#the way i’m listing off these movies because of the way he displayed his resume at all times in jury duty skdjdhks
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5 Reasons Roman Is Infuriating (And Why I DO NOT have a crush on him)
(Logince with a bit of denying and pining)
Read on AO3
My first fic, based on my Logince drawing
(If someone ever wants to make anything based on my art, feel free to ask. Making content is hard and people fleshing out concepts is always fun.)
Word count: 3641
Tw: Cursing, Food mention, Balloon popping, Remus being his authentic self
Character’s: Remus, Virgil, Janus, Logan, Roman (At the end), Patton (Mainly implied)
~~~
He had everything ready.
"Ahem."
Three heads turn to look at him.
"Logan, I really don't understand why you're doing this. You know I'm literally the Lord of the Lies, right? I can tell when you're lying."
"Falsehood. I am here specifically to prove to you three, the ones that have doubted me the most, what I think of Roman, so that you'll stop teasing me about emotions that aren't even there." Logan says, standing in front of a long classroom table. Virgil, Janus and Remus sit there, each maintaining their own postures and looking at him with disbelieving expressions.
"Logan, we can see your heart boner from here. You really think you can convince us with a slideshow presentation?" Remus picks his teeth, seemingly bored of the idea.
"That's exactly what I'm doing- What? Why would my heart have a boner? It doesn't have the proper parts to do that-" Logan looks lost, clutching the presentation button in his hand.
"It's an expression, Pocket Protector. It means you've got feelings for him." Virgil sighs.
Logan squints at him. "Of course I have feelings for him." Logan looks behind him, to the SmartBoard behind him. The board turns on, displaying the presentation title. "And those feelings are feelings of irritation. My name is Logan Sanders, and welcome to my Ted Talk."
There is a collective sigh from the others.
Logan takes a pointer stick (the one with the little hand on one side) from a holder on the wall, and points at the words on the screen. "This is 5 reasons why Roman is infuriating. And unlike your cognitive distortions may suggest, I DO NOT have a crush on him." He gestures with the stick where the same thing is written. "So, let's begin."
~~~
1. He likes to insist that he's the most handsome side, despite us all looking like Thomas.
It's ridiculous. All of their traits are reminiscent of Thomas's.
There are some mild changes they go through when they aren't summoned, but they are just slight shifts. For example, Janus and Remus both have different long hairstyles, and they all have a bit of a hair color change. Their features do shift too, emulating ones Thomas has seen over his lifetime that he'd associate with their personalities.
However, in person and in the mindscape, Roman really thinks 'he's the sh*t' (Virgil taught him that expression). He flaunts his beauty over everyone else's, strutting like the prettiest peacock in the flock. Sure, he's good looking, but the same level of good looking as all the other sides.
"You're all so handsome. But not as handsome as me." Logan recalls him saying in an episode.
He tries to use it to one-up the other's, even though they all know they look the same. He also enjoys flaunting his ego, attempting to emulate a lifestyle of the rich and famous when he feels like it.
It's rather ridiculous.
"You think he's good-looking?" Remus coos.
Logan glares, and changes the slide of the presentation.
2. He fights everyone all the time. (Except for Patton)
It seems that Roman has made the most rivals out of everyone.
He's rivals with his brother, he's got a rivalry with Janus but with more betrayal behind it, he's got his past rivalry with Virgil, even though now they're the closest friends, and despite making up several times, Logan is also his rival. Patton seems to be fine, despite their post-wedding event. Logan believes Roman is too worried of defending what he believes in against the literal embodiment of Thomas's morality.
"So, you two have tried making up, but have you considered... Making out???" Remus pitches, his smile all teeth.
Logan sputters a bit. "Puh- Wha- I don't think that would work."
Logan has in fact not thought of making out with Roman, thank you very much. Not even when they're so close, passionately arguing about who-knows-what in the spur of the moment, where it would be so easy to move just a little bit closer and connect his lips to the soft pink ones of the prince.
He has not thought about making out with Roman, because he does not have a crush on him. Period. End of story.
The two of them argue a lot. Whether it's how Thomas should spend his day, to the Chicken or the Egg dilemma (Logan knows he's right, by the way, Roman just won't see that the egg came first), to the ideal temperature for a heating pillow, to the best Crofter's flavor. They can range from productive, to stupid, and by the end of it they may just be fighting about nothing at all.
They jab at each other, come up with clever arguments, and although they're technically fighting, it sometimes feels more like a duel.
"Or a mating ritual." Virgil says under his breath.
"These points don't sound very negative." Janus adds, twirling some of his hair with his finger.
"It is negative. We fight a lot. He fights people a lot. Every issue seems to be a battle to him that he can outmatch, despite being better suited as a civil discussion." Logan stands taller, trying to defend his point.
"Well, that makes sense. I understand this point now. Go on." Janus waves his gloved hand in a dismissive gesture.
"Alright." Logan clicks his presenter button, and the slide changes.
3. He's loud. Super loud. All the time.
From singing to dancing to bantering, there never does seem to be a dull moment when Roman is around. Some may call it nice, but Logan would say that's a very polite description. It certainly isn't nice when Logan's trying to get work done, or watch a movie, or enjoy a peaceful breakfast, or most of the time really.
Logan has stopped working outside when he's trying to be productive because Roman will, without fail, come in singing, and then start a little fight with Logan that distracts him from his work and renders him unproductive for a long time because all he can think about is Roman.
"Hm... Wonder why that is." Janus interrupts, rolling his eyes.
"Well, you don't need to wonder. I said it was because of our fighting." Logan nervously adjusts his already immaculately placed glasses, resuming his point to his slide presentation.
It's odd, because sometimes even without leaving his room, he can still hear the sounds of Roman's voice in his head. He theorizes the absence of all that noise is making him subconsciously fill it in ( even though his mind also provides him with clear images of Roman's smile).
He can't escape the noise on movie nights. Roman will sing along to any song, scream at the most poorly-timed jumpscares, and no matter what, criticize the movie. Logan does participate in that last step from time to time.
During dinners, it depends. Sometimes, Roman will come in and do his thing, sometimes he'll make a dramatic entrance, grab a plate and then go off to work on something, and sometimes he won't show up at all, off on a quest in the imagination. Those particular meals are peaceful. Sometimes they feel empty, but so far, no one else has complained. Especially considering with Remus' and Janus' seats added to the table, dinner can be a wild event.
Sometimes, when Logan gets lonely, he'll bring his work outside. Every time, he can guarantee that Roman will be there eventually. He provides a healthy distraction, and he always feels much lighter after a bantering session.
But most of the time, he just can't stand it. How can one be so flamboyant for so many hours of the day? Logan had theorized it had something to do with overcompensation, his need for validation and attention, but then thought it was strange theorizing about his friends and went back to work.
Overall, not the worst trait, but it being applied to every scenario adds to the fact that he is infuriating.
"Hold on, can we circle back to the part where you said you thought of him smiling-" Virgil begins, only to be interrupted by Logan pointing his pointer at him.
"No, we will not. Next point."
4. He makes up stupid nicknames.
And he makes a lot of them. Even during serious talks, you'd think he had forgotten your name and was too scared to ask, so he supplies an abundance of back-ups to make you feel special. And they are quite varied, though all slightly jabbing. There are play-on-words, references thrown about... It would have impressed Logan, had all of his designated nicknames not revolved around him being a nerd.
"Hey Microsoft Turd."
"I need your help, Egghead."
"Listen here, Erlenmeyer Trash-"
"Calculator Watch."
"Oh Book Geeeerm~"
"Sure thing Specs."
Logan actually didn't mind specs, but his point still stands. All insulting, clever, but still stupid nicknames. Sometimes, he wonders if Roman keeps a book of them around. Somewhere in his room, filled with all the names he'll unleash onto his unsuspecting companions. Logan may have tried to come up with a list of his own in retaliation, but he couldn't think of anything Roman would think was clever. He spent almost a full night on it, hair a mess, glasses askew, head resting on his desk as he tried to come up with something at least remotely good enough. It interrupted his perfect circadian rhythm. Never again.
Except for the next night, where he tried the exact same stunt again, but that doesn't matter.
What does, is that all of those factors cause aggravation. He always feels weird when Roman gives him a nickname, varying from annoyance to a strange tingling.
"Are you saying he should stop?" Virgil interrupts, frustrated. "This point is going nowhere."
"I-" He's not sure. Although some of the insults are quite jabbing, Logan does want to support Roman's creative process. Not to mention, the nickname ‘specs’ oddly does hold a place in his heart.
"OoOoOoohhh, I have an idea!" Remus cackles. Although Logan is hesitant, he gestures to continue. "Okay, so pinky swear I won't try anything on you, but just close your eyes, and imagine how this nickname would make you feel if Roman said it."
Logan apprehensively closes his eyes, and Remus does nothing but lean slightly forward in his seat, and puts on his best Roman impression. Which is pretty good, considering they're twin brothers.
"How are you today, my love?"
Immediately, Logan flushes bright red from head to toe, covering his face in his hands and squirms. Remus's cackling intensifies by a tenfold, and the other two are poorly failing to contain their laughter.
"That's- That's- That's... N-not a nickname. Th-That's a p-pet name."
"Awww, but you're blushiiiing!" Remus squeals in amusement.
"Falsehood. N-no." Logan says, not enough bite in it to hold value. "We are going to move on now. That just... caught me off guard." He says, adjusting his tie several times, trying to compose himself. "The point is, his nicknames are stupid, and I don't like them- No, don't look at me like that Remus even that one- so it adds to his infuriating nature." Logan grabs the presentation button and clicks it aggressively to the next slide.
"And now, for my concluding point."
5. He is incredibly and willingly dumb.
Sometimes Logan thinks he wouldn't be surprised by the illogical things Roman would say. And then he gets proven incredibly wrong.
"Much like your... 'illogical feelings', mayhaps?" Janus drawls.
Shush, Logan is talking.
Granted, both Creativity twins have proven to be rather illogical, as they are embodiments of creativity, a force that knows only slight bounds to logic. Only with a defying mind can people push boundaries in the advancement of society. That doesn't mean however that those defying minds need to be intelligent.
"I believe Virgil specifically had called Roman a.." He takes out his special cards, flipping through them. " 'A Himbo'. Judging from his past and present behaviors and from the definition itself, it is safe to assume that yes, he is in fact a Himbo."
One instance he can remember is during a picnic in the imagination. It was Patton's birthday, and Roman wanted to do something special, so he set up a picnic for them all to attend. Logan doesn't enjoy visiting the imagination as much, as when he's there, things become more realistic and that makes him feel like a burden. Regardless, it was for Patton's birthday, and so he decided it would be polite to come along.
Everyone was guided by a trail of flowers to an opening in the forest, where a giant picnic blanket was laid out, pillows thrown around, and a large picnic basket stood in the center. There were many balloons of pastel pink and blue tied around, and the birds were chirping in a joint melody. It sounds almost like Happy Birthday.
Logan, as he approaches, hopes that his influence won't cause ants to emerge, because although that would be realistic, it would also be quite the nuisance.
He and the other's are just dressed in their usual attire, but as Roman emerges from the trees, he is wearing a shiny red party hat to go along with his prince outfit.
Roman immediately goes to serenading Patton and placing a party hat on top of his head, light blue with a little pompom on the top. He ushers him to sit on one of the largest pillows, and then goes around giving everyone else party hats. Logan stills when Roman gets to him last, a dark blue party hat with little stars in his hand.
"Do I have to wear that?" He asks. Although, sure, it does look nice, he doesn't want to seem ridiculous.
"Come on, you're in good company. Please? For Patton?" Roman bats his eyelashes at Logan, who sighs and lets him put the party hat onto his head.
Roman runs off to the birthday boy, and they all sit down. The time passes peacefully, songs being sung and Roman releasing a horde of puppies to the joy of the guests. By the time the food is out, everything seems to be going well, until they're all eating, and Roman pulls out an orange. As he's about to peel it, Logan speaks up.
"Roman, I would advise against that." Which may sound ridiculous to most people, but Logan is an expert on many logical things. ( Orange peels have a flammable liquid in them called limonene, and as both it and a balloon, made of latex, are non-polar, the liquid can dissolve the balloon, thus causing it to explode.)
"Against what?" Roman asks, but he does stop his attempt.
Logan adjusts his glasses, ready to explain. "Eating an orange near a balloon. As I cause the imagination to become more logical, doing so will most likely cause-"
"Oh puh-lease! I'm sure whatever wacky science things you're going to say don't actually work here! I mean, there is plenty of influence to go arou-" Roman, the spiteful side he is, gets even closer to the balloon, starting to peel it. Lo-and-behold, he can't finish his denying before the balloon right beside him explodes with a loud POP. The sound sends him jumping back in fear, screeching to the nine hells, and then falling backwards onto another balloon, scaring him again. Several sides laughed out loud at his pain, while Patton watched him, worried. Logan smiled internally at the karma, before getting up and making sure he was okay.
Roman did spend the rest of the party in a sulky mood, but the party was still a huge success. They had some good food, and while Logan made Patton a flower crown, he fed him forfulls of cake. It was a nice bonding moment. When everyone separated to return to the mindscape, Roman waved them all off from the imagination door. Logan turns back to look at him, but Roman makes no move to follow them all out.
"You're not coming back yet?" Logan asks, adjusting his glasses.
Roman sighs. "No, not yet. I'm afraid this dashing prince has a little bit of cleaning to do. And perhaps an adventure. You never know." He leans on the doorframe, smiling.
"Well, that is correct. I in fact do not know what you'll be doing." Logan nods to himself. "Do you need any help cleaning? I doubt I'll be much help with the adventure, but I do have hands." He gestures to his hands.
Roman looks quite surprised. "Oh, thanks for the offer, specs. I think I've got it all covered though."
Logan offers a hesitant smile. "Alright then. Let me know if that changes."
Roman quickly smiles back, a faint pink dusting his cheeks, and turns back into the imagination and shutting the door. Logan stands there for a moment, but not sure why. It's clear that Roman was not feeling all that great from the balloon moment. Even Logan, terrible at deciphering emotions, can tell that much. Perhaps he needs to let off some steam.
He just can't understand Roman most of the time. They do have so many similarities, being too proud for their own good, but it's almost like they're in two separate worlds. Logan, the learner he is, wishes he could explore Roman's own. Understand it. Understand him, and his way of thinking. Even though Roman is mostly dumb, he does make good points, and Logan tries to prioritize his input, as it's usually what Thomas is hoping and dreaming for as well.
~~~
The last slide shines back at them all. A concluding statement that makes the three watching sides snicker a little bit.
"And I believe he just doesn't understand how much we all think he's great. I swear, he's just so dense! It's so aggravating! How can he not tell that he's worth everything? Why doesn't he understand that we all care for him? That I care for him? He's wonderful, for god's sake! And that I don't mean to hurt him with my critiques. I want him to thrive! I-"
Everything stops. Logan takes a moment of silence. The three sides look at him, each with different degrees of anticipation. One looks pretty much ready to pounce out of his seat.
"...Oh."
And all at once, everything gets strung back into motion. Confetti literally falls from the ceiling as Remus jumps for joy, circling a very mortified looking Logan. Janus, the tired soul, rolls his eyes and lets out a slow, long clap. Virgil just rests his head in his arms.
"I can't believe this. You sit us all down for a presentation you probably double-checked and proofread, like a nerd, and only NOW you realize you were wrong all along? Why didn't you say anything, snake-face?" Virgil complains, sitting up just to glare at him.
"Wo-ow, it isn't as if I was saying that this whole time? No, it couldn't be." Janus deadpans, sarcasm spilling from his mouth like an old, worn, broken dam.
Logan doesn't move from his stand-still spot beside the projector, but Remus manages to bounce in circles around him, cooing. "Lo-lo's got a cruuuush! A crushy crush! A crushed crust of a crush! A crevice cracking ‘cause of the crushed crust-" He was going to continue, throwing expired banana peels around to substitute rose petals, until the sound of the door opening catches everyone's attention.
"Hey losers, Patton wanted to know if you-" Lo and behold, Roman walks in, regal as ever, smiling until he takes in the sight before him. The boring classroom look, contrasted by the amount of confetti that stopped falling as soon as he walked in. Janus and Virgil, wide-eyed and looking at him, completely still. Remus, caught mid dance, frozen in place with a smile. Logan, looking at him in the way one may look milliseconds after being caught stealing government secrets. Roman's eyes flicker to each of them, before settling on the projector.
"Roman. I-I can explain-" Logan starts, but Roman is already reading the words on the screen.
"... 'In short, he saddles me with unnecessary... feelings'? 'Unease, and uncertainty'? Who... Oh my god! Logan!" Roman looks at him, smiling in disbelief and amazement. "I know what this meanssss!" Filled with giddy delight, he sidesteps the table.
Logan gulps as Roman approaches, turning beet red as Roman takes his hands in his two own. "Y-Yes?" He practically squeaks as Roman looks him right in the eyes.
"Yes! Ohhh, this is so exciting!" The three bystanders watch, once again in anticipation, as Roman swings their interlocked hands.
"Yes?" Logan offers a small, tentative smile.
"You have a crush on someoooone! Oh Logan, you should've told me!" Roman smiles, completely oblivious to the internal facepalm of several present members.
"I-I'm sorry..." Logan looks down, slightly disappointed but still too flustered to say anything.
"God save the dense." Janus mutters, inspecting his gloves fingers.
"Don't be sorry! Come, we must make plans! I shall be your matchmaker! This is going to be perfeeeect!" Roman, sings, dancing out of the room and dragging Logan along by their still intertwined hands. The other sides watch them go.
After a moment of processing, Virgil sighs. "Well, I thought that was going to be resolved. Turns out they're both as dense as... dense people." He can't seem to think of any other similes.
"Welp, I'm just happy that they're one step closer to getting. it. on. romantically." Remus punctuates every word with some rather immature hand gestures. “And that they stop dancing around each other.”
"Who do you think Roman thinks Logan has a crush on?" Virgil asks, cogs turning in his brain.
Janus lounges backwards. "Well, let's see... Soooo many options. Either he thinks it's someone outside of Thomas's head, or the simple answer..."
Remus and Virgil both look at him, both with looks of realization.
"Patton."
~~~
#logince#logince fic#logan sanders#ts logan#remus sanders#janus sanders#virgil sanders#roman sanders#ts roman#implied patton sanders#tw food#oliver writes#i also snuck an ace attorney reference#i was going to wait but i'm just very excited to post this#5 Reasons fic
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Beachouse
Beachouse
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
a/n: i like to imagine this one with like,, season 4 spence cause I think that just the right amount of innocent yet horny for this oneshot but it's up to you. Also i used a bunch of dialogue prompts from this list :) see if you can spot them!
Wordcount: 2.2k
Warnings: kinda smut!! spencer being horny, alcohol, cursing, makeout sesh with heavy petting lol
masterlist
She was trying to kill him.
As a man of logic and reasoning, Spencer had concluded the only probable reason his very attractive coworker would insist on parading around the small cabin the team had rented for the weekend in those tiny white cotton shorts was that she wanted to kill him.
Spencer had always found her attractive. He would’ve had to have been blind not to, and even if he was he still would’ve fallen for the sound of her laugh or the way she left the smell of lavender wherever she sat on the jet or how she was always first to fall asleep after long days spent working cases.
So maybe he had fallen in love with her - even if he hadn’t quite admitted it to himself yet. Love, however, was not quite what he felt as he watched Y/n walk lazily into the kitchen on that Saturday morning.
Spencer had been sitting on one of the barstools that lined the kitchen counter and sipping on a very sugary cup of coffee. He was passively listening to both the birds chirping outside the oversized cabin window and JJ’s latest story about Henry. He had felt nothing but peace, until she walked in.
She was wearing a baby blue tank top (with no bra, not that Spencer was looking of course it’s just that as she was walking in and his eyes just happened to graze over her hard nip-, nevermind.) and those white shorts. The outfit was probably perfect for sleeping in the cabin that - even now in the early hours of the morning - remained hot and humid. It was not, however, perfect for just chatting with Spencer, he already felt an uncomfortable stirring in his pants.
“Hey guys.” She smiled, voice still soft with sleep.
“Hi Y/n, you sleep well?” JJ said without missing a beat, “Lemme get you some coffee.”
JJ got out of her seat and set to work making a new cup of coffee from the keurig that sat on the counter behind her.
