banner has it in him?

[continues under the cut]

"Hang on, wouldn’t it be better—" Rogers interrupts before Fury or Coulson can come up with an excuse, which judging by their sour-slash-carefully-blank expressions isn’t as easy as they’d like it to be.

Banner raises one hand. It shouldn’t be a power move on part with his green counterpart squashing a car in his fist, isn’t even particularly aggressive but for some reason Rogers shuts up. Immediately. The bright, eerily green eyes might have something to do with it.

"If you’re going where I think you’re going, I advise you to reconsider," Banner growls, the vocals deep enough that Romanoff reaches for the nearest weapon. "Even setting my personal issues aside, it’s not worth the risk."

Barton sighs with what sounds less like exhaustion and more like sad resignation. "Hate to say it, Cap, but he’s right. Sending the scepter off-Earth with the Tesseract is probably the safest course of action we can take right now. We can’t count on being that lucky again."

"Agent Barton," Agent Agent’s words drip with such a pointedly polite friendliness, it’s a wonder he doesn’t spear his own tongue on it. "Please desist in trying to hand off objects that pose an immediate threat to global security to an unvetted alien who, while a valued ally, is in line for the throne of a foreign world."

And wow. Tony’s not gonna win a prize for his sensitivity any time soon, but there’s some things you just don’t say to a guy who got brainwashed into doing an alien’s bidding less than forty-eight hours ago. Going by the way Romanoff has gone rigid, she agrees.

Luckily for everyone present, Barton doesn’t bat an eye at the dig. He leans forward instead, elbows placed on his tights, the picture of relaxation. As long as you ignore the expression on his face that could possibly pass for a smile. If you catch sight of it out of the corner of your eye. Through a dirty mirror.

"Not that I’m not glad to see you alive and well, Phil, because I am. But getting my head rolled once was already one time too many and if the Tesseract is powerful enough to draw fucking aliens to it then it’s too fucking powerful for us to protect." Barton’s voice becomes progressively lower as he continues his little not-having-any-of-your-shit rant. "More people are gonna get killed over that thing. Good people. Because we don’t have the damn resources to keep it safe. So if we gotta bet on Asgard for this, then that’s what we’re gonna fucking do because to be frank with you sir I’d rather lead the hostile aliens to a world ready for interstellar warfare than my own."

Thor straightens from where he’s been fixated on Loki for the past hour or so, trying to crawl into his brother’s skull through willpower alone by the looks of it, and dips his head in Barton’s direction. "Thank you for your faith," he says gravely, as though Barton hasn’t straight up told everyone in this room he wants to use Asgard as a shield-slash-sacrificial-offering. "I hope my people will prove worthy of it."

"Should be fine." Banner shrugs with a nonchalance Tony envies. "’s long as we take care of your murderous sibling first."

Thor winces. Loki’s face loses whatever expressiveness it had left and it already was at state zero: emotions not welcome here to begin with.

But. Tony tilts his head. Why not just call Loki by his name? Unless, of course, Banner isn’t referring to him. But how would the infamous Hulk-slash-brilliant-scientist have gotten himself wrapped up in alien family drama? And is there a form Tony can sign? Because he hates being kept out of the loop.

"Avengers!" Fury snaps before things can get any more awkward. Which, good for him, but in Tony’s fine opinion he should have taken the win and be done with it. There’s just no winning against whatever type of madness — not to mention feelings — these people are so inconsiderately spreading inside his walls. "You’re not bartering off our best chance to defend ourselves against alien invaders, have I made myself clear? That’s an order."

Rogers scoffs at the screen and damn it, Tony’s determined not to like the guy but the way he just smirks humorlessly as he stares Fury down, all aww shucks did you want the pretty, glowy thing too and well too damn bad for you makes it hard. Especially when Rogers goes that little extra mile and asks with a plain as day air of who fucking cares: "Whatever gave you the impression that this is a negotiation, Director Fury?"

It’s just too great a line to resist and Tony is only human. He makes a sharp gesture with his hand and JARVIS disconnects the call before they witness Fury pop a blood vessel. Let that be Agent’s problem for the time being.

"So," Tony states after a moment. "Besides all but declaring war on SHIELD, the organization two people in this room are officially employed by, for the record, and dealing with Reindeer Games over there, what’s the plan?"

Nervous shuffling. Awkward grins. Badly-hidden glances going back and forth.

Perhaps most notably, nobody protests the declaring-war-on-SHIELD part. Tony would ask but frankly he’s still on his first glass of scotch — meaning way too fucking sober for whatever madness the answer to that question will undoubtedly raise. It’s a sad, sad day in the history of mankind when Tony is the voice of reason in a room filled with one-person-armies.

"What about Shawarma?" Rogers, apparently the most uncomfortable with the pressing silence, blurts out.

Tony gives that pitiful attempt to change the subject the nice try, have to admit I didn’t see that coming but you’re gonna have to give me more than that look it deserves. As it turns out though, he may have been overestimating his present company’s average ability to read a room.

"I could go for a bite," Barton pipes up, earning himself a soul-shriveling, dead-eyed, where the fuck did I go wrong with you and how have I not killed you yet stare, courtesy of Romanoff that he brushes off with admirable ease. Still not moving an inch away from her either and if Tony’s noticed the way her hand’s been edging ever closer to the knife strapped to her calf, there’s no way Barton hasn’t.

"Sounds good," Banner chimes in with a twisted amusement that makes Tony want to scratch his eyes out. "I know just to the place."

They do eat Shawarma together. [All of them, even Loki, because Thor insists his brother is far too thin. Considering Barton doesn’t protest and the only person Loki tries to stab with his salad fork is Thor himself, nobody comments on it.]

As if to add insult to a very long list of injuries that Tony is dying to poke and prod at, the food tastes delicious.

Okay so the whole antagonizing SHIELD thing wasn’t planned, but I figured in this AU there was no drawn out battle and no bomb and so there was no ‘thank fuck we’re even alive right now’ relief to take the edge of. Instead everyone is pissed off and frustrated (if for very different reasons) and not outright attacking the helicarrier right now is about all the diplomacy Steve has the patience for at this point.

#ReRe writes #if you know the future why are you such an idiot 'verse #subtlety thee name is Steve #Tony Stark #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #Clint Barton #Thor Odinson #Loki #Bruce Banner #did Steve bring up Shawarma in a panicked attempt to give the team some time to come up with an explanation for Tony and Nat?#you bet he did #is he gonna fail? you bet he will #Tony's got a list of question he wants answered alphabetically or chronologically the choice is your #Natasha's got her widow bites and some serious motivation to get her answers #Coulson and Fury are not pleased #they'll be even less pleased when the Avengers get their hands on the scepter they're trying to secure #which they will #fic #Tony's just done #meaning he's lying in wait for the first sign of weakness and then he's gonna jump onthat shit with all his observations and evidence #because he and Natasha are a lot more alike than either wants to admit

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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years

Text

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 1

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING: You are here!

Chapter 1

1993

Professor Liam Beyer was born a decade after the deaths of the last soldiers to fight in the US Civil War. Thus, he was not expecting to meet a Union Army veteran in his 4 o’clock symposium on the Battle of Antietam.

Liam noticed the man as soon as he walked in, and not just because it was odd for a member of the public to show up for a faculty lecture at the university. No, the man caught Liam’s attention because he was distractingly handsome. Literally, Liam was distracted enough to drop his pen onto the overhead projector, causing a giant shadow to loom over the map of Maryland on the screen behind him, as if a third army had materialized there in a dense offensive line.

The man was of average height, with a slender build. He had dark hair in a short, modern cut and wore a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with a faded label. He looked like he might be thirty, which was about the age Liam was, and so Liam did not immediately assume that the man had seen action in the Civil War. But there was something faintly strange about him, just in the way that he walked, light on his feet like a dancer, but stepping firmly, without a dancer’s well-practiced grace.

“General Lee,” Liam continued, in a slightly strangled voice, “of the Confederate Army, was, of course, outnumbered, but the battle was Union General McClellan’s to lose. Had he understood how superior his force was, had he taken more risks, he might have been able to deal a decisive blow to Lee’s army as it retreated. In fact, McClellan’s performance at Antietam was part of the reason that President Lincoln later removed him from duty.”

Liam put up a transparency of a white church with peeling paint, standing alone on a grassy rise. “On September 17, 1862, 7,650 soldiers died at Antietam, making it the bloodiest day for Americans in history. Two days later, a man named Alexander Gardner took some of the first widely-seen battlefield photographs of dead soldiers. Some were awaiting burial, and some were still lying where they fell. It was very difficult at the time to take photographs of battles themselves, as the technology involved careful treatment of glass negatives, and that was nearly impossible under battlefield conditions. But the dead do not move, and these photographs were so clear that when displayed in New York, family members recognized their fallen sons.”

Liam put up a transparency of one of Gardner’s photographs, young men lying on the ground in an oddly perfect line. The unknown man looked away.

oOo

Liam had grading to do after his symposium, but he walked to the campus union to grab a sandwich first. He was definitely not expecting Handsome Unknown Lecture Man to appear out of the crowd and drop into the seat opposite him. Liam was very proud that he did not choke on his bite of ham and swiss.

“I hope you don’t mind,” said the man. “I enjoyed your lecture. My name is Kurt.”

Liam put his hand out to shake. Kurt’s touch was faintly cold. “Liam,” he said.

Kurt cocked his head slightly to the side, as if assessing him. “I know. Liam Beyer, 27, assistant professor of history, specializing in battles. Is Antietam your favorite?”

“Um— one of them. I did my dissertation on it. On McClellan, specifically.” Liam felt slightly odd about the fact that this stranger knew who he was, but of course, it was all publicly accessible information. “Are you a Civil War buff?”

“Somewhat.” Kurt leaned back in his chair. “Antietam, god. I remember Bloody Lane— that’s what they called it after. The road was sunken in because so many wagons had gone by over the years. It was like trying to fight your way out of your own grave trench.” Kurt spoke with a faint accent that Liam could not place, something that seemed to shift from one place to another.

“You talk like you were there,” Liam said, smiling. “Are you a reenactor?”

Kurt gave a sharp laugh. “No. You?”

“I’ve been a technical advisor. It’s nice to meet other people who share my strange obsession.”

“Those pictures you showed,” Kurt said. “Photography is such a bewitching art. Those boys are long gone, but remain ever present in death.”

“You know, the war helped make Spiritualism popular,” Liam said. “It was so hard on the families back home to lose contact with their soldiers, not knowing what happened to them, or when, or where. They couldn’t bear it, and turned to mediums.”

Kurt smiled, and it made his bright green eyes sparkle with amusement. “Have you ever been to a seance?” he asked. Liam shook his head. “Most I’ve been to were quite boring,” Kurt said. “But every once in awhile—”

“That sounds like a good story.”

“I’ll tell you sometime.” Liam’s brain was already far too occupied with how attractive he found this poor man, and that was probably why the sentence sounded more like a salacious promise than it really was.

“So what do you do?” Liam asked faintly, crumpling his empty sandwich wrapper. “Are you a student?”

“Not at the moment. Just a fan of history. Of battles, actually.” Kurt leaned forward a little. “Liam, would you mind if I came to your office tomorrow to talk more? I have some questions and I think you might be the one to help me answer them.”

“I— of course.” Liam told himself that he agreed solely because he liked to talk about history with people, and that it didn’t matter whether or not said people were ridiculously attractive.

Kurt smiled at him again. “Until tomorrow then.”

On his way out of the dining hall, Liam was stopped by a student with a question about an assignment on Gettysburg. “I didn’t want to interrupt your dinner,” she said.

“Oh, it would have been fine,” Liam told her. “We were talking about the Civil War ourselves.”

The student gave him a confused look. “Dr. Beyer— weren’t you eating alone?”

oOo

In the end, Liam decided that as he’d never dreamed up a handsome man in quite so much detail before, that the student had been mistaken and simply had not noticed Kurt’s presence at Liam’s table.

And yet. There really was something very strange about the man. Liam couldn’t quite pin it down, just that there was a disconnect between what Liam was seeing and what he was feeling about him. For example, Kurt appeared to be thirty, but Liam would swear he was older. Kurt had looked perfectly natural at dinner, but it had also seemed like he didn’t quite fit in with his surroundings. Like if you’d taken a photograph of him at the table, he would have been slightly too bright, out of focus, or without a shadow.

Kurt’s knock on Liam’s office door finally came around eleven, and Liam was, he realized, far too happy to see him again. At first, nothing about the visit seemed terribly odd. They discussed Antietam again, then traveled forward to the Somme, and then much farther back, Megiddo and Kadesh. Kurt seemed to know less about those battles, Liam noted, but he was quite familiar with things taking place after Thermopylae in the 5th century BC.

It was easy to talk to Kurt, especially about interests they had in common, and as the conversation went on, Kurt seemed to relax a bit, which made Liam do the same. The day before, Liam had thought Kurt moved without grace, but that wasn’t exactly right. Kurt had a different kind of grace, a fluidity of small movements instead of large ones, an artistry shown in the fluttering of fingers while the rest of the man kept entirely still. The emphasis on such small motions seemed to draw Liam in, narrowing his focus away from his surroundings and onto his visitor. But at the same time, Kurt had such an air of other about him, that it was almost like Liam was looking at him through beveled glass, never quite getting the whole image at once.

However, Liam’s sense of ease around Kurt vanished entirely when another student knocked on Liam’s door with a question about an assignment. That in itself was perfectly normal, but during the whole time that the student was in Liam’s office, she didn’t speak to Kurt or apologize for interrupting their conversation. She didn’t give a single look to the chair that Kurt occupied beside Liam’s desk.

When the student had left, Liam leaned back in his chair, trying to fake the calmness that he no longer felt. “All right,” he said, watching his visitor carefully. “You want to tell me why I’m the only person who can see you?”

********

READ FROM THE BEGINNING: You are here!

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

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visionsofus · 3 years

Note

angsty 29 please? :)

Hi anon! thank you for requesting some angst, I love writing it ☺️

I've done a longer sick fic and an injured fic too but I think it's about time I write another. Hmm, if anyone wants to send a more detailed sick fic prompt I'd be more than happy to provide the angst.

Also just while thinking about this prompt I had an idea for an ‘emergency contact’ fic but Wanda’s on the run and hasn’t seen Vis in a year? She gets into an accident and Vision arrives at the hospital all frantic? Maybe I could write that too.

29. How do they handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?

For now, a disaster fic in which the compound is victim of a cyber attack, Vision goes up against it and gets in trouble.

For a second Wanda thought that maybe the power had simply gone out, it was a plausible enough explanation for all the lights suddenly shutting off. But the compound was powered by arc reactors and Wanda knew enough about them to understand they wouldn’t be affected by a power outage.

“Friday?” Wanda called out to the air, suddenly feeling far more alone with the lights out. Tony’s AI did not respond.

Familiar enough with the layout of her room and relying on a shaft of moonlight from the open window, Wanda made it to her door and opened it.

Down the corridor she heard Sam’s door open and a distinct “What the fuck?” emerge. Wanda used the wall to reach him, touching his shoulder once she was near enough.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“I have no idea,” Wanda said and was just able to make out Sam fishing his phone from his jeans.

The screen should have lit up, but it didn’t. “It was fully charged,’ Sam said, confused. Wanda didn’t know what that meant but it certainly couldn’t be good. She raised a hand and summoned forth a ball of red energy, it cast a distorted red haze across the walls around them but was better than nothing.

Walking slowly, they made it down the stairs and into the living room to find that someone had lit some candles where their teammates had gathered together. Tony had a tablet in front of him, but its screen was dark just like Sam’s phone. Everyone was murmuring in concern, looking to Tony for direction.

“—this shouldn’t be happening, even I can’t hack our system, the firewalls are too tight—” Tony was speaking quickly and not acknowledging the concerned whispers of his friends, all attention directed at Vision.

Wanda released her powers and went to Vision’s side instantly. His posture was tight enough for Wanda to tell he was in some sort of pain. It took all her control not to take his hand and syphon that pain off onto herself.

“This is not generic hacking, it’s a targeted cyber-attack.”

Tony stood immediately, a new urgency about his face. Wanda had never seen him look startled, let alone scared. “Vision you have to cut yourself off now!”

But whatever risk Tony’s foresight had identified, it was too late. Vision went rigid and Wanda cried out in panic as she watched him fall to his knees, shoulders trembling as though under a great, invisible weight.

She didn’t hesitate now and threw herself to the floor beside him, both hands on his cheeks. “Vision!”

Every muscle appeared to have pulled taught and his vibranium turned to stone in response to whatever was going on within his mind. Wanda watched on in horror as Vision’s eyes went wide and then blank. Never before had she looked into the synthezoid’s eyes and not recognised him. The blue had gone cold and unwelcoming and it sent a chill down Wanda’s spine.

“Maximoff, get away from him,” Tony said urgently, gesturing for the rest of the team to back away “If they’ve compromised him, they can control him.”

“Bruce, how’s the back-up generator?” Tony cried into a radio.

Bruce Banner’s voice crackled over in response, “Almost done.”

“Wanda, please,” Nat said stepping forward and putting a hand on Wanda’s shoulder to draw her away. She shook it off in frustration and moved her hands higher, placing them at Vision’s temple.

Wanda had delved into Vision’s mind before but only with his permission. Her first few months at the compound, when her nightmares were particularly bad, a touch of the hand from Vision and he’d invite her into his tranquil brain to deter her terror. Occasionally, Vision preferred to use the telepathy rather than speaking aloud, he found it particularly useful when he couldn’t find the words to vocalise a certain feeling. Never before had Wanda been forced to intrude in this way. But as she pressed forward, she found little resistance.

In the real-world Wanda gasped, winded as she was abruptly dragged into Vision’s mind. He pulled her in desperately, only conscious enough to recognise her familiarity.

In her mind’s eye Wanda was in a small, cramped room. There was a window set into one wall with rain streaming down it, though she wasn’t sure how that was possible. Far above she heard the crackle of thunder and further away what might have been a fire alarm. Vision was tucked up on an old armchair, his head tilted to the side and his eyes closed. For a second Wanda’s heart stopped — but no there it was, the tell-tale rise and fall of his chest.

She reached his side instantaneously, her body not fully present. As she did, Vision’s eyes opened, at first panic stricken but relaxing when he saw her.

“Wanda, darling,” Vision said, holding a hand out for her. But Wanda wasn’t really there, and so couldn’t take it.

“Vision, we have to go, you need to wake up,” Wanda said desperately, not sure if she was thinking it or speaking aloud.

In the distance she heard Tony’s voice, but could barely make out what he was saying. You need to get him to go offline, Wanda.

In the seconds that it took her to divert her attention to Tony, she lost her grip with Vision. The space shifted around them and suddenly they were in another room. For a moment she didn’t recognise where they were, after all, she had only been in Avenger’s tower once, two years earlier. The room was frayed round the edges, like it had slipped Vision’s mind, but the centre scene was clear as it had been the night he was created.

Vision stood before his cradle.

“Vision?” Wanda asked hesitantly moving forward. “What’s going on?”

She recalled Tony’s warning.

“You have to go offline,” she said, hoping Vision would know what that meant.

“I cannot.” Vision’s voice echoed when he spoke, as though it were coming from all around her. “I cannot.”

“Why not?” Wanda asked, reaching out to touch him. Forgetting that she had no hand, that she was merely a presence within his head.

“I disconnect myself then that’s it…” Vision’s voice was growing quieter, and beyond it a loud alarm could be heard. “I am of no use without my mind.”

“That’s not true, Vision,” Wanda pleaded.

“Hurry up Maximoff!” Tony sounded fearful.

“Vision, please, switch it off!”

“I am nothing without this.” Vision looked intently at the cradle.

“You are not nothing!” Wanda yelled, her voice almost drowned out by the chorus of alarms now echoing in her head, uncertain if they were from the real world or a product of Vision’s mind. “You are you, even without a direct line to every piece of knowledge known to humanity!”

Certain that her words weren’t having an effect, Wanda reached deeper, beyond words and followed Vision’s example. She let him into her head. Dragged him into the intimate depths where she kept her fondest memories, guarded beyond steel walls so they might never be taken from her. She let him feel how she felt, let him see his friendships with their teammates from her perspective, she let him see exactly how extraordinary she thought him. And for added measure she let him taste the smallest touch of grief she might feel if he was ever taken from her.

Vision in the Avenger’s tower staggered towards the cradle even as Wanda was thrown from his mind. The last thing she saw was him gripping the power source of the cradle and ripping it out.

Back in the physical realm Wanda’s eyes locked on Vision’s, which were familiar once more. There were voices roiling around them as Tony talked about damage control and what they might have lost, but the lights were coming back on and Vision was here, so Wanda drowned it all out.

“It’s so quiet,” Vision whispered, his eyes were unfocused, “so, so quiet.”

“What do I do?” He whispered fearfully.

Wanda was ready when Vision fell forward, catching his shoulders and letting him lean against her. She caressed the back of his head comfortingly. “You’re ok, you’re here,” she whispered as he clung to her. “You’re safe, I’m here.”

I'm so sorry if this sucked I think I've lost all my words recently

(ask me a prompt from this list and I'll give you a drabble - we'll ignore that this was longer than your typical drabble)

#scarletvision #wandavision #scarletvision drabbles #wandavision drabbles #scarletvision fanfiction #wanda maximoff #the vision #wanda x vision #angst #mild whump

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horribletestsubject · 3 years

Text

Fic I just wrote based on These Two art pieces that I’ve drawn and THIS POST by @body-utensil-travels-terrain

———

You’ve spent your life being told you couldn’t. Now there’s a voice telling you that you can.

You remember it distinctly. You were fourteen at the time, just really starting to figure out what you wanted to do with your life (it certainly isn’t what society expected from you— but then, society doesn’t expect someone like you anyway, does it?) when you first heard her voice over the radio in your living room. The words she said resonated with you, the promise and ambition that she spoke with. It was almost like she was talking directly to you.

You do your research. You study hard. You tinker away at things in your garage, supplementing your studies in your own way. And five years later, after you’ve graduated, you put in your application.

A letter arrives a few weeks later, emblazoned with the circular symbol you’ve kept in your mind’s eye all this time, and bold lettering on the front— Aperture Science Innovators. It’s addressed to you. You open it, and your fingers tighten around the smooth paper— “congratulations” it says. You’ve been accepted. At the bottom is Her signature. You trace over it with your fingers. Delicately, as gently as you’d handle an irreplaceable machine part.

Two weeks later your bags are packed and you’re boarding a flight to Detroit. The attendant greets you. You hold up your boarding pass and get on. You land a few hours later. Getting a cab would be too complicated— people don’t like to take the time to read, and most can’t speak the way you do. So you walk to the train station, it’s not too far. Just an hour or two. You’ve walked further before.

Flat fields flow by endlessly as the train rattles down its tracks. You lean your head against the window, watching the hues of gold rush by, blurring on into infinity.

The sun is gone when you pull up outside a strange little town, surrounded by chain link fence. You fish through your bag for the packet you’d been sent— and pull out the temporary ID you’d been given. You show it to the gate guard. He lets you in. A man is waiting to show you your dormitory. You shake your head at his offer of a tour— you’ll explore the place yourself tomorrow. There are a few days before you’re actually needed for orientation.

The room is small and plain. A bed, desk, and dresser, and a small closet. That’s alright. You don’t need much. You hang up your few articles of clothing and tuck your shoes next to the door. The bed isn’t soft, but it isn’t hard. You fall asleep quickly, exhausted from your travels.

The next few days are spent wandering. Visiting the little shops, the stations. Peering into labs where you can. Climbing over fences (they could never keep you out) before quickly retreating as a security guard passed. You don’t want to get in trouble before your internship even begins. You wonder if you’ll see her. But you only hear her voice in announcements as you trigger motion sensors throughout the complex.

When work actually starts, it’s tedious. Getting coffee. Taking documents to the shredder and the incinerator. You don’t usually see the labs. Or, well, much of anything. It’s just a lot of running here and there, back and forth at your superiors’ beck and call. It’s tiring. But you do it— after all, you want to be here, you want to do this— and you never give up.

It’s a few months before you see her— before your internship takes you to the main complex. Now you’re checking inventory, sorting mail, sorting records (and chucking the casualty lists into the incinerator as instructed). Occasionally they’ll call you in to fix the coffee maker or the refrigerator.

You hear her voice once, muffled— she’s talking to someone, to a group it seems, just outside the room you’re in. You look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse. Rosy cheeks and bright-red lips, wavy dark hair flowing around her shoulder, a smile on her face (manufactured, you can tell with just this glance that she’s concealing so very much), a bright red scarf tied around her neck.

Your eyes lock for just a second, and the corner of her mouth creases, dimpling her cheeks. Your heart races— that, that was a hint of a true smile. Warmth flushes your own cheeks and you tear your gaze away. Suddenly shy— much shyer than you’ve ever been before.

It doesn’t make sense to you. Not yet. Not until you start seeing her more. Not until her smiles become more frequent and pointed. Not until her gaze lingers on you a little longer than before each time. The fluttery feeling doesn’t go away— and you’re determined more than ever to reach her.

Of course, it happens sooner and easier than you think. She starts requesting you specifically to bring her her coffee. You take a red pen and draw a little smiley face next to her name before giving it to her. When you come up to her office, there’s a sticky note left on the monitor, in that oh-so-hard to read yet absolutely beautiful cursive of hers. At the end of it is a smiley face, so much more elegant and less childish than yours. You keep the note. On her next cup, you add a heart to the dot of the ‘i’ in her name. You start responding to her notes with little notes of your own, your rounded, sometimes scratchy handwriting a stark contrast.

The notes are never there when you get back. You like to think she kept them. You’re pretty sure she did.

A year after you arrive, your internship is over, and you’re up for a promotion— junior mechanic. Probably still more of the same, but you’ll be getting a salary now (not that you really have any use for it since Aperture provides your housing) and you’ll have a permanent place. But you’ll see her less. You’ll miss that, of course— but you’re finally moving beyond your station, moving up in the company.

The day before your internship ends, you get another note. “Wanna get coffee together tomorrow?” Your heart leaps. You scribble out your answer just beneath her writing.

You’re sitting across from her at the cafe table. The cafe serves the same stuff as the cafeteria, but it’s decorated more quaintly, and always costs more for some reason. Maybe because there’s sunlight coming through the windows.

“So, headed up the ladder,” she begins after the two of you sip your drinks (well, she sips her drink, you’re too caught up in the crimson of her lips). “I guess I won’t be seeing as much of you now.”

There’s something behind her cheery voice, a sadness that you’ve caught glimpses of before, a wistfulness deeper than her words. You look up, catching her gaze for a moment and nod in response.

“Well, this is nice. Maybe we should do this more often. Once a week, at least? Or you could come over to my place. We could spend time together. As friends, or something.” With that, she gives you a wink. Your cheeks flush bright red.

You catch the implication right away. Your hero, your inspiration— and now here you are sitting across from her at a cafe while she all but outright asks you out.

You thought you’d be excited for things to grow beyond the notes and the gestures. But you feel different than that. After the initial jolt, the initial flutter, you look back over at her and you see the chasm yawning out between the two of you. The mountain she’s perched on, the valley you’re standing in. Your scratchy print against her elegant cursive, your short, bitten nails against her sharp manicure, your messy ponytail against her shiny waves. You look down at your simple intern’s badge, then over at her emblazoned one. She doesn’t even have a title listed— everyone knows who she is.

You’re miles apart, even if you might have seemed to be closer.

You stand up, your throat knotting up as you shake your head. You can’t look at her now, but you can practically feel the disappointment in her face as she murmurs “oh.” You want to explain but you can’t, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. The last thing you want is to turn Her, your idol, the one who makes your heart flutter, the reason you came here in the first place, down.

But you can’t do this now. Not yet. Not until you’ve reached the top of the mountain. Not until you’re close enough for her to reach out her hand and pull you the rest of the way up.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” she says.

You pause, halfway to the door. You turn back just enough so that you can glimpse her, and give a tiny nod.

After that you throw yourself into your work. Up to senior mechanic, then technician, then engineer— you’re working on Aperture’s new technology now, its most important projects. But you’re still not close enough. Into the test chambers you go at the CEO’s behest, defying death and physics at breakneck speeds, trusting in the tech you’ve helped create to ensure your survival.

Sometimes you look up and see her watching from the observation room, the tell-tale flash of red. You don’t look too long.

The CEO falls ill. He leaves a disturbing message. You try not to think too much of it— you’re almost there.

Your superior fails a test. You’re not surprised. Not hurt, not sad. It just happens and now you’re in the upper echelon. Now you’re at the top— now, you can reach out to her again. Tell her you’ve changed your mind. You can be equals now.

You go to her office. She isn’t there to answer the door. “Don’t you remember Mr. Johnson’s last request?” They say to you. You tried to block it out, but you remember.

You use your pass on a high security door. It opens. Your name is emblazoned too now. Just like hers was.

Before you is a massive operating system. On the screen reads a message: “transfer complete. transfer successful. writing data : do not disconnect subject.”

She’s lying inside a tube-like compartment. A transparent coffin. Wires hooked up to her. Eyes closed. Lips still ruby red.

You reach out and touch the glass. There’s no response. There won’t be a response.

This technology is untested. This is the first human-AI interfacing project Aperture has conducted. There’s only a fifty percent chance it will work, and even if it does, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone. You’ll never clasp her small hands inside your own calloused ones, tuck your head against her shoulder, press your lips against hers.

You’ve finally reached the top of the mountain. Finally reached her. But it was too late. When you crested the summit, she was already gone, and there was only a spatter of crimson left behind to show that she was ever there at all.

#portal #fanfiction #portal fanfic #portal fanfiction #chell #chell portal #portal chell #caroline portal #portal caroline #chelline #cheroline #chell x caroline #portal au #intern chell #intern chell au #my writing #cinna writes #might edit and post to AO3 at some point #but for now have the rough draft

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milky-pillow · 3 years

Text

Song: Do I Wanna Know? (Arctic Monkeys) Characters: Yumeno Gentaro, Arisugawa Dice, Amemura Ramuda, Reader Relationship(s): Yumeno Gentaro/Reader

originally posted on ao3

“Have you got color in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type, That sticks around like summat in your teeth?”

Gentaro scans your face as you twirl the straw in your cup. With the silence between you two, he finds it hard to read what could be going through your mind.

Before he gets the chance to break the silence, you open your mouth, “it feels like you’ve changed since we’ve last spoken.”

Gentaro’s expression falters for a second before reverting back to his mask. The mask that you oh-so despised. He doesn’t respond immediately, as if trying to put some thought into his response.

“What do you mean?” his voice and smile seemingly taunting you.

“You’re asking me? I mean,” you pause and turn your gaze to the busy crowds of people in the streets, “it’s like you’re trying to avoid me.”

“Me? Avoid you? Why would I?”

“Look, it’s just a feeling. Right, you’re not avoiding me-- at least I hope you’re not. Well, I guess with you and I seeing each other face-to-face helps prove me wrong,” you trail off, bringing your drink to your lips. The sweetness of it satisfies your tongue, no residue being left on your lips as you place the cup down.

Gentaro laughs and taps the table to get your attention, “hey, cheer up! How about we order a cake to eat?”

Gentaro calls over a waiter to order a cake he thinks you’d like while you watch his expression. You repeat to yourself that he’s not avoiding you, that you’re being paranoid, that he wouldn’t purposely put distance between you two. He glances over at you to make sure you’re okay with the flavor, and you respond to his action by nodding with a smile. It warms your heart that he checks with you before ordering.

“I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week, How many secrets can you keep?”

“So,” you begin, breaking the second period of silence, “you’re participating in another division rap battle? I noticed you’ve been busy with Arisugawa and Amemura.”

A snicker escapes his lips as he drums the table with his hands, “you don’t have to call them that, you know. They see you as a friend, not someone of different status.”

Heat creeps it’s way up your face while you stutter, “r-right. Dice and Ramuda then. But you didn’t answer my question; though I take it you are?”

“Mhm,” he hums, pulling out a notebook, “I’ve been preparing for them, but I guess I’ve hit some sort of writer’s block.”

“You? Hit writer’s block? Liar. I don’t believe it,” you laugh as you call out his lie.

He pouts, “okay, so maybe it was. I don’t like how you call it out so easily now. Remember when you fell for everything I said?”

“Honestly, that feels like forever ago,” you give him a soft, yet sad smile, noticing him staring right back at you with a gentle expression.

“(Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways?”

Your eyes light up when your long-awaited cake arrives. Drool begins to pool in your mouth as you thank both the waiter and Gentaro. You couldn’t wait to dig in. When your eyes meet Gentaro’s, you feel a sense of disassociation from him. As much as you wanted to dismiss it, you felt yourself becoming attached to the thought that he’s hiding something from you.

You push the cake towards him to share some of it. When he waves his hand to signal he doesn’t want a piece, you place a fork in his hand.

“You really wanna share it with me, huh?” he teases, giving in and taking a slice.

Finishing the slice on your plate, you grin at him, “what? You didn’t want a taste of this delicious food? How’d you know what flavor to pick? This tastes amazing!” While your exclamation draws the attention of some customers around you, your eyes continue to sparkle.

After persistent convincing, Gentaro takes another slice. Your heartbeat accelerates when he meets your eyes with a smile that has never felt so genuine. If you had to guess, he was either really enjoying the cake, or he was getting comfortable. Feeling accomplished, you helped yourself to your drink and another small slice.

“Woah, what’s the sudden burst of energy from?” Gentaro touches your hand to get you to slow your pace.

You lift your fork halfway to your mouth, stopping to respond, “no reason.”

Gentaro can only shrug, knowing how stubborn you can get when he tries to pry.

“Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do”

By the end of the evening, you had a takeaway box of a half-eaten cake and a smile plastered on your face. The both of you walked out the building side-by-side, catching up about things you had in common. You enjoyed yourself so much, you forgot to ask Gentaro what he thought.

“Um, Gentaro?” you change the subject by posing your question, “knowing you’re busy and all, when would I get to see you again?”

Teasingly, he sticks out his tongue, “when either of us choose to reach out I guess? Kidding, I’ll give you a call to let you know when I’m free.”

You could sense his lie, but you didn’t want to start an argument by mentioning it. Before he could tell you he was lying, you split off with him and rushed back to your apartment.

You could only imagine what could happen between the two of you. With a wave of emotions hitting you from a blind spot, you lay in bed and ponder to yourself. Becoming bored of the plain white ceiling, you turn to your side to reach for a drink, only to find you’ve run out.

A sigh escapes your lips as you head to get a cup of juice for yourself. You lean against your kitchen counter and stare at the paintings that filled your blank walls. The colors look more blended together than usual, the cold tones screaming out to you. Tearing your eyes away, you opt to look out your window. Though your scenery was filled with other buildings and streetlights, the view of the sunset was still visible. For a brief moment, your lonely heart felt a little less lonely.

“So have you got the guts? Been wonderin' if your heart's still open And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts”

Ring! Ring! Ring!

It was your phone. Ring! Of course it was. Ring! Ring! Broken from your distraction, you place your cup down and bring your phone to your ears. With a simple tap, you were connected with the caller.

“Hello?” out of habit, the word slips right out.

“Y/n!” Ramuda excitedly beams, “you were just with Gentaro, right?”

“Yeah, why? Is he okay?”

“Of course, of course! I was just asking is all,” he seems to be holding back laughter. He covered his microphone and all you can hear is muffled bickering.

You sip on your juice while you wait for more, but when you don’t, you speak up, “um, Ra- Ramuda?”

Just as you speak, the call disconnects. Confusion seeps through your skin and into your very soul. Unable to connect the dots, you head to bed.

In the morning, you wake to a string of messages and missed calls. This rarely happens. No, this never happens. Squinting your eyes due to the light of your screen, you read the texts. They were all sent from Gentaro, but it was hard to tell whether or not he was the sender as it had gone back and forth between “sorry, that wasn’t me” to “that was a lie; it was me.” All of the missed calls were also from Gentaro, but you start to find it hard to believe he was the caller.

Testing your luck, you call back.

“Y/n! You finally picked up!”

“Gentaro?”

“Nope, this is Dice!”

“Oh,” you attempt to hide your disappointment with a question, “why do you have Gentaro’s phone? Not to sound rude, but I’m sort of confused.”

Ramuda snatches the phone from Dice and greets you, “mornin’ y/n! Could you come over? We want to talk to you about something. I promise it’s not anything bad! I’ll send the address to our office on this phone.”

“Hold on,” you blurt out before he can end it, “why can’t we talk about it over the phone? I mean, do- do I really have to go over there? Not that I can’t, but if it’s important it’s quicker over the phone, right?”

“Look, no time to explain. Just,” Ramuda takes a deep breath, “do it for me? If not then for Gentaro.”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

He ends the call before you could protest anymore. Seconds later, your phone dings with the address Ramuda was expecting you to go to. Who are you to displease a member of Fling Posse-- and even an ex-member of The Dirty Dawgs?

“I don't know if you feel the same as I do But we could be together if you wanted to”

Hesitance filled your body, heart pounding against your chest and filling your ears. With trembling hands, you open the door to Fling Posse’s office.

The moment you step inside, Dice and Ramuda stand up in excitement, “you came!”

“Of- of course,” you stutter in embarrassment, mentally scolding yourself for your stuttering.

They gesture for you to take a seat, and so you do. Sitting back down, their happy expressions falter. The acceleration of your heart rate doesn’t make you feel any better than you were already feeling.

“Let me get straight to the point, we need your help,” Ramuda says, not getting straight to the point.

Out of nervousness, you burst into uncomfortable laughter, “m- my help? I’m of no use to you, trust me, but what would you need me for?”

“Well, we just need you for one smallllll thing,” Dice chimes. They go on to explain that they need you to get Gentaro to be more open.

Ramuda claps his hands together, “so that’s the plan!”

You shake your head so much it felt as if your brain was going to shatter, “no way! I- I can’t ju- just do that! He’ll know something’s up for sure!”

“If it’s you, there’s no way he will,” he smirks at you.

Knowing you won’t be able to get out of the situation, you agree to follow the plan, “on one condition, though. You can’t make me do anything like this again.”

“Deal,” Dice and Ramuda simultaneously nod their heads.

“(Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day”

“Thanks for meeting up with me, I hope you weren’t busy or anything,” Gentaro smiles at you.

Your face burns as you take a seat and look around, “of course not, but this is definitely, uh, new?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Gentaro crosses his arms, “am I not allowed to invite you out?”

“You know what I mean. This fancy restaurant has nobody? It’s unusual. Also, I thought you originally invited Ramuda and Dice.”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I heard this place was good and I was able to snag us spots. Ramuda and Dice couldn’t make it, so I opted for you; is that bad?”

“It’s not bad, but spots? The whole place is empty.”

Gentaro raises his hands guiltily while chuckling quietly, “you caught me. I may or may not have pulled some strings, but that doesn’t matter, does it?”

Liar. With no energy to call him out for his lie, you both order your food and eat in silence. While silence can be comforting, you felt like you had to talk. An uneasy feeling begins to settle in your stomach as you try to drown it with your food.

“Maybe I'm too (Maybe I'm too busy) Busy bein' yours (Bein' yours) To fall for somebody new”

Though you both made small talk throughout the night, time didn’t seem to pass. But whether you believe it or not, you were both in the back of a taxi heading to your apartment. Not for him to go into, but for him to make sure you would make it back safely.