“Thank you Jayge, you’re my favourite.” Y/n laughed.
Spencer watched with intent as she brushed her hand through her bedhead and took her own seat at the counter across from him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/n said as she locked eyes with Spencer.
Crap, he hadn’t meant to stare. Honestly though, he couldn’t help it. So much of her body was on display and though Spencer considered himself to be a respectful man, he had dreamt of that body more times than he cared to admit and seeing it like this was driving him crazy.
“Like what?” He replied, hoping that playing dumb would get him out of this.
She eyed him suspiciously, however Spencer was saved from the incoming interrogation by JJ returning, coffee in hand.
Y/n gratefully took the cup in her hands and sipped in gently. Try as he might, Spencer couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at her over and over again as conversation between the three resumed.
Slowly the rest of the team began to wake up and wander into the kitchen. Conversation was playful and light, this vacation being exactly the break they needed from their stressful work lives. It may have only been four days, but any amount of time that they didn’t have to spend talking about all the horrible things they saw each day was time they thoroughly enjoyed.
“So I was thinking we could take a trip down to that hidden beach the airBNB people were telling us about. It would be fun to all go swimming together!” Penelope had said, big doe eyes daring someone to try telling her no.
So that's why a team of thirty to fifty somethings were all walking down a wooden boardwalk together, arms filled with floaties and towing a wagon full of snacks (wagon courtesy of JJ). Spencer just happened to look over at Y/n at the exact moment the beach came into view, and he couldn’t have been more grateful for that because getting to see the way her face lit up when she saw the lake made his day.
“There's a doc!?” She squealed, “Morgan! I’ll race you to it.”
And just like that - the two of them took off, splashing into the water and yelling playful challenges and insults at each other, Emily and Penelope close behind. Spencer just chuckled as he settled down into the sand with a pile of books beside them.
Truth be told he didn’t get much reading done. He chatted with JJ and Rossi, he binged on candy and chips, and most often, spent the day ogling Y/n. He just couldn’t understand how she managed to look so perfect even after Derek had thrown her off the floating wooden dock for what must’ve been the thirtieth time that day.
When she finally came marching up the beach, soaking wet and out of breath, Spencer wondered if there was ever a situation where she could look bad. Covered in goosebumps - though the sun was sweltering hot - she tightly wrapped a towel around herself and plopped down in the sand between JJ and Rossi.
“Hey SP!” He chuckled at her nickname for him “Can you pass that bag of chips over here please?”
The rest of the day was spent soaking in the sun. It was full of jokes and swimming and Y/n’s head on Spencer's shoulder. He watched her and JJ pass a volleyball back and forth, he saw the team smile more in one afternoon than he had in the last month. They finally decided to pack it in the sun was nothing more than a sliver on the horizon.
They walked home to the dulcet sounds of crickets and Penelope's voice retelling all the best stories of the day. Spencer's mind moved much faster than his feet did, but all thoughts were halted when he felt a cold set of fingers grab onto his hand. That was one of his favourite things about her - the fact that she loved physical touch. Of course, at first he had a strong aversion to her love of hugs, hand holding, and cuddles, but as they grew into a close knit partnership he found himself longing for a hug from her after hard cases or for her hand to hold when he's walking to the bookstore.
When the team got back to their beach house it was quiet for a moment, as everyone was worn down from all their hours in the sun, their skin kissed with its warmth even though it had set more than an hour ago. Emily, ever a shit disturber, broke the serenity the walk home had created the second she broke out the bottles of wine from the fridge.
Y/n’s had slipped out of Spencers as she and the girls got to work pouring and drinking as many glasses as they could get out of each bottle.
“Movie time!” Penelope declared, plopping herself down on the couch between Derek and Rossi.
Everyone else settled in, and Penelope flicked through Netflix - occasionally announcing a title to the group to gauge a reaction and giving her own opinions on each. She finally landed on ‘Clueless’, a film Spencer had never heard of - despite Penelope and JJ insisting it was a classic.
Everyone was tired, you could tell that without being a profiler, but the group was so set on finishing their day together that everyone sat and watched the movie with heavy eyelids. Y/n was hit by sleep like a truck, and Spencer could tell. Her head fell on Spencer's shoulder and he let his own arms rest around her. It was fine, they were best friends. Best friends can cuddle on late nights - it doesn't mean anything to either of them anyway.
Except it did. It meant everything to Spencer. When he grabbed her hand it wasn’t even really a conscious decision, he just reached out and gripped onto her - he barely even noticed that he did it.
Y/n noticed.
Her eyes shot up to meet his own.
“What was that for?” Her tone was joking but there was a realness behind the whispered question.
“I’m holding your hand because the movie is scary, alright? It’s a… Terrifying… Rom-com… ” Spencer defended.
They both looked up at the screen to see a scene of a blonde girl driving a jeep down the middle of the road and burst into laughter, gaining some looks and laughs from the other people in the room.
“I mean, you’re right. Unsafe driving practices sure are terrifying. Why do you think Hotch doesn’t let me drive anymore?”
“Because it's a hazard to everyone in the car and the berau called you ‘a hazard to the safety of yourself and your team’ when you drive?” Spencer quipped back, earning more laughter from the rest of the group.
Y/n just shook her head and laughed before dropping back down onto Spencer’s shoulder. However Spencer went the other direction, releasing his grasp on Y/n’s hand and setting it at his side instead.
“Why’d you let go of me?” She whispered into his ear.
Spencer allowed himself to let out some of what he had been feeling for as long as he had known her. He looked her dead in the eyes and and tried to communicate all of his feelings telepathically - but all he said was;
“I was scared...”
She looked at him and Spencer suddenly changed his mind about the whole telepathy thing, suddenly praying she can’t see the longing in his eyes.
“Come with me.”
So they got up, said a very rushed goodnight to their friends, and took off towards Y/n’s bedroom. When she opens the door Spencer is hit by a wall of the vanilla perfume she uses. If it was anyone else, he would have found it overwhelming, but because it was her it was more like something intoxicating.
She sat him down on the bed and took a spot beside him. Her eyes looked up and met his honey brown ones, and in hindsight Spencer swore he could pick that as the exact moment his heart rate picked up.
“So are you gonna tell me what’s been going on with you? Why you’ve been acting so strange?” She was still whispering even though the group was well out of earshot.
He didn’t respond, his head was fuzzy and he was just trying his best to put together a coherent thought.
“I’m your friend SP!” She laughed, trying again “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“Sometimes I want to makeout with you, is that a friend thing to do?”
Spencer's words hung in the air and he so badly wished he could take them back. Why would he jeopardize the relationship he had with her? For what? Some inane fantasy he had where they were together? The silence made the air crushingly heavy, and Spencer got up to leave but was stopped by her gripping his arm.
She stood up and cupped her hand on his face, and it felt like they stood there like that for an hour. Spencer so desperately wanted to close the gap between them but the paralyzing fear that he was badly misreading her gesture stopped him.
But then she did. She pushed her lips against his and Spencer immediately melted into her. Soft fingertips on his cheeks turned into hands intertwined in his curls, his own hands finding their rightful spot on her hips.
They tangled together, the room filled with the sound of their desperate breaths. In an uncharacteristic burst of confidence Spencer ran a hand under her top and rested it on the small of her back. That was all the encouragement Y/n needed to clamber into his lap, never even breaking their kiss.
“Wait-” Spencer pulled back, breathless, “What does this mean? What are we doing?”
“I love you. It took me way too long to realize it but I just want to spend all my time with you, that's how I know. I love you.” Y/n whispered into his neck, still perched gently on top of him.
Spencer laughed a little at the absurdity of this moment. Girls like Y/n don’t love guys like Spencer - he almost wouldn’t believe it if it was any other girl. But it wasn’t any other girl, he trusted Y/n with his life - he knew she meant it.
“I love you too. I always have.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss her again.
~
Click.
Spencer jolted awake to the sound of Penelope’s cell phone camera going off. He moved to rub his eyes but found that his right arm was trapped under a shirtless Y/n.
Now he understood why Penelope was taking pictures.
“I got asked to check on you two - you know, see if you were awake.” Penelope was obviously trying very hard to hold back her excitement. “However it seems like I am interrupting something. So I will leave you lovebirds to it.”
She turned and sauntered out the door, but Spencer heard her laughing to herself in the hallway and he knew that in a few minutes the whole world would know exactly what Penelope thought about the compromising position she had just found them in.
The world could wait though, Spencer decided. Y/n had stayed peacefully asleep somehow, and he could feel the heat of her bare skin all over him.
So he pulled her closer, for that one more minute of bliss. One more minute of happiness.
One more minute of Y/n.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#Criminal Minds#fanfiction#bau#bau x reader
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Job Wanted: Boyfriend
Summary: Makki is callous w/ his words. After a big fight, he knows he needs to make changes. Can he make things work before it’s too late?
Notes: Right on time for Hanamki’s birthday!! In the fic it’s his actual bday too lol!! Inspired by hcs about Hanamaki’s toxic traits that lives in my mind rent free!
January Fic List || Masterlist || Read it on Ao3
Hanamaki x reader
genre: ANGST, lovers to exes to ??, pining, tw: toxic-ish relationship (wc: 1.9 k)
“It’s not my job to be your boyfriend.” Takahiro Hanamaki mutters with his arms crossed, “Stop trying to police what I have to say!”
Your eyes widen in disbelief. You knew it was over between you two then and there.
You met Makki while working in a soba restaurant. He was charismatic, smart and efficient. Whenever you two were on the same shift, he tried to make the work fun. You both started hanging out after work—indie films in the university theatre, library study sessions, walks home after work. Makki even traded shifts just to see you more often.
All you were asking from him was to be more sensitive. Enough was enough. Sure he liked you and you liked him, but compatibility was a separate thing altogether. He knew you were touchy about comments on your art, your looks and your confidence, but he just didn’t know when to shut up.
“You’re wearing that sweater really?”
“This piece looks okay, like subpar on a good day.”
If he doesn’t want to have to be careful with his words, then you don’t want to have to be around him. You swiftly grab your things and walk out the door. When it finally sinks into him two seconds later, he stumbles onto the door apologizing. You refuse to hear any of it.
“I didn’t mean it-- ”
But fun hang outs and serious dating are two different things, and the end of your relationship proved just that.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Makki tries to apologize to you when he sees you, but nothing seems to work. Eventually he gives in and allows you both to drift apart—he stops catching you in the library and trading shifts, which was fine by you.
After a few months, Makki finds himself staring at his phone one fateful afternoon. He’s still debating whether to make the call or not. In the end, he shrugs his shoulders. There’s really nothing to lose.
When you see his name, you pick up because of your curiosity more than anything.
“To what do I owe this occasion?” you snort. You hear him repress a chuckle.
“Damn, I haven’t said anything yet and you’re hostile already.” he laughs. You threaten to put the phone down.
“Hey, on my last birthday you said that may all your wishes come true, right? Well, my next birthday is coming up and my wish is to spend the day with you.”
“I’m in Kyoto right now. You’re in Tokyo.” you point out. You are both on semestral break. Has he already forgotten that you spend your breaks with your grandmother in Kyoto?
“I’ll take the day off and I’ll come down to see you.” he holds his breath as he waits to hear your answer, “We haven’t hung out in a while.” he adds casually.
“Can’t you just spend it with someone else?” you sigh somewhat resigned, “The not hanging out part is on you. Don’t put that on me.”
You could hear him thoughtfully inhale on the phone before he replies, “No, I want to spend it with you. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see Kyoto.”
“I’m ending the call now.” you roll your eyes, unnerved by the whole conversation. The audacity of this man!
“I promise I won’t do anything or say anything dumb!” you hear him yell over the phone as you get ready to end the conversation.
“Sure.” You click the end call button.
———————————————————————
On his birthday, you do go out with him. You find yourself waiting at the Kyoto Central Station, wading through the crowds to find his light brown head searching intently for you. He smiles when he sees you. You feel a mixture of sadness and nerves. You’d never thought he’d be so callous with you when he first smiled at you like this.
If anything, today is little more than a break from work. You’re also determined to be so quiet to the point of cold to make the experience so awkward he’ll never want to come to you again.
“I really want to change.” is the first thing he says to you over doughnuts and coffee.
Makki can easily tell that you are still not back to your old self. Despite the strong smell of brewed coffee that pervades the Kyoto Central Station, you sit quietly on your seat distractedly eating a sandwich.
You almost pretend to not hear him. Instead you turn to him with a blank expression in your face and look away.
“I’m serious. I know I have a problem. You’re not the first person to leave me for the things I’ve said.” he adds.
“I’m sure the next person you date will appreciate that.” you mumble diplomatically.
“Don’t give up on me.” you hear his voice pleading, his eyes sincere and not their usual sleepy nonchalance.
You put down the donut and cross your arms, “I don’t owe you a second chance. You know that, right?”
“I’m really sorry—“
“Makki, I hate so many things about myself. I don’t need you to taunt or repeat them to me. You’re an above average friend at best, but you’re a terrible person to date. I can’t even call you my boyfriend because you you said it wasn’t your ‘job.’” you sigh deeply with your hand on your forehead, “Can you see why I’m not enthusiastic about you?”
Announcements left and right and the ceaseless shuffling of the busy station fill the voids of your conversation.
“So why spend the day with me?” he pauses, eyes wide with curiosity looking straight into yours.
“To prove a point to you. Even when you’ve made the effort to come down here, you’re finding it difficult to watch what you say. Do you find that sustainable?” you tilt your head inquiringly.
He nods, less confident than usual “I want it to be sustainable.” There was some uncertainty in his eyes.
“I can already see it, Makki. Two weeks of this and you’ll be ready to blow your top because you’ll be tired from having to be on edge all the time.”
“I’ve got to start somewhere, right? It’s a change of mindset I’m realizing, but it’s not impossible. I’ve been trying to be more careful and it’s been easier. I’m just a little tense because I’m around you today.” he says quietly, “I’m really trying. I promise.”
“Feels nice to be the one that’s not tense,” you let slip a smirk.
———————————————————————————————
At the end of the day, you’re back at the train station with Makki beside you. You’ve taken him to see the Golden Pavilion and its surrounding touristy streets. You stop by a bookstore and a shop for sweets. You buy a book, he buys mochi. Despite your coldness, Makki was intent on catching up with you. He wants to know what you’ve been up to, what movies you’ve been catching, what your grandmother’s inn is like. It’s difficult not to warm up to him.
“Can I kiss you goodbye?” he abruptly asks before heading to his platform. You’ve made your way back down to the center of the train station where all the schedule is displayed.
The first time Makki held your hand was in a train station in Tokyo. You were on your way back from a concert when he slipped his hand into yours in the busy platforms. You don’t pull away, instead you hold on tight. You remember pressing your head against his chest on the ride home, his chin resting on the top of your head. Neither of you said much. The companionship was more than enough. That moment seems so long ago.
“No.” you swiftly reply.
“Not even a forehead kiss?”
You firmly shook your head. You half expect him to insist and push, to say something about you being a prude and playing hard to get, but instead he just nods.
“Can I hold your hands? I want to hold you before I go.” Makki doesn’t murmur nor is he reticient. He speaks in his regular tone, extending his hands to meet your midway.
You hesitate at first then grudgingly agree. You reach out to hold him, your fingers lingering on each other’s barely interlaced.
“Let me know when you’re coming back to Tokyo. I can meet you at the train station and help you with your luggage.” he waves before turning his back. You watch him get lost in the crowd of the station.
After Makki leaves, you head back to the inn to help with the dinner service which is more crowded than usual. Your Obasan is grateful that you made it back.
Towards the end of dinner service, your phone rings incessantly. You curse and head outside of the kitchen to quickly answer the call. Of course, it’s from Hanamaki.
“You could’ve just texted.”
“I miss you already. I just wanted to hear your voice.” he says. His usual flirtatious tone is absent.
“Now that you’ve heard it, can you put it down? I need to go. Obasan needs my help.” you whisper hurriedly, “Now is a terrible time to call.”
“If you want to stop talking, you don’t need to drag your grandma into this.”
“I’m serious, she needs help washing the dishes. You can call later when we’re done with tonight’s service.” you chastise him, “We’re a little short staffed in the kitchen. You should know what it’s like.”
You rush back in to help wash the dishes as your Obasan brings more dirty trays of dishes. Momentarily you put Makki out of your mind. But when the inn becomes quiet again, you pull out your phone and stare at it.
Do you make the call again? After ten minutes of indecision, you give in and make the call.
Makki sounds slightly surprised on the other end of the line, “Done with dinner service?” He probably expected you to not follow through.
“Yeah, done for today.”
He clears his throat, “I slipped something into the book you bought. Did you see it yet?”
You put the phone down to reach for your bag. A thin white envelope is sandwiched between the first page and the cover. You open it up. He hears you unfolding the letter.
“Care to explain?” you ask with an eyebrow raised as you read through the lines. Hanamaki Takahiro sent you a resume…?
“It’s my application—“
“We don’t need another dishwasher here. Besides, you live too far away.” you cut him off.
“To date you.” he finishes. You’re too stunned to reply. You feel your heart skip a beat as you fumble at your phone.
“Don’t pass your judgement just yet.” he adds, “I know I have a lot to prove. I want it to be my job to love you and make you happy. Just know that.”
“...I’m not sure I want to give you a second chance.” you whisper, your voice inevitably cracking. You clutch the envelope a little too tightly, accidentally crumpling it.
Makki pauses before answering, “That’s up to you, but I-I’ll be here in case you do. Anyways, thanks for spending the day with me. I missed you a lot and I’d like to come back someday…if you can let me come over.”
You listen to him breathe in the other end of the line. You imagine him twiddling with a pen with one hand and his phone on the other.
“Goodnight, Makki.” you nod. You missed him too and you want him to come back. You don’t say yes or no, nor will you make promises. For now you let things hang in the balance.
------------------------------------------------
If you liked my style of ansgt, you can check out another hq ansgt about Daichi here.
Taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan @kaizumi @holaaaf @glxar @francxsca
If you wanna be added, DM or comment!! Don’t be shyyyy
#hanamaki takahiro#hanamaki#hanamaki x you#hq hanamaki#hanamaki takahiro x you#hanamaki takahiro x reader#hanamaki angst#hanamaki x reader#hanamaki x y/n#seijoh x reader#seijoh x you#hq fics#hq x y/n#hq imagines#hq x self insert#hq x you#haikyuu angst#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x reader#hq angst
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ghouls just wanna have fun (A Creature Feature Story)
A Taeil fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!
Summary: After your date ends up being a dud, you stumbled upon an unusual movie theater and its most appealing visitor, Moon Taeil.
Pairing: Ghost! Taeil x female reader
Genre: romance, angst, pinch of smut, drama, fantasy, horror
Word Count: 7k
Warnings: gore mention, death mention, smut: masturbation mention
(A/N: Hi! Special shoutout to the Creature Feature readers. I love you...It’s almost one year to the day that I posted Part 1 (I know: where the hell is the rest of it?). Rest assured, the series will continue in November. This Halloween series has gotten me out of my funk. I hope you enjoy this story. And to newcomers, welcome! This story can be read alone, if you'd like, but I think you’d enjoy this more if you read my Creature Feature updates! Anyways: SHOUTOUT TO MY BEST FRIEND AND PARTNER IN CRIME/WRITING KRYS. SHE CREATED ANOTHER SPECTACULAR MOODBOARD FOR ME. SHE’S MADE SEVERAL FOR ME. AND I AM SO SPOILED. HER BRILLIANT BRAIN AND VISION DESERVE ALL OF THE LOVE. SEND IT HER WAY. We hope you enjoy this installment and our upcoming posts! Thank you for all of the love in our stories so far!
___
“Jaebum, I’m not going. Let me off here,” you demanded.
Well, tonight was just fantastic. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Your date that your friends set you up with ended up being a bust. He wanted to take you to a house party so he can get high and you could be his side piece for the night. Your friends were all in committed relationships and they thought you were bummed because you felt single and bitter.
No, you were just bummed at the fact that your friends had blown you off too many times for their significant others. That was the actual problem.
But they were doing better with you, you had to admit. They spent more time with you as their honeymoon stages with their significant others had finally dwindled. The set-up was supposed to be for fun.
They even thought that this date could open doors for you.
Doors to what? Well, it ended up being to the stench of weed in the back of Jaebum’s old Sonata.
Jaebum’s car, which included his two stoner friends Jinyoung and Yugyeom, came to a halt at a red light near a plaza.
“You want to leave, y/n? Then here’s your stop,” Jaebum said.
You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Jaebum shrugged. “Take it or leave it. I got places to go.” His friends muttered over how uncool you were. The least this jerk could’ve done was take you back home.
You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Go to hell.”
The car sped off as you stood near the plaza entrance. It was getting colder as midnight approached. So you decided to wait outside of an abandoned Spirit Halloween store so your Uber could pick you up from there. You walked towards the plaza and suddenly…
Bright lights appeared before you that you quickly shut your eyes. You blinked them open, wondering what just transpired when you realized...
There was an active movie theater there, with a giant sign surrounded by bright light bulbs. It read “Sinema”.
What the hell, you thought.
You walked closer and closer and saw people coming in and out of the theater. And then...oh, wow, you really had lost your mind. Little human-like creatures of different colors were flying around the entrance...They were fairies! Their pixie fairy dust landed on your shoulders. You picked off the dust that had fallen on the shoulder of your dress. The texture reminded you of Cheeto dust. It was hard to get off. You were certain your black dress was permanently stained.
Then, a man walked past you and transformed into a large purple dragon before your very eyes. He blew out fire within a few feet from you, you yelped. He set off for the sky and vanished. After, another group of men walked past you, flashing their vampire teeth as they laughed about something. They were all stunning but the one with wavy electric blue hair was the real showstopper. You couldn’t think that too long as people that looked bright and transparent walked towards you.
You thought they were going to bump into you so you said. “Hello? Watch where you’re going!”
But they walked right through you and kept going. Seemed like they got that kind of comment a lot.
You blinked a few times. Did that just happen? Were those...ghosts?
A young woman in her red and navy blue uniform appeared before you. She smiled. “Welcome to Sinema, the premier theater for the supernatural! My name is Haseul. You look like you have a lot of questions. Is this your first time here?”
“I...I…” You started. “Is this really happening?”
She laughed. “Yes...All supernatural creatures and their approved companions are welcome here!”
You frowned. “There must be some mistake. I’m not a supernatural creature.”
Haseul pulled out her phone. “Your name?”
“Uh...y/n y/l/n…” You said. “Wait, why did I say that?” You answered her without even thinking. It was like she compelled you to do what she asked.
She winked. “It’s a special little skill of mine. It’s a part of the job.” She scrolled through an app on her phone. “Well, you’re not a part of the approved human companions list so...You have to be supernatural!”
You gaped. “That’s funny…This is a joke, right? Some kind of Halloween event? Well, you’re a few months too late…”
Haseul shook her head. “Oh, no, this is no reenactment. This is the real deal. Allow me to escort you inside.”
You weren’t sure if that was a good idea but you were curious. You followed her inside.
The movie theater was elegant and modern. The latest video games were available at the arcade. The concession stand was huge. It had to be with the number of creatures that were lined up for snacks. The theater was three stories high. Posters for the latest movies were up. The music that played overhead consisted of songs from the 70s, 80s, and more. Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” was playing. Sinema seemed like any regular theater.
Well, except for the supernatural creatures, of course.
“What is this place?” You asked Haseul. “This can’t be real...I’ve been drugged. Jaebum got something in my system and I’m hallucinating. That has to be it.”
Haseul gave you a confused look. “This place is very real, y/n. I know it might be a hard pill to swallow but you belong here. To the supernatural world. A part of you is connected to this world. I’m not sure why it took you so long to discover that but...you’re here now.”
Haseul’s phone rang and she answered. “Yeah, boss?...Okay, I’ll stop calling you that...Oh? I see. Well, have fun with your boyfriend…” She teased. She hung up and she continued, “Well, y/n, I must be going but if you need anything, you can reach out to anyone who is wearing this uniform.” She showed off her uniform. She looked like a very casual flight attendant. The navy blue skirt was very flattering on her. Her white blouse had a red tie over it. Her name tag had her name written in her own elegant cursive.
“W-wait…” You started.
Haseul gave you a reassuring smile. “You can stay or leave, y/n. No one is keeping you here. But know that you’re always welcome here at Sinema. We hope to see you again.” She walked off to resume working, you thought.
You stood there, confused over what to do. Going to the movies hadn’t been in the cards for you tonight. Much less finding out that the supernatural existed in the same world you did.
Unless this was a parallel world, which just made your head spin even more.
Deciding to stay, you went back out to the main entrance to buy tickets. You heard growls among the chatter of people that stood in line before you. All kinds of creatures stood in front of you: werewolves, selkies, fairies, kitsunes, and more. You felt like the only outsider. For everyone else seemed to know their place…
According to Haseul, the only reason you could access this place was because you were a supernatural creature. And that...that just couldn’t be true. Sure you were adopted but you never displayed any kind of power or ability that would indicate you were a creature.
It was impossible, you thought. A striking young man with long silver hair stood behind you and you could feel his eyes on the back of your head. He was tall and muscular. You wondered what kind of creature he was or if he was actually a companion like Haseul described. You turned to him and his stare never wavered.
“Can I help you?” You asked.
He blinked a few times to snap out of it. “I’m sorry...I zoned out…” He tipped an imaginary hat. “It’s your turn.”
“Miss?” The employee at the ticket stand asked. Like the young man behind you, she seemed human. However, the red tint in her eyes told you otherwise. You wondered what she could be.
“Oh, uh... A ticket to ‘Spider-Man: The New Kid’, please,” you said.
“That’ll be 12.50,” the employee replied.
Even if this was a movie theater for the supernatural, they certainly charged like a regular theater did. You paid the employee and got your ticket. The ticket stub was actually very beautiful. It was holographic so you could collect these stubs like trading cards, if you wanted.
You hung around too long so the silver-haired boy approached you.
He smiled at you. “Hello.”
You smiled, a little uneasy. “Hi…”
“First time at Sinema?” He asked. The man was stunning with his high cheekbones and dangerous dark eyes. A devil-may-care smile that must have won over a few women.
You nodded. “Is it that obvious?”
“The look of horror on your face hasn’t faded,” he said, chuckling.
You sighed. “Yeah...Well, I’m still pretty stunned.”
He said, “Well, you’ll get used to it eventually. Something about you makes you belong to this world, right? Do you know what it is?” His eyes widened.
It was almost as if he knew the answer. But if you didn’t know, how could he?
You sighed. “I couldn’t tell you. Maybe I’m just a fluke.”
“Oh, I have to disagree…” He started.
A ghost materialized right beside you. He stood closer to you and stared down the silver-haired man. Even if he was a ghost, he was the most alluring man you’d ever seen. Although translucent, his features were striking and not to be ignored. His undercut that accentuated his face so well was bright red, like rubies. His ears were decorated with crescent moon studs. He wore a navy button down and black slacks, like he was dressed for a hot date. His tan skin cast an ethereal glow. “Yuta, give the girl some air. She just discovered she’s not human.”
The silver-haired man named Yuta sighed. “Do you ever stay out of people’s business?”
The ghost rolled his eyes. “Do you?”
You averted your eyes from them and looked at the concessions menu. Hmmm, the Sour Patch Bats looked promising, you thought. You started, “I’m gonna go.”
Yuta was about to call your name again but the ghost boy raised his hand to stop him. “You’re already messing around here too much. Leave her alone.”
Yuta rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to listen to you. I’m the alpha.”
The ghost boy made faces as he imitated Yuta’s voice. “I’m the alpha. I eat the hearts of my enemies for breakfast. I’m Yuta.”
Yuta growled and it was so animalistic that you wondered if he was going to transform into the creature he most likely was. Your money was on him being a werewolf.
Yuta stormed off and returned to his posse of gorgeous and muscular people. They all watched you and you wondered what was so fascinating about you.
The ghost boy followed you as you got in line for concessions. “What’s your name?”
“Y/n...Yours?” You looked into his soulful eyes.
He smiled. “I’m Taeil. The eyes and ears of Sinema. And you’re new.”
“Yup...And I have no idea who I am or what the world is anymore…Well, it’s time for a snack.”
Taeil chuckled. “The Sour Patch bats are really popular but they sell out fast.”
An employee at the concession stand announced over the intercom. “Sorry, folks. The Sour Patch Bats are sold out.”
Everyone groaned and moaned and growled and wailed. Even you couldn’t help the tiny huff of disappointment that escaped your lips.
Taeil sighed. “Well, lucky for you y/n. I’m friends with the manager of this joint.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, are you?”
He smirked. “I know where she keeps her secret stash of Sour Patch Bats. Now she normally hides those away for her boyfriend but I’m sure she won’t miss one bag…”
Taeil led you upstairs to the manager’s office.
You frowned. “Are you sure we can be here?”
Taeil winked. “Nope. But she owes me.”
Taeil moved himself through the front door and unlocked the door from the inside. You entered the office and found a bouquet of flowers on the manager’s desk.
“How did you touch…”
He cleared his throat like he’d debated what he was going to say. “With most of my strength, y/n...Anything to impress the prettiest girl to set foot in Sinema.”
Although your concept of ghosts was completely debunked (ghosts could indeed touch inanimate objects), your face warmed up at that comment. You tried changing the subject. “Taeil, maybe this is a bad idea…”
He shook his head as he stuck his hand through the manager’s desk drawer and rummaged around before he grabbed a bag of the popular candy. He threw it over to you. You caught it.
You opened the bag and ate the bat-shaped sour gummies of lime, orange, lemon, and cherry. They were the best candy you’d ever tasted and until tonight, you’d been deprived of their existence.
Your eyes grew. “These are...Oh my God.”
Taeil smiled knowingly. “I knew you’d like them. See, the supernatural world isn’t so bad, is it?”
You were touched. He was being so kind and attentive. So quickly, too. “No, I guess not…”
His beautiful lips curved upwards as he watched you enjoy the candy.
“What movie are you going to see?” He asked.
“Well, Taeil, I thought you were the eyes and ears of this place. You should know,” you teased.
He laughed. “Well, I don’t. Is it an oldie? Sinema plays throwback movies every week to appease the masses.”
You shook your head. “I’m watching the new Spider-Man. The new actor they picked is supposed to be above all of his predecessors so I’m excited.”
Taeil asked. “Can I join you?”
You pretended to deliberate. “Well, you have supplied me with sustenance so how could I say no?”
Taeil usually kept to himself, occasionally confiding in his best friend. He really was the eyes and ears of the theater. He knew of all the romantic entanglements that transpired. The current feuds between species. And more.
Typically, he was stuck facing his demons and never quite got past the last thing he needed to overcome in order to ascend to heaven.
He’d sought justice so what was holding him back?
And at the sight of you, he felt an ease in his heart that he hadn’t felt since he was alive.
___
Your first night at Sinema was the first of many where you and Taeil bonded and enjoyed each other’s company. You went to the theater every weekend and met up with him. You’d see a movie together and talk about it for hours on end. He’d even sometimes accompany you back to your dorm. And even if you could see him...no one else in the human realm could. So you would have to pretend you were on the phone when you talked to Taeil. Even as he sat closely beside you. Longing to hold your hand.
You wondered just how many creatures hid from you in plain sight. Some of them could masquerade as humans and you’d never know it. That terrified and excited you.
You loved Taeil’s sense of humor, how he showered you with free movie tickets and concessions (courtesy of his best friend’s connections), his wit, his smile, the goofy, fascinated look he gave you when you spoke.
You always wanted to push back his hair and slap his arm when he teased you. And you wondered what those soft red lips would feel like on yours.
But you couldn’t.
The most wonderful person you’d ever met.
And he was an apparition.
As for Taeil, well, he loved everything about you. Your mind. Your curiosity of the world. Your inability to shut away the unknown completely. The way you adapted to Sinema so quickly. The way you looked at him.
He was convinced that you also wanted to kiss him.
It killed you both, honestly.
You told him you were in your senior year of college. You were getting a degree as a nutritionist but you felt unsure about what you would pursue after college. You felt like nothing got your heart racing. You were just going through the motions, making your parents proud. They’d given so much to you so you didn’t want to disappoint them. So you figured getting a steady paying job was a step in the right direction and maybe one day you’d figure out your passion...and how to capitalize off of it.
Taeil could tell you were frustrated and lost and he wished you didn’t feel so down. He saw the light in your eyes. You had a whole future ahead of you. You would find your dream job someday, meet a man, settle down, have his children, and grow old together.
And him? Well, maybe at that point, he would finally have moved on.
Before meeting you, he was fixated on getting even with the man who murdered him and the woman who betrayed him and got the ball rolling.
He told you all about it...Originally, he didn’t want to because the details were too gruesome. But you’d been honest with him so it was the least he could do for you. He told you about his life in the west coast town of Luna, where he aspired to be a producer and songwriter. And he told you about how his life came to an abrupt end.
Taeil’s killer had been none other than Jung Jaehyun, the man whom his girlfriend had cheated on him with. Jaehyun was a member of one of Luna’s most notorious gangs and he detested Taeil. Taeil’s girlfriend, Lexa, didn’t know how to break up with Taeil so she could be with Jaehyun. She was frustrated because Taeil was so sweet and giving. He was so good to her that Lexa chickened out and never broke up with him. She was getting frustrated and Jaehyun was getting even angrier.
One of the nights that Lexa spent with Jaehyun, she let it slip that she wished there was a way she could get rid of Taeil. And Jaehyun was more than happy to oblige.
Jaehyun and his men cornered Taeil one night. He thought he was meeting Lexa for their 300 day anniversary. He got a text from her phone saying to meet her on the rooftop of the Nectarine Hotel because she had a surprise for him.
However, she was nowhere to be seen. Jaehyun took Taeil by surprise and pushed him off of the twenty story luxury hotel.
Jaehyun’s men lingered downstairs and made sure there were no witnesses on the scene. All evidence of Taeil’s death had been covered up. Taeil’s family and friends reported Taeil as a missing person. Lexa had also disappeared off of the face of the Earth. And many wondered if she and Taeil had disappeared to start anew.
That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Jaehyun, Lexa, and his men disposed of Taeil’s body off underneath an overpass. They’d buried his body and washed their cleans of him.
Taeil always thought about whether or not an afterlife existed. When he hit the ground from his fall, everything went black. The roaring pain all over his body that hit him for one moment...Quickly vanished at the next.
Taeil opened his eyes again and instead of seeing Downtown Luna...Only white surrounded him. Surrounded by golden specks.
An angel appeared before him with stunning peach-colored wings. The angel shined so brightly that Taeil couldn’t make out their face. They spoke softly… “Moon Taeil...Born June 14, 1994...Died October 22, 2018.”
Taeil sobbed then. “Please, is there any way you can save me?”
The angel sighed. “My poor child...You’ve been wronged. I want to give you the opportunity to seek justice...And once you have seeked justice and found peace, you can ascend into Heaven and join us. Our Heavenly Father awaits you.”
Before Taeil could respond, he became a ghost. He manifested into another town he couldn’t recognize. It was the city of Mystic. Jaehyun lived a life of luxury and terrorized the new city with his gang. And who reigned right beside him in a God-awful bubblegum pink wig?
The woman he’d loved and planned to propose to: Lexa.
Lexa played around with the buttons on Jaehyun’s designed shirt as she quietly thanked him for killing Taeil. And Jaehyun murmured back a thank you for giving him the idea and for suggesting a good hiding place for his remains.
Taeil felt sick to his stomach. The love he felt for Lexa had quickly shifted into hatred. And Taeil wanted revenge. He wanted to take them both down. But how, he wondered.
It took him a few more months to figure out how exactly he could enact revenge on them. Haunting them for a few weeks was a thrill but he wanted Jaehyun behind bars. And Lexa? Well, Taeil just wanted her to drown in guilt.
And then, Taeil found Sinema, a supernatural hub in the seemingly typical town of Mystic. Taeil struck a deal with the vampires to help them dig up his body. They in turn compelled the police to find his remains and track down Jaehyun.
Taeil owed the vampires a few months of haunting humans who had deceived them when they were once humans. So both parties were happy.
Taeil decided to spare Lexa from prison. Instead, her family, her friends, and everyone from Luna shunned her for having a hand in Taeil’s murder. Although she was never charged, she was as good as guilty as Jaehyun and his men.
Lexa remained in Mystic in a run-down apartment, barely making ends meet. The luxuries she was able to afford before, because of Taeil and then because of Jaehyun, were no longer accessible to her so she lived a life full of resentment.
But Taeil visited her many nights to remind her that more than anything, she should’ve felt guilt and remorse for what she’d done to him.
How she convinced him that he’d found happiness in her. How she made him out to be a fool. And how she discarded him like a piece of trash.
Lexa’s mind slowly unraveled over time and the guilt slowly consumed her each time.
Taeil ate it all up. This felt like justice and he didn’t want to ascend just yet. He wanted Lexa to get on her knees and pray to God for forgiveness for what she’d done to Taeil.
But that day hadn’t come. So Taeil frequented her apartment at night...Having Lexa think she dreamed of him as she slept.
One late Saturday night...going into Sunday morning, Taeil waited with you at the bench for your Uber to arrive to take you back to your dorm. Sometimes he accompanied you to the dorm and talked to you. You’d have to pretend you were on the phone so your Uber driver didn’t think you were talking to an imaginary friend.
Tonight, though, he wouldn’t be taking you home.
You asked, “Are you going to see her now?”
Taeil froze. “What?”
You wondered aloud, “Lexa...Do you haunt her on the weekends too?”
“Not recently, actually...I’ve been seeing her less.”
You smiled. “Taeil, that’s great. It means you’re getting over her.”
Taeil glared. “I don’t need to get over her. I despise her.”
Your smile vanished. “I know that. It’s just-”
He shot back, “Just what?”
You looked down at your hands and played with your fingers. “It’s just...You’ve sought justice...Jaehyun is rotting in a jail cell...Lexa is guilty over what she’s done...And...I hate to say this...But I think if you stop going to see her...There’s a chance you can finally ascend.”
He looked taken aback at your words. “I can ascend whenever I want.”
You lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”
Taeil looked even more annoyed as he sneered. “Absolutely. Excuse me for wanting to spend a little more time with you before I leave forever.”
His words infuriated you. “Taeil, you...I’m not the reason you want to stay...You’re hung up on your ex. Even if it’s not in the romantic sense...You’re fixated on terrorizing her until what? She begs for forgiveness?”
“And what the hell is wrong with that?”
“Taeil, you’re meant to find peace. You have to let her go.”
“Well, y/n, thank you for your opinion. I never asked for it but it’s certainly never stopped you...Have a safe trip back to your dorm.”
“Fine! Manifest yourself back to me when you get a grip.” You crossed your arms around your chest in anger. He was unbelievable. You were right. He just wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t give up on seeing that...that wretched bitch.
Why did you let this piss you off so much and why were you overstepping...You had no right…
Perhaps it was because you’d fallen for Taeil and seeing him jeopardize his fate over this woman infuriated you like nothing else had.
The full moon was out that night and you couldn’t help but yell in fury at the sky.
Someone crept up behind you and with his claws, he scratched deeply into your collarbone. “Hey, what the fuck?!”
You turned around to find a werewolf before you. It was a literal wolf on two legs. His muscles protruded like that of a man’s but they were so large...You knew he could easily snap your neck with a quick movement of his hands. His tawny coat shined in the moonlight. His brown eyes watched you, expectantly.
You were about to get on your knees and beg for mercy.
You saw a group of people lingering beside the werewolf. You remembered them. They were a part of Yuta’s pack.
“Yuta?” You finally connected the dots and realized the wolf who scratched you was Yuta. You hadn’t seen him since that first time.
He had been a werewolf, after all. But why had he transformed? Why was he here? Why had he done this to you?
You winced slightly at the scrapes and monitored them as they quickly vanished. You couldn’t believe your eyes.
Yuta’s fur vanished as he transformed back into his human self. He was shirtless but his pair of jeans remained on. “Y/n, I wanted to confirm something…”
You frowned. “What?”
“The scratch of the alpha is borderline lethal to any outsider of the pack...So any pack member or...descendant of that pack member can heal from his bite…”
You laughed nervously, confused. You wanted to get the hell out of here. Where the bloody hell was your Uber? “Uh...That’s interesting, I guess.”
“Can’t you see, y/n? I’m the alpha of the Nakamoto clan. You’ve healed from my scratches...Which means…”
You demanded, “What does it mean?”