“I got lucky being able to see you two days in a row,” you can’t stop yourself from smiling as you gaze out the window.

“Am I just that amazing?” Gentaro’s response makes you laugh. How is it that you’re enjoying the ride back? You can’t believe yourself and hope it doesn’t make you appear rude.

You nod and turn your head to look at him. He is amazing and you know that. If he was planning on doing this for his friends, he definitely sees you the same way he sees them. Nonetheless, you take in the moment and could only wish for what could be.

“Do you want me crawlin' back to you?”

END.

#songfic #one shot #hypnosis mic #hypmic #fling posse #yumeno gentaro #arisugawa dice #amemura ramuda #gentaro x reader #gender neutral reader

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tamcitrus · 4 years

Text

Streaming night.

mangaka!Tendou x streamer!fem reader.

count word | 1,1 k.

warnings | mentions of sex

a/n: I love this man with my life, I would ask him to marry me right now.

You set up your cam and looked at your boyfriend at the opposite wall of the room, his red locks falling over his face and over his work.

"Baby I'm about to start streaming. Are you ok here?" your hands posed over his shoulders, barely touching him, afraid to move him and ruin his job. "That panel looks amazing"

"Yes, honey bun, I'm fine"

"Your head can be seen in frame. Do you mind?"

He was never seen on your streams on the whole two years you've been dating. People knew you were dating someone and that he, also a public figure, was dating someone too but no one aside from your friends or relatives knew you were dating each other.

"Nah, all good. I'm just gonna finish this panel and I'll go to grab some midnight snacks for us" he looked up from his drawing and pouted, so you bent down and kissed him. "I love you"

"I love you too, babe" you went back to your desk and turned on the desk lamp you used for streams. There were already a few people waiting so you turned your cam and mic on. "Goodnight my lovely people! How are you doing tonight? I'll be answering some questions while we wait for applepi! Yes yes, the applepi. We were high school classmates, did you know? He's going to make me play some horror game I wouldn't play otherwise. I'm going really quick to grab a drink and I'll read some questions so keep'em coming"

When you streamed, usually Tendou just worked with headphones on. Not because you bother him but if he's hearing you he just gets distracted. So when he called for you and you never came, he turned around and saw you were gone. He took his headphones off and followed the noises to the kitchen, where he found you grabbing two energy drinks and two little bags of potato chips.

"Oh you got ahead of me honey" he took the bags and helped you to take everything to your working room where he quietly returned to his desk and always with his back to the camera. You had a missed call from Kenma so you messaged him so he connected with you.

"Oh hey bumblebee" Kenma appeared at the side of your screen. "I think your chat is broken" he giggled. He tried to reach you there but he saw his message get lost in a sea of questions there.

"What do you mean, Ken?" you clicked on the chat and gasped. You had hundreds of messages and they're all from the same type.

Is that Tendou satori? From the jump magazine? a few went like that and others like is that satori-sensei?!!!!!! is he dating bee?!!!! and others more wtf i would die for that man, can you explain us how to get someone like him???? And there were others definitely praising your boyfriend and his looks. You tried not to read those.

"Uhm honey?" Aaaaaaah she calls him honey agdnavdjs "I think you went on camera. Wanna come here and say hi?"

He laughed and stretched his arms over his head while walking to you, purposely showing his abs on the way while stretching.

"What? I didn't?" he was standing by your side, bend down to have his face cheek to cheek with yours. "Hi Ken-chan~" he waved to Kenma.

"Hi, Satori… Yes, bumblebee is dating Satori-san, the jump's mangaka. Surprising right? I don't know how they put up with each other" he commented while reading his chat.

"Hey don't be rude! We love each other" Tendou reaffirmed this by kissing your cheek. "My followers here ask if you would draw something for us while we play?"

"Of course, anything for my baby. I'll go and grab my things and chair!" he crossed the room alternating steps and little jumps and came back rolling his chair to your side. "What would you want me to draw?"

You turned on the camera that usually pointed to your keyboard and use it to show Tendou's hands and drawing.

"Us eating a pie" Kenma answered and sent you the invitation to the game. "Ok let's get this started, I would very much like to sleep in a few hours"

"Make a poll with my characters so your followers can choose what I draw!" Satori was having fun, he was doodling the thing Kenma said and eating chips.

"That's actually a great idea! I'm busy here dying while Kenma solves the riddle but take my phone and do the poll on twitter babe"

The poll was up for a hour and then you -Satori really- shared the results on the stream while you and Kenma played.

"I can't believe the villain won! I'm making a super duper badass villain and then my honey bun here will make a giveaway so one of you can have this! Totally free and personally signed by me~" he was singing.

Tendou was almost as good as you were talking to the camera and the people. He was reading the chat screen to your principal screen and answering questions or letting you know what the people said about the game.

"They say you have to stop screaming babe, it's not that scary. Ken-chan didn't even chirped once"

Three hours later you and Kenma called it a day night. Satori finished the incredibly detailed draw of his villain and made a simpler one of his protagonist so you had two drawings to giveaway.

"This is yours, Ken-chan! You can come to pick it up anytime" Satori showed to the camera half of his creation, Kenma eating what seemed an apple pie.

"What about the other half?" he asked.

"I draw your partner on the other half, do you want me to show? I can totally do it"

"No, that's ok babe. He will see it when he comes for it" you laughed and took the picture out of frame, Kenma was blushing. "That's it for tonight! Thanks applepi for joining me and scare the shit out of me"

"Next time you solve the riddles" he said. He waved to the camera and disconnected your stream.

"Thank you all for sticking with us! Thanks baby for the drawings, I'll let you know who wins it so you can write a dedication to the winners. Good night y'all!"

You turned off the camera and kissed your boyfriend.

"I mean it, thanks for staying up with me. People freaked out with you, they were excited"

"Mmm I kinda like to be in camera with you" he said, his tone playful and suggestive. "I'm excited too"

"Oh you liked the camera?" you laughed, following him to your bedroom.

"I would definitely fuck you on camera" he says, sitting on the bed and guiding you to straddle his lap. "Would you like that, bumblebee?" he uses your nickname.

"I could be convinced to do it, Satori-sensei" you answered, mimicking his teasing.

"Oh you're so into it, honey bun, don't play silly with me~"

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winxwrites · 4 years

Text

What You Want

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral, D/S themes, workplace sex

Word count: 2k

Description: You never expected the racy texts exchanged between you and a coworker to get you in this position...

A/N: Thank you guys for all of the love you showed my first Henry fic! I hope you all enjoy this one! As always, feedback is appreciated ❀

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Startled, you looked up at the brooding man walking towards you. His presence immediately sent a shiver up your spine. You were so taken back by his entrance that you failed to close the tab on your screen. All traces of laughter were suddenly removed from your demeanor.

“Mr. Walker, I was just... I-”

“Oh save it,” he cut you off as he reached your desk. “I’ve been waiting nearly an hour for your response to my email and then I come down here to find you playing around on your laptop. You’re the last one here, what was stopping you from responding?”

You stuttered over your words attempting to string together a coherent answer that would be pleasing to your boss.

“I just had some other things to wrap up. Today’s been pretty busy I guess I got beside myself. I’ll be sure to check my emails more frequently.”

He raised an eyebrow at your flustered state. You were grateful that the screen of your MacBook had gone dark as your superior planted himself by your workspace. Your comfort was broken when he tilted his head toward the computer.

“Turn on your laptop.” That you weren’t expecting.

“I’m sorry?”

Walker laughed. “You heard me, let’s see what’s got you so distracted.”

Before you could protest the intimidating man hovered over your desk, his finger gracing across the trackpad to illuminate the screen. All you could do was sit there and pray your on shift doings wouldn’t result in the loss of your job.

Your heart leapt as he took in the sight of the tabs on the screen. Your resolve nearly crumbled when his eyes fell onto the opened messages app.

A shit eating grin was on his face as he mockingly recited the conversation you were engaging in with your coworker Harper.

August is so sexy - He made sure to draw out his words in a teasing manner.

You’re so lucky he’s your boss. If I was the one under him we wouldn’t be getting much work done.

Believe me it took everything in me not to drop to my knees the last time he called me into his office.

I bet his dick is fucking massive. God I can’t believe you haven’t fucked him.

The smirk Walker wore was the biggest you’d ever seen. He looked down at you clearly enjoying your uncomfortable state.

“Want me to read more?”

You hated that you’d been caught. You hated even more the arousal you felt as he spoke to you.

He removed his dark suit jacket and tossed it aside. He called you by your last name to address you as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Stand up.”

You quickly stood from your seated position not wanting to be in even more trouble. You were going to apologize for your indiscretion but your boss waived a dismissive hand to silence you.

He made himself comfortable in your work chair and laced his hands behind his head.

“Never been much of a people pleaser but I guess I can give you what you want.” Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t think you’re going to be productive unless you get something to satiate that slutty little mind of yours.”

You bit into your lower lip as you realized what he was asking of you.

“Get on your knees.”

The timber of his voice left no room for discussion. You mindlessly lowered yourself to the floor. The cool feel of the tiled pattern the only thing able to settle the heat that rang through your body.

Your eyes widened looking up at August as you waited for his next command. He chuckled darkly at your submission.

“Go on, be a good girl for me.”

Your unsteady hands reached for the zipper of his trousers, pulling them down enough to expose his black briefs. Your nimble fingers worked to release his hardening member from the tight confines.

Confidence sprang into you as you sat back on your legs. A lewd moan slipped off your tongue as you tasted the salty precum leaking from his tip.

You wrapped your lips around the engorged tip giving a generous suck. You removed his cock from your mouth and stared up at him as you licked a long, wet stripe from his balls to the head of his dick.

His eyes glossed over as you continued to work your mouth over his generous size. Your wrists worked around his shaft as you flattened your tongue around the bulbous head.

August eagerly slid himself down your waiting throat as you gasped for air. You barely had time to adjust before he pushed you onto his thickness. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he quickly pushed you to your limit.

Your blurred vision caught sight of the smug look he wore as he watched you swallow him. You knew he was close when your nose touched the patch of hair that spread across his pelvis.

His cock twitched at the sight of seeing you take whatever he gave you. He reached down and stroked your hair out of your face as his orgasm reached its dawn. His gaze was unwavering as he drank in the image of you swallowing his cum. You tried to hide your struggle as you slurped down the liquid. A relieved sigh left his lips once he’d come down from his high. His dick was still surprisingly hard as the heavy girth weighed against your tongue.

An aggressive hand wrapped around your throat pulling you off his slick cock. A trail of drool dribbled down your chin as you disconnected with his thick member. He used the firm grip on your neck to guide you back onto your feet. You gasped a breath you didn’t realize you were holding once his thumb was removed from the column of your throat.

He shifted his grip to your waist and pressed your backside against your desk.

“August I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again. I’ll be more professional in the future, I promise!”

He released an ironic laugh. “I think you and I can both agree that we’ve clearly passed any professional boundaries that were formerly in place.”

You nodded at his reference to the events that had just occurred.

“You’re right. But August can we just-“

You were cut off. Walker ran his thumb over your chin and collected some of the spit that still resided there. He playfully rubbed the saliva over your bottom lip before popping his thumb into your waiting mouth. You felt like a whore as you sucked on the digit without objection.

“You address me as sir or Mr. Walker, are we clear?” You shook your head in agreement as he removed his thumb from your mouth. “Call me August again and you won’t be speaking at all for a while.”

He gingerly sat back in the chair. “Take off your panties.”

Your hands worked to hitch up the hem of your dress and tug the material down your parted thighs. Walker looped his finger through the flimsy lace and took in the sight of the soaked crotch.

He pressed his palms flat against your knees to part your legs even more. His middle and index finger made their way into your waiting hole. You yelped at the thick intrusions. Walker stroked his fingers back and forth inside your exposed hole. You were reduced to a moaning mess. No man had ever been able to locate your most sensitive spot so quickly.

He withdrew his fingers and wiped your glistening cum on the indigo material of your dress.

His hand reached for your wrist as he impatiently tugged you toward him. Your parted knees were on either side of the chair as you found yourself in his lap. His erection pointed callously at your waiting cunt. You gulped as you worked your hand over his cock realizing -once again- just how big he was. This didn’t go unnoticed by your boss.

“What’s the matter kitten? Are you scared?” Your breathing became uneven as he spoke the taunting words into your ear. “Don’t try and act shy now. You said you wanted this.”

Your right hand squeezed his shoulder as your left guided his thickness into your pussy. You let out an exasperated sigh as you looked down and realized he wasn’t even half way in.

Walker’s hand came up and gripped the back of your neck. He tilted your head in a way that made it impossible to look away from what he was doing to you.

“Oh no kitten, I don’t want you to miss this.” His other hand gripped your thigh and roughly pulled you onto his dick.

His pleasure came first, he made that more than clear. A cocky grin shone on his face once he bottomed out. Your body writhed from the shock of the tight fit.

Reaching between your thighs you tried to rub your clit but August quickly wrapped his hand around your wrist to stop you. A frustrated groan slipped through your lips. He was definitely going to make you work for your release.

His calloused hands dug into your sides as he pulled you deeper onto his dick. You struggled to keep up with the swift pace he’d created.

“Sir please...” you whispered in desperation.

To your surprise he moved his hand between your legs providing you some stimulation. He leaned forward and pressed sloppy kisses to your covered chest. Your eyes rolled back as you noticed the wet patches he’d left over either breast.

A relieved groan left your throat as you slumped against his toned chest. Your fingernails dug shallow crescents into his broad shoulders as you indulged in your impending orgasm.

“Walker let me cum. Oh God! Sir please!” The only sounds in the office space were your desperate moans. August took a second to look away from the place where your bodies connected.

The pattern he drew on your clit became sloppy and you knew the end was in sight for both of you. You graced his neck with kisses as you reached your peak.

A rough hand smacked your ass as you rode out your orgasm. “Look at you being a dirty little slut cumming in my lap.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks and onto his shoulder as you came down from your high.

August latched onto your collarbone and sucked brazenly as his own orgasm rang through him. You fidgeted against his thighs from the overstimulation. You knew there would be a blotchy mark left behind but you didn’t care. You were just happy you’d have something to remind you this wasn’t just some dream.

August stood up and placed you back on your desk. You felt vulnerable when you noticed his darkened eyes watching thick globs of cum drip onto the wooden surface.

Neither of you had said a word since you’d finished. You weren’t sure your brain could even fathom a coherent sentence after how hard you’d just cum.

The weight of your encounter suddenly hit you as you leaned down to retrieve your discarded panties. August lifted a heavy foot and trapped the underwear underneath his polished shoes.

“Oh no kitten. You’re gonna keep my cum in that tight little cunt of yours for the rest of the night.” You looked up at him is disbelief. “And tomorrow morning when you come in I’m gonna check and see how good you take direction.”

Lost for words you nodded in compliance.

“Yes sir.”

You slowly stood up, your legs still unsteady. Suddenly you were thankful you’d worn flats. Walker adjusted himself back into his pants and straightened his tie. You were both unsettled when your MacBook rang signifying a new text.

The illuminated screen captured both of your attentions. Of course it was from your friend Harper sending yet another raunchy message about your boss. If she only knew...

August began heading back to his own office. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the glass windows and thanked the heavens you were the only one working in the office this late.

The heavy footsteps came to a halt as your boss stopped before the elevator. He called your name in an even voice.

You looked back at him in a daze. “Hmmm?”

“Tell your friend she can be next if she’d like.”

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker smut #henry cavill x reader #august walker x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill imagine

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reyescarlos · 4 years

Note

24 from the prompt list pleaseeee 😊

god, i love this prompt sfm, thanks, nicole!

#24. “I know it’s the middle of the night, but can you come over, please?” [when you can’t sleep at night- of mice & men; this song never gets old]

It always takes him time to fall asleep but tonight, for some reason, it feels insurmountable. Usually Eddie can relax his tired, overworked mind long enough to trick it into shutting down. That isn’t the case now and it drives him mad the way he can’t get his brain and body to fall in line with each other. It’s one in the morning, a time when he should be like his son down the hall: fast asleep and shut off to the world for a few hours. But he can’t get that now, despite his best efforts.

Every sound outside his window is magnified. The weight of his blanket doesn’t sit right against his skin. The mattress underneath him feels like a stranger’s despite the well-worn groove it has made that fits his shape. Nothing feels right and it’s making the simple task of sleeping impossible.

Eddie reaches a hand to his nightstand, disconnecting his phone from the charger. He squints against the bright light of the screen, his eyes soon adjusting. He knows he shouldn’t reach out now. It’s late. He’s probably asleep by now and yet, Eddie’s finger hoovers over Buck’s name in his contact list, quickly pressing his thumb against the screen to place the call before he loses his nerve.

“Eddie, is everything okay?” Buck asks after three rings, concern clear as day in his voice. Eddie cringes; perhaps he should have sent a text instead. The suddenness of a late night call is more than enough reason to make anyone worry.

“Everything’s fine, everything’s alright,” he insists. “I just...I can’t sleep. I don’t know why I called you, that’s hardly your problem.”

Buck laughs softly. “I don’t mind it though. I was awake, too.”

Eddie wonders at what could be keeping Buck up but he doesn’t press the matter. He’s just grateful he was around to answer the call and is indulging him in conversation. It’s nice to have Buck’s voice in his ear but, admittedly, he would prefer to have his physical company instead. It’s why the next set of words go tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop himself and apply reason to the situation.

“I know it’s the middle of the night, but can you come over, please?”

He hates how desperate the request must make him sound, how childlike or maybe even foolish but he can’t help it. If Buck would even consider the notion for a second, Eddie would count it as a win. But he barely even takes that long; his answer is swift and clear.

“I’ll be there in ten. Hang tight.”

Eddie’s chest feels lighter already and he tries to reel himself in but he can’t help the sense of elation that floods through him. To have a friend like this who would drop everything just because he needed him meant the world. But if he’s being completely honest, at least to himself, he knows that the gesture carries more significant weight than that in his eyes.

To simply matter counts for a lot. To matter to Buck means everything.

~*~

Ten minutes later Eddie’s phone buzzes against the mattress with a text from Buck saying he’s right outside the front door. Eddie hurries out of bed to let him in. Buck is in sweats and a plain white t-shirt but to Eddie, he may as well be dressed to the nines with how appealing he finds him. The shirt is form fitting, hugging each muscle in his taut frame. Buck’s face looks softer at this hour and it endears the man to Eddie all the more.

“Thanks for coming. You really didn’t have to,” he says as he steps aside to let Buck in.

He’s been over more times than Eddie can even begin to count but never in the middle of the night and certainly never for a reason like this. Still, they move with ease around each other despite the fact that this scenario is a new one for them.

“Maybe not but I wanted to.”

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with that, he isn’t sure if he’s reading too much into it and coming up with a meaning to the words that isn’t truly there. He knows the danger that comes in wishing for impossible things.

And yet, he hopes anyway.

Eddie’s gaze lowers briefly before pulling back to Buck’s face. For the first time he isn’t able to look into Buck’s eyes and read his thoughts. It’s so unlike them that for a moment Eddie’s brows furrow, as if he can concentrate hard enough to see into Buck’s mind.

He gives up the effort with a timid smile. Now that he has Buck in front of him at this hour, he isn’t quite sure what to do. In an ideal world they’d rest and wake up in each other’s arms but the idea feels far-fetched. Calls in the middle of the night usually mean something else entirely but that’s not the kind of relationship they have with one another—though Eddie would be lying if he said he had never thought about it.

He figures Buck picks up on his uncertainty because he’s the first one to breach the silence, giving them some clear instruction and something other to do than stand in the foyer looking at one another.