“It means you are a descendant of this clan, y/n…”
You shook your head. “No...That’s...Impossible. I’m not a werewolf…”
“You were adopted at five months, y/n...Your parents perished in a war against the vampires...Your parents led normal lives as humans for as long as they could...Much to the disappointment of my father.”
“Yuta, you don’t know what you’re saying…”
“I do, y/n. The pack and I have uncovered everything about you and your family history. You’re a werewolf. An unawakened one.”
“No…”
“Explain how your bite healed. The only way you could enter Sinema of your own accord is if you possessed supernatural blood. And werewolf blood is as supernatural as it gets.”
“Yuta, please, you’ve got the wrong person...I don’t know why you bit me and why it healed. Maybe it’s some magic trick you pulled off to please your pack...I’ve had a shitty night so if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home,” you said, checking your phone for the arrival of your Uber. It was arriving.
“Y/n!”
The Uber pulled up and you turned to him. “Just leave me alone.”
___
You visited your parents the next day. You asked them about where they’d adopted you from. They’d always been very mum about the details.
“Someone told me something crazy the other day,” you said to them as the three of you shared dinner with your adopted younger siblings.
Your parents both looked at each other, concerned.
“He said my biological parents were werewolves!” You laughed in disbelief. “How crazy is that?”
Your parents eyed each other again.
Your mom started, “Who is this man?”
“Mom, I believe the proper response is ‘That man is crazy. Where did he get that kind of story?’”
You knew your parents were hiding something and you wanted to hear the truth from them.
Your father scratched his neck as he took off his glasses. Your younger siblings all eyed each other uncomfortably.
“Why aren’t you guys saying anything?” You asked.
Your dad said, “Y/n...We hoped for you to never find out.”
You shook your head in disbelief. “Dad, you’re scaring me...Find out what?”
Your parents went on to tell you about the incidents you had when you turned eleven. After you’d had your first period, you began to experience terrible mood swings and throw tantrums left and right around the time the full moon occurred. And when you turned thirteen and the first full moon following your birthday occurred…
You’d attacked a neighbor who was walking their dog.
You’d grown teeth and hair all over your body that night. You’d become a wolf, according to your parents.
Once the night had ended, you’d transformed into a human again and fallen asleep.
Your neighbors never knew that it had been you. Your parents helped your attacked neighbor get to a hospital and they reported an animal attack in the neighborhood. Your neighbor couldn’t remember anything.
But her dog never forgot and hated you.
Your parents got a hold of the adoption agency and they had no information on your birth parents besides their names. Your parents then got in touch with a psychic, who referred them to a witch. They took you to the witch and she told them you were an unawakened werewolf. You were a fledgling. Unless you received the bite of an alpha werewolf and acquired your position in the pack, you were susceptible to these monthly full moon transformations and since you hadn’t been awakened, it would be even worse and dangerous for those around you. So the witch concocted a potion that would suppress your fledgling urges but it was critical that you consumed it each month.
Which explained why your parents were always so adamant for you to come home every month for dinner. They put the potion in your dinner. So you were able to suppress your urges up until this point.
Could this be the reason why you felt so unfulfilled? Because you never explored your true nature? Your parents never gave you the choice to control it.
Your parents had good intentions but you had the option to meet the pack all of these years...And you never knew.
You’d always felt like a part of you had been missing and your trip to Sinema had done the trick to lead you to the truth.
___
Back in your dorm and without having ingested the potion your parents had given, you’d only had a few days until the full moon. You were resolved to speak to Yuta.
You’d gotten out of the shower, letting out a shaky breath from all of the bundled up nerves you carried. You were shocked to find Taeil standing in your common room that you shared with your roommates. They were all away for the day.
“Taeil!” You started as you covered your towel more tightly around you.
“I heard,” Taeil started, worry etched all over his face, “If I could kill Yuta, I would…”
“Taeil, I’m going to him,” you started.
“What?” He asked.
“I’m going to be awakened by him.”
He looked at you in disbelief. “Y/n, what are you-”
“I’m an unawakened werewolf, Taeil. My biological parents were werewolves and if I don’t receive the official bite of the alpha, I’m going to suffer by the influence of the full moon.”
“Y/n, the full moon is in two weeks!”
“I know…” You said.
Taeil sighed. “Y/n, you have a chance to be away from the supernatural world. To avoid the dangers of these creatures. I know humans are terrible, deceitful, and cruel...But the supernatural doesn’t fare better. You didn’t grow up in this world. It could consume you and spit you right back out…”
You were resolved, though. You longed to explore more of the world and to embrace the part of you that had always been neglected. “Taeil, I’ve made my decision. My family has respected it. And I hope you will, too.”
A tear escaped Taeil’s eye. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t left you alone…”
You shook your head as you wished to embrace him. “Taeil, this isn’t on you. This opened my eyes. My path is more defined now...Who knows what awaits me once I awaken? That’s for me to find out.”
Taeil extended his hand out and pretended to caress your face. “There’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind, is there?”
“No,” you said, as you leaned closer to his transparent hand.
He smiled weakly. “Y/n, I’ve thought a lot about it and you were right...I’ve given up on visiting Lexa.”
You opened your mouth wide. “Really?”
Taeil avoided your stare as he stared at the potted plant by the window. “I...wanted to stay longer but...we’re both meant to part ways...And I’m not happy...Terrorizing Lexa hasn’t given me any sense of fulfillment. Temporary pleasure? Yes...But I long to find that peace.”
You cried. “Taeil, I’m so happy to hear that. And you will find that peace, I promise you.”
“In the meantime, I’ll be by your side as you head into your next chapter.”
You smiled at him and didn’t realize your towel slipped to the floor.
“Y/n…” Taeil coughed as he quickly turned red and turned around.
“What?” You frowned.
Without looking at you, he pointed to the towel on the floor.
“Shit!” You exclaimed. But then, you watched Taeil...He was blushing…
“Did it hurt that much to look at my body, Taeil?” You asked, quietly.
“What?” He asked, confused.
“It’s okay...You can look…”
Taeil turned and was shocked to see you still unclothed.
You gave him a flirty smile. “I know we can’t touch...But it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, right?”
You got onto your bed and slowly began to tease your clit and Taeil’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. He adored every inch of you as he scanned your body and worked his hardest to commit it all to memory.
You could see his member grow in his pants. He immediately gripped his gorgeous length and pleasured himself alongside you.
“I wish I could feel your heavenly cock on my clit…” You told him.
He grunted. “Heaven can wait...This is real paradise...Here with you.”
You muttered sweet nothings to each other and imagined that you made love to each other that day.
___
You and Taeil were more inseparable than before. Because you knew your days together were numbered.
The full moon arrived and Yuta had agreed that this was the ideal time for your initiation into his pack. You would be able to absorb the moon’s power as you transformed from Yuta’s bite.
Yuta invited you to his mansion in the woods not too far outside of town. His pack members were present and they’d arranged a massive bonfire at the center in honor of your awakening.
Taeil was right beside you, much to the chagrin of the rest of the pack members. But what could they do? Drag him out? When they couldn’t even lay a finger on him?
Yuta was dressed in his best tuxedo as he recited the pack’s code of conduct to you and welcomed you into their pack. He transformed into his wolf form and at the brightest the full moon had been, you’d taken on your fledgling form. You howled at the moon and became rabid. Yuta knew what he had to do.
Taeil watched you in concern but Yuta had sworn to protect you. For you would be one of his family soon enough. So Taeil had no choice but to trust him.
Yuta bit into your collarbone and your eyes shifted from their usual color and into a bright amber. You felt yourself regain consciousness and became aware of where you were.
“Y/n, do you know who I am?” Yuta asked.
You nodded.
Yuta continued, “Good. You are now a fully awakened werewolf. Harness your abilities with honor and know that you have a family in the Nakamoto clan forever.”
“Hear hear!” The pack members yelled out.
You’d reverted back into your human form through your own accord. You were shocked at how quickly you could turn back.
You ran over to Taeil and he beamed at you. “How do you feel?”
“I feel...whole...Fulfilled...I have no idea what will happen next but it’s a new kind of uncertainty...And I like it.”
Taeil said, “I’m glad, y/n…”
He started to pixelate before you and his voice began to fade.
Your smile faded. “Taeil?”
“I think God wanted me to stick around for this momentous occasion...Before he summoned me…”
You couldn’t help the tears that escaped you. “Taeil, I love you.”
He cried with you. “I love you, too. I will see you up there...Soon. I’d better be the first person you look up when you ascend, you hear me?”
You wrapped your arms around him and to your shock. To everyone’s shock at the party...You could feel Taeil. He was muscular and the warmth of his body was like the fuzziest blanket wrapped around you after the worst day. He felt wonderful. And you never wanted to let him go.
Taeil longed for the day he could feel your body around his...And it was only at this time when you two had to bid farewell when he could feel you against him. You were strong but at that moment, he held you tenderly. Like you would break at any second. Because this moment was the most fragile. It was fleeting. So you both soaked in the feeling of each other’s bodies as you held each other.
Taeil kissed you and you reciprocated. His lips felt just like you’d imagined them. Soft. Perfect against yours. His kiss was the euphoria you would treasure for the rest of your life.
You released each other.
“Goodbye, Moon,” you teased. You made a play at his last name. Since you were a werewolf now, you’d be highly influenced by the activity of the moon.
He joked back. “Goodbye, Wolfie. Don’t forget to howl at me once in a while. It’s kinda hot...” The cliche of werewolves howling at the moon was actually a common practice for them.
You shook your head and laughed as he faded away. You cried hard that night, missing him already.
Yuta and his pack comforted you as you cried. They celebrated you and they mourned with you. This pack had become your family.
___
Taeil finally ascended to Heaven. It was a lot like Earth but idealistic. Paradise had everything at his disposal. He could go to the movies and have an unlimited supply of Sour Patch Bats. He finally knew what they tasted like. He could get a foot massage whenever he felt like it. He could play his music and sing to his heart’s content. God was a big fan of Moon Taeil.
But the thing he loved most was being able to look after the loved ones he left behind.
Now that Taeil had become an angel, he would accumulate power overtime in order to send blessings to the people he loved most.
Especially to you.
____
You’d gotten a better grip on your powers but you were still a long way from being Yuta’s right hand. You’d moved into one of Yuta’s apartment complexes that he owned. You were finishing up your last year of school, as well. Since you’d stabilized your powers, you could carry on with your day-to-day activities. It’s just nighttime that would be unaccounted for.
One day, Yuta visited you.
You greeted him as you welcomed him inside your spacious apartment. He sat down on your L-shaped couch in your living room as you gave him a glass of water. “To what do I owe the pleasure, boss?”
Yuta never visited his pack member’s homes unless it was important business. Usually, he summoned them to a common area, like one of his mansions in the city.
Yuta smiled. “I see you like your new place.”
You nodded. “It beats hearing my roommates screw their boyfriends every other night, I must admit.”
He laughed. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
“What’s up? You’re not usually one for small talk...Unless you want to sleep with them...And that girl isn’t here at the moment.” You knew about Yuta’s tumultuous relationship with Sinema’s manager.
Yuta blushed then. “You...Knock it off.”
You laughed heartily, then. You two had developed an older brother little sister relationship. Yuta was able to uncover more information about your parents and your extended family. He’d been extremely helpful during this time, providing financial support not only to you but your entire family.
When Yuta said the pack was a family, he really meant it.
Yuta was mulling over his next words and he gave you a solemn look. The light, breezy mood had quickly vanished.
The power the alpha held to control the room.
He said, “Y/n, prepare your things. The war is about to begin.”
[Fin...Or is it?]
Stay tuned for the next spooky story...
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𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞
Chapter 4: Leaving Out the Side Door
full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work
Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers (in future chapters) x Reader
Word Count: 2,325
Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?
Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+)
A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated every day.
You were on your knees with your hands tied behind your back as he vigorously thrust into you. Your heartbeat pounded in your rib cage and you began to feel numb from the hours he had fucked you. Steve was relentless when he was chasing his own climax, greedily used you as a tool; giving zero fucks about your pleasure or your discomfort, to dump his load in.
Steve didn’t need to see your face or hear your consent. He could go on and on for hours and still not feel satisfied. One thing that you had learned from this being in this dead-end friends with benefits thing with Steve Rogers is that his stamina was relentless. And he wouldn’t think twice about getting what he needed whenever he needed it.
Steve impaled you as your face was squeezed into the pillow, you could hear the squelching noises from the ceaseless cycle of disposing his semen in you and then pushed it back in when he was ready for the next round. Your head began to feel dizzy and your visions turned hazy. You’d tell him to stop because you couldn’t take it anymore, but you knew you didn’t have any strength left in your body to do so.
So you ascended from your body and let him take the wheel; allowing him to go as fast as he wished. He kept hammering until he felt your cunt clenching around him and his cock pulsated, then the line blurred as the coil inside you burst, withering every nerve in your body.
“Ah, fuck.” He grunted. He stayed still inside you until he felt himself softening and then he retreated.
Steve unbound your wrists and he threw himself on the other side of the bed. You knew better than turning to his side and cuddle on his chest unwarranted. He always expected you to get up and get out of his house instantly because he either had another place to attend and didn’t want to see you still here when he comes home or he was ready for another hookup.
Every now and then, you’d let him use you to fulfil his needs and you’d volunteer in cleaning his apartment afterwards. Even after those countless nights where you weren’t the one who made a mess of his sheets.
Ever since that night in your dorm; the first time you were reborn into a blossomed woman and the first time Steve paved the way of traversing to the electric piquancy of venereal act for you, you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop letting him through your door or drive to his place at three in the morning just so he could let off some steam.
Every time you try to say no, he’d always pay you a visit unannounced. He’d paralyze you with his words and freeze you with his unchaste touches. “Shh, let me make you feel good, baby. You just gotta surrender yourself to me.”
You’d try to push him away but your brittle tenacity was unavailing. Fast forward to five years later, when you finally got your degree and life vagabondized to unexpected places, your sex life was still staying still in one spot.
You were recruited by National Institute of Mental Health as their project manager. You were possibly the youngest candidate to occupy this position but they were very impressed by your resume and your interview that they didn’t have any better choice than giving you the job.
You loved it, you excelled at what you do. Helping people and tending for their mental health was the aim of your life. You had a clear vision of how you were going to initiate a concept, plan a strategy and execute the plan. You respected your colleagues and vice versa. It was a suitable environment for you to work in and you enjoyed every minute of it.
Your best friend aka your former roommate, Natasha was your rock. You still talked to her everyday and she’d always text you in case she couldn’t call. You’d exchange stories about how your days went and she’d always send you pictures or videos of her adorable cat, Liho. It always carved a smile on your face.
The same goes for Wanda, although with her busy schedule of graduate school and supervised experience made things a little difficult for you to stay in touch, she still updated every nugatory detail of her life. You loved her and you missed her excruciatingly. You had driven to New Haven during some weekends to see her and spend time with her, but when the weekend was over, you had to return to New York because your job was waiting for you.
They were your two most endeared girls and you couldn’t wait for the day you finally introduce them to each other. Natasha and Wanda had said hi to each other a few times back when you were still living in the same dorm but, you really wanted to spend time with the two of them at the same time. They would totally click.
But if anyone asks you about your love life? Well, how could you explain something that was nonexistent?
Unless “friends” with benefit counts for something…
A bell on your apartment dinged and you reached for the door. A man in black with purple nuances uniform showed up with a package in his hands. “Miss Y/L/N?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Here’s your delivery. Sign here please.” He handed you a piece of paper to draw your signature on and you accepted it without question, knowing full well it was another extravagant gift from Steve. Yep, that Steve.
The Steve Rogers.
A Brooklyn-born movie star of various blockbuster films, a remarkable singer and the face of Calvin Klein’s campaign this year… and Gucci Guilty’s last year.
The notorious womanizer but it was all good because he was the man. When you had starred alongside Leonardo DiCaprio and posed next to Oprah, who would give a shit if you never stopped playing the field, right?
And because he was The Steve Rogers, he could’ve spent his money on any lavish item and he could’ve put his dick wherever he wanted it. That included you, being the object of his wealthiness and his manliness.
How many times had you tried to reason with him when he constrained you to come over after a drunken hookup with a twenty-something model to clean up the mess and take out the trash? Perhaps just a few numbers exceeding the number of times he’d play the most charming man in the world only to forget your existence until he wanted you again.
So your feet innately transported you to your car, wearing the brand-new crimson red, bodycon dress with deep V-neck that displayed your cleavage, spaghetti straps baring your arms and a backless design that made you shiver due to the crisp air and drove to a place you had grown so accustomed to.
And this was the God knows how many times you were corrupted on his bed again. You had been so busy with your upcoming project that NIMH was ready to announce but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to resist the urge to come over to his place.
You stood on your wobbly feet, cleaned yourself up and see yourself out. Wouldn’t want to keep another mistress waiting in line…
Three weeks have passed since you last slept with Steve Rogers. Whispers on the streets chirped that he had been occupied with shooting a new film, erotic thriller slash mystery genre. Seems appropriate.
You yourself had been snowed under your work. The fundraiser event that NIMH was holding had been wearing you down but it was all worth it when the show was on. Negotiating with sponsorships, seeking donations and managing ticket sales were not easy, and it was all part of your responsibility because you were the boss, but you aced it anyway.
You were also responsible to hire professional entertainers and well, knowing that you got some connections to a well-known actor, of course, he was the first name on your list. But due to schedule conflicts, he couldn’t make it. It wasn’t a problem though, you still had a long list of names; film stars, movie producers, musicians, directors, moguls, etc.
You stood in your black sequin dress at the corner of the venue, inhaling all the sedulity and gumption you had invested in this event for the past couple of months. A part of you was secretly hoping that Steve would be here to see it, but you quickly eliminated those thoughts away.
9th-grade summer break. Upon the verdant hills overlooking the tranquil lake below; the moon’s faint glow ricochets on the water.
“What do you wanna be when you grow up, y/n?” his head reclined on his the palms of his hand, arms sprawled out like a butterfly’s wings.
“I wanna… Help people. My mom is a nurse and my whole life I watched her taking care of people she’d never met and I wanna have her big heart. I wanna do something that saves people.” you beheld the twinkling stars in the crepuscular sky, privily prayed that every word would come true.
“You wanna be a nurse like her too?” His eyebrow raised.
“I don’t know… Maybe I’ll host a charity event or something and then I’ll use all the money for those who need it. It looks cool in the movies.”
“When I make it, I’ll come to your event and help raise the money too! People would be interested in giving money to celebrities, right?” the credence glinted in his eyes.
“But the money will not be for you, doofus.”
“Yeah, I know!” he chided. “I wouldn’t take a single cent even if I could. My mom taught me that if I were given the chance to put others first before me… I should and I will respect her legacy.”
You watched the host and your project leader, Tony Stark stood behind the acrylic podium and he greeted the crowd a good evening. He opened his speech, cajoling the guests with his words to share a little bit of their wealth as many as possible and closed it with a cordial adieu.
You made your way to one of the most respected guests; Benjamin Woods was sitting on the fifth table. Two times Oscar nominee and you were jittery to talk to him, but in this line of work, you were trained to be confident and act like one of the elites. So you weren’t going to freak out like an obsessive fan, you gotta keep it cool and classy. Plus, during the briefing, you were told to fraternize with as many of the guest as possible, persuade them to help us reach the goal.
You had your eyes set on the target until you bumped on a six-foot man, spilling the martini in his hand all over your dress. It caused a few heads turning but that was the last thing you cared about right now. “Shit!” you squawked.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry miss.” a British accent was hinted.
You grabbed a napkin from the nearest table to wipe away the stain but of course, it was futile. He offered a hand by saying “here, let me help.”
“No, no it’s fine, I’ll-” you looked up to see a handsome man with a pair of grey, slightly blue and green fused at the core. His dark brown hair matched the stubble covering his entire jaw and you were captivated by the work of art that was his face. Man, what a gorgeous creature. “…Manage.”
“I’m truly sorry, I must really stop reading through my emails while walking.”
“Don’t worry about it, sir. It happens.”
“Can I at least get you a drink? I’d feel really bad if I don’t do anything to compensate for my error.”
You averted your gaze from him to the person you really wanted to talk to but that could wait. You still got a few more hours to properly introduce yourself. “Yeah, why not?”