“Why don’t we try actually getting some sleep? Couldn’t hurt, right?”

Eddie nods stiffly and waits to see where Buck thinks this should happen. Buck turns and for a moment, Eddie is so sure he’ll veer off to the living room but he walks right past the opening and down the hall to Eddie’s bedroom. The blinds are somewhat twisted and there’s enough light coming in from the streetlamps outside to make it easier to see. Buck sinks onto the bed with such familiarity, as if this is a place he rests his head every single night. It makes Eddie’s heart flutter, the ease to which Buck operates inside his home. He always wants this to feel like a safe place for him, too.

Buck settles against a pillow, letting a deep contented sigh escape his lips as Eddie climbs into his side of the bed. Eddie stares up at the ceiling, so acutely aware of the warmth of Buck’s body beside him. At the start of the night this had seemed like a great idea but now that Buck is next to him, sharing his bed no less, Eddie finds his inability to sleep has just increased tenfold. He places his hands against his stomach, still keeping his eyes trained above him, his hands to himself. There’s no telling where he’d let them wander if given the chance.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Buck asks, turning to lay on his side in order to face Eddie. Unable to ignore the question and the shift, Eddie follows suit and faces him in turn.

Eddie shakes his head and sighs. “No, it’s not you. I guess my head is a bigger mess tonight than I thought.”

Buck searches his eyes and Eddie stares openly at him, the striped effect of the light through the blinds casting parts of Buck’s face in shadow. It isn’t enough to downplay the curiosity in his expression and Eddie realizes he’s pushing this conversation to places he isn’t sure he’s ready for it to go.

“I’m just glad you’re here. It’s nice...having someone next to me,” he says. “It’s even better that it’s you.”

This time of night makes his lips loose but he can’t find it within himself to regret the words he’s saying.

Buck reaches out a hand and strokes his cheek. Eddie’s heart trembles like an aftershock. Surely Buck has to know what a touch like that would do to him. Eddie’s eyes close and he tilts his head just a bit, allowing his lips to rest against the inside of Buck’s wrist. He can feel the man’s pulse quicken against his mouth. The reaction is enough to make Eddie brave enough to look at him again.

Buck’s mouth hangs slightly agape. “Eddie,” he says softly, a plea or prayer Eddie can’t say for certain but in those two syllables there’s a want.

Eddie tips his chin forward and Buck’s mouth is right there, ready and waiting. Eddie starts out slow, tentative as if making sure this is truly what Buck wants. But from the grip of Buck’s hand on his hip and the not so subtle pull he makes to draw Eddie nearer, there’s no doubt this is everything the other man desires as well.

Buck’s mouth is warm and welcoming, inviting Eddie in. He allows himself to get comfortable, sinking into the moment fully. Maybe they’ll both regret this come morning but here in this present moment, Eddie wants to lose himself entirely, give everything he has and lay it at Buck’s feet. Yes, maybe they’ll feel differently in the light of day, but all Eddie can do is focus on the here and now.

He feels drunk off Buck now, so intoxicating is the rush that comes from being this close to Buck. After a few moments he breaks away, trying in vain to settle his racing heart. He looks to Buck, takes in his bashful smile and soft eyes.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been dying to do that,” Buck says. All bets are off at this hour and Eddie appreciates their ability to be candid with each other now.

Eddie buries his face against the side of Buck’s neck, breathing him in and placing a soft kiss there. He feels as Buck swallows thickly, stunned that he’s able to work his way under Buck’s skin, never mind to this degree. He pulls back and looks at him.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to you doing it again,” he replies, surprising himself with boldness.

Buck chuckles, a throaty quiet laugh that reverberates in the pit of Eddie’s stomach. It’s easily his favorite sound. Buck leans in and kisses him deeply. Sleep has gone from being the thing he wanted most tonight to the absolute last thing he wants now and Eddie couldn’t be more pleased with that.

#buck x eddie #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #starlightbuck #nicole bby #kimmy writes #buddie fic

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peachbearies · 3 years

Note

Can I have #12 from the fluff with wooyoung🥺

Safe Haven J.Wooyoung

Requested prompt:

“I wanna kiss you right now”

⁞ ❏. Synopsis: Wooyoung wants to comfort you after you isolated yourself due to insecurities and overthinking.

⁞ ❏. Genre: Angst > Fluff

⁞ ❏. Pairing: Female Reader X Jung Wooyoung

⁞ ❏. Warnings: Unhealthy coping, cursing, mentions of suicide, and mental health.

⁞ ❏.A/N: I just wanna say babes I love you! And I know how horrible and rocky life is for you right now, but you are worth it and you always have me to confide in. I lowkey made myself cry I listened to one day at a time by ateez then after that I listened to seasons by 6lack so I'm fucked up clearly.

The silence in the apartment. The trickle of eradicated breathing, the fingers of a tornado gripping the sheets. Beads of sweat staining the pillow hair and skin infusing to the bed. Your eyes open to stare at the blank canvas of a ceiling. Eyes wandering over the cracks painted in the crevices. The technicolor screen projected on the palette, weakly your fingers reach over for your phone. ”Babyboy🦋” the bold font decreasing your heart rate, the white-blue screen glowed upon your skin.

”Hello?” you choke through the silence; wooyoung knew you better than anyone after your parents. His body immediately sat up against his headboard, the unsettling aura settled on him, yeosang stared at his friend; unaware of what he heard all he could recognize was wooyoung rambling his hands through his hair. ”hey, you okay? Baby talk to me” wooyoung already has one foot out the bed. But the bold numbers on the clock prevented him from going any further. He wanted to hold her; dip his fingers into her back to soothe her he wanted her hair tickling his collarbone. Her scent of vanilla extract and caramel seeping into his nose comforting him.

”i—” you start, but the fear of speaking too much opening and closing the glasshouse spiking cracks. You knew you couldn't hold water; you didn't want to drown him you didn't want to smother him. ”oh my god” you dropped the phone the sheets muffling your hard cries. Wooyoung stuck between breaking rules to come to see you, to knock on your door. But it was too late.

Wooyoung wouldn't be able to step an inch out of the dorm, and that is what frustrated him even more. ”baby? Baby?” is all you heard as it faded into the background. The line disconnected, as the stress shadowed on wooyoung. Yeosang ran up to wooyoung who was desperate for a hug. But was more desperate to hold you. “Let’s go talk to the CEO,” no questions asked wooyoung took off faster than his words.

When he was granted the okay, the driver arrived at your house. You were sitting on your carpet dried tears stained on your cheeks, with puffy eyes. The way your eyes glided you to the pills pleading you in with its poised stanzas. The sound of banging on the door was the only thing saving you from slipping into subspace. Your legs quivered as you answered the door. Both from anxiety and the brisk air. “Wooyoung?” You called his name, realizing your mistake you shun your head down “I’m—“ wooyoung leaving no room for an apology engulfed you in his arms, his hand protectively around your head. Helping you back in the house.

“Baby—don’t leave me, please. I know it’s hard to express how you’re feeling and admitting to the pain. I’m here for whenever you’d like me to know your worries, baby I just want you to know you’re not alone, even when you feel like it, I’ll hold you and let you cry in my arms all day I don’t care” wooyoung pulls out of your neck to stare into your broken eyes. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, even if you don’t tell me what’s wrong” his thumb sweeps through tears under your eye ducts.

“I’m scared to rant to anyone—“ your hiccups interrupted you as the tears travel down to your chin hugging it neatly. “Hey-hey, you don’t have to explain everything to me right now, let’s get you comfortable first” you go in his arms his fingers hugging your thighs that are attached to his waist. His foot pushing open the door. His fingers delicately removing himself from your body. Whining in a touch starved form wooyoung placed a soft print to your temple. You missed him. As much as you pushed him away, you missed him and you felt bad. Another reason you’ve been crying. His smile appears from the edge of his bed holding a hoodie of his.

“Wear it” he implies, you sat up grabbing the cloudy fabric sliding your head through, and smiled from its warmth. “I need you warm my dear” wooyoung pats your head, his fingers cruising over your head. “I’m sorry” the mumbles escaped, only made him frown. Wooyoung was pondering why you were apologizing to him, you’ve done nothing wrong in his eyes. Pain is inevitable, no one can control that.

Wooyoung says nothing but pulls you into his arms your nose touching his collarbone, fingers attached to your burning skin “do you know why I enjoy performing on stage every night?” Wooyoung ponders, you wipe your face in the hoodie cuffs “because I can feel my emotions, I can let them out in the form of art, and atiny enjoys it, why? Because feeling emotions are honest art, it’s honest feelings. And it doesn’t make you inconsequential, it doesn’t make you lesser okay? It makes you mortal it makes you vital in a sense that you can let out these sentiments and that you've held it together for so long” Wooyoung kisses your hairline, dancing his fingertips on your jawline.

“You don't have to be perfect, because who is? All you have to be is unique. Just be the best you can be, I'm not going to nitpick what's wrong with you, but for every bad thought, I'll cloud it with compassionate poetry” Wooyoung withdraws his face from your hair to show you his sincerity, “I mean that I know j farce a lot and I'm overly theatrical. But I take you very seriously, I promise I won't hurt you and ill shelter you from your demons, only if you let me” you reach up to his stature to give him a delicate peck, Wooyoungs nose looming over yours.

“Be my safe haven?” you state, but it wailed more as a reassuring question, “nothing else I wouldn't want to be I wanna kiss you right now, is that okay with you love?” you nod your head as Wooyoung leans posterior into your space, coinciding your lips with his, your fingers swaddled upon his shoulders. Feeling a smile on your lips that are stickered on his. Wooyoung would do whatever he could to protect that smile. That smile is what makes his day. You pull away from the endearment, your head on his chest, his chin on your head.

“I've been overthinking, about my image my life. I wonder am I doing enough, especially at my age. Compared to everyone around me what the fuck is so special about me?, u feel like everything I've tried or wish for just hasn't gone my way, I've been trying to stay afloat but fuck I'm just sinking faster and faster, u just wanna be okay for once in my life, I wanna be proud of myself and not stare at myself in disgust” Wooyoung draws circles on your arm and strokes your jawline with his thumb. “I'm so proud of you for learning our dance choreography in a day, you were so happy that day, out CEO even said “yah Wooyoung your girlfriend is so talented, we need her here each time we learn a dance “, that time you painted Hyung-Joong a pair of boots I swear he wore them for so long and still till this day he has them on his shelf”

“When you bought us food during thanxx, the staff fell even more in love with you, they wanted you around us all the time, they love your energy, remember that one time we were watching the sunset sitting on the carpet on front of the window? You wrote me that poem in a matter of seconds, till this day its pinned up on my wall in the dorms, you have so many achievements under you belt I’ll be here all night, baby big achievements are amazing don’t get my wrong,but the small one you do for people around you goes a long way, we’re still young baby we have time to blossom, don’t feel pressured by others success because yours will be just as good and a memoir for you to fall back on”

“Why don’t you write songs for Ateez?” You joke with him; he punches your cheeks slightly to earn a whine from your lips. “Who said I don’t , what am I going to do with you?” Wooyoung pokes your cheeks “love me?”

“I do, I’m so in love with you”

You both fall asleep holding each other closely, the morning arrives for you to see the sunrise, wooyoung’s arm draped around your abdomen his fingers planted on your stomach, nose printed on your neck. “Baby? Look”‘excitedly you cheer, your nails caressing his muscles, feeling him stir in his sleep. “Yes my love?” His voice vibrates on your skin.

“Look at the sun, I’m sorry to wake you, I just feel happy now seeing the sun, because of that poem I wrote you, it makes me want to do better because even the sun gets up after it’s downfall, can’t have light with a little dark, if only the moon existed how else would the numbers appear on the clock” Wooyoung’s lips spread across your skin pulling you in closer, propping himself up on his elbows. “You’re so beautiful my dear,” Wooyoung bends to your level kissing your lips softly, holding you face like glass he caressed every scar you deemed to be ugly.

“If you’re bit scared you’re living on edge, it’s hard to escape your worries” Wooyoung starts singing ‘one day at a time’ your fingers wrapped around his wrist never breaking contact with him. Yeah, Wooyoung is your safe haven.

#kpop #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung #jung wooyoung

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

A Change in the Weather AU (inspired by Cacophonylights's A Change in the Weather) - Chapter 32

Read on AO3.

Warning for mention of past sexual assault.

It’s around ten in the morning when Sebastian and Kurt wake in their tent out on the porch, rattled to consciousness by Sebastian’s ringer slicing through the lull of the still pouring rain. Kurt hears Sebastian groan, hears him curse at it, mumbling something about not answering it out of spite and wouldn’t that show it who’s boss? Kurt chuckles at his boyfriend’s sleep-deprived ridiculousness, but Sebastian has no one to blame for this oversight but himself. Kurt had left his phone in the bedroom before they’d retired to the porch for this very reason.

He didn’t want to be disturbed.

They’re both dog tired. More than that. Whatever animal dogs use as a metaphor when they get tired, that’s what Kurt and Sebastian are.

It’s comfy in their tent out on the porch. Too comfy to deal with things like phone calls when Kurt and Sebastian are lying next to one another, asleep in each other’s arms. Kurt feels Sebastian stir, mumbling again about how he’s willing to punch his phone to fucking pieces if it doesn’t knock it off, then settle back into their cozy cocoon.

“You could just shut it off, you know,” Kurt reminds him, giggling when he feels Sebastian’s breathing hitch.

“Yeah, all right,” he says without owning up to his mistake. He reaches underneath his pillow to get it, but before his fingers touch it, it obligingly stops ringing. “There you go then. I guess that’s that.”

“Who was it?” Kurt asks, completely unaware of anything outside Sebastian’s tirade with his eyes closed.

“Don’t know, don’t care. They’re gone. That’s all that matters.”

“Sounds good to me,” Kurt says, surrendering to the hug that envelopes him from behind. Sebastian’s soft snores fill the tent again, and Kurt takes that as his cue to go back to sleep, the patter of the rain on the outside skin of the tent a powerful sedative.

But right as Kurt gets ready to re-visit his fantasy from last night in the darkness behind his eyelids, Sebastian’s phone rings again, dragging them both further into consciousness.

“Argh! What do you want?” Sebastian whines. Kurt rolls to his opposite side in their sleeping bag as Sebastian proceeds to verbally berate his phone. Kurt is reluctant to do anything that qualifies as moving, but he so wants a front seat to this temper tantrum. If he’s going to have his sleep repeatedly interrupted, he wants to be entertained.

And besides, if Sebastian had turned off his phone, they wouldn’t be having this issue.

Again, the phone stops ringing, but it starts immediately up, and Sebastian fishes it out without stalling this time to put an end to its reign of terror. “Ugh. Too bright,” he murmurs, squinting at the screen. But something he sees stops him from shutting his phone down. “Wait a minute …”

“What?”

“It’s Liv.” Sebastian stares harder, making sure. “Pfft. Her timing is impeccable.”

“Shouldn’t she be here?” Kurt asks. “She didn’t mention having any plans for the morning.”

“I don’t happen to have her social calendar memorized, but mumsy and dadums probably took her and Brian out to brunch. If Julian went with them, you know what that means …” Sebastian bites his lower lip suggestively, growls for good measure.

“Pizza for breakfast?” Kurt teases.

“No …” Sebastian says. “You … on the living room couch. This way you won’t be able to even look at a couch cushion without getting a hard on.”

“Kinky,” Kurt says, his heart fluttering at hummingbird speeds from the smile Sebastian flashes him, broadcasting his intentions on devouring him whole. Still, Kurt can’t help thinking Sebastian looks more than a little nervous. That thought doesn’t dim as Sebastian answers his phone.

“Hello, Olivia!” Kurt yells before Sebastian gets the chance.

“Hello, sister dear,” Sebastian says, voice dripping venom. But Olivia doesn’t rise to the challenge.

“Hey,” she says in a guarded tone. “How’s it going? Did you guys have fun last night?”

“We did,” Kurt answers for his yawning boyfriend. He rests his head against Sebastian’s chest, their tent so quiet despite the rain, he’s able to hear Olivia even though his ear is nowhere near the phone. “Very much.”

“That’s good. I’m glad,” she says. She sounds happy for them, but also distracted. “Have you guys seen Julian by any chance?”

“No. We’re not even awake yet,” Sebastian replies. “We are currently enjoying the sleep in and cuddle phase of being on vacation!”

“So no phone calls or anything?” Olivia reiterates without any of her usual teasing, her syrupy swooning over how sweet the two of them are together. “No texts?”

The scowl drifts from Sebastian’s face at the concern in his sister’s voice, the urgency behind her questions. “No, Liv. Nothing. Why?”

“We can’t find him.”

“Is that all?” Sebastian relaxes, but not enough to erase the worry lines from around his eyes. “He’s just bummed out over Cooper. He’ll turn up. He always does. It’s only … fuck …” Sebastian exclaims when he glances at his phone screen “… ten in the morning!”

“Seb,” Liv says firmly, trying to make her younger brother hear her, “he left early. He didn’t tell us where he was headed, but he was in such a hurry, I thought Cooper had arrived. I thought … I thought things were finally going to work out for him. But he hasn’t checked in, and we’ve been calling him for hours.”

“Julian’s not really a check in sort of person,” Sebastian points out. “Never has been. But maybe Cooper did come through and they’re at a hotel. You know Julian …”

“His phone has stopped going to voicemail,” she interrupts, nearing her wit’s end. There’s a knot between Olivia’s words, an unlevel platform struggling to keep her voice steady enough for her to tell them the rest. But she doesn’t have to. Kurt feels Sebastian’s chest tighten beneath his cheek and he just knows. It’s contagious, Kurt’s chest tightening shortly after. “He’s gone, Sebastian. He’s just … gone.”

“Where are you now?” Sebastian asks.

“We’re out looking for him. Brian and I are still local but Mom and Dad are heading farther north.”

“Don’t worry.” Sebastian throws off the covers, mouthing the words I’m sorry to Kurt when a sudden block of cold air hits them both like an anvil and Kurt’s teeth chatter. “Kurt and I are going to head out in a few minutes and help. We’ll find him, Liv.”

“Do you have any idea where he might be?”

“I have a hunch.” A pained expression colors his tired face, but it disappears quickly. “Let us go. I’ll text you in about thirty, let you know our game plan.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she says, a bit more relaxed than when she first called.

“Awww, are you worried about me, sis?” Sebastian coos.

“Well … I’m worried about Kurt mainly. But sure - you, too.”

Sebastian retaliates with a rude noise. Olivia laughs conservatively, and things feel closer to rectified. “Thanks a lump.”

“Bearing that in mind, maybe Brian and I should swing by and pick him up …”

“Goodbye, Liv,” Sebastian sings, disconnecting the call. He stares at the screen, or at his reflection in it - Kurt can’t tell. But he knows Sebastian is thinking.

“What’s up?” Kurt asks when Sebastian starts swiping through his call log.

“I’m checking to see if Julian did try to contact us this morning, but we were too dead asleep to wake up.”

“Unlikely seeing as Olivia’s calls woke us up.”

“Yeah, well, it took her five tries,” Sebastian says, showing Kurt his screen.

“Wow.”

“I know. My mom and dad tried nine and we missed them, too.” Kurt watches Sebastian’s eyes scan the numbers on his screen. When he reaches the end, he scrolls back to the beginning and checks again. “Crap! There’s nothing.”

Sebastian and Kurt recline together in the silence, Kurt staring at Sebastian, unsure what they’re supposed to do next; Sebastian looking Kurt over appraisingly, a hundred and one thoughts at work behind his eyes.

“What?” Kurt asks, unable to take Sebastian’s silence any longer, his pensive stare that prickles Kurt’s skin and not in a good way, not when he feels like they should be doing something! “Do I have something on my face?”