“Splendid.” You both walked toward the bar and sat on the stools. The next thing you knew, you had spent the last one hour talking and acquainting with this man. Apparently, he was the executive director of Filmmakers Without Borders where funding films and new media projects that aligned with themes of social justice, empowerment and cultural exchange was the prime focus of his job. He believed that if he could support ideas that would make the world a better place, he’d do it without a second thought.
He was also a big traveler. He loved seeing magical places in foreign countries, he was keen on exploring new cultures and learning new languages even if he could only recollect a few basic words. He claimed that he had traveled to nine countries in Asia and he planned to travel across Europe, his so-called home, once he had conquered the omnifarious continent.
And what enthralled your heart the most about him was that he was a proud father of two adorable dogs; a greyhound and a pomeranian and a benign Siberian cat. He spoke about them so fondly. He showed you pictures of them and he said that he’d love for you to meet them. Oh man, was that a subtle invitation to come over to his place soon in the future?
He was a real gentleman, courtesy and multifaceted were the proper words to describe this man, and you had only known him for one hour. Eventually, duty calls and you still had a role to play in this event, but before you could hop off the stool, he had asked you for your number and you gladly gave it to him. You had a feeling that this wasn’t farewell but rather, an incipience. The question is… What could it be of?
#steve rogers#steve rogers au#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers angst#steve rogers series#dark!steve rogers series#dark!steve rogers au#dark!steve rogers smut#chris evans x reader#chris evans fanfic#chris evans imagine#chris evans smut#chris evans angst#chris evans series#chris evans fic
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Helping Others - an EDL Bonus
A/N: This is the second bonus chapter for Everyone Deserves Love. This takes place in the middle of chapter 12, but can be read before it. Just a date night that doesn’t end as planned...in the words of Rafael Barba, “no means no.”
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Tags: implications of smut, mentions of panic attacks, the briefest implication of child abuse (blink and you miss it)
Words: 2k+
Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @averyhotchner @permanentlydizzy @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws
Devon walked down the hallway towards Barba’s front door. Their original plan was to spend last night together, into the morning, then Devon would leave to get ready for a fancy dinner that Barba had set up. They had been dating for four months now, but this would be their first real, public date, his work gala not included. They disclosed their relationship a couple weeks ago—well, Barba told McCoy; Jenkins didn’t really care, as long as it didn’t interfere with Devon’s work—and this was their first day that they were both off work. Most of their “dates” had consisted of either takeout, or Barba cooking an amazing meal, and them chilling at one of their homes, cuddling on the couch, watching whatever was on tv. Or the rare occasion when they went for a stroll in the Park. Both of them were slightly annoyed at not spending much time together. But they were not annoyed at each other. Never at each other.
Devon smiled as she made it to his door, using her key to unlock it and slip inside. Barba had mentioned coming to pick her up at her place, but she didn’t want to wait. We hardly see each other as it is; why deprave ourselves of even more time? she reasoned to herself. She closed the door silently, listening for where her boyfriend may be. She heard the faint sound of water. Shower still? We’re going to be late…she thought, shaking her head; Barba really could take forever getting ready. But wait a moment, she froze, hearing something else, barely audible over the water.
No way, she thought, sneaking down the hallway as best as she could in heels. Thank god for carpeted floors. She slowly opened his bedroom door, creeping in, trying to force her ears to listen harder. Sure enough, being this close to the bathroom, she could hear him clearly now; Rafael Barba was singing. In the shower.
She grinned, not in a teasing way, as if she caught him doing something embarrassing. Quite the opposite; he sounded…good. Better than good. She was actually shocked at how amazing his voice sounded. She felt her heart soften, her very soul melting as she fell more and more in love with him with every raise of his voice. Almost in a trance, she moved to his bed, perching herself on the edge, and listened.
Devon heard the water turn off, but his voice didn’t lessen. She couldn’t place the song; probably something from one of his theater plays he loved so much. Barba’s voice was muffled briefly—Devon assumed he was wiping his face with a towel—before he continued. The doorknob between the bathroom and bedroom finally twisted, door swinging open. Barba came strolling into the room, towel hanging off his hips, chest still slightly damp, voice still booming. That is, until he saw Devon sitting on the bed, smiling dreamily at him.
He jumped, swearing rapidly in Spanish, before saying, “god dammit Dev! What are you doing here?” He was panting and clutching his chest; it was such an animated response, Devon had trouble not laughing at him.
“I missed you,” she replied innocently, sticking out her bottom lip.
Barba regained his composure, moving to his closet to find clothes to change into, his face turning beat red. “We literally saw each other two hours ago.”
“That was two whole hours ago!” she whined. “Besides, forget that; why have you never told me you could sing like that?”
He dropped his hands to his side, refusing to look at her. “You must promise me that you’ll tell no one about that, okay?”
Devon was stunned at how serious, how sad he sounded. She got up from the bed, moving to lean against his side, uncaring that he was still damp, wrapping her arms around his bare waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. “But Rafi, you’re so good. Why hide that?”
He sighed heavily, turning to look Devon in the eyes. This close, their breath mingled, and Devon thought for the millionth time about how pretty his green eyes were up close. “Because, Hermosa,” he breathed. “That’s all behind me. A path closed off when I was a child. I…I don’t really want to talk about it right now, so can we just drop it? Please?”
“Of course,” Devon murmured back, kissing his shoulder. Questions still buzzed around in her mind, but she squashed them down; he’ll tell her when he wanted to. If he wanted to. And she’d be ready when that day was. “Now hurry up and get ready—you take forever.” She ran her nails over his back teasingly as she pulled away to wait by the bed again, and she saw him straighten, eyes darkening slightly.
“Do that again, and we’re going to be late,” he practically growled. He looked at her, eyes raking over every inch of her body; Devon was in a simple black dress, hem resting just above her knee, neckline plunging low, and hair swept up, exposing the soft skin of her neck.
She winked at him. “Take any longer, and we’re going to be late as it is. Besides, I like the idea of seeing you riled up all night. I feel like it may be worth my while to wait until after dinner.”
Barba chuckled, picking out one of his “fancy” suits, one that he swears is different than his court suits and his weekend suits, even if Devon thinks they look the same. “Fine, have it your way,” he said, voice dropping an octave. “But know that two can play this game.”
She could already feel warmth travelling south. Oh, she knew he was a master at this game, knew that he would most likely win it, too. But that didn’t mean she was going to go easy on him. She laughed lightly, heading to the door. She smirked when she heard Barba groan; he had just found out that her dress was backless, scars on proud display as well as exposing the back of her bra. From the wisps of black lace and hint of red roses that he could see, he knew that she was wearing his favorite pair of lingerie.
*************************
Amazingly, they made they dinner reservations on time. Barba wasted no time in making his first move; as they exited the cab, he placed his hand on the small of Devon’s back, his warm touch shooting electricity through her. The rough pad of his thumb rubbed circles into her soft skin. This is going to be a long dinner, Devon thought, trying not to think about what else that hand was capable of doing. They entered the restaurant, the hostess leading them to a secluded table. It was lovely; a short vase with two roses were in the middle of the table, a candle lit next to them. The table was next to a window, giving them a view of a small park, couples walking through, huddled together. Barba pulled out Devon’s chair, then scooted her in when she sat, before seating himself. He chose an expensive wine from the wine list, then poured her a glass after the waiter dropped it off.
Devon knew that Barba loved doing this; he loved treating her, giving her things that he thought she deserved. Even if Devon was content with curling up on the couch with popcorn and watching a shitty movie. But he indulged in her ideas of “dates,” so she would indulge in his. Her only real problem was navigating the menu; everything on it seemed 1) too pricey and 2) too rich a palette for her…delicate tongue—the fanciest cuisine she had eaten before was when she put her Chinese takeout on a real, ceramic plate. She went with the safest option she saw on there; some sort of pasta in a reduction of something or other.
“It’s nice going out on a real date for once,” Barba commented after the waiter had taken their order and left them alone once more. He reached under the table, hand brushing against her knee, pushing her dress up slightly.
“I’d agree with you, but with how handsy you are tonight, it seems like you would’ve liked to stay in more,” Devon grinned back, covering his hand with hers and squeezing. He turned his hand over, clasping hers.
“We always stay in. Maybe I want to show you off.”
Devon raised her eyebrows in mock offense. “Oh? And who are you showing me off to, if I may ask?”
Barba smirked back. “Why, all of New York, of course.”
Food came and went, Devon and Barba talking about work things—no one was close enough to hear any of it—before switching to other, more mundane topics. At some point, Barba’s hand had resumed its spot on her knee, the pad of his thumb rubbing soft circles in the skin.
“God, you are beautiful,” Barba murmured over the low-burning candle. He moved his hand higher, fingertips brushing over the skin of her inner thigh.
Devon gasped, eyes fluttering for a moment. “Rafi,” she breathed out. He chuckled low when he felt her spread her legs a little more under the table. Right then, the waiter came up; thank god for long tablecloths.
“Would either of you be interested in dessert?” the man asked. Barba looked to Devon expectantly, but from the lust evident in his eyes, she knew his answer. You’re dessert, he practically screamed with his eyes.
“I’m good, thank you,” Devon said, smiling politely to the waiter. Before the waiter could respond, Devon’s phone went off. She glanced at it before answering “Motely.”
The waiter passed the bill to Barba, thanking them for coming in tonight, and left. Barba looked at Devon, who was looking concerned while listening to whoever was on the other end of the line.
“I thought we agreed no work things tonight?” Barba whispered to her in a huff.
“Hold on a moment,” Devon said before covering the receiver. “I know, baby; I’m sorry. I need to take this. I’ll be right outside, okay?” Barba nodded solemnly. She returned the phone to her ear. “I’m still here.” Devon stood and made her way out of the restaurant.
Barba paid the tab, then decided to give Devon some time, just in case she was still on the phone, so he went to the restroom before making his way outside. He searched the front until he saw Devon, standing a little way away from the entrance, leaning against the wall and talking in a hushed voice on the phone.
“—no, really, it’s totally fine that you called me; I’m actually glad you did! You can always call me. No, yeah, that’s why I gave you my number. Never be afraid to call me, okay? And if I don’t answer, just leave a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. I promise…. No, you’re not bothering me, it’s fine, really. Are you sure you’re feeling better? Okay…okay good. Yeah, yeah I want you to call her tomorrow, okay? I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Okay, bye,” Devon hung up and leaned her head back against the wall behind her.
“Everything okay?” Barba asked, concerned.
She sighed, shaking her head slowly. “I hope so.” She stood up straight. “I’m sorry, I know we said no work things, but that was…an old victim, from an old case. She was in a child sex trafficking ring that I helped break. She was 11 when I found her; she must be 17 now. But, she has really bad anxiety and depression. She has a therapist, but she called her twice and couldn’t get a hold of her and she was having a panic attack and she still has my number so she called me and so I had to talk her down and—”
Barba wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest. “It’s okay. I understand,” he whispered against her head, placing small kisses there. All the annoyance he had felt left him as he held her, focusing instead on how pure his girlfriend’s heart was, at how much she genuinely cared. He stroked the back of her neck with his long fingers, releasing some of the stress built up there. They stood like that for a few moments, Barba gently rocking them back and forth until Devon’s sobs stopped.
“This was supposed to be a night for us, and then I ruined it,” Devon mumbled into his chest.
“No, Cariño. You didn’t ruin anything. You help people; that’s what you do,” he murmured back. She pulled herself impossibly closer to him. God, did she love this man…and hate her work. Sometimes. Only sometimes. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
He led her to the street, waving down a cab. Once in the backseat, Devon voiced the other concern that was in the back of her mind. “I’m…uh, I’m sorry, Rafa, but I don’t think I’m going to want to, uh, do anything tonight. I…it was a really bad case…the things they did to that girl….”
“It’s fine, Hermosa. You never need an excuse with me. In our line of work, especially, you should know that ‘no’ is perfectly fine with me,” he put a hand on her knee, squeezing it lightly. Devon leaned into him, resting her head against his chest while he stroked her hair, whispering how much he loved her.
#rafael barba x oc#law and order svu#law and order svu fanfic#everyone derserves love#edl bonus#fanfic#my writing
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Little Wonders Ch. 1
Chapter 1: Let Your Clarity Define You in the End
Summary: Dark goes house cleaning to flush out a dangerous mole in his network.
Chapters: 1, 2
Dark was outside his office, talking with Google when Logan walked out of his office. There were a couple papers in his hands that the Entity was reading through.
“Is this everything?” Dark asked Google as Logan came to stop a non-confrontational distance away. Logan had only been working for Dark for a little over eight months now, but he’d learned enough about him to tell Dark was already in a bad mood. All Logan could do was stand and wait to either be abruptly dismissed from the meeting he was supposed to go to, or for Dark to usher him inside.
“Yes, he wasn’t doing too much before he disappears from Florida state records,” Google answered calmly, his eyes tracking to Logan before smiling and looking back at Dark. “You’re certain I can’t take care of him myself?”
“Bim is in a hunting mood,” Dark refused. “If you’re lucky, you can keep the brain.”
“Unfortunate, but I’ll have to accept it,” Google allowed and then walked away.
“Ahh, Sanders,” Dark gave a small smile as his attention turned to Logan. “I was a bit worried that you had left early.”
“I leave on average at 2200 hours,” Logan commented walking into the office when Dark silently ushered him inside. He slowly closed the door behind him.
“Sit down, I won’t keep you long,” Dark promised, hands knit behind his back as he strode to sit behind his own desk. “I’ve been looking over your notes concerning my Lost One’s files. Some very useful ideas, wish I could still use them.”
“Did something happen?” Logan was braced for the bad news and an even later night.
“Yes, three of my Lost Ones were arrested, and Yancy is on parole,” Dark admitted calmly. “The whole mess was taken care of an hour ago.”
“I didn’t even know you had left,” Logan admitted. “I assume they are none the worse for wear.”
“Apart from Bim’s overdramatics, they’re all fine, the heroes were too busy thinking they were being coerced to start roughing them up,” Dark commented. “I honestly had nothing to worry about.”
“That’s good news,” Logan agreed.
“It is,” Dark replied in a thoughtful, rueful tone. “But the heroes know a bit too much about Yancy, which means we’ve got a bit of a fly on the wall in my network because they know things Yancy never told them.”
Before Logan could fully decide what to say or give options on how to help smooth over the problem, his chair was abruptly spun around which surprised Logan because he hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind him and hadn’t thought the chair was designed to spin.
Even through the distractions, Logan knew he was probably on a short list of suspicious individuals. The person he came face to face with was familiar but not in a way Logan could place.
“Hey Lo,” Orange smiled as he looked at Logan. “Having fun playing dress-up? That’s usually Princey’s thing.”
The Side frowned when he saw the guarded but uncertain look on Logan’s face. “Huh?”
Logan was braced for something, trying to remember where he’d seen this person before.
Dark came up behind them, “Something wrong?”
“He doesn’t remember me,” Orange answered, he took Logan by the lapels of his suit, which Logan immediately and indignantly tried to pull away from him. “Come on, Lo, you know me? Remember?”
“Oh,” Dark recognized, and put his aura on the top of Logan’s head, his aura lightly searching for something until he found it. The Entity pulled off another aura, almost like a mesh of spell work that kept Logan complacent and unaware of what he was doing, and Dark could practically feel the Host’s magic all over it.
As Dark’s aura subsumed the other aura Logan had a disoriented look to him before his laser focus landed on Orange and he startled in his grip. “Unhand me!”
“Nah, you’re already in deep shit, where would you swim to?” Orange grinned, Logan pressed back into the chair as Orange leaned over him, hands on the chair arms.
“Enough,” Dark cut in, using his aura to rotate back to look at Logan. “So, Mr. Sanders, is there any part of your resume that you weren’t lying on?”
“My distain for disorder and puns,” Logan answered.
Dark moved his hand and Logan felt something like a hand on the front of his throat, phantom claws on the soft flesh of his throat. “You of all people should know how I feel about moles, Thomas.”
“What?” Logan was barely able to still talk without claws sinking into his throat. “My name is Logan.”
The pressure in his throat abated for a brief second, but Logan wasn’t allowed to feel much of anything when Dark scored his aura claws down. Logan cried out, his cheek burning with sharp pain, and it felt wet. The Logical Side presumed it was with his own blood. The panicking part of his brain wanted to call out for Patton or Roman, he was acutely aware he wasn’t wearing his communicator.
“AAHHHHHH!” Logan screamed, and Dark physically grabbed Logan by the throat, pinning him to the chair, a bunch of papers in his hands.
“Thomas F. Sanders, date of birth: April 24, 1989. Gainesville, Florida.” Dark began casually reading off the paper and Logan tried to fight off the wave of palpable fear. Dark had gone looking for Logan and found Thomas instead.
Logan wasn’t sure what was worse. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lie and make Dark believe he really was Thomas . . . and after this was all said and done, hope Dark would toss the papers away and not look deeper into them.
But Dark was always good at spotting lies.
“I am not Thomas,” Logan decided. “He doesn’t exist, Orange, you know my name is not Thomas, do not participate in this pointless charade.”
“Hmm,” Orange hummed, grabbing Logan by the hair and forcing him to look up, “nope, you’re Thomas alright, that dopey optimism, that personality that people can’t help but love!”
“Faksehood!” Logan shouted at Orange. “I am not Thomas.”
Orange slapped Logan on the cheek that was still bleeding. Dark was sitting behind his desk again, the quick change disorienting Logan a bit.
Dark was still looking at the papers, “You never told me you were an actor. A couple Community Playhouse credits in Gainesville, Hot Mikado, ooh, Singing in the Rain. I hate that one.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Orange paused in his sadism to question Dark, his face twisting up in the only Thomas-like display that Logan had ever seen from the other Side.
“I hate actors,” Dark scoffed, balling up an entire page and tossing it into the trash bin. “Wil adores the movie, but Singing is the Rain is about actors, which means I hate it all the more.”
“Harsh,” Orange scoffed. “Bad date?”
Dark glared at Orange, “I’m not going to humor that statement.”
“You know I am not Thomas,” Logan reminded Orange, his anger consuming his fear. “Why are you helping with what I assume will be my death. This will affect you as well.”
“Not as much as you think,” Orange smiled.
“Why are you insisting I’m Thomas?” Logan demanded. “Insisting such is offensive and incognizant.”
“Well unlike the others who want to fight over that name, Princey’s got all those social skills, and Pop’s is an emotional basket case. But you,” Orange tapped Logan on the nose, “have all those memories like going to school, Thomas’s folks, stuff like that. So if anything happens to those pesky little things, Thomas will die. Even if all the others fuse and try, they’ll never have those memories. Even if Princey rehearses until he believes his own performance they can’t bring them back. So if you die, it’s a win-win.”
Logan had been listening to Orange gloat and jeer and he hated that he had the gall to wear Thomas’s face while he said it. So he did something impulsive in his pain and anger, he spat in Orange’s face, moving to punch him but Orange was faster, slamming his fist into Logan’s face.
Over and over again.
The other Side was trying to get at the bloody scratches already present. In the scuffle Logan’s glasses were knocked free and Orange stomped on them, almost like a pained connection, Logan felt it when he heard the frame crack.
“You know, I’m sick and tired of Thomas this and Thomas that. News flash, Teach, he would have hated and been afraid of me. Why should I want to go back to that, to being so thoroughly buried I may as well have now existed to him? The best thing that ever happened to me was when he was broken apart and I was taken away from you.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Dark cut in, his aura wrapped around one of Orange’s arms. What Logan couldn’t see because of his destroyed glasses, was the knife he’d pulled. “I need him alive for a bit longer and you’ve said your peace.”
“I thought you were going to off him,” Orange scoffed.
“Not quite yet,” Dark flicked his wrists and a Void portal ripped open, forcing Orange from the room.
“So, Logan,” a dark shape moved in front of Logan’s vision again as Dark sat down in front of him. He heard a tearing of paper.
“Regardless of who you were,” Dark clipped what remained of Logan’s glasses to the front of his shirt. “It’s time for you to choose, Sanders. The heroes, or me.”
“I think my decision would have been obvious,” Logan told him. “You and your network are deplorable and I have greatly enjoyed my work in helping to dismantle it.”
Dark clicked his tongue, “Regrettable.”
Logan felt Dark aura tighten around him and the chair like a snake and Logan just braced to get his neck snapped. He hoped it would be quick and he wouldn’t feel it.
To Logan’s mounting tension he was pulled through a Void portal and Dark was bringing him down what seemed to be a dark corridor. Logan had the ability to gaze around and wished that he could see where he was. It looked interesting.