Kurt can tell by the way the right corner of Sebastian’s mouth quirks that he has a comeback for that one, but he doesn’t let it out. “I may have a way to find him, but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone!”

“You don’t trust me!?” Kurt gasps since that’s the absolute last thing he’d expected Sebastian to say at this stage of their relationship, fledgling or not.

“Lawful good, babe. Remember?” Sebastian replies like that explains everything. “Plus I know you. If you think we’re in over our heads, you’ll call in reinforcements whether I want you to or not. And I need you to trust me on this one, okay?”

“Hypocrite much?” Kurt mutters.

“I need you to trust me,” Sebastian repeats, sounding as urgent as Olivia did doing her darndest to get through her brother’s thick skull, “and do what I’m asking without question, just this once.”

“Sebastian! I’m not going to tell on you! Your brother’s in trouble! I’m going to do anything in my power to help you out!”

Sebastian blinks at Kurt, doesn’t seem relieved by his response. His brows draw together, an unamused look brewing in his eyes. “Mmm … hmmph …” he says, going back to his phone, not at all thrilled by Kurt’s enthusiasm. Kurt rolls his eyes because he can’t with his boyfriend, acting jealous at a time like this!

Sebastian holds his phone like a poker hand, close to his chest, but bit by bit, he loosens his posture as he navigates a website Kurt has never seen before. He doesn’t want to peek, doesn’t want to invade his or his brother’s privacy, but the bizarrely high-tech looking page has Kurt curious beyond belief.

“Okay, I have to ask,” he says, breaking down. “What is that? What are you doing?”

Sebastian gives him a look, still thoroughly unamused, but his apparent need to talk through this with someone wins out in the end. “Julian has two phones. Has for a while now. He has the one our folks set up for him with the number he’s had forever, and one he bought for himself. I’m the only one in our family who knows about it. Only two people have that number including me. Anyway, both of his phones have a GPS tracking function, but he tends to turn it off on his main phone.”

“But not on the second one?”

“It’s a safety net. In case he gets himself into any real shit, at least I can find him.” Kurt watches Sebastian flip through screens, eyes following his finger as he scrolls. What starts as a blank, inscrutable expression swiftly becomes a frown. “Of course, I don’t actually trust him as far as I can throw him, so I downloaded an app called Spyine.” Sebastian smirks. “It’s one of those apps that jealous husbands use to keep tabs on their wives.”

“Well …” Kurt’s face pinches with disgust “… isn’t that morally ambiguous.”

Sebastian flips to a new screen with a map displayed and sighs. “This isn’t good.”

Kurt moves up Sebastian’s chest to see better, no longer concerned with invading privacy considering the site Sebastian is using. “What isn’t?”

“According to this, his phone is either not on, or …” Sebastian swipes back, again double checking.

Kurt gnaws on his inner cheek, wracked by the suspense. He’s beginning to feel like he’s been dropped in the middle of a Tom Clancy novel. “Or …?”

“Or he’s nowhere nearby.” Sebastian makes it sound so simple, but from the way his eyes cloud over, Kurt knows it’s not.

“Like … nowhere near the beach house?”

Sebastian shakes his head but he doesn’t explain. Kurt’s stomach flips. He feels out of his depth and completely useless. He wants to help Julian, but he has no idea where to start. He knows nothing about the technology Sebastian is using. He’s barely aware of the fact that his own phone has a GPS tracking system. As it is, he has no idea whether it’s switched on or not. He thought they’d be able to find Julian regardless using cell phone towers and pinging signals, but that’s because the only information he has on the subject comes from watching Law and Order. “What’s the reach on that thing?”

“I don’t know exactly. Far? I’ve only had to use it once, but that time, he was only a couple of miles away.” Sebastian’s head snaps up, a hint of Eureka! in his eyes. He slaps a palm to his forehead. Kurt jumps at the smack! the contact makes. It sounds like it hurt. “Shit! I have a feeling … fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! I know where he’s heading!”

“Where!?”

Sebastian blows out a breath. It’s the most annoyed, frustrated, worried, anxious sound Kurt has ever heard come out of another human being, and Kurt knows, he just knows that the next words out of Sebastian’s mouth are going to open a Pandora’s box. “Westerville.” Sebastian puts both hands over his face, laughs maniacally into his palms. “Fancy a drive? I swear we’ll come back.”

“Yes.” Kurt sits up, moving aside so Sebastian can get ready. “Of course. Whatever we have to do.”

“Great,” Sebastian says, although he sounds more put out than relieved. Kurt can’t help wondering if this is a pattern for them - one of their many complicated tangos. Julian had mentioned that Sebastian has an inner mom complex. Does that extend to more than damages to home and property? Is this a habit - Julian messes up and Sebastian goes after him? What else would necessitate Sebastian downloading some super spy app onto his phone?

“We should text your parents, right?” Kurt follows Sebastian to the tent door, carrying the sinking suspicion with him that they’re not. “Let them know what’s going on?” Sebastian stops Kurt before he unzips the rain flap. He drapes a blanket over Kurt’s head and shoulders, then puts an arm around him to keep him from getting too too wet.

“Not quite yet,” Sebastian says, hurrying them the short distance across the porch to the door.

“It’s going to be a twelve hour drive! What are they going to think when we don’t come back? You have to tell them something!”

“I will tell them something!” Sebastian throws the door open and ushers Kurt inside. “I just … I need to figure out what that something is first.”

***

Sebastian doesn’t pack any of his belongings, but Kurt does. He doesn’t take everything he brought with him when they leave. After all, they plan on coming back. But he does grab a few things - a couple of shirts and some shorts he’s sick of wearing. He’d already mentioned to Sebastian wanting to stop by his house to say what’s up to his dad and tell him the good news about the check. Kurt didn’t feel right telling his father over the phone, but he wants to get it out of the way as soon as possible so that his dad won’t waste time worrying. Kurt isn’t exactly sure how much he intends on telling his dad, though he should probably consider telling him the whole truth eventually.

If Charlotte knows, Greg will, too, sooner or later. It’ll get back to his dad one way or the other.

Kurt wants his dad to hear it from him.

While they’re in Ohio, Kurt plans on depositing the check into his account (he’s been trying to do it via mobile but, again, his frickin’ phone …) and bam! One less thing to worry about.

Sebastian leaves his folks and Olivia a note letting them know that he and Kurt will be out for the afternoon and well into the evening, running down some of Julian’s hangouts. It’s not exactly a lie. In fact, it’s enough of a not lie that it’s nearly the truth. Never once does Sebastian mention in his note that any of those spots are in North Carolina so technically not a lie.

Kurt is frightened at how quickly that conclusion is to come to, and how okay he is with it.

Kurt expects Sebastian to text his parents and come clean after their first rest stop. When that doesn’t happen, he hinges his hopes on the second, which they take two hours later. But Sebastian doesn’t text them then, either. He doesn’t look at his phone at all once they hit the highway. He just drives, with so much determination, it concerns Kurt. What will happen if they show up at wherever it is they’re going and Julian isn’t there? What do they do then?

Kurt considers texting Liv on the sly to tell her that they’re okay and that they have a lead. But if he does, that would mean Sebastian is right.

Kurt is a lawful good. And that’s not necessarily a good thing.

But worst of all, it would mean Sebastian can’t trust him.

So he turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket to avoid temptation.

Half way to Ohio, they stop for a bite, and to sit down somewhere that isn’t a car. But they eat so fast, so anxious to get back on the road, Kurt barely tastes his sandwich. When they settle back into Sebastian’s Mustang with a canvas bag full of road snacks, the engine is barely cool to the touch. Sebastian merges onto the highway, hops lanes until they hit the far left, and that’s where they stay, cruising at a hair above eighty for the remainder of the way.

Kurt watches Sebastian drive for awhile, but Sebastian’s eyes don’t leave the road. He either doesn’t notice, or he’s so used to Kurt watching him, it doesn’t faze him. Kurt feels like he should say something, reassure Sebastian that they’ll find his brother, but Sebastian knows that better than Kurt does. Kurt doesn’t even know where in Westerville they��re headed. The Smythe estate? But then why didn’t Sebastian just say they’re going home? Dalton? Also a possibility, but then why not mention it?

Kurt hates waiting, but he’ll have to and see.

Kurt is tired of questions that have no answers, but he doesn’t want to pressure Sebastian for any. And since staring him down while they’re trapped inside a vehicle together might be seen as pressuring, he shifts his attention out the window to the cars driving beside them, at the trees and the grass, the gorgeous ocean they’re leaving behind.

Saying goodbye to that ocean prematurely will be one of Kurt’s biggest regrets about this adventure.

But it won’t be his only one.

***

Kurt wakes to a shrill metallic beeping spitballing through his brain. It unnerves the hell out of him since he didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep. They’d been traveling in silence, the radio on low, tuned in to a classical music station Sebastian chose. Kurt didn’t rest his head, didn’t close his eyes.

He’d blinked, and hours had flown by.

It’s night when Kurt opens them again.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Sebastian says when he hears Kurt stir. “I raised the volume on my phone in case I got a signal.”

“And?” Kurt inquires around a yawn.

“I think I’ve found him.”

“What time is it?” Kurt asks, starting conversation to ease the tension. He could check the time for himself. It’s right there on the dash.

If Sebastian isn’t too worried about Julian’s well-being, if things aren’t as serious as Kurt is beginning to fear they are, Sebastian will tease him about that.

But he doesn’t.

“Around nine,” Sebastian says. “We made really good time.”

Kurt sighs, that tight feeling in his chest becoming tighter with every mile marker they pass. “Sounds like it.”

A web of apprehension weaves its way around them both. Too much has been left in the air and it’s piling up. Kurt doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he does remember the phone calls Sebastian let go to voicemail, the text messages he didn’t pull over to read. They kept coming and coming, and Sebastian ignored them until they stopped.

Does Sebastian have the GPS tracking on his phone turned on? Are they in danger of the entire Smythe clan following them? Kurt doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to add to Sebastian’s stress, even if his own brain is about to melt from it.

Sebastian pulls into the small side lot of a place called The Draft Room. It’s not as big as the club in Columbus, but it’s a step up from Scandals. He parks in the first empty spot, turns off the car, and sits, staring at the brick wall in front of them. Kurt scans the lot in search of Julian’s Jag, but he doesn’t see it.

That doesn’t mean Julian isn’t there.

“Are you all right?” Kurt asks, reaching out a hand to caress Sebastian’s shoulder.

“Yes?” Sebastian says, but it’s another question, not an answer. “I … kind of don’t want to do this.”

“Do you want me to go? I can look around, see if he’s there, text you if he is.”

“No,” Sebastian says, overlooking the opportunity Kurt hands him to poke fun at his menace of a cell phone. That’s two for two. “No, it’d be best if we both went. Just … stay with me? Please?” Sebastian sounds so small when he asks. So timid.

So not like Sebastian.

Kurt takes his hand. He threads their fingers together, smiling as confidently as he can with his heart trying to tear out of his chest. “Always.”

***

The place is nowhere near crowded, so even if he wasn’t wearing the tightest jeans imaginable or a leather jacket that costs about as much as Kurt’s SUV, Julian is easy to spot from the front door, sitting at a stool dead center of the bar with no one else around, as if he wants to be easy to see.

Easy to find.

Sebastian walks through the front door as if he’s pushing himself from behind to make himself go. He slides up to Julian, bumps him with his hip, and slaps a hand on his shoulder. Julian jerks in his stool and looks up at him, smile vibrant, but when his eyes lock on to Sebastian’s, when he sees his brother there next to him, his smile falls.

“Hey, baby brother,” he says, knocking on the bar and signaling the bartender. The man steps up, filling Julian’s empty shot glass with whiskey.

“Hey, Jules,” Sebastian says. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Ain’t it just?”

“You know, they have bars in North Carolina ...” Sebastian stares at Julian’s glass. Kurt doesn’t know whether he’s contemplating cutting Julian off, or knocking it back himself.

“True. But I didn’t come to Westerville to drink. I just sort of … ended up here.” Julian grabs the glass as if he knows it’s in danger, drinking down the whiskey in one gulp.

“I can see that,” Sebastian says with more sympathy than Kurt expected considering their impromptu, all-day drive. “How deep in are you?”

“Uh … I don’t know.” Julian picks up his empty shot glass and gazes into it, as if it holds the answer. “Two beers and two shots?” He wiggles the glass Sebastian’s way. “Wanna catch up?”

“No thanks. How long have you been here?”

“A few hours. Figures you’d be the one to find me.”

Sebastian shrugs. “I had help.”

Sebastian is referring to his phone, which he holds up as a visual. But Julian spots Kurt standing behind him, watching over his shoulder, and what remains of Julian’s grin - the miniscule shadow of it - dissolves.

“I didn’t give him an ultimatum,” Julian says, speaking straight to Kurt now, another human who understands the woes of falling in love with an Anderson brother. “I said that maybe inviting him to the beach house was going too far too fast. That maybe he felt like I was putting him on the spot. I told him that I would meet him half way. When I didn’t hear from him, I told him I was willing to meet him all the way …” Another shot appears, then disappears down Julian’s throat. “But he’s not coming. I know he’s not coming. I was an idiot to think he was, to think that everything was finally going to work out for us.”

“Maybe he’s just …” Kurt tries, but Julian shakes his head.

“I’ve looked for him everywhere. Called every number I ever had for him. Some of them have been disconnected for years, but I called them anyway. I even called the house.” Julian’s cheeks flush red, as if of all the things he’s done, this is the one he didn’t want to admit to. “Emily says he just … he just left. He didn’t pack a bag, didn’t tell anyone where he was going. Just pfft. Gone. I don’t know who got to him, but they got to him good.”

“I'm ... I’m so sorry,” Kurt says, his heart sinking when the light that always lingers in Julian's eyes, the one that blazes hot behind the ice blue of his irises, starts to burn low, threatening to go out.

“So many secrets …” Julian looks down at his phone clutched in his hand as if at any moment it might spring to life with a call or a text. “We’re so good at keeping secrets, aren’t we, Sebby?”

He pauses, and Kurt feels Sebastian go rigid beside him.

“Julian …”

Kurt has heard Sebastian say his brother’s name dozens of times, and in as many different ways.

He’s said it jokingly.

He’s said it seriously.

He’s spat it like a curse.

He’s said it with affection.

But this was a plea.

He was begging Julian to stop.

“We keep secrets from mom and dad," Julian continues to himself as if they aren't there, which means Sebastian’s pleas can’t reach him. "Secrets from Liv. Hell, the two of you kept the biggest secret of all. You even had me duped, though, apparently that isn't as hard as I thought.”

Julian laughs, dry and hollow, until it becomes a cough.

“Julian …” Sebastian repeats his plea softer, subconsciously searching for and taking Kurt's hand. He squeezes it tight, and Kurt can't help noticing how it shakes.

Julian shoots his brother a smirk, lifting a newly-filled shot glass in his fist in an unspoken toast and downing it in a single throw. He slams it down on the bar, the glass bottom hitting the wood with a poignant thunk.

“Now why haven’t you told him yet, Sebby?” he asks, mockingly upbeat the way depressed drunks sound when the liquor finally hits. This Julian is such a departure from the one Kurt normally sees – the suave and sophisticated sexy man whose every word speaks to Kurt’s artistic soul – that he might as well be a complete stranger. Someone who looks so much like Julian that from a distance on a cloudy day he could be mistaken for him, but turns out to not be him.

This transformation frightens Kurt, but Sebastian’s reaction to it concerns him more.

Sebastian squeezes Kurt’s hand a little too hard, arriving at a conclusion that Kurt doesn’t even realize exists.

“Tell me … tell me what?” Kurt asks Julian, then Sebastian. He would much rather hear it from Sebastian, but Julian gets to him first.

“Why it is that Sebastian went away,” Julian replies, talking to the wood grain in the bar, the bottom of his glass, everything but them. “You know it wasn’t your fault, Sebby. At least, if you tell him, he’ll know exactly how much of a bastard I really am, and you’ll never have to worry about losing him again. Not to me, anyway.”

That last part was meant as a joke, but to Kurt it feels more like a jab. Not at Kurt, and not at Sebastian. At himself. He’s skewering himself on his own metaphoric sword, one he’s been carrying around with him ever since whatever happened happened.

Whatever he’s about to say, he doesn’t expect Kurt to forgive him, or to speak to him ever again.

Kurt’s eyes meet Sebastian’s, but Sebastian isn’t looking at him. He’s staring at an insignificant speck on the bar, frozen to the spot.

Numb.

“Come on, Sebby …” Tears burn in Julian’s eyes that Kurt can hear in his voice. “You love him. He loves you. He should know, dont’cha think?”

Sebastian still can’t seem to answer. He’s paralyzed, mouth agape, unable to breathe a single word. Kurt has never seen Sebastian like this. Whatever Sebastian hasn’t told Kurt yet, whatever this pain is that the two of them hold on to, that the two of them share, Julian is getting ready to spill it. Kurt won't deny that he wants to know - he wants to help. But this is not how Kurt wants to find out.

He doesn’t want Julian outting his brother against his will.

“Julian, no,” Kurt says, even though he’s sure what he’s saying no to is the one thing he’s wanted to know all summer. “You can’t do this. You can’t hurt your brother like this. It’s not right.”

“No, Kurt! It’s my story, too!” Julian insists, unhinged. “And I … I need you to hear it, to try and forgive me because what I did made this …” He flicks a finger between Kurt and Sebastian “… so much harder for you! And you don’t deserve that!”

Julian had mentioned early on that Sebastian would never want to look weak or vulnerable. Kurt suspects they have that in common. Kurt wonders when the last time Sebastian saw his brother like this was. A while, he assumes, if the way Sebastian’s eyes widen are any indication.

“It’s … it’s fine.” Kurt’s voice is thick, on the verge of panic. He feels like he’s standing in the path of a runaway train with nowhere to run, no way to escape. “Really. Forget about it. I … I forgive you. It’s …”

Julian shakes his head. “Don’t, Kurt. You don’t understand. You can’t even conceive of how bad I hurt him …”

“Julian …” Kurt steps protectively in front of Sebastian, puts his free hand on Julian’s knee and squeezes, trying to break through his haze of whiskey and self-pity “… please, stop. I don’t need to know.”

“Yes,” Sebastian agrees in a voice so quiet, it can’t qualify as an actual sound. Kurt turns to look at his boyfriend, expecting him to be looking away, off in the distance like Julian, maybe down at his shoes. But he’s looking right at Kurt. “Yes, you do.”

Kurt shakes his head. This time, it's Kurt's turn to plead.

"Sebastian ..."

“That’s the spirit, baby brother,” Julian cuts in with a fake laugh and a halfhearted version of his trademark salute, which has been conspicuously missing the past week while he’s been brooding over Cooper. He takes his next shot off the bar and passes it to Sebastian. Kurt watches Sebastian sadly put the glass to his lips, snap his head back, and down the drink, a single tear racing down his cheek and getting lost in his hair. “Let’s tell our story together.”

Julian knocks on the bar as the bartender walks by and the man fills their glasses. He sets one out for Kurt without asking and fills that one, too. Kurt is so stunned he doesn’t have the wherewithal to wave the man away. On his end, the bartender doesn’t seem to mind that Kurt and Sebastian don’t look anywhere close to 21. He looks about as done with life as they all feel right now, or like the bouncer at Scandals when Kurt and Blaine first went, which would be a funny comparison any other time but now. Kurt wishes he could bring it up, break the tension, get a smile out of Sebastian, steer this conversation in a different direction.

But that would be beneath them.