“Trying to figure out where you are,” Dark mused proudly.
“My habit is to obtain information on new places or experiences,” Logan explained.
“Well,” Dark sounded smug, “no need to bother with that tonight.”
At that moment Dark caught movement down one of the tunnels and he threw his aura to scare the creature or person off. Logan tensed when he felt Dark’s aura curl up around him before the Entity struck.
“I hate the rats around here, I swear the magic from that old hag makes them grow bigger by the day,” Dark scoffed in disgust.
“You are going to have me eaten?” Logan asked tensely, fear bubbling back up onto his mind.
“Not by the rats,” Dark corrected. Dark opened a steel door, his aura moving into the cracks to open it from the inside, the rusted gears grinding loudly.
“Finally!” Bim shouted when the door opened, he was polishing his already immaculate scalpels and knives. Dark noted the darker eyes, sharper teeth, and almost sunken eyes. “I’m starving here, Old Man.”
“Yes, I merely had to pick him up for you,” Dark set Logan’s chair down, his hands on his shoulders. “He meets your outrageous standards, I hope.”
Bim looked at Logan and smiled and ravenous excitement, “Oh, what did he do?”
“Does he work or should I slit his throat now and be done with it?” Dark demanded harshly, the door being locked and sealed behind them.
“Yeah, yeah, just let me get the table open,” Bim said, and Logan heard the clicking of metal, his heart was racing.
“Well Sanders, I look forward to seeing which hero is missing in the coming weeks,” Dark smiled as he whispered quietly into Logan’s ears, patting him once on his shoulder.
Logan felt Dark’s aura grab him and began fighting it, trying to reach for anything but Dark dropped him onto a metal table. His wrists locked into a tight metal cuff at the top and his ankles locked into a similar cuff at the bottom. He had almost no room to struggle.
“Do not leave evidence,” Dark ordered his progeny. “The heroes will come looking for this one.”
“Shit, it’s like this is my first rodeo,” Bim scoffed.
“I mean it, be responsible,” Dark ordered and Logan heard the Void being ripped open, leaving him alone with Bim.
#Superhero AU#Masks and Maladies#Thomas Sanders#Markiplier#Logan Sanders#Darkiplier#Googleplier#Orange Side#Bim Trimmer#magic#death threats#angst#resentment
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Coworkers (Steve Harrington x Reader)
Read Part Two Here
A/N: Okay, so this was going to be one long fic, but I decided to split it up into two parts. I’m hoping to get the other part out tomorrow, but I wanted to give you guys a little something tonight! I appreciate you all being patient with my erratic posting schedule as I settle into college. :)
Warnings: Minor language, reader being clueless
Request: Heyyy could you do steve x fem! reader where reader thinks steve and robin are a thing and reader kinda ignores steve for a time until one day( he is super drunk) he goes to her house and just says he wants her back (even tho they never dated) thank you!!
You started working at Hawkins Family Video in the summer of 1985. It was just supposed to be a summer job so you could earn a little cash before college started. Then, after the scandal surrounding Hawkins Lab leaked, there was a mass exodus from Hawkins, which left your manager, Keith, short on employees. You decided to stay a few more weeks until he could find replacements. His search continued throughout the duration of August and bled into September, then October. Before long, mid-terms were rapidly approaching, and Keith still hadn’t hired a soul. That all changed about a week before Halloween.
New shipments always came in on Saturdays, so Keith had sent you into the back room to sort out the boxes while he manned the front desk. It was an unsurprisingly slow morning; people rarely stopped in before noon. Those who did just sort of quietly milled around the store, clearly just trying to waste time, since there wasn’t much else to do in Hawkins, Indiana. Thus, you were surprised to hear Keith start a conversation with someone. You couldn’t resist peeking your head out the door.
There were two gangly teenagers standing at the counter, staring intently at Keith. One was a tall, freckled girl with heavy eyeliner, high-waisted jeans, and a vaguely-familiar face. The guy standing next to her, though, you recognized immediately, thanks to his unforgettable head of hair. The last time you’d glimpsed that glorious mane was a few months ago, when it had been drenched in hair gel and squashed under a graduation cap.
“Uh, just to be clear, we weren’t fired, you know,” the girl was saying. “The mall burned down and killed, like, a bunch of people.”
“Thanks for sharing. Didn’t know,” Keith said, somehow making a monotone ooze with sarcasm. You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes; your boss was a lot of things, but “welcoming” wasn’t one of them. He pointed a finger at the girl and said, “Three favorite movies-go!”
She glanced around for a moment as she gathered her thoughts, then named The Apartment, Hidden Fortress, and Children of Paradise. Without showing any sign of acknowledgment, Keith turned to Steve, looking for his answers to the same question. You expected Steve Harrington to smoothly fire off a list of flicks featuring lots of action-packed scenes and scantily-clad women.
However, he just repeated Keith’s question, dumbfounded. Keith responded, “Did I stutter?”
Steve drew out a long “uh” before answering, “Animal House for sure, uh…”
He brought his hand nervously to his lips, which he grazed over with his thumb. Oh, to be that thumb. His dark eyes darted around the room until Keith reminded him, “Eyes on me, Harrington.”
“Yeah, uh...Star Wars?” It sounded like more of a guess than an answer.
“A New Hope?”
Steve stared at your boss blankly. “A new what now?”
Keith heaved a sigh. He was clearly already done with this kid. “Which Star Wars?”
“The one with the teddy bears, duh,” Steve said.
He made a high-pitched noise that you figured was supposed to resemble an Ewok. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. You knew Keith wouldn’t be impressed, though, so part of you felt sorry for the poor boy.
Wait, poor boy? This was King Steve you were talking about. The last thing his big head he needed was for his head to get even more inflated with your sympathy.
“Hmph, no?” he asked. His female companion ducked her head, effectively hiding her face. Then, excitement lit up Steve’s features, and he started ticking things off on his fingers. “Oh! The movie that just came out. The one with the DeLorean, and Alex P. Keaton, and he’s trying to bang his mom-”
Was that...Harrington’s synopsis of Back to the Future? Really? God, was this guy okay? I mean, you knew he’d smoked a little in high school, but you didn’t know marijuana could do permanent brain damage.
“Yeah. Those are my top three. Classics,” Steve murmured. He cast his gaze down awkwardly. Because as clueless as Steve Harrington could be, he still knew what was coming next.
Keith confirmed everyone’s suspicions by telling the girl, “You start Monday,” and telling Steve, “You start never.”
Steve blinked, the hurt evident in his chocolate eyes, even from a distance. The girl leaned into him, gently bumping her shoulder against his. “Will you just, um-will you give us a minute?” she asked, gesturing to Keith.
“Why?”
“Steve,” she said gently. The message she communicated through her gaze must have been convincing, since Steve simply nodded once before sliding his resume off the counter and walking over to a display.
As soon as he was out of earshot, the girl leaned forward on the counter. She spoke barely above a whisper, and you had to strain to hear as she defended her partner’s honor. You crept up the aisle to get closer to the action in hopes of catching the rest of the conversation.
“He’s a douchebag of the highest order, Robin,” Keith was saying.
That was when the mystery girl’s identity finally clicked. This was Robin Buckley-band geek, language nerd, school genius. You’d gone to high school together. She was a year younger and way too smart for her own good, so you didn’t share many classes, but you’d had the same homeroom last year.
“He was a bit of a prick to us in high school; I’ll grant you that, but he remains…” Robin threw a glance toward Steve, who was admiring the cover of every single movie on the shelf. “...a total chick magnet.”
The guy who’d just made an Ewok sound moments earlier? Yeah, okay.
“Yeah, okay,” Keith said, mimicking your thoughts. You made a mental note to try to spend less time with Keith so his terrible personality didn’t rub off on you too much. “And this is relevant to me how?”
Robin’s jaw practically dropped. She spoke, voice full of drama: “Earth to Keith. The ladies will come in just to see him. They’ll come in in droves. Droves, Keith. We sold so much ice cream that they had to get a second shipment from Michigan. Goddamn Michigan, Keith. And these ladies...these ladies are hot. They are so very hot. And there are too many for little Steve. He needs assistance. He needs your assistance, Keith.”
“What’s in it for you? You got a thing for him or somethin’?”
There was a loud clatter as Steve bumped into a cardboard cutout of a woman in a bikini. (You really didn’t understand why you even had that thing at a place that called itself a “Family Video” store. However, when you’d questioned it, Keith had just told you to “find something better if you don’t like that one”, and you weren’t about to spend your already-scarce income on a lifesize cardboard cutout.) The cardboard lady tumbled to the floor, despite Steve’s best efforts to rescue her. As he awkwardly tried to restore her to her former position, Robin turned back to Keith.
“We’re just-um-we’re just friends,” she said, even though the slight blush that sprung to her cheeks seemed to suggest otherwise.
“Oh! Fast Times,” Steve exclaimed, putting the fake woman back into place. He read from the caption at her feet. “Fast Times. Ever heard of it? Top three for me.”
Robin let out a twinkling laugh, and Steve smiled back at her.
You didn’t understand why that simple exchange twisted your stomach into a knot.
Taglists:
General: @novaddictx @anabundanceoffandoms @rexorangecouny @morganvanilla@anolddayslover
Steve: @broadwayandnetflix @explode-a-pult @whormotional @loulouloueh@peterhollandd
Stranger Things: @readinthegarden12 @lacunaclouds
If you want to be added to the tag list for a specific character/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading. <3
If you want to check out more of my writing, here’s my masterlist. :)
#steve harrington#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#strangerthings#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#parker-potter writes
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[ VICTOIRE ELISE BISSET. 28. CISFEMALE. SHE/HER] is here! They’ve lived in Silver Lake for [ SIX MONTHS ] and are originally from [ WELLESLEY, MASSACHUSETTS ]. They are a [ PUBLICIST ] and in their downtime love [ CATCHING A MOVIE AT CINEMA PARADISO ] and [ ENJOYING A NICE BOTTLE OF RED WINE ]. They look a lot like [ ELIZABETH OLSEN ] and live [ ON SILVERWOOD TERRACE ].
the basics
full name: victoire elise bisset.
nicknames: v or vic. never, and i do mean never, vicky.
birthplace: wellesley, massachusetts.
birthdate: january 9th, 1992.
zodiac sign: capricorn.
alignment: chaotic good.
personality type: estj.
personality traits: dogmatic, loquacious, reliable, patient, rancorous, affable, critical & forthright.
gender: cisfemale.
sexual / romantic orientation: heterosexual / heteroromantic.
the biography
-
the daughter to a (now) disgraced politician coming from old money and a disgruntled, yet loyal to a fault, housewife, there was never a time victoire didn’t know luxury — or chaos.
as a matter of fact, her entrance to the world was an example of both. the first — and what would ultimately be only — child to gabriel and nicolette bisset, there was no expense spared as they prepared for her arrival; hundreds of designer onesies she’d grow out of within weeks were purchased, an italian artist flown in and commissioned to hand paint a mural in her nursery and her mother only received the finest of prenatal care. for most, it was an ostentatious display that was NOT needed. but that has always been the bisset way. flamboyant and shameless flaunting of their wealth was the norm as it was, so of course they’d go all out when expecting a baby.
at the same time, there was a certain level of disappointment. as far as her father went, at least. he had been hoping for a son to follow in his footsteps. but, he’d tell his wife in an attempt to convince them both, a little girl wasn’t so bad — he’d love, cherish and spoil her regardless. and he did do at least two of those three things. but that son he’d been hoping for never came. once victoire was born, his wife refused to let him touch her. he assumed it was “baby hormones” but really it was because hours before her baby shower, nicolette had received a call from one of his mistresses confessing the affair because she felt “bad” knowing she was pregnant. nicolette never confronted her husband but their relationship was never the same.
growing up in the lapse of luxury, most would assume vic had nothing to complain about. while her material needs were always met, the emotional ones were often neglected. her mother, bless her heart, tried. but it wasn’t easy for her. nicolette was responsible for raising their child and presenting the bissets as the picture perfect family all while knowing her husband was fucking around on her. who wouldn’t become resentful dealing with that? snide comments were thrown across the dinner table, there were times she’d disappear in her room with a bottle of wine. she’d try to be there for her daughter as much as she could but she struggled. and her father, on the other hand, focused more on his career than his family. a lawyer turned politician, he campaigned, had frequent business meetings and a long list of secret lovers to split his time between. hard to be present with a schedule like that.
gabriel’s career choice was confusing for young victoire. there were those that publicly villainized him and thought he was the devil. there were those that put him on a pedestal. it was overwhelming... and alluring. her father was the mayor of wellesley her entire life and was even campaigning for senate when the “scandal” happened. it was always a part of her life and politics intrigued her. she’d dreamed of being the first woman president.
her father vowed to help her get into politics and the first step of that was hiring her to be his publicist as soon as she graduated from college. it was a blatant act of nepotism but at least she was really freakin’ good at her job. she gets word accusations of bribery would be hitting the local news and that same day there’s a press conference so shots of him shaking hands, kissing babies and making grand promises distracts from the news. his morality is called into question and he’s front and center campaigning for every local charity for six months. it was a bit grimey witnessing fully the seedy underbelly of politics and her idealistic view of it changed drastically. she no longer wanted to be president or a senator or anything else like that. she did, though, learn she really did like pr and enjoyed the role she had. at least until she was expected to pay off her father’s pregnant mistress who was threatening to spill the beans about their illicit affair.
while her mother had known about his infidelities for years, vic had no clue. she always assumed her father was working. that was why he couldn’t come to her recitals or presentations in school. that was why he was late to every single one of her birthday parties. she had convinced herself that her father wasn’t a scumbag but a highly ambitious politician and anyone else in his position would do the same.
to an extent, she had idolized her father — glorifying the parent who was never really there and whose approval she would have died to get. the version of him she had created was destroyed. she was furious, heartbroken and confused. she quit that very day and a week later, the news broke. that one woman speaking out opened the floodgates and years of affairs and other naughty behavior was broadcasted across the state. her mother would have made tammy wynette proud with how she stood by her man but victoire did not follow suit. she worked in public relations so she never outright spoke against him because no one would hire her after publicly blasting a former client in the press. even if it was her father. but she knew how to expertly throw shade. and she did. quite a few times, actually.
after she quit, victoire ended up in new york where she worked with a pr firm for a couple of years before getting a job with a more prestigious one in los angeles which prompted her move to silver lake. it’s been surprisingly difficult for her to adjust to life on the west coast. she’s a new england girl through and through and there’s just something about palm trees and sunshine that feels wrong. she also just really misses her family. well, just her mother really. they make do by facetiming twice a week and they’re even in the middle of discussing flying her out for the holidays. unfortunately, though, it’s unlikely to happen as her mother is insistent on bringing gabriel. victoire hasn’t seen or spoken to her father since the day she told him to go fuck himself and stormed out of his office. not because of any guilt from “abandoning” her father. — she’d add ‘essentially ruined my father’s political career’ to her resume if she thought it’d help her — but because she is still so damn angry. the closest thing to contact they have is him wiring her money every month. this “allowance” isn’t really needed, victoire makes a very good living without needing any of what she calls bisset blood money. but she allows it to continue because she considers it restitution for decades of lackluster parenting and lies.
where victoire really shines is her career. she’s relatively new to the scene — at least compared to most publicists in hollywood — with only seven years of experience under her belt but don’t confuse quantity with quality. if you are a public figure, you want vic on your team. she’s tenacious and, while some may view her methods as underhanded, there is no story she can’t get ahead of. and if she can’t distract from it entirely, she can turn it into a positive or at least paint her client as the victim. duis, public disagreements with significant others, leaked sex tapes. she’s seen it all. she’d dedicated to the cause and makes up her own rules, but also has a strict moral code so she won’t do something or work with someone that goes against that.
victoire thrives in social situations and really loves to hear herself talk. she also tends to assume she’s the smartest person in the room and just expects everyone to go along with what she says. and she doesn’t really handle it well when that doesn’t happen. some may say she’s stubborn, she says she’s a leader who likes to take charge and handle things. she’s a very honest and straightforward person who is clear about her intentions in a relationship whether it’s professional, platonic or romantic. she doesn’t play games, she’s not wishy-washy and she has a tendency to see the world in black and white.
coming from a long line of elitists, vic is proud to say that is at least one pattern she broke. she just isn’t one to parade around her wealth. yes, she has a nice house and she does tend to favor designer brands when it comes to clothing, but there really isn’t anything pretentious about her. the closest you’ll get is her having dinner at a five star restaurant or buying a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine. but that’s only because she likes good food and even better wine. she’s not one to show off and is just as likely to be seen at a fancy hollywood party mingling with clients as she is laying on her couch, wrapped up in blankets and watching golden girls reruns. she’s a combination of dorothy and blanche, by the way.
-
anyways, i think this is long enough so i’ll wrap it up and just say i am excited to be here and that i look forward to writing with you all. i’ll be reaching out to everyone regarding plots at some point (i say some point because i’m a slow typer with a small attention span who is currently working 60 hours a week so i’m easily distracted AND tired) but you can expedite the process by sending me a message or liking this and i’ll put you at the top of my list. in the meantime, though, feel free to just assume connections. we can go with the flow and i don’t require connections before interacting anyway. aaaand now i’m really stopping!
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— it’s enough just to have you observe the reverse side of a dream.
connor enters the room with a pair of beers floating next to his left ear, slowly slowly reaching his brother's desk, easing down with a killing calm “you could take a break, you know.” there’s no reply as he sits on the table and takes a sip “please? we don’t have the same power?” stretching his arms is all he manages before definitely interrupting the routine of glueing his irises to the emanating monitor, grabbing a bottle and pointing it in his brother’s direction “would you be so kind? we don’t have the same power?” the hint of a sarcastic chuckle and the cap falls off. he’s free to follow into the unhealthy habit “everything’s good?” connor inquires, gulping again “yeah, sure.” he doesn’t even finish with his answer that a hummed complain discovers his lie “yeah, sure.” he gets mocked and can’t help but swell his cheeks and blow out warm air, half already exasperated. this will surely drag on for who knows how long and it’s the last thing he wants now “okay okay, joke all you want.” he doesn’t care, he’ll just continue drinking, working and go to ‘bed’ “you’re evil.” gosh, really? mumbling ‘you’re evil’ like a child is all you got, connor? “well, i suppose i am, yes. and you too. we’re both villains after all.” eight rolls his eyes while displaying an incurable smile “fine. we are. but you’re evilest.” the other is left to shrug, making an indifferent face, tasting alcohol once more “fair enough.” that’s it. he can’t anymore. connor throws his head back. he should add ‘making someone tired of speaking in a banter or less’ to the list of his superpowers. why, still after half a bottle, talking to the blood of his blood requires an exceptional effort is a mystery “i’m literally begging you” “then beg–” “don’t say then beg or— you’re impossible.” a smirk is hidden in the green glass and a soft ‘eheh’ is muttered. a pause. he’s chugged every drop left and resumes typing without advancing further in the conversation “c’mon, i’m serious.” his fingers don’t halt, faking the composure he always pretends “hey? detroit to big hacker guy??” “i’m listening.” his tone is low. of course he’s listening “that’s not the point. i want you to vent to me.” “about?” the back and forth doesn’t halt for a second, no thought feelings “you know what.” “no i don’t.” the pace is restless and connor doesn’t love this in the slightest “mhh, lemme remember— ah! right! about that certain someone who came here soaked in blood.” his brother's knuckles become white and honestly, it doesn’t take much iq to understand the emotional turmoil he’s been into. a heavy sigh “you can’t go on like this.” another less lasting pause of silence. he stops clicking the keyboard “i can. i can and i will, connor. ‘cause every time we meet it’s a disaster.” and for what? because we don’t agree about what’s good and what’s bad? or how one should live? that doesn’t change anything anyway “i— i just– every single time we’re close i forget the whole ‘enemy’ or ‘hero’ thing.... i inevitably lower my guard and i feel too exposed; or worse: accepted. and i can’t– i don’t— i don’t know what to do. i panic. i freeze. i’ve never– i’ve never felt like this. and i’m so weirded out by the situation that– that i behave as a bastard. let’s be honest, i’m often a bastard but that’s not important right now. what i’m trying to convey is that– [name], [name] bear through it all, treat it as nothing and make me feel at peace with myself, with whatever i’ve done wrong: how can they? i’m— i’m scared. i’m scared that they’ll come to hate me for real. but at the same time i’m more scared about the fact that they could come to love me too.” he needs to breathe, weighing his words because for the past minute he’s been a stammering mess, probably shaping a worried as hell connor “we’re so similar, connor. we’re two sides of a coin and we understand each other in such a way that i— at least i hope it is.” his enthusiasm dies with his speech. if you wouldn’t return his confession, that would be quite ironic, wouldn’t it?