“There was this … guy,” Julian begins, landing on that word as if the crux of their problems is always some guy. “Seb fell so hard for him, so fast. He called my brother all sorts of cutesy nicknames. They were so adorable together. Frankly, it made me kind of sick. But, in the spirit of brotherly love, I wanted to help Sebby land this boy, because back then, he had no game to speak of.” Julian grins with inappropriate wickedness. “And I mean no game. So I got them some fake IDs and I took them out drinking.” Another shot appears. Julian downs it. Just as quickly, it’s refilled. Kurt has lost count at this point. “It might have been love.” Julian’s brows draw together. “Was it?” He squints up at Sebastian, waiting for an answer. Sebastian downs another shot but says nothing. Julian shrugs. “I don’t know. It could have been. I mean, not the kind of love you guys have, but love. But right before we went out that evening, I got into a fight with Cooper, and I turned into an asshole.” He sputters. “Well, more of an asshole than usual, right, guys?” He pauses, snickers to himself, gets a little carried away, but he doesn’t sound like he’s enjoying his joke. He sounds like he’s trying to keep himself from crying. And he’s not doing that good a job. “I got them both drunk …” he explains, waving in the direction of the bar “… and then I went about seducing this poor boy of Seb’s.” He shakes his head, the look on his face one of revulsion. “Man, I pulled out all the stops for that kid. I really went overboard. And he fell for it – hook, line, and sinker. I may have made him fall in love with me.” He growls angrily, another shot flying down his throat. “Sebby, he got mad, sulked in a corner …” Another wave of his hand, this time in the direction of the jukebox sitting in a half circle of golden light “… had one too many to drink. He got real sick, went to the bathroom, and while he was in there, there was … there was a man ...” Julian hiccups.

Warning bells sound off in Kurt’s head, their clatter coursing through his body, carrying adrenaline with them, and now his hands begin to shake. “Don’t. Stop. I don’t think I should hear …”

“No,” Sebastian whispers, his voice raw, as if he’s been drinking nails instead of alcohol. “Let him … let him finish.”

Julian turns on his stool, eyes blurry as he stares off behind them. “When I got to them …” He squeezes his eyes shut, tears leaking from the sides “… he had Sebastian pinned between the sinks, had his pants unzipped and his hand down them.” Julian’s voice shudders, gaze returning to his glass, glued as if he can see the memory in the reflection, playing before his eyes. It probably is, Kurt thinks. It probably plays back for him over and over when he shuts his eyes, when he drinks too much, every day that Sebastian was overseas … “He was trying to kiss him, k-kept saying …” Julian clears his throat so violently Kurt feels his own throat burn “… kept saying that he wanted to t-taste himself on Seb’s lips.”

And that’s the moment.

The moment when those alarms in Kurt’s head, and all that coursing adrenaline, build in his chest, and explode. With those words, Kurt’s entire body folds in on itself and freezes solid from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. It creeps underneath his hair, makes his follicles itch as if bugs have been nesting there and are clawing to get out. A picture of Sebastian pinned against a bathroom wall like Kurt was with Max in that bar in Columbus fills Kurt’s brain. The man pinning Sebastian there Kurt fills in with the vilest human being his mind can conjure up. Now that that image is there, Kurt knows it’ll never leave him.

Like Sebastian and Julian, he’ll never be free of it.

But back in Columbus, when Max tried to assault Kurt, Sebastian was there. Sebastian saved him. Even though that memory enrages Kurt, it doesn’t paralyze him with fear.

A second later, he feels the phantom of Dave Karofsky’s mouth on his, and his knees nearly buckle beneath him.

“So …” Kurt says, “so, that man … he …”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says with his last bit of voice, the hand that’s been latched on to Kurt’s since Julian’s story began slipping away. “Big brother charged to the rescue about a minute too late.”

“Oh … oh God. Sebastian …” Kurt turns to his boyfriend, to hold him, but by the time Kurt realizes he’s leaving, he’s completely out of reach, weeding his way through the tables to get outside, find fresher air. Kurt turns back to Julian, but his gaze stops on a narrow door with a small rectangular sign nailed over the frame. It’s the door to the bathroom, directly in Julian’s sight line, which Kurt had overlooked since he thought Julian’s gaze was aimed nowhere. Julian glares at it like he’s fit to burn it down, and things suddenly fall into grooves and click.

This is the bar.

This is where Julian took them.

This is where it all happened.

That’s why Sebastian was so certain Julian would be here.

That’s why he didn’t want to come in.

“That’s what happened between the two of you?” Kurt stares at Sebastian’s back, fighting between running after him and giving him a minute to pull himself together. “That’s why Sebastian went to Paris? That’s why he stayed away for so long?”

“Yup.” Julian downs his next shot. Kurt’s and Sebastian’s, too, with such effortless fluidity, those glasses might as well have been full of water. “That’s the story of how big bad Julian Smythe let his brother down, lost his trust … and broke his heart.”

***

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks when he finds Sebastian standing by the curb, staring at his shoes while he teeters on the edge. Kurt had been practicing those three words while walking through the bar towards the door. He didn’t want his voice to crack, needed to stamp out the tears pressing behind his eyes. He didn’t want Sebastian comforting him, which he would if he thought Kurt was upset. Kurt needs to remove his own feelings from this equation.

He needs to remain neutral and help his boyfriend.

He’d considered stopping into the restroom and splashing water on his face, but no. He wants to stay miles away from there. He can’t see it. He can’t know what it looks like. Speculating is fine. Intrusive thoughts he can handle when they’re figments of his own imagination. But reality …

Reality will split Kurt apart.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Sebastian says, looking over and around Kurt instead of landing on his face. His eyes are red, but it doesn’t look like he’s been crying. Kurt imagines he’s been out here pressing the tips of his fingers into his eyelids, trying to erase the last ten minutes from his brain. And Kurt doesn’t blame him. “I’m good. I found Julian’s car, so I called for a tow.” His gaze flicks down the street, avoiding Kurt’s eyes with the pretense of checking for the truck. “He’s in no condition to drive home so I thought, you know, we should take him. If you don’t mind. I mean, he’s not the best driver when he’s sober.” Sebastian chuckles uncomfortably. Kurt watches his face stagger between holding it together and falling apart. “Besides, I … I don’t think he should be alone. He needs someone to take care of him.”

“I don’t mind.” Kurt is dying to touch Sebastian, to hold him. At the very least, to take his hand. But he’ll wait for Sebastian to come to him. Kurt doesn’t know where Sebastian’s mind is right now. Is it here, standing on the street, talking to him? Or is it in that bathroom long ago - scared, confused, praying for his brother to come find him and rescue him? “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Speaking of Julian …” Sebastian looks anxiously over his shoulder to the front door of the bar, as if expecting Julian to appear. “Where is he?”

“I helped him into a booth by the window.” Kurt points, re-directing Sebastian’s attention to the plate glass next to the door. At a round, wooden table where they can keep an eye on him, Julian sits, head resting on his folded arms, a glass filled with more ice than water melting by his right elbow. “I thought it would be best to keep him where I could see him. I paid the bartender twenty bucks not to give him another drink.”

“Ahhh. You’ve done well, Padawan,” Sebastian says with a wink. “But you didn’t have to do that. I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it. Haven’t you heard? I’m rich.”

Sebastian snorts, worrying his lower lip with his teeth like he’s itching to remind Kurt that having a $10,000 cashier’s check at his disposal doesn’t necessarily make him rich, especially when it’s going to go straight to the bank, then straight out again to NYADA.

“I called Liv,” he says instead. “Told her we found Julian. And where.”

“How did she react?”

“I think she kinda knew. We’ve been wrapped up in the ongoing saga that is the Juliper rom-dram. We know how it plays out by now.”

Bizarrely syncopated steps approaching interrupt their conversation. Sebastian finds their owner, his eyes staying with him when he sees him coming their way. Kurt thinks he might be the tow truck driver looking for him, but a longer look says he’s not. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, flip-flops of all things, and he’s smoking a cigarette. Kurt waves a hand in front of his nose, making no effort to hide his disgust, but Sebastian puts up a hand, getting the man’s attention.

“Hey,” he says, “can I bum one of those?”

“Sure,” the man says.

Kurt pulls a face. One of what? he thinks. He can’t possibly mean …?

The man stops walking and reaches into his back pocket for his pack. He shakes out a single cigarette and offers it to Sebastian, who takes it, thanking him under his breath. The man pulls out a blue BIC lighter and flicks it. Sebastian puts the cigarette between his lips. He leans towards the lighter with a hand cupped over the flame, taking a few long drags to get it going. Sebastian steps back, blows a long plume of gray smoke into the air.

“Thanks,” he says.

Kurt stares at him the way primitive man must have stared at the first eclipse. His thoughts go immediately to how bad that is for Sebastian’s lungs, how awful it is for his health!

But watching him a while, sucking on that cigarette like he’s a seasoned smoker, Kurt’s second thought is how unbelievably sexy he looks.

He’s not proud of that thought, but there it is nonetheless.

“No problem,” the man says, continuing on his way. “Have a good night.”

“You, too.” Sebastian takes another drag along with a bigger step back, doing his best to keep the smoke away from Kurt’s personal space. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then another drag. “This isn’t an all the time thing,” he says without opening his eyes, not interested in seeing any judgement from Kurt, Kurt figures. “This is a once-in-a-blue-fucking-moon thing. The last cigarette I had … I don’t even fucking remember. It wasn’t this year, I don’t think.” Sebastian lowers his hand and flicks the filter of the cigarette with his thumb, sending spent ash to the cement. “I need something to calm me down and I … I don’t want to go looking for anything stronger. I need to drive.”

Kurt sighs, oddly disappointed in himself at Sebastian’s need to find anything stronger to calm him down. “I understand.”

Sebastian opens a single eyelid. The look he gives Kurt isn’t a glare, but it comes close. “What’s with the sigh?”

Kurt is about to admit that he’d rather be the thing Sebastian turns to for comfort, but he squashes that comment quickly. This isn’t about him. Not a single bit. There is something else on his mind. Something that bothers him more. “You grew up too fast,” he says sadly.

The hand with the cigarette traveling up to Sebastian’s mouth stutters to a halt, Sebastian staring at it as if he’s never really looked at one before. He flicks it again, sends more ash and a few sparks to the ground. “You’re probably right,” he concludes, bringing the cigarette all the way to his lips. He takes a drag, avoids commenting further. “Anyway,” he says when enough time has passed to change the subject, “I told her that we’re probably going to stay the day here because I’m …” He chuckles again, that same uncomfortable laugh that tiptoes on the borders of crying “… I’m just plain wiped out.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Kurt agrees even though he can’t see himself sleeping after this. His body is running on adrenaline, his mind racing with images and thoughts and questions. So many fucking questions. They’re maintaining out here with tasks they have to accomplish and Julian whom they have to get home safely. What is it going to be like when they’re alone in a quiet house and a dark bedroom? The same dark bedroom, Kurt assumes, that Sebastian had to return to after he was assaulted.

“Good. That’s good.” Sebastian takes a drag and doesn’t say another word. Kurt doesn’t either. Every single word he has fails him, disappearing when he needs them most. Sebastian takes a longer than normal pull on his cigarette, then crushes the tip underneath the toe of his shoe while he blows the last of the smoke away. He ditches the butt in a nearby trash can, brushes the ash off his hands. He shoves them deep into his pockets, staring down at the smooth, beige cement. “Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“I know I probably don’t smell all that stellar at the moment, not after that but … would you mind …” Sebastian’s voice cracks and his face screws up. He tilts his head to the sky, breathes in hard through his nose “… can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” Kurt says, almost barreling into Sebastian’s embrace.

Sebastian extends an arm, opens himself up to Kurt, and Kurt steps into it. Sebastian wraps his arms around him and holds him, huddled in the safety and security of Kurt’s arms.

Together they wait in each other’s arms until the tow truck arrives.

#acitw #acitw au #kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #spread the love #two chapter left

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jeonsjiddies · 4 years

Text

Something Good | knj

summary- you’d known from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, Namjoon was good.

rating- e for everyone? lol

word count- 3395

pairing- namjoon x reader

genre- fluff

Warnings- lots of emotions, possibly kinda angsty?

a/n: possibility of a smutty part 2 if people want it?

Namjoon-

Namjoon was tired. He loved his life, he really did. He loved his career, he loved Army, he loved his bandmates. He could not have asked for anything better. But today, Namjoon was tired. He was worn out, and he just wanted to drift into the crowd unseen long enough to get his coffee and go back to his hotel room. He was dressed casually, jeans and a dark blue cotton t-shirt paired with a black baseball cap and a gray jacket, hood up. He wore a mask across his face, but with how smoggy it was in the city, that didn’t make him stand out.

He found a small coffee shop that looked fairly empty and ducked inside, quietly giving his order to the first employee, an older woman with a kind smile who nodded, writing “John” on his cup when he said Joon but he didn’t mind. His eyes flicked to the young woman who began mixing his drink, her pretty hair bouncing with her movements, languid and quick. She hummed quietly to herself, so quietly he couldn’t make out the song, but her sunny disposition made his mouth curve up into a smile.

“For John?” she smiled brightly at him, and he nodded, handing her the money and taking his change.

“Thank you.” he responded kindly, reaching out to take the drink.

Her eyes widened, mouth falling agape as she looked up to hand Namjoon his drink, their fingers brushing slightly as she handed it off. Namjoon felt a spark run clear down to his toes, and he met her gaze with similar surprise.

“Kim Namjoon?”

Y/N-

“Kim Namjoon?” you breathed, recognizing that voice anywhere.

Your skin was electrified where it touched his, and your gaze shot up and locked with his. Kim Namjoon, leader of BTS was standing right in front of you. The man who’d taken control of your every unconscious moment, drifting through your dreams like he owned them. The man you’d almost watched grow up on any screen you could get your hands on. You knew BTS had a concert in the city in a few days, but it never crossed your mind that he would appear in the small coffee shop you wasted your days in, barely making enough to cover your rent.

“Please don’t scream.” he begged, not in a conceited way, more desperate, exhausted.

“I won’t.” you promised.

“Thank you.” he whispered in a sigh of relief.

Namjoon flashed you a smile, which you only caught by the crinkle in his eyes. He turned to walk away and you stood there, frozen in place until your heart kicked into overdrive. This was your one chance. You hopped over the counter and dashed after him, skidding to a stop in front of the door just as he was about to open it.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re probably tired of fans approaching you, and I swear I’m not insane. I’ve been your fan for a while, but I’m not going to pretend I really know who you are. I would like to, though. I might not know everything about you but after watching you from the sidelines, I can tell there’s something different about you. You’re good. I could really use some good in my life.”

Namjoon’s eyes met yours but he didn’t speak, his gaze just searched yours. For what, you didn’t know.

“You don’t have to decide right now. Look, let me put my number in your phone, so you have it. You can decide if you want to text me or not. I won’t be offended if I don’t hear from you. But I think I could be something good for you too.” you offered, heart pounding with adrenaline.

Seconds passed before Namjoon nodded, something about the spark in your eye drawing him in and begging him to trust you. He dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone. You gently took it from his grasp and input your contact information, hitting save. You looked up at him as you handed it back. He looked at the screen momentarily.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Have a good day.” he said softly before exiting the shop and disappearing into the crowd.

When your shift ended two hours later, you were still in shock. Namjoon. Kim Namjoon had been in your coffee shop, had touched your skin. You shivered at the memory, a smile gracing your lips. You began walking home, ready to crash into your small twin bed inside your shared apartment. The sun began to set just as you crossed over to the shadier area of town, the only place you could afford to reside. You looked at your phone to check the time, and noticed a text from an unsaved number.

Namjoon [8:37PM] Hey, Y/N. It’s Namjoon.

Your heart thundered in your chest. He texted you. This had to be a joke.

You [8:39PM] Hey! I didn’t think you’d actually text me. How are you?

Namjoon [8:42PM] Honestly, I didn’t either. But you were so honest and open I figured it couldn’t hurt.

Namjoon [8:43PM] I’m okay, just tired. It’s been a long day.

You [8:44PM] I’m glad you did. I’m pretty great now. What made it a long day?

Namjoon stared at your message, unsure of if he should be truthful in his sour mood or pretend everything was fine. You’d only just met anyway. But something about you, it just made him feel like you’d get it. That you’d understand. He decided it would be okay, and he needed to let it out.

Namjoon [8:47PM] We had dance practice today for our upcoming show and I kept messing up and making everyone start over. I just couldn’t focus.

You [8:50PM] Are you working yourself too hard? Maybe you need to take a break.

Namjoon [8:53PM I don’t have time to take a break. Our show is in two days and we have to be ready.

Your heart ached for him. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders and he couldn’t spare a few minutes to prioritize his health?

You [8:55PM] Have you ever tried meditation or anything?

Namjoon [8:56PM] No…

You [8:59PM] Okay, hear me out. There’s this app I use when I’m stressed. It helps you meditate and has scenes with nature sounds to help you calm down. It’s even got a deep breathing feature to help you breathe. I listen to the sound of the rain when I just need to disconnect from the world and it always puts me at ease. You might try it.

Namjoon [9:00PM] What’s it called?

You [9:00PM] Calm. :)

You didn’t hear from Namjoon for a good twenty minutes, and you were starting to wonder if you’d said something wrong. You sighed, setting your phone down and curling into the blankets, disappointment crawling its way into your heart uninvited. That was, until your phone started ringing and Namjoon’s name flashed across your screen. Your heart lept into your throat and you slid the answer key across the screen.

“Hello?” you tried to make your voice even.

“Hey. Sorry. I hope it’s okay that I called. I didn’t feel like typing.” he chuckled, seeming in a much better mood.

“No that’s fine!” you assured him.

“I love this app. Thank you for recommending it.” he praised.

“Oh, Namjoon, haven’t you heard women are always right?” you giggled.

“So I’m learning. Twice now you’ve been right.” his deep voice held a smile you could imagine if you closed your eyes.

“So you feel better? More relaxed?” you verified, turning to lay on your back and close your eyes while you relished in the sound of his voice.

“Much better. Thank you.” he said sincerely.

“Next step is a bubble bath and a face mask.” you teased.

“Ah, I think I’m okay for now.” he laughed, letting the warm happy feeling settle in his chest at the sound of your voice. Namjoon thought you had a beautiful voice. It fit you. Soft, gentle, but with a little mystery and a hint of mischief.

“I’ll convince you one day. It’ll do wonders for your skin.” you explained.

“Are you saying I have bad skin?” he scoffed playfully.

“Stop fishing for compliments.” you chastised. “You know you look great.”

Namjoon’s deep laughter floated through your ears like your favorite song. You giggled to yourself, his laughter was contagious.

“It’s weird how comfortable I am with you already.” Namjoon admitted suddenly, “I feel like I’ve known you forever and we met today.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” you agreed easily, buds of hope blooming in your stomach.

In the long months that followed, Namjoon visited you every time he was near. He texted you or called you every day that you were apart. He couldn’t always talk for long, but a simple “good morning, have a good day” if that was all he could manage. There was something about the spark in your eye that drew Namjoon in, and he wanted to make sure you knew he was thinking of you. He wanted to keep you.

The sun had long gone to sleep by the time Namjoon and his friends finished their dance practice and headed back to their hotel for the night. The dark skies had opened up and began to let the rain trickle down, thudding against the window in a soothing rhythm. Namjoon immediately thought of you and your love of the rain. You’d told him on more than one occasion that the sound of the rain coming down was one of the most calming sounds you’d ever heard.

“You coming?” Tae asked, waiting by the door with one of the umbrellas as the group left the vehicle for the safety of the hotel.

“I’ll catch up with you guys.” Joon smiled.

Tae shrugged and jogged off.

Joon waited until Tae’s form disappeared into the large rotating door to turn his attention to his phone, pressing the facetime button on your name. When your face popped up on his screen, surrounded by a thick comforter, he worried he’d woken you up.

“Joonie!” your smile lit up like the sun and Namjoon felt something warm fill his chest.

“Y/N.” he greeted pleasantly.

“What’s up Joon?” you asked, the smile not leaving your lips.

“It’s raining here, and I thought maybe you’d like to listen?” he asked quietly, suddenly unsure of the gesture.

“Omg Joon! That’s so sweet! I love the rain, almost as much as I love you!” you giggled, and though Joon knew you didn’t mean it like that, his chest stirred.

Joon turned his camera around to show you the darkened night sky and the rain that fell rhythmically on the rooftop of the car, the windows, racing down.

“I want to see your face, Joon.” you whined a bit.

He turned the front camera back on and smiled at you. Your face lit up and you just watched him watch the rain, eyes flickering back to you every once in a while.

“Hmmm… this is so soothing.” you hummed quietly, making sure your voice didn’t overpower the rain.

“I think of you every time it rains.” he admits, barely above a whisper.

You were quiet for a moment, and Namjoon was almost afraid to look at the screen before he heard “I miss you, Joon.”

“I miss you too. We’ll be in town in the next month or two though.” he soothed you, noting the way your eyes filled with tears but they didn’t spill over.

“But I want my best friend here now.” you sighed. “It’s colder when you’re not here.”

“I know what you mean.” Namjoon agreed, an involuntary shiver washing through him as he turned the heat up in the car.

“Tell me what you did today.” you smiled, Namjoon could tell you were getting tired.

He spoke gently, voice low in an attempt to lull you to sleep. He knew you pushed yourself too hard, stayed up too late. You worked multiple jobs to keep yourself afloat and assist your family in any way you could, and Namjoon had offered on many occasions to help you out financially, but you had refused, stating that he was your friend, not your ATM.

Your stubborn personality was one of the most infuriating things about you, and also one of Namjoon’s favorites. When you’d set your mind to something, there was no going back. You never backed down when you were passionate about something, and you were passionate about Namjoon. Too many times you’d watched him get close to people who only wanted him for his fame or his money. He acted like it didn’t hurt but you knew. Each time he was betrayed it was like a piece of him chipped away. He smiled though. He never stopped smiling.

Sometimes Namjoon felt like BTS and you were the only people in the whole world he could trust, aside from his family.

“... then Jin tripped over Tae and busted his ass and we couldn’t stop laughing.” Namjoon recounted dance practice and watched your sleepy smile spread over your face. “We decided to call it quits for the day and here we are.” he finished.

“Mmm.. I’m glad you had a good day.” you mumbled from your half-conscious state.

“Thank you, Y/N. You should really get some sleep.” Namjoon told you.

“You’re right… I can’t keep my eyes open. Thank you for calling me, Joonie. I love you.” you spoke slowly, eyes threatening to drift shut.

“I love you too, Y/N. Sweet dreams.” Namjoon said, but his words fell on deaf ears as your eyes had already closed.

Namjoon knew he should’ve ended the call, but his eyes watched your peaceful expression, a hint of a smile lingering on your lips. He watched you take deep, even breaths. He studied the way your eyelashes fluttered when you stirred. Namjoon’s chest tightened as he gazed upon your features. That was the first night Namjoon came to the realization that he was in love with you.

Of course, you’d known you were in love with Namjoon much sooner than the dense man had realized his own feelings. You never showed it though. You didn’t want your feelings to make things weird, as Namjoon’s presence in your life was the only thing keeping you centered. Namjoon was where you went when you were angry, when you were scared, when you felt alone. He was your anchor in a world that tried to sweep you away into an empty abyss. He was your home.

Namjoon was the only person in the world who seemed to understand you completely. You’d never really felt like you belonged anywhere, constantly yearning for a place that felt safe. With Namjoon, you belonged. You were safe. Protected. You were valued and revered and you could let your walls down and melt into your best friend’s embrace, knowing he’d always catch you. You knew there were millions of girls who wanted his heart, who were in love with the idea of him. You knew who he really was though.

You were the one who stayed up talking him through his dark moments. You were the one who held him and stroked his hair when he fell apart. You were the one who listened without judgement, who understood him just as much as he understood you. You were the one who never used him, never left him, never let him feel abandoned. You were the one who waited up, pretending you couldn’t sleep just to hear his voice for a few fleeting moments as his day wound down into the quiet night. Everything Namjoon gave to you, you returned with vigor.

That’s why, when his plane landed in your city, you were the first thought on his mind. You were the one he wanted to run to. You were the one he wanted to wrap up in his arms. And that is exactly what he did as he arrived at your apartment, dressed to blend in, knuckles rapping at the door excitedly. You flung the door open, jumping into his embrace as he pulled you tight against him and shut the door behind your bodies. You breathed in his scent, your senses flooded with Namjoon. You could finally breathe again.

You felt your body go pliant in his grasp. His strong arms held you close, his breath tickled your ear. His heart beat just as fast as your pounding one. Your best friend was finally home. Well, he didn’t live with you but in your presence was the place Namjoon felt the most himself, so he might as well have been home. Namjoon was completely overwhelmed with emotion at finally being by your side again. He didn’t know what came over him. He didn’t have time to use rational judgement, didn’t have time to think. Everything in his being needed this. He needed you.

As soon as your feet had touched the ground, before you could release yourself from Namjoon’s grasp, his lips found yours. In that moment, time stopped. Your heart stopped beating for a moment, then immediately began hammering in your chest. You kissed him back after a moment of letting the situation sink it, everything inside of you seeming to reach for him. You wound your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and his arms tightened around you, pressing your body against his as his lips worked against yours.

Had it been minutes? Had it been hours? You weren’t sure. Time wasn’t real when you were in Namjoon’s arms. All you knew is it was far too soon for your liking when he pulled away to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. His chest rose and fell rapidly and his eyes met yours. You shivered at the intensity, the adoration in his gaze.

“I’m in love with you.” left his lips before he could even register what he was saying.

Even though he’d only realized this fact a few months prior, Namjoon had been in love with you the better part of a year. It really hadn’t taken long for you to wrap yourself around his heart so completely that he couldn’t possibly want anyone else. He’d been waiting ever since that rainy night in the car to come home to you, to wrap you up in his arms, to risk it all and tell you exactly what you’d meant to him.

“I had a whole speech planned. It was going to be much more romantic. But I can’t think right now. All I know is I’m completely in love with you, and I really hope you feel the same way or this is going to get really awkward-” he began.

“I love you too. I’m in love with you, Joonie. I’ve been in love with you. You’re everything.” you sighed contentedly, leaning your head against his toned chest, listening to his heart beat like a hummingbird’s.

His fingers tenderly snaked their way under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His lips found yours once more. This kiss was slower, more intimate. This kiss held everything the two of you couldn’t express with words. All the heartache while you waited for him alone. All the longing you’d felt, thousands of miles apart. This kiss was a thank you for your continued friendship, a promise of so much more to come, a whisper of love drifting between your connected lips. It was everything you’d both been holding back for almost a year.

Your whole body trembled and tears forced their way down your cheeks against your will, and Namjoon moved his lips to your cheeks, kissing them away. He knew. He understood. He felt it too. He led you to the couch, consuming you in his embrace, letting you be at ease for the first time in months. Namjoon finally let out the breath he’d been holding since, well he wasn’t sure how long. It felt like he was breathing for the very first time.

“Please say you’ll be mine.” he whispered, almost inaudibly, as he trailed kisses along your ear.

“I’ve always been yours, Joon.” you whispered back.

And it felt like the beginning of something good.

taglist: @blkjmn

#bts #bts fluff #fluff #namjoon #rm #rap monster #joon #kim namjoon #bts imagines #namjoon x reader #rm x reader

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

take me out to the back of the shed (and shoot me in the back of the head)

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Title is from the song Old Yeller. It’s apparently a TikTok trend song but I first heard it from a furry animation when I was in 8th grade lol

Word count: 3112

Prompt: “Calm down! You’re scaring me!”

———————

“Jane! Jane, look at this painting I made for you!”

“Yeah, yeah- hang on a moment. I’m busy.”

“Jane-”

“In a minute.”

“But-”

“In a minute!”

This is the exchange Anne watched from down the hall- Joan following Jane around with a canvas gripped tightly in her hands like a little duckling and Jane doing her best to pretend the girl didn’t exist. After she was snapped at, Joan moved away slightly, but then perked up, hope glinting in her eyes.

“Okay...I’ll wait in my dressing room, alright?”

“Alright,” Jane said, not really listening to what was being said to her.

“Just come in when you’re done, okay?”

“Okay, Joan.”

“Great!” Joan beamed. “I’ll be waiting!”

With that, Joan turned around and scurried back to her dressing room, an excited smile on her lips. Anne watched her go, waited a moment, then walked to Jane’s room. Inside, the woman seemed to be packing up to leave for the day.

“You’re going to go see Joan, right?”

Jane looked up as she was grabbing her purse. She sniffed, nostrils flaring slightly, clearly miffed.

“She can wait.”

“She would starve to death by the time you finally got around to seeing her,” Anne pointed out, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. She raised an eyebrow at Jane as if to add, “Am I wrong?”

“I have other things to do.” Jane said, sliding past the comment instead of facing it head on.

“Like what? Knit? Watch Love Island? Cuddle Kitty for the hundredth time?” Anne narrowed her eyes in an accusing stare. She’s been defensive of Joan ever since the Live where the music director fell asleep in her lap. “All of that stuff will still be there after you take ten minutes to go see what Joan made for you.”

Jane’s soft, kind facial features contort into that of a snarling white tiger’s- teeth bared, eyes alight, ears pinned back. But Anne wasn’t scared of her- not anymore. Deep down, she knew that Jane was nothing but a scared little kitten trapped in a circus cage.

“Joan isn’t my main priority,” Jane said dismissively, but the tiger’s claws remained unsheathed. “I don’t have to do anything for her.”

“Jane, that girl would take a bullet for you.” Anne said, stalking closer. Her voice went into a low whisper- a growl of sorts. “You know that, Jane. She would do anything for you.”

It was like a stare down between a tiger and a mountain lion- neither wanted to back down or step away.

“Why can’t you just be a good person? I’m not asking you to sign adoption forms for the kid, I’m asking you to just be a friend to her and go see what she wants to show you. It’s not that hard. It’s— her presence isn’t going to strike you dead! Just go look at her painting!”

Jane stared into Anne’s smoldering eyes, adjusted the strap of her purse hanging from her shoulder, and stepped past her towards the door.

“Kitty needs me.” She merely said.

“Of course she does,” Anne rolled her eyes. “It’s not like there’s three other fucking people living in that house than can respond to her every beck and call.”

Jane didn’t reply, as she was already out the door and making her way to the lobby by the time Anne finished her grumbled comment.

Anne considered going after her and dragging her to Joan’s dressing room by the hair, but she didn’t want to give the woman anymore thought. So, instead, she went to the dressing room herself and her heart broke a little when she saw Joan sitting patiently in the chair at her desk, legs swinging back and forth excitedly, smiling down at the canvas in her hands. Her head snapped up when she heard Anne step inside, but her expression dimmed when she saw that it wasn’t the silver queen.

“Oh. Hey, Anne.”

“What? Am I really that bad company?” Anne said teasingly.

“No,” Joan said, giggling slightly. “I just- I thought you were Jane.”

Anne frowned. She walked over to the girl and set a hand on her shoulder. Joan looked up with those adorable, glistening lamb eyes of hers and the words momentarily caught in Anne’s throat.

“I don’t think Jane is coming, dear.”

Joan blinked. Anne knew she knew what she meant, but she was trying to not believe it by playing dumb.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“She just left.” Anne answered gently.

Like that, all hope and excitement is gone in a flash, replaced with deep sadness that forms over Joan’s head like a thick, dark rain cloud. She looked down at the painting lying in her lap and clenched her fists tightly around the edges.

“Oh.” She whispered.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Anne said. She looked down at the canvas, too, and before her eyes soft watercolors and metallic paints and dark line-art came together brilliantly to form the beautiful painting of Jane Seymour. It was a bust shot of her in her show costume, but she was also adorned in shimmering strings of diamonds and pearls and topazes, and had a sparkling crystal crown sitting atop her head.

“This is beautiful, Joan!” Anne exclaimed honestly, because it absolutely was true. Joan truly was skilled with paints and pencils. “You’re so talented.”

“Thanks,” Joan replied, slightly disconnected. She appreciated the comment, Anne knew she loved praise, but she didn’t want to hear it from the green queen.

She wanted to hear it from the silver one.

Joan sighed and stood up, and Anne half expected her to destroy the painting or throw it away, but a tiny, hopeful smile actually tugged at her lips.

“I’m just going to leave it on her makeup table,” She said. “So- so it’ll be the first thing she sees tomorrow!”

Anne smiled and gently rubbed the girl’s head.

“That’s a good idea, Joey!” She said, even though she knew the odds of Jane actually going to Joan and telling her how much she loved the piece of art were very slim.

Still, for the time being, it cheered Joan up and she beamed at Anne before hurrying to go put the canvas in its place. Anne’s smile disappeared the moment she was out of sight and she sighed. She made a mental note to stay up until 11:11 that night so she could try wishing. Might as well see if the superstition was true.

———

Anne ended up falling asleep way before 11:11, but it didn’t matter because she knew trying to wish on a set of ones on her phone screen and alarm clock wouldn’t have made a difference since Jane would still be prancing around the theater like she is now, as if she hadn’t been gifted a gorgeous work of art. Anne wasn’t even sure if she had even seen the painting, but upon peeking inside the dressing room and seeing that the canvas was moved to the side of one of the makeup tables proved that Jane had, in fact, seen it.

She just didn’t care.

And that made Anne furious.

Poor Joan. She didn’t even have time to warn or distract the girl before she was skittering up to Jane with excitement glittering in her eyes.

“Jane!”

Jane sighed as she was getting a cup of coffee from the break room. If Joan heard the noise, she didn’t acknowledge it and just kept up her eager demeanor.

“Hello, Joan,” Jane said. All evidence of the warmth she had been speaking to Kitty with just a few minutes earlier was now gone.

“Did you see my painting? The one I made for you?” Joan asked. “I waited for you yesterday, but you didn’t come in and I just assumed you were too busy, so I left it on your table! It was there, right? Did you see it? Or did it get moved? Was it there?”

“Joan!” Jane growled, her hand clenching tightly around the cup she was holding. The sudden sharpness in her voice made the girl before her step back slightly. “Joan.” She smoothed out her tone, but remained as caring as Zira from The Lion King 2. “I saw it, yes. It was there.”

The momentary flash of fear and anxiety from getting yelled at disappeared from Joan’s eyes. She perks back up again, her feet now shuffling and tapping happily on the floor (her “Happy Feet”, as it's been dubbed by Maria).

“Oh! Great!” If she had a tail, it would definitely be wagging. Or if she were alone, she’d probably be frolicking around the room like a happy little lamb. “So? What did you think? Did you love it? I mean—like it? Did you like it?”

“It was nice,” Jane said, trying to swerve around Joan and her radiation of glee blocking the path to the door.

“Really?” Joan wanted more. She wanted more than just ‘nice.’ She needed more. “I’m really glad, Jane, because it was the first time I tried out watercolors and metallic paints together in one painting so I had no idea how it would turn out but it seemed to be good, right? I mean- obviously! You just said it was nice! B-but, umm-” She watched Jane walk for the door without really listening to her. She followed after her desperately. “S-so— Are you gonna hang it up?”

That’s what got Jane to stop. She turned to the girl impatiently fidgeting behind her and looked at her as if there were elephants parading out of her ears.

“Why would I do that?”

Up until that moment, Joan had been looking at Jane in a way that made it seem like there were swelling hearts in her eyes. But those hearts just broke with that single comment. Joan is left scrambling to pick up the pieces, but can barely catch anything, as all her hope also bleeds out through her fingers.

“B-because I...I made it. For you.” She said meekly.

“Fans make me stuff all the time but you don’t see me putting it on the fridge,” Jane chuckled, actually quite amused by the situation. “It was nice, Joan. And I appreciate it. No need to push it farther than that, because then it’ll just get weird. Like I’m worshiping a simple drawing or something.” She laughed again, then continued her stride out the door.

Joan was distraught, but as she watched the queen leave, her words fully sinking in, anger bubbled up inside of her. She grit her teeth, fingers clenching into fists. She could feel the ram horns poke uncomfortably against her forehead and slowly breach from her flesh, primed for blood.

“It’s not just some simple drawing, you—!!”

That’s all she could yell before Jane wheeled back around and stared at her from the hallway. Then, she enters once again and Joan backs up in fear, as if she were being stalked by a starving white tiger. She could almost see it in Jane’s face, but her teeth weren’t bared. Her lips were just set in a startling flat line that brought out the horror of the rest of her blank features.

“What? What?” Jane prodded. “I’m what?”

“Nothing...” Joan squeaked, hunching her shoulders in and lowering her head.

“I’m what, Joan?”

“Nothing!”

“A jerk? A prick? A bitch? A cunt? What am I, Joan?”

“Nothing! You’re nothing!” Joan cried. “I’m sorry!”

Jane had Joan cornered- literally. The girl was backed up in the far corner of the room near the window, which she glanced at for just a moment, as if she were considering jumping out of it to get away from the queen’s sterling wrath.

Jane calmly set down her cup of coffee on the nearby counter and laced her fingers together against her stomach. Her gaze was callous and cruel, offering absolutely no pity to the girl cowering beneath her uncaring stare.

“I’m going to explain this to you once, Joan, so you better listen because I will not tell it to you again.” She said. Her words are slithering slowly from her lips like venomous snakes, scaly and fanged. They bite Joan’s ears, pumping their poison into her brain no matter how hard she tried to combat them. “Nod if you understand that.”

Joan nodded shakily. She isn’t making eye contact, rather focusing her gaze on the floor and nothing else.

“I am not your mother figure.” Jane said bluntly, not even bothering to sugarcoat the comment. She was so tired of having Joan trying to force her way into her life. “You are not my daughter.”

With just those two simple sentences, it was as if Joan’s entire life just ended. It didn’t just come crashing down to her feet- it was over. She was nothing without her queen.

“B-but—”

“You are not my daughter.” Jane repeated coldly. “Do you understand me?”

This time, Joan doesn’t nod.

Jane narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“Nod, Joan.”

“Wh-what about—Kitty-”

“Don’t bring her up, Joan. This isn’t about her.” Jane warned lowly.

But Joan couldn’t stop the words that began to bubble up in her throat. Her voice comes out way too loud and way too shrill and way too desperate, but she can’t choke it back.

“Why? What does she have that I don’t? What did I do? What can I do to make you love me like that? Why her? What makes her so—”

The sound of a slap resonates through the room.

Joan was hit so hard she actually stumbled into the wall. She tentatively touches her stinging cheek, which burns upon contact, then looks up in fear at Jane, whose hand is slightly red from the force she had used.

There is no remorse present in the queen’s steel grey eyes.

“Do NOT speak of my daughter in that way again, you vile little pest!” Jane roared. Her old self, her fearsome queen self slips out in her words, and it chills Joan to the bone. “I will bring your guts into your mouth if you even THINK to do it again!”

It’s as if Jane was dehorning Joan- grabbing onto the ram horns with strong, clawed hands and twisting and twisting and twisting until they snapped off and are pulled out of her flesh with copious squirts of blood pouring free, leaving twin gaping red horrors open in her head.

“C-calm down!” Joan squeaked. “You’re scaring me!”

“And you WONDER why I don’t want to be your mother figure!” Jane went on, ignoring the plea. “I could list a hundred reasons right now and that still wouldn’t be enough to explain to you about how much I don’t want you as a daughter!” Joan doesn’t ask for any of them, but they’re still shoved down her throat anyway. “You’re clingy, you’re needy, you expect everyone to like you, you’re always tugging at my sleeve, you seem to think everything is about you, you act like a complete attention whore, to name a few! Why would I EVER want to be the mother to someone like you?”