“coming, coming” you huff, going at the door. this is not a horror movie, by the way, so you don’t open it immediately, but look at the spy-hole first. which gives you.... more questions than you had before hearing knocking at late evening. none of you dare breaking the tranquility of your tiny apartment as he goes comfortable on your orange couch, as you gesture him to do. for an instant he’s tempted to escape the agonizing ambience but he endures and overcomes the fear of approaching the topic “you’ve gone to the gym as i suggested?” his figure is crouched onwards, hands clasped, not wanting to pick at each other or just to prevent attempts for a trembling hug “.... no i haven’t. but, before you get mad, i haven’t been out since.... for two weeks.” you lower your sight, quickly in covering your mistake, and he stifles a groan, letting only his mouth go agape “i see.” you’re kinda taken aback by a so tamed retort but you pay it no mind “did you want something?” there must be a reason for his first visit, right? “i....” his phrase wonders together with his gaze, analyzing the one room fits all “how you’ve been handling with the groceries?” okay. that’s odd. but you’ll allow it “my neighbour does it for me.” “ah. mh.” and? no more? that’s even stranger “anything else?” you tease him, waiting for some sort of revelation “what?” his face watches you, a bit spaced out, that’s.... too freaky. even for him “are you on drugs? i won’t judge but– that’s not cool man.” he doesn’t laugh. and you don’t laugh. there’s nothing to laugh. you haven’t been able to laugh for months, actually “how” he hesitantly begins “how are you?” it’s as soft as he can be and, shockingly, it’s a lot “how am i? how am i....? good, why wouldn’t i?” a wavering giggle is everything he’s getting tonight, sorry “you’ve been sh—” “i am fine. don’t worry about me.” you grit your teeth, blocking what he was about to spout “no, you’re not you’re—” again you intercept his sentence “shut up, okay? shut the fuck up. either you go away or– or– or—” or i start to cry. and he’s most certainly the last person you want to see while bawling your eyes out. but it’s also, most certainly, the only person who could help soothe your tears “hey hey hey” your memories go back to when he was trying to medicate you. holding back becomes extremely difficult and you break out in sobs, wrists hovering your scalp, concealing your figure. he’s near your seat in a heartbeat, hugging you tightly, tenderly hushing your silhouette into his, until you both mold and melt into one “i hate it. i hate it. i hate every single moment. i hate not being able to go out. i hate depending on others. and i hate myself the most.” he carries on with the task of rubbing your neck and your spine, delicately drawing prayers onto your clothes, wishing for this to pass as soon as possible “i’m fucking traumatised! i could have died! you— you could have been somewhere else and i would have died of blood loss in that empty room! yet i came to you all the same! you could have not been there and i came anyway! you could have not been there and i—” over your rambling screams he murmurs in your ear “but i was there. i was there. i will always be there. i’m always here for you.” because i love you.
at this point you’re two shaking chaos, grasping onto yourselves with digging nails.
#pwease don't hate me and eat this humble content#DBH#dbh connor#dbh RK900#RK900 x reader#dbh RK900 x reader#RK900#connor#dbh nines#nines#dbh nines x reader#nines x reader#detroit become human#dbh imagine#villain/hero AU#dbh villain/hero AU
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Additions: Part 1
Pairing: Jaime x MC
Word Count: 2,850
Summary: Several years into marriage, Jaime and Arden make an important decision about their family’s future.
Note: This mini-series is a departure from the sorts of things I’ve written before, but it’s been part of my headcanon for these characters for ages and I just had to get it out.
With that said, I know that this story isn’t going to be to everyone’s taste. If you’re currently being tagged for this pairing and want me to leave you off my list for the rest of this series, just let me know! I promise I won’t be offended or upset.
September, 2026
Arden was no stranger to the fact that her entire world could change in a matter of minutes. The lightning strike, her mother’s death, that fateful gubernatorial debate – each had heralded new epochs in her life. But even with all of that previous experience, this particular set of minutes still managed to surprise her.
It was the first time she’d been speechless on camera, knowing that tears would begin pouring if she even tried to make use of her vocal cords. Ellen had covered for her admirably, but Arden’s palms were still sweating when she left an hour later.
She pulled out of the studio parking lot, punching buttons on the LED display of the dash.
Dialing.
A repetitive dulcet tone echoed through the vehicle.
“Arden?” her husband’s voice broke through the speakers and the tears threatened to rise again.
“Jaime, where are you?” she managed faintly, blasting the air conditioner in an effort to preserve her composure.
“In my workshop. Are you okay?” His strained concern brought her back to reality.
“I don’t know – but don’t worry about me. I’m not in danger or anything.” The sniffling wasn’t doing anything to add to her credibility, so she shifted tactics. “I just need to talk to you.”
“Sure. I’ll be home for another hour before I need to head over to the worksite for a meeting. You on your way back?”
“Reschedule it, babe,” she commanded gently, ignoring his question.
“Arden, you’re scaring me.” From the jostling on the other end, she could envision him pinning the phone close with his shoulder, hands occupied in searching for his truck keys.
The slam of the workshop door confirmed her suspicions.
“I’m almost home, Jaime. Stay there.”
His sigh dissipated through the vehicle.
“And I’m scaring me too…” the confession was almost a whisper. “But I think it’s a good scared.”
_____
Jaime was waiting on the front step when she arrived home, Opie sniffing at the bushes that lined the side of the house. As she rolled into the driveway, he ushered the dog inside and met her on the pavement.
“You’re trembling, babe.” He held out a hand to steady her at the elbow, but she rushed on ahead.
“Jaime, I saw our kids.”
He almost tripped up the doorstep, leaving Arden grateful that she hadn’t taken the assistance he’d proffered. “What do you mean?”
“I know we haven’t talked about it in a while, but you know how we always said we wanted to adopt someday?”
He just gawked at her, dumbstruck.
“We were doing the Wednesday’s Child segment this morning and I don’t even know how to explain it, but the kids we featured in the video? They’re ours.” Taking a seat on the couch, she drew out the laptop from her satchel. “Here, I’ll show you.”
For the space of several moments, the house was silent save for the sound of her fingers clicking on keys. Having found the webpage, she slid the device toward Jaime, reading the familiar text along with him.
Sophia, age 11. Sophia is a lively girl who enjoys spending time with her brothers and making new friends. She loves to sing and hopes to continue playing flute in band at her new school. When she grows up, Sophia wants to teach kindergarten or be a pediatrician.
Alexander (Alex), Age 9. Alex is a talented artist who loves to draw and make things with his hands. He can be shy around people he doesn’t know, but he’s very sensitive and affectionate once he warms up to you. When he isn’t drawing, he loves to watch movies or build with LEGO.
Will, Age 7. Will is very energetic and enjoys playing outside. His favorite sport is soccer and he dreams of one day playing professionally. He is friends with everyone and always has stories to tell. Will loves animals and hopes to have a pet of his own someday.
Sophia, Alex, and Will are very close and need to be adopted together. They would do best in an active household that has a backyard so that they can spend time outside. They deserve an adoptive family that can provide structure, patience, and lots of love.
When she came to the end, her eyes darted back to his face, heart thundering wildly at the conflict she saw there. She ran her hands against the skirt of her dress and waited for him to speak.
“Arden.” Jaime shook his head and swore under his breath. Blinking, he pushed the laptop a few inches across the coffee table.
“See?” The tears were threatening again, called forth by the raw emotion in his tone.
He nodded vigorously.
“And there’s a video,” she continued, scrolling further down the page. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Feeling Jaime tense beside her, she extended a palm toward him and clicked the play button. The musical interlude began, followed by June’s voiceover.
Every week, we introduce you to a child in our community that needs a family. Today, we’ve chosen three very special siblings who need a forever home...
Arden’s eyes stung as she saw them again, heart skipping wildly just as it had done before. Curious as she was to know Jaime’s reaction, she couldn’t tear her attention away from the screen.
These were their kids.
There was no question in her mind.
Jaime’s grip tightened around her fingers as the voiceover resumed. “How do we bring them home?”
Her finger trailed the trackpad, hovering over the link for more information. “I can fill out the preliminary paperwork tonight. After that, it’s going to be a lot of training and home visits and a lot of waiting. It’s not going to be easy.”
Jaime pulled her hand to his lap, thumb tracing anxious circles through her skin. “When have you ever been known to back down from a challenge?”
“Basically never,” she laughed ironically. “But are we sure we’re ready for this?”
The enormity of the decision rolled over her like a freight train. Talking about wanting kids and actually pursuing them were two very different things.
Jaime leaned back into the couch, and her heart beat erratically in the long seconds before his response. What if she was wrong? What if he didn’t feel as strongly as she did? It was early, sure, but despite her fears, Arden had her heart set on seeing more of those three small faces.
“We’ve been planning to have kids for forever.”
“We’ve just been waiting for the right time,” she added softly.
“I think we’ve found it.”
She clicked to open the new tab. “This isn’t committing us to anything. At this point, it’s really just an expression of interest. If we change our minds later...”
Jaime recognized the implication. “I don’t think we will.”
Releasing his hand, Arden lifted the computer to her knees. “Neither do I.” She started filling in the blanks slowly. She was an expert typist, but something about this particular form encouraged her to linger over every word.
Jaime shook her sleeve gently, the motion stirring her to look back at him. “Let’s talk for just a second.”
Her posture straightened, hands falling back to her sides. He changed his mind. Arden drew a shaky breath as she met his eyes.
Jaime looked back steadily. “We’ve been doing the no-kids thing for a while now. Having three of them all at once is going to mean a lot of changes. We’re financially stable, so I’m not worried about that, but this isn’t just sponsoring them or visiting sometimes -- this is an all-day, every-day commitment.”
Arden rubbed the pad of her thumb in contemplation. “We’re not exactly used to being home consistent hours, but I think we could change that. I’ll still have to go to the studio every morning, but I can be home around noon most days. Your schedule is fairly flexible and my dad and Julie are literally next door. I’m sure they could help fill in some gaps if we ever needed them to.”
“It would still probably mean cutting back on our work hours.”
"I’m willing if it comes to that. I’ve got parental leave for several weeks and other than our time fliming, a lot of my work can be done remotely.”
“You’re sure?” His velvet eyes shone with the question.
“I’m sure. We have so much love to give, Jaime. Look at their faces and tell me that we could seriously say no to helping them have a family.”
“We can’t. And I don’t want to.”
_____
November, 2026
“Are we crazy?” Arden asked as they walked out of their first training meeting several weeks later. “Are we even old enough to have an eleven year old?”
Jaime’s head fell back with laughter. “We would have had to stop pretending not to be in love with each other much, much earlier than we did. Like, right after high-school graduation.” He flashed her a wink from across the hood of his car. “But I don’t think that’s going to matter too much. When I first moved in with Paula, I thought she was too old for me, just because she had a few gray hairs. Clearly, I was wrong,” he stated, fumbling in his pocket for the keys. “In the end, all that mattered was being part of a family.”
“I hope our kids feel the same way.”
“Even if they don’t, I think we’re doing the right thing.”
“I do too.”
He unlocked the door and paused in the seat before starting the ignition. “Growing up, I never really understood why Paula was so excited to have me come and live with her. I think I get it now.”
Arden fiddled with the zipper on her purse, her mind having traveled in a similar direction. “We didn’t even know they existed six weeks ago.”
And now we can’t imagine life without them.
His thought tallied with her own. “Exactly.”
“We’ve got a long road ahead of us,” she continued, thinking of all they’d heard. Ready as she was to have the kids under their roof, part of her was grateful that the drawn-out process gave them so many months to adjust.
“I’m glad you’re the one taking this journey with me.”
“I wouldn’t do this with anybody else.” Arden clasped his knee firmly, eyes on the road ahead. “Still want to go home and talk about remodeling?”
“Yep.” He slowed for the approaching stoplight.
“You finally going to take out that wall downstairs that you’ve been complaining about for ages?”
Jaime took the opportunity to cast a scrutinizing eye over her features. “Open-concept designs are on their way out. And it’s a load-bearing wall anyway. We’ve talked about this.”
Arden giggled into the sleeve of her jacket, arching a brow at her husband.
You’re just trying to wind me up, aren’t you?
She squeezed his knee in silent confirmation.
_____
April, 2027
Mommy is changing the walls!
With a start, Arden shifted the roller to one hand. Her other pinched the pause button on her earbuds, putting the podcast to an end. “Opie, how’d you get in here? You’re supposed to be in the kitchen.”
Jaime’s step sounded in the upstairs hallway. “That was me. I didn’t realize you were painting -- sorry.” He coaxed the animal back into the hall and locked him out. Once inside, he cast an appreciative gaze around the bedroom. “This is looking really good. Are you sure painting walls isn’t your day job?”
She rolled her eyes at the compliment, but couldn’t hide the curve of her lips as she continued working. “You should see me assemble furniture. I’ve got mad skills when it comes to flat packs. But enough of that. How was your meeting with city council?”
“Really good,” he told her with a dazed grin. “They want me to draw up plans for about a dozen more buildings downtown.”
Arden watched him as she came to the end of a stroke. “That’s excellent news! Everyone at work raves about those gardens -- I told you they’d want more.”
He raked a hand through his hair, but her eyes were drawn to the blush that spread across his cheeks. “I thought they might want another three or four, but a dozen? I’m going to have to contract some of the work out to get it done in time. It’s going to be a busy few weeks.”
“Then let’s finish up in here and take the rest of the night to celebrate. We could go out for dinner or catch a movie if you want.”
“We could. Or...”
She pulled the roller down in a long, even line, not daring to look away from the wall again. “Or?” she inquired along with the final swipe. Wall completed, Arden returned the roller to its tray and turned to face him.
“I was just thinking that we’re running out of nights to have the whole house to ourselves. Maybe I’d rather just stay in with you.” With a mischievous slant to his smile, he worked the knot of her bandana loose and slipped it off her head. Fingers delving into her hair, Jaime’s lips met hers in a kiss that banished all other desires from her mind.
Arden tangled her hands behind his neck, legs latching onto his waist as he hoisted her up by the thighs. “I like this plan.”
“Good.” He tightened his grip and began to move. Staggering into the hallway, Jaime paused so that she could pull the bedroom door to a close. I’m definitely not doing this with kids in the house.
“That’s probably wi---” The first in a trio of kisses to her throat brought her statement to a premature end. Arden was never sure how he managed kiss her and walk at the same time, but she wasn’t going to complain. As they continued making their way to the bedroom, she heard their door bounce against the wall with a hollow thunk. She flashed a sassy grin when he deposited her on the bed. “In a hurry?”
“We’ll have plenty of chances to sneak around later,” he promised as he joined her.
“Does that mean we can be as loud as we want tonight?” she asked coquettishly, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
It’s like you read my mind.
_____
June, 2027
Jaime closed the bedroom door behind them, the click of the latch quickly giving way to an unnatural silence. Arden took a few tentative steps, crossing her arms in an attempt to relieve her feeling of uselessness.
They rallied in the middle of the room, weary bodies falling to the mattress as they tried to absorb everything that had happened over the space of the last several hours.
“I can’t --”
“I just --”
Words overlapping, they laughed at the sudden break to the stillness.
“You go first,” Arden urged, tucking one hand up under her cheek as she studied her husband’s face. His eyes were sagging from lack of sleep, but she’d seen the spark of delight more times today than she could count.
“It’s nothing I haven’t said before. But I can’t believe they’re actually here.”
She mirrored his radiant grin, muscles straining with her thousandth smile of the day. “It still doesn’t feel real.” Arden scooted toward him, turning to her side so that her back was to his chest. “This isn’t like visiting them with the caseworker. We’re the ones responsible here.” Breathing sharply, a fear came to mind. “Do you think I should go and check on them to make sure they’re still breathing?”
Jaime pulled her close, the weight of his arms drawing away some of the anxiety that been solidifying since the morning.
“I’m sure they’re breathing,” he reassured, the words ghosting over her ear. “And they’re probably as exhausted as we are.”
“I know, but they’re in a new place. What if they can’t sleep?” Idly, she toyed with the smooth band on Jaime’s finger.
"They’ll learn to sleep here sooner or later. If we wake them up by going in to check on them, it’s just going to make adjusting even harder.”
She hummed her assent as her mind wandered. “Did you see how long Will sat and played with Opie? I’ve never heard that dog have such happy thoughts.”
“Having kids around is going to be good for him. He was starting to get a little pudgy.”
“Hey!”
“It’s true. He’s not a puppy anymore and Jinx doesn’t let him chase her around as much as she used to. It’ll be good for him to have someone to play with him more often.”
“That’s probably true,” she conceded, falling silent once more.
“We ought to start getting ready for bed.”
Arden nodded, but made no attempt to leave his embrace. “How long do you think it will take for this to start feeling real? Right now, it just feels like we’ve got guests in the other end of the house.”
He sighed into her shoulder. “Probably sooner than we think. We’ll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.”
End Note: I know that I cannot begin to capture what it’s like to be a foster or adoptive parent, especially since my writing is coming from research rather than lived experience. If you have a more complete understanding of fostering or adoption and have concerns about the way I’ve represented these topics, I would be forever grateful to hear your suggestions for improvement. : )
#playchoices#playchoices fanfiction#wishful thinking#jaime lewis#jaime x mc#welcome to the land of awkward transitions#somehow this whole thing turned into a series of vignettes#when in doubt#end with dialogue#right?#please ignore my nervous rambling in the tags
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Little Boxes - Fourteen
A Jeonghceol Domestic AU where they live in suburbia with their six year old son Chan. Jeonghan is an active member of the PTA, a soccer dad and chauffeur, and a supportive parent all around. His loving husband cares deeply for his passions and will follow him to the end of the world if it keeps him and his family happy. Follow their journey as they get caught up in fun and zany adventures when they fall outside of the guide lines of your average neighbor. Don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I want to see how many different domestic prompts I can get out of this AU before I run out of steam.
First Chapter
Previous Chapter
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Author’s Note: For hiroi! WIll be posted on archive later.
It’s summer break! Chan’s favorite! The peanut butter to his jelly. The cheese to his crackers. There is absolutely nothing he loves more than his summer breaks.
Well… Okay. Okay. There are many times a year that rival summer in the Choi household, but Chan can truly say summers are his favorite. Really!
Right after Halloween…
And Christmas…
And his birthday….
Yes, okay. A lot of favorites.
But summer is an extra special favorite. It feels like school lets out for a whole year. He just wants to absorb every second of freedom like a sea sponge bobbing atop the ocean waves. Don’t get him wrong though, he loves school. Loves his patient teachers and his animated friends and the new class pet that kind of just sits there all day and computer lab where they get to play pizza parlor games and science projects with the fourth graders…
Where was he? Oh.
But he also loves spending long summer days with his dads. He loves traveling to far out places that he doesn’t get to visit often. Roadtrips where they listen to Smooth Criminal and Shinee and Suju. He loves getting to eat ice cream because ‘its just too hot’ and staying up past his bedtime to snuggle in between his dads while they watch his favorite movies. And one of the things he looks forward to most is going to the beach.
FINALLY it’s warm enough for it. Chan remembers squishing his toes in the sand and watching it bubble up beneath his feet. He remembers running right to the edge of the water as the ocean waves retreated and scurrying back as the water charges toward him. He remembers collecting seashells with unique swirls and ridges. And sandcastles. He remembers building a sandcastle only fit for kings. Chan has been told many times before that he has amazing patience. Patience is what makes his sandcastles the awesomest most bestest sandcastles on this entire side of Korea.
Chan is leaning on his dad’s shoulder, knees bent under him, bouncing on the couch like an energetic puppy. Jeonghan has on his reading glasses—the ones that make him look far older than he really is—as he looks over some paper with a long list of words scribbled down the middle. He pushes his glasses up and goes to write when a jolt creates a dark slash of pen markings on his paper. He sighs.
“Chan, baby. I need you to be still so I can make sure we have everything for the trip.”