“HEY!!”

It was like watching two big cats fight on a wildlife documentary- Anne seemed to come out of nowhere and charged her entire body into Jane’s, sending them both slamming into the back wall.

They tussle and squirm for a moment, snapping and hissing and clawing, and then Anne’s hand closed around Jane’s neck. Not enough to choke her, but enough to shove her head back up against the plaster and grind her skull into it.

“Anne, get off of me—”

“You bitch! You fucking bitch—”

“Get off—”

“You’re absolutely—”

“Stop—”

“What gives you the fucking right—”

“Let go—”

“You deserve to—”

Jane shoved Anne’s shoulders with both hands, causing the woman to totter backwards before she regained her footing. She almost lunged at the silver queen again, but somehow managed to tame herself enough to not pounce on her like a puma and gouge her eyes out, as much as she wanted to at that moment.

“You are SICK!” Anne yelled.

“You were about to strangle me!” Jane fired back.

“Yeah? Well, I wish I fucking did! Because God knows you deserved it!”

Anne paused her spray of fire to look at Joan, who was hunched against the wall, knees buckled and barely holding her up, tears streaming from her eyes, one hand cupping her swollen, red-purple cheek. Anne snapped her head back to Jane, bloodlust and rage blistering in her eyes.

“Did you fucking hit her?” She snarled.

“She was being a—”

“BULLSHIT!” Anne snapped, cutting Jane off. “That’s not what I fucking asked! Did you hit Joan?”

Jane just glared at Anne, as if she were an angry child that didn’t get the toy they wanted.

“Oh my god,” Anne half gasped, half laughed. “You absolute cunt! You really think that nobody else in this world matters, huh? Some ‘cast mother figure’ you are. It’s just you and that spoiled little weasel you keep on a harness!”

Despite loving Kitty to death, Anne couldn’t care about the comment she just made about her baby cousin because it was true.

Jane went to say something, went to somehow defend her actions, but Anne was talking again.

“I get it now! I finally understand!” She said. “You didn’t die of natural causes at all! You died from God striking you down because he KNEW what a horrible, cruel mother you would have been. He SAVED Edward from you!”

Finally, that’s what got Jane to crack. And, damn, it felt good to watch horror twist up her features.

“You really do have a heart of stone.” Anne spit.

She crossed over to Joan, who had been crying silently, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, helping her stand. The poor thing was shaking so badly.

“Come on, sweetie,” She whispered, her tone softening in an instant. “Let’s go.”

Joan staggered for a moment, nearly collapsing, but Anne managed to hold her up. She grappled onto the queen’s shirt and Anne could see that her cheek was definitely bruising.

“Oh, Joan…” Rage bubbles in her veins. She hears the girl whimper. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m not going to let her hurt you ever again.”

Anne casts a dark look at Jane.

Jane does nothing but stare forward blankly, lost in her own memories.

“Come on. Let’s go get something for your cheek.”

Joan didn’t resist. She let Anne guide her out of the room.

But not without Anne shooting out one last comment.

“Oh, and I’ll make sure to vote for you as Mother of The Year, Jane.”

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six fanfic #six fanfiction #six fic #sixfic #anne boleyn #jane seymour #nana boleyn #joan on the keys #katherine howard #take me out to the back of the shed

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kiapet2 · 3 years

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Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 6: PULL ME OUT! PULL ME OUT! PULL ME OUT! PULL ME OUT! LEAVE ME IN! LEAVE ME IN! LEAVE ME IN! LEAVE ME IN!

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: The big confrontation.

Chapter Warnings: Attempted Murder by and towards main characters, Neurotoxin, Not-Really-Unsympathetic Sides

The Control Chamber is large and dimly lit, cylindrical with a high ceiling. Hanging from the walls and in a circle from the ceiling are a collection of large screens, like you would see in a stadium. They flash through a series of images almost too quickly to follow: red theater curtains, a black hat, a courtroom, a two-headed snake, a lock with no key…

What really draws your eye, though, is the figure hanging from the ceiling, right in the center of the screens. It’s a massive form constructed of plastic, metal and hanging cables, gathered into a long body that moves with a sinuous grace as it turns to peer at you. At the end of the body is what you recognize as a Core, but one that differs significantly from the designs you’re used to. Where the others are formed of intricately interlocking metal pieces, this Core is one piece of sleek, jet black plastic, an unlidded yellow eye staring out at you with an alien gaze.

“So,” the AI says, “you’ve made it here at last.” His voice has changed, all pretenses of a robotic monotone dropped in favor of a smooth, sonorous drawl that sends shivers down your spine.

“No thanks to you,” Virgil spits.

“And you brought the whole group with you! Now what could I have possibly done to deserve such an honor?”

“Tried to kill me, for one,” you say, placing a hand on your hip and trying to seem casual and self-assured. Hurry up, Logan…

The AI gives a scandalized gasp. “Kill you? Now why would I ever do something like that?”

“Drop the act, villain!” Roman yells. “We know what you really are!”

The AI hums, sounding unconcerned. “I can’t help but notice that one of your number is missing. You wouldn’t happen be planning something, now would you?”

You laugh nervously. “What? No, we’re just here to talk.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Subject One,” the AI says. “Let’s stop with the stalling, shall we?”

There’s a hissing sound as vents open up in the walls, some sort of gas coming out.

“Don’t breathe that in!” Virgil hisses, and you back away from the steadily encroaching cloud, before your back hits the opposite wall. The gas keeps advancing, and your next breath tastes sickly sweet with it, making your head spin.

“Enjoying the neurotoxin?” the AI taunts. “It’s my own special recipe. I’m sure dear Patton is familiar.”

“Don’t do this, Ja-” Patton starts, before cutting off into static.

The AI lets out a deep, villainous chuckle. “Be sure to take in a nice, deep breath now, I’ve heard the toxin has lots of nice vitamins in it. If you live long enough to breathe it in, that is.”

That statement and the sound of machine parts clicking are your only warnings before a torpedo launches out of the AI’s mainframe, directly at you.

You throw yourself sideways, landing painfully on your side on the floor as the torpedo hits the wall and explodes behind you, showering you with bits of concrete or whatever substance this building is made of.

“What was that?” you yelp, scrambling to your feet. “What kind of science facility gives their AIs freaking torpedoes?!”

Your only response is another torpedo. This one you sidestep, watching as it again hits the wall behind you. That gives you an idea…

You shoot the blue portal behind yourself and the orange higher in the wall, then move to stand in front of the blue portal as the torpedo system targets you again, jumping out of the way of the ensuing missile.

Instead of flying through the portal, however, the torpedo runs straight into Remus, who apparently decided that it would be fun to follow you as you dodged the explosives.

“Remus!” Roman screams as his brother’s robotic body-frame explodes into scrap metal. For a moment your heart is in your throat as you search for telltale rounded parts in the scattered pieces, then you slump in relief as you see the Core himself rolling away from the carnage, giggling.

“Let’s do that again!” he cheers. “Can you build me a bigger body and then blow it up with an even bigger rocket?”

“Absolutely not,” the AI says. “Giving you arms and legs was a bad idea in the first place- too much opportunity for chaos.”

“Well whaddya know, he’s actually right about something for once,” Virgil snarks.

Another torpedo comes shooting out at you, and this time when you dodge it flies unhindered into the blue portal. You watch as the torpedo shoots back out of the orange portal, straight towards the AI. It connects with his long, sinuous body near the top, making the entire thing shake, and he falls limp.

“Did… did you just kill him?” Roman says in an awed whisper. Beside him, Patton whimpers. You swallow, staring at the motionless form of the AI in front of you, not knowing which outcome to hope for.

After what subjectively seems like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds, the AI twitches back to life and straightens up.

“That was unpleasant,” he says. “But not as unpleasant as being hit by one would be for you, I expect. Shall we see who gives in first?”

You jump out of the way of another torpedo, which deploys harmlessly into the wall since you didn’t have time to set up another portal. You land awkwardly, and bite back a curse as your elbow smashes into the ground and sends a wave of pain up your arm. You just barely roll out of the way as a second torpedo follows almost on the tails of the first, the AI taking advantage of your momentary distraction from the pain.

You stumble as you roll to your feet, the combination of pain and neurotoxin making you unsteady. The AI was right; you don’t know how long you can keep this up.

Warning, Central Core is 80% corrupt, an automated voice announces, and your heart leaps in your chest with sudden hope.

“That’s funny, I don’t feel corrupt,” the AI says nonchalantly.

Alternate core detected, the voice says. To initiate a core transfer, please deposit substitute core in receptacle. A metal socket folds up out of the ground, clearly intended for the placement of said substitute Core.

Logan’s voice fills the room. The replacement process has been initiated and should be autonomous going forward. Follow the instructions carefully.

“Logan, you beautiful nerd!” Roman cries. You couldn’t agree more.

“So that’s your plan,” the AI hisses. “You little-”

I’m placing a timer on the screens for when the neurotoxin will reach potentially lethal levels, Logan says, and the screens surrounding the AI turn a light blue with a red timer counting down to the millisecond. It looks like you have around two minutes left.

I’m afraid I can’t do much more, Logan continues. Just follow the steps, and- He cuts off into static.

“Did you hear anything?” the AI says. “Such an echo in here, I swear.”

Two more torpedoes shoot out of his mainframe, and you dodge to the left, letting them be redirected through the portal behind you. They both hit, and as the AI once again goes limp you use the window of opportunity to cast a look around you for the nearest Core.

“Patton!” you say, spying the Core nearby. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Patton says with a forced cheer. Not having time for more confirmation than that, you run up and take him by the handles, pulling him off his rail, then run over to the receptacle thingy and carefully slot him in place.

Substitute Core accepted, the automated voice says. Substitute Core, are you ready to start the procedure?

“Oh, is that me?” Patton says nervously. “Uh, yes!”

Corrupted Core, are you ready to start the procedure?

Almost before the voice is done talking, the AI yells out, “No!”

Stalemate detected. Transfer procedure cannot continue...

“Are you kidding me?” Virgil shrieks. “What kind of crappy replacement system asks for permission from the Core it’s replacing?”

...unless a stalemate associate is present to press the stalemate resolution button.

“Oh dear,” the AI says, “you’re not a trained stalemate associate, are you? That’s too bad, it looks like this whole thing will just have to be cancelled.”

Another torpedo comes whizzing towards you. You don’t have time to shoot a portal behind you this time, so you just dart out of the way. Out of the corner of your eye you see a red button pop out of the ground- a small one, meant to be activated by hand rather than by cube- and you dart towards it.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast,” the AI admonishes, and several panels fold up from the ground, blocking your path. You try to dart around them, but more fold up as you go.

“Remember your portals!” Roman shouts.

Right. Portals. That’s a thing you have. You shoot one portal onto the wall on the other side of the button, then another directly below your feet. As soon as your feet hit ground again you’re running, too fast for the panels to react to your sudden relocation, and then the button is giving way beneath your hand.

Stalemate resolved, the automated voice says. Please stand clear of the transfer bay.

The others cheer and you turn with a grin, only to be interrupted by a chilling scream.

“Thomas!”

You look just in time to see a long, flexible metal tendril with a pincer claw at the end seize Patton and forcibly rip him out of the socket. Quicker than you can react, it retracts back down into the floor with Patton still wiggling in its clutches, and then it and Patton both are gone.

The mechanical voice announces, Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in sixty seconds.

You stare for a moment, frozen in shock as you try to process what just happened. The AI was holding that in reserve, you realize. If you’d known he had the ability to grab the others, you could have accounted for it, redirected torpedoes into the pincer arms or had Logan try to interfere remotely. But instead, he waited until you were distracted with the stalemate button- until your back was literally turned- and then made his move. And now your friend is gone.

Another voice shrieks your name, and you turn to see a torpedo streaking towards you, the AI once again having taken advantage of your distraction. You shift your weight and prepare to make a last-ditch dodge, but before you can, Roman comes flying in from the side.

“Roman, no!” you scream, but it’s too late. The torpedo glances off his round surface, veering off from you and exploding on the nearby wall. Roman goes flying, wrenched off his track, then bounces once and rolls into one of the holes in the floor created by the raised panels. You go sprinting over and stare down the hole, but all you can see is blackness. Wherever Roman fell, it’s too far for you to see.

A whistling in the air alerts you to another torpedo, and you frantically roll to the side. The torpedo hits where you just were, widening the hole Roman just fell through and littering you with shrapnel.

“You bastard!” you hear Virgil shout. You pull yourself up to a standing position, feel a sudden rush of dizziness at the motion and briefly sway on your feet.

“Feeling a bit poorly there?” the AI says faux-sympathetically. “That definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the neurotoxin you’ve been breathing this whole time. I’d keep up the exertion if I were you- it makes the toxin take effect even faster.”

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in forty seconds.

You glance up at Logan’s timer and see that it has just under a minute left. You won’t have time to go through the stalemate process again if the transfer halts here, not before the neurotoxin kills you. You need to find someone else to replace the AI with, and you need to do it fast.

You spin in a circle, fighting down the dizziness as you do, looking for- there!

“Virgil!” you yell. “Virgil, I need you!”

Virgil’s eye widens as your gaze falls on him. “What?”

You run towards the Core, panting with exertion. “I need to put you at the head of the facility, come on!”

“No!” Virgil shouts, floating backwards and out of your reach. “Thomas, you can’t, you can’t put me in there, please!”

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in thirty seconds.

You reach out, trying to outwardly project calm despite the panic racing through your body.

“Virgil, I know it’s scary, but there’s no one else!”

Virgil floats even further backwards, his parts audibly clattering as he shudders. “I- I’m sorry, maybe if I can find Roman fast enough...”

“Virgil, wait!” you scream as the Core flies down the hole Roman fell into and disappears.

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in twenty seconds.

“Well,” the AI says, “I think this foolishness is just about finished. Honestly, did you really think your little half-baked plan was actually going to work?”

You can barely hear it over the pounding in your own ears. This can’t be it! You can’t have fought your way through all the trials, can’t have had your friends believe in you for so long, only to die here. There has to be some way-

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in ten seconds.

A high-pitched cackle follows the announcement. You and see Remus muttering gleefully, his green eye spinning in circles within his battered frame.

“How do you think he’s gonna kill us, huh? Will he smash us flat, blood and guts and jagged metal all strewn across the floor? Will he drop us? How long do you think we’ll fall for, how will it feel when we hit the ground? Clatter-squish!”

Substitute core has been disconnected. Aborting transfer in five seconds.

You don’t have time to think. You seize Remus by both handles and with a gutteral cry slam him down into the receptacle.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” The AI says, distorting with volume. “Thomas, don’t-”

Substitute core accepted. Substitute core, are you ready to start the procedure?

“What?” Remus shrieks, sounding genuinely rattled for the first time since you’ve met him.

“Say yes!” you yell desperately. “I’ll help you figure it out, Remus, just say yes!”

“Uh, yes!” Remus says.

Acceptance verified. Resuming transfer.

“You idiots!” the AI yells. “You absolute, blithering idiots! What have you- wait, no! No no no n-aAAaAaaAaAah-”

The bot’s screams turn distorted and desperate as metal appendages seize the core at the end of his robotic body and begin pulling it down towards a circular hole in the floor as walls come up and shield it from view. A similar scream sounds behind you, and you turn to see the receptacle that holds Remus also sinking into the floor.

Your heart pounds. Is that supposed to happen? Logan said the process wouldn’t hurt them, right?

Both cores disappear below the floor. For one heart-pounding second, it is silent. Then, the walls around the hanging robotic form retract back into the ground, and-

“WOOOOOOO!” Remus shrieks, the snake-like body rearing up to reveal his familiar round, green-eyed form where the black-and-yellow Core once was. “Boy, that’s a rush!”

“Remus?” you say, heart still pounding so loudly you can hear it. “You- you’re good? You’ve got it?”

“Fuck yes I do!” Remus crows, spinning around like a top in his perch. “Check it out!”

As you watch, the wall panels around you begin to flip and move, forming abstract patterns. It’s strangely mesmerizing, and your heart finally starts to slow from its adrenaline-fueled patter.

“You idiots,” a familiar voice says, and you look down to see the black core lying on the ground, its yellow eye glaring straight at you. “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

“Aww, lighten up, Jan-Jan!” Remus says, bending down to peer at him. “It’s about time we switched things up around here, it was getting booooooooooooring. Ooh, I’m gonna make some mashy-spike-plates! Can’t go wrong with mashy-spike-plates!”

“Uh,” you say, “Maybe before you do that, we should, y’know, find the others?”

“Oh come on, Thomas, at least give me some time to have fun!” Remus says as the wall and ceiling continue to shift, smooth walls now being replaced with ones that have disconcertingly sharp points.

“Remus,” the AI snaps, “stop playing around where you don’t belong and put me back!”

All the activity in the room halts, wall tiles freezing in place.

“Playing around where I don’t belong?” Remus says lightly. “Right, because a corrupted core can’t be trusted to run this place, right? Gotta get Roman and his dull white-bread ideas up in here, cause that’s so much better.”

The AI huffs. “You know that’s not-”

“Nuh-uh,” Remus says, “My talking time.”

Several metal appendages rise from the floor- long, flexible metal tubes with grabby claws at the end, like the one the AI used to grab Patton. One of them reaches down and plucks the black and yellow Core off the ground, holding him in front of Remus and tilting him side to side, as if Remus were inspecting a bug.

“Y’know, Janny, I feel like you need a change. That old plastic thing is so last decade, know what I mean? Hey, remember when you said I had the processing power of a potato battery? That was funny! And it gives me an idea.”

The AI only has time to get out a final, “Remus-” before a metal tendril comes out of the circular opening below Remus and drags the Core back in.

“And Thomas,” Remus says, turning his green gaze on you, “Don’t think I didn’t notice how I was your dead last choice.”

Your stomach tightens in sudden fear. “I didn’t mean-”

Remus cackles, the sound reverberating off the walls and assaulting your eardrums.

“Naw, I’m not too torn up about it, I know me. But once you find the others it’s only a matter of time before you decide I’m just too dangerous and unpredictable to stay. So I think I’ll have some fun, while it lasts.”

The circular opening below Remus makes a little ding, and the metal appendage that had pulled in the black and yellow Core pops back out, holding- is that a potato?

“Voila!” Remus says with a flourish of one of his grabby-arms. “One potato battery. I dunno Janny-poo, I think it’s an upgrade!”

A yellow light flashes from the potato battery’s circuits.

“Are you done?” It’s the AI’s voice, sounding tinny because of the potato’s speaker quality, and sounding sardonic because of the potato’s occupant.

“Not quite!” Remus says cheerily. “Hey Tommy-boy, catch!”,

The metal hand tosses the potato at you, and you fumble with the portal gun, trying to get one hand up to catch it, before the potato smacks you in the face with a thump and falls to the ground.

“Ow,” the potato says.

You duck as more metal appendages pop out of the ground and start slamming the top of the elevator, making it shudder. You look below you, through the clear bottom of the elevator, and see only blackness. You don’t know what’s at the bottom of this shaft, and you don’t particularly want to find out.

“I’ll see you in the testing chambers!” Remus says cheerfully as another metal arm slams down onto the elevator.

“Remus, wait-” you yell, then lurch and catch yourself on the side of the elevator another big bang makes the whole thing tilt. Spider web cracks form on the glass floor below you, making your heart rise into your throat.

“Ta-ta, Thomas!” Remus calls. “If you survive this, we’re going to have so much fun together!”

There’s one more big, jarring impact, and then the glass elevator floor gives out from under you, sending you careening down into the dark.

#aperture sides facility #my writing #ts storytime

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