And Chan stops immediately, frozen like a marbled statue. Patience. He’s just so excited, he wants to shake and shimmy and scream and play. Oh god, does he want to play. But Jeonghan-appa says he has to be still so they will have everything they need to go to the beach. So he challenges himself to be still.
Seungcheol walks down the stairs with a family sized beach bag slung over his shoulder. When Chan sees him, he flings himself off the couch. In a second, he’s clinging onto his leg, resuming his energetic bounce. The “stillness” didn’t last long. Not at all in this household.
Challenge: Failed.
“I can help! Lemme help!” Chan shouts. If he can pack quickly, they can leave even sooner. He’s determined.
Seungcheol puts his large hand on Chan’s head, smoothing the unruly hair from his face. He chuckles lightly, the skin around his eyes wrinkling up. His son is quick to grab his hand and pull him over to the couch where all of the supplies are sprawled out on the living room floor in front of it. Chan sits by them, pulling his dad down with him. Seungcheol has to squat slowly to get his knees to cooperate and damn, it’s slowly donning on him that he’s getting old.
“What have we got here?” Seungcheol scrunches up his nose at a pack of fabric, shower cap like accessories. He picks it up with two skeptical fingers while looking at his husband. Jeonghan shrugs.
“They’re shoe covers so we don’t track sand into the car. It stays in there forever and I don’t want to have to do a deep cleaning so close to the last one.”
Seungcheol laughs boisterously, catching Jeonghan and Chan off guard. It’s quite loud in the calm quiet morning. “Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?”
“Ummm…” Jeonghan dramatically shifts his face into one of mock confusion. He even goes as far as to cupping his chin with his thumb and index finger. Seungcheol knows he’s made a mistake then. Jeonghan continues, “Last time I checked, you weren’t the one who cleaned the car.” Jeonghan jabs a pointed finger at Seungcheol on the you and Seungcheol’s smile remains even as he’s being lightly scolded. His husband sits on the couch like it’s his thrown, one leg crossed over the other. He peers down at him through the reading glasses perched on his nose. From their position, Seungcheol stares up at him like he owns the world and his heart to go with it. The I love you plays behind his lips, but he knows Jeonghan already feels him thinking it with the way he unconsciously leans toward him and lets his smile grow exponentially.
Chan in his own world just now remembers some seashells he hid in the cup holder in the back back of the car from last time. He wonders if his dad has thrown them out since he cleaned the car. He hopes not so he can find more today and start a real collection.
“Alright!” Jeonghan claps his hands together. He begins rattling off supplies. Towels, bottles of water, flip flops. Seungcheol shouts a “got it” or some other acknowledgement after each one, packing them strategically in his beach bag. Seungcheol wants Chan to think he’s helping, but in all actuality Jeonghan is going so fast, his son’s tiny limbs can’t keep up. Before Chan can even process the word, Seungcheol is reaching for the corresponding item and guiding his son’s hands like he is the one to pack them. Eventually Chan falls into a fit of giggles at his dad’s frantic searching through the pile for an umbrella hat? He isn’t even sure what that is and swears it must be a joke. But he realizes it isn’t once Jeonghan concedes, “They were on sale.” As soon as Seungcheol grabs an item and places it into the bag, his husband is yelling out the next, leaving little room for air. They’re already in such a good mood and the day has barely started.
On their way out, Jeonghan grabs a cooler with snacks and packed lunches. Sandwiches and fruits and all the simple foods their hearts desired. And once the car is loaded, the drive to the beach begins!
~~
When Chan wakes up, he notices the car has stopped moving. In his disoriented haze, he rubs at his eyes. His body hasn’t fully booted up, but its easy to see the moment in which it does. There are blue skies. The bluest he’s ever seen. Blue like the crayon he uses to color his perfect sunny day. Blue like the popsicle that stains his tongue. And a long stretch of sand fading into the ocean makes him excitedly squeal.
“Seems like someone finally woke up.” Seungcheol teases. “We thought we’d have to go have all the fun by ourselves.”
“I’m up! I’m up!” Chan shouts, untangling himself from his seat belt.
They file out the car, Chan squinting from the bright sun. He’s ready to take off but forgets his floaties, pail and shovel. He runs to Seungcheol’s side and pulls on his hand. “Trunk?”
Seungcheol gets the hint and presses the small button on his key. The back door of their minivan begins rising. “Hold on, Chan!” He knows his kid. And his selective vision will have him pulling out his own accessories without realizing everything on top of it. He doesn’t want this beach day to end early because Chan buried himself under all the beach gear. Seungcheol runs to the back before anything gets tugged out of place. “Let me help you there, bud.”
Jeonghan joins them, grabbing the totes while Seungcheol carries the cooler. Chan has his accessories in a mesh bag and before they can set up a game plan, their seven-year-old is padding down the walkway, sand crunching under his flip flops.
“That nap in the car only fueled him. What have we done?” Seungcheol laughs beside his husband as they trail after the kid.
“No, the gummies you snuck him for breakfast fueled him. What have you done?” He accuses instead, but a warm smile shows his contentment. The sand sunk under their footsteps, temporary imprints leaving their mark. The sounds of the waves crashing upon shore lull them into a serenity the suburbs could never offer. Sea foam bubbles up at the edge before getting replaced by a new wave. Everchanging.
Chan seems to have found a spot. Although he could have chosen any with the relatively empty beach front, one certain spot calls to him and his parents allow him to guide them there. And the spot was perfect. The perfect distance from the water to protect his unbuilt sandcastle from the tide.
But first, a dip in the ocean!
Chan sits his things down and makes to dash toward the water, but lithe arms swoop him up. Chan yelps before releasing high pitched laughter. He has his back against his dad’s chest and wiggles his dangling feet.
“The ultimate Spider-Chan is trying to escape!” Jeonghan launches into a roleplay, wrapping his arms tighter around his son. “Quick! Stop him with the top-secret goop!”
Seungcheol makes a big display of shuffling through the tote bag to pull out the sunscreen. A diabolical laugh secures his spot in the roleplay as well.
“I have the top-secret goop! What shall I do with it?” Seungcheol approaches the pair. How silly Jeonghan looks with his nose scrunched up in mischief. A silly, beautiful display of candid bliss. His curved fingers tickle at his son’s sides and the boy dissolves into laughter, all but shrieking in delight. Seungvheol uncaps the lid, squirting a pea sized dot onto his finger and boops his son on the nose.
“Alright.” Jeonghan squats down until he’s sat with Chan in between his legs. He sticks out his palm and on instinct, Seungcheol is squirting the lotion into his hand. He takes some into his own and like the perfect team they are, they cover their son in no time. Seungcheol rubs at his round cheeks and rubs down his arms. Jeonghan rubs at his back and down his neck. And God, why does absolutely everything tickle this child? He won’t be stop moving, but they’re determined to go home without a sunburn today.
Chan escapes as soon as Seungcheol moves from in front of him. His beach toys went ignored for too long so he goes to keep them company. Seungcheol takes his place.
“Don’t forget your face this time, Cheol.”
“Got it.”
Hands massage his shoulder blades and rub down his back in a circular motion. Seungcheol has to fight the urge to lean back into his husband. Times like these, even the simplest of gestures makes him incredibly grateful for Jeonghan. He wouldn’t have anyone to rub sunscreen into the places he can’t reach. No one to remember to even pack it. No one to help him play with his son at the beach—no one to help raise him. No one to cherish this close to his heart. Why is he getting emotional over sunscreen? Because Jeonghan. That’s why.
Seungcheol returns the favor making Jeonghan sigh in satisfaction. He is melting in the palm of his hand. He watches as his husband tilts his chin up, closing his eyes. The sun kisses his skin and now Seungcheol has the urge to do the same. He leans forward and leaves a small lingering kiss on Jeonghan’s neck, ignoring the strong scent of the sunscreen. He wraps his arms around the other’s stomach and rests his head on the shoulder in front of him. They sit there for a few solitary seconds just breathing. Breathing in each other’s space and acknowledging each other’s presence.
“I’d go to the beach everyday if it meant getting a free massage.” Jeonghan jokes. Seungcheol can feel the vibrations of Jeonghan speaking, a light buzz of energy between them.
He grins then leans forward. His lips are close to the shell of Jeonghan’s ear. “All you have to do is ask.”
“Can we go in the water now?” Chan plopped himself into Jeonghan’s lap eliciting a startled “oof” from his husband.
Mood effectively killed.
“Of course we can!” Chan jumps back up at Jeonghan’s words.
Chan holds out his hands so he can help Jeonghan up. And Jeonghan doesn’t want to embarrass his baby so he pretends that he isn’t using his own strength (and Seungcheol’s hand on his backside) to stand. “Great job! You’re getting so strong!” Seungcheol beams at Chan and sends a sly wink toward his husband.
The water is cool on the soles of their feet. With Chan in the middle, both hands grasped tightly by his parents, the family inch closer to the water. The waves come to greet them, drifting up to their ankles and back out into the ocean. A tiny school of fish swirl around their feet, traveling across the edge of the water. Chan gasps in wonder. Something so tiny working together to find their place in this world, Chan thinks it’s something to celebrate.
The further in they get, Jeonghan decides to hold Chan. He’s been practicing his swimming, but Jeonghan feels a lot more secure with Chan in his arms like this. Seungcheol does too with Jeonghan in his own. His hands guide his waist to give him that extra support. And each time a new wave rolls in, they welcome it with a hop.
Like this, Chan really thinks summer is his favorite. It’s fought its way back to the top. It proved its worth in the way both of his dads dote on him as they splash and swim in the ocean. As Seungcheol reaches out to rub mustard off his cheek from their mid-noon lunch. As Jeonghan falls asleep and they conspire to build angel wings out of sand around him, holding in their giggles long enough to not wake their sleeping angel. As Chan builds an even bigger, even better sandcastle (with help of course). And as Chan collects seashells in his little pail while the sun begins to set.
He knows he’ll go on many more adventures this summer. And no matter what, he’ll have the most fun when he’s with his parents. But for today, he’ll officially deem it the best one yet.
-----------------------------------
NEXT CHAPTER
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Learning the Ropes: Early Scorsese by R. Emmet Sweeney
Martin Scorsese is not just a name, but a phrase that conjures a world of lower east side street corners, Italian-American toughs and mob rituals. He has built a remarkable resume over 50 years of filmmaking and preservation work that has managed to retain outsized artistic ambitions as Hollywood’s continues to shrink. He has become a living institution, which can sometimes obscure some of the work that built that reputation. FilmStruck is programming three early Scorsese films to re-acquaint ourselves with a portrait of Scorsese as a young director: WHO’S THAT KNOCKING AT MY DOOR (’67), MEAN STREETS (’73) and ALICE DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE (’74). Today I am writing about the two lesser-known films, WHO’S THAT KNOCKING and ALICE, which show Scorsese inhabiting and reaching beyond his roots.
WHO’S THAT KNOCKING AT MY DOOR took four years for Scorsese to make and get into theaters, first conceived in 1965 while he was still an undergrad at NYU. He received $5,000 in seed money from his professor Haig Manoogian (listed as a producer). It was intended to be the second part of a trilogy in which MEAN STREETS would be the conclusion. The first being the never-produced JERUSALEM, JERUSALEM. The trilogy was to be a semi-autobiographical story of a lower east side NYC striver named J.R. (Harvey Keitel in his first feature – he was making a living as a court stenographer), hanging out in social clubs in between short-term jobs, hoping for a break. The film went through many variations, first as a short film called Bring on the Dancing Girls, which was then incorporated into a feature called I Call First (where it premiered at the Chicago International Film Festival and was positively reviewed by Roger Ebert).
It received its final form after sex film distributor Joseph Brenner agreed to pick it up if Scorsese would add some nudity. Scorsese described to Anthony DeCurtis in 1991: “We shot it in Holland, because I was up in Amsterdam doing some commercials for a friend of mine. We flew Harvey [Keitel] over and we got the young ladies there and we did this nude scene. I came back, kind of smuggled it back into the country in my raincoat, put it in the middle of the film and then the film was released. But it was still a rough sketch to me…ah, it’s the old story: if I knew then what I know now it would be different.”
The film follows J.R. as he kills time with his buddies at their social club and at bars drinking the hours away. But there is also a flashback to J.R.’s fractured relationship with a girl (Zina Bethune) he picks up while waiting for the Staten Island Ferry. She reads F. Scott Fitzgerald while he is an expert in Westerns. Their first conversation revolves around John Ford’s THE SEARCHERS (’56), since there is a photo of John Wayne in the French magazine she is reading. They swiftly fall in love, but J.R. is still something of a child, prone to outbursts and totally uncomprehending that a woman can have an inner life of her own. When she reveals that she has been sexually assaulted, instead of offering solace, J.R. is repulsed, his Roman Catholic upbringing thumping in his brain, telling him she must have brought it upon herself.
Scorsese, deeply under the spell of the French New Wave, proceeds with a heavy use of jump cuts, though here it feels like less of a rhythmic element and more of a way to stitch together disparate footage shot years apart. He was lucky enough to hire Thelma Schoonmaker right off the bat, but here was a reclamation job she could not entirely succeed at. But there is remarkable skill and daring on display here, especially in the use of slow motion, superimposition, and especially in the use of music. The closing montage is a quick-cut portrait of a Roman Catholic church, with The Genies’ “Who’s That Knocking” plastered on the soundtrack, forcefully displaying J.R.’s inculcated roots in the church, the source of his warped views on women, as well as his interest in breaking free. Early on he begs his social club boss Joey (Lennard Kuras) to go get a drink in the Village, and is rebuffed. The Village, and later, the Girl played by Zina Bethune, are symbols of escape. But he doesn’t really understand either. He is shocked when the Girl is upset when he “forgives” her for being assaulted, and retreats back to the cocoon of Joey and his neighborhood pals. There is an extended take at the end of a bar – where J.R., Joey and a young kid they dismissively call Sally Gaga (Michael Scala) sit and laugh. They toss napkins at each other, like high-school kids at lunch having spitball wars. They are still, for all intents and purposes, children. And yet they have been loosed upon the adult world and the poor women who will have to suffer their notions of Catholic guilt.
After MEAN STREETS, Scorsese was a hot commodity and instead of doubling down on small time NYC crime stories, he shifted gears into a sweetly romantic road movie – ALICE DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE. Instead of NYC, it’s the sunbaked climes of New Mexico and Arizona, where a struggling single mom and singer (Ellen Burstyn) is trying to make her way to California to make a living for her son. Opening with credits in Academy ratio and a booming Miklos Rozsa-esque score, it’s clear this is Scorsese’s attempt at a Hollywood melodrama in the Douglas Sirk mode, only filtered through the New Hollywood sensibility.
Ellen Burstyn approached Scorsese to take on the project. According to the AFI Catalog, she had received the script by Robert Getchell from Warner Bros. president John Calley, and though it had been passed over many times, Burstyn was attracted by the character of Alice. Coming off of THE EXORCIST (’73), she was given her choice of director, as well as final script approval (she also advocated for more women to be hired on the crew, including editor Marcia Lucas and art director Toby Carr Rafelson). MEAN STREETS had not been released yet, but it was getting strong early reviews and the two hit it off. They worked on improving the script together and participated in extensive rehearsals and improvisations (the bit about Alice’s first stage act was Burstyn’s improvisation, drawing on her real-life act with her brother).
The movie begins with a fairytale, WIZARD OF OZ-like back lot set, a pigtailed girl walking down a lane to her clapboard house, only this time with way more cursing. It’s a cutesy way to introduce the character of Alice, who is a combination of sweetness and a salty mouth. The film is really a showcase for Burstyn, who appears in nearly every scene, giving a performance of gallows humor and deep pathos. She establishes a natural rapport with Alfred Lutter, who plays her son Tommy. Their relationship is one of mutual needling and teasing, one that can ratchet up to anger at moments of extreme stress. At one of Alice’s low ebbs, when she has to postpone her singing career to take a job as a waitress, they let off steam by getting into a water fight. It escalates from a little joke into a full-blown soaking for both, a diversion of stress into play violence. The duo become expert at coming up with games to lessen the anxiety of their tenuous economic existence. And like on WHO’S THAT KNOCKING AT MY DOOR, the soundtrack provides not just a backbeat but insight into the characters’ lives, from Tommy’s blasting of Mott the Hoople to sensitive-boyfriend type Kris Kristofferson’s mellow take on “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.”
Where WHO’S THAT KNOCKING AT MY DOOR provides the doomed tough guy Scorsese template that he would elaborate on for the decades to come, ALICE DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE shows he could apply his talents just as skillfully to the melodrama, as he would occasionally detour to explore again in films like THE AGE OF INNOCENCE (’93, newly out on Blu-ray from Criterion). So while the crime films will always be synonymous with Scorsese, the TAXI DRIVER (’76) and GOODFELLAS (’90), we should expand that association to include ALICE right alongside them.
#FilmStruck#Martin Scorsese#Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore#Who's That Knocking At My Door?#StreamLine Blog#R. Emmet Sweeney#Ellen Burstyn#Harvey Keitel
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Scorpion Vs. Elon Musk’s Mom: FIGHT
Yes, that is indeed Elon Musk’s mother up there. And no, I do not have a bigger sized version of the pic. Guess we could always ask captain-price-official if one does exist.
Or perhaps make your own? Here’s Elon’s mum by herself (and in higher res)...
And with that, it’s time to see what else I tweeted during the first half of March! So, sticking with fighting games: which Street Fighter character does lighting better? Ryu, via the animated movie (via settei)...
… Or Bison, via the live action flick (via toghomevideo)...
I absolutely love win quotes from rom hacks (via bison2winquote)...
I have a massive backlog of games, yet Tekken 7 just shot straight to the top of the list, thanks to the knowledge that you can accurately recreate Dynamite Headdy characters (via mysterious0bob)...
This Hatsune Miku X Space Channel 5 figure is v. nice (via nendoroidoftheday)...
A friendly reminder to everyone that A. I'm a massive fan of Seaman & B. my birthday is about a month away (via nutastic)...
This scene at the beach with a Figma of Link, from A Link Between Worlds, feels more like Link's Awakening than anything else (via vyntic)...
Toys and models are no longer just for reenacting memorable in-game moments, they can also reproduce famous IRL events that surrounded the games themselves (via 8bitcentral)...
So what's the going rate for ET for the Atari 2600 that was supposedly dug up in for that so-called documentary, Atari: Game Over? Which I recently re-watched and still can't believe people think is real. At any rate, am assuming the autograph from Howard Scott Warshaw gives it some actual value (via it8bit)...
And what's the going rate for Chinese Famiclone karaoke carts, primarily one with Jackie Chan on the label. Am also wondering if it's cuz his songs are included... you are aware of his successful career in music as well, right? (via ulan-bator)...
Been struggling to come up with a zinger for the past 10 minutes, but ain't nuthin gonna beat "Welcome to the Velvet Room y'all!" (via jatayu)...
To be filed under: it's funny cuz it's true (via doctorbutler)...
So the weather has been awful around these parts, lots of rain & snow, which gets in the way of imagining a giant tetromino in the sky (via uvula.jp)...
When playing Super Mario Galaxy 2, please keep in mind that somewhere out there, despite being out of view, is the ghost of Luigi floating through vast stretches of empty space, with zero destination or purpose (via suppermariobroth)...
Speaking of Luigi, and Supper Mario Broth; they’ve taken the adventures he talks about in Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door and illustrated them in the form of a comic that closely adheres to the style of the game...
Also a friendly reminder of that rift between Mario & Luigi for a few years (they'd eventually make up & resume doing games together, as everyone knows) after Mario discovered his brother being all friendly with the enemy in Super Mario World (via peazy86)...
Yet another obscure Mario factoid: the move he uses to defeat Bowser in Super Mario 64 originates from an old furikake commercial that predates the game by about a decade (via suppermariobroth)...
Yet another random gif of Mario from the 80s, this one from a video guide from Super Mario Bros; I miss the days in which his look was not yet standardized (via suppermariobroth)...
And here we have a completely unlicensed Dr. Mario, unless Nintendo gave him the OK to brush up on his doctoring skills by assuming an alias at a family clinic in Houston TX (via suppermariobroth)...
It's funny how, when it comes to obscure Mario games, everyone brings up Mario Is Missing or Hotel Mario, but what about Super Mario Bros. & Friends: When I Grow Up? (via kazucrash)...
Mario gets his own breakfast cereal.
Luigi? Booze. (via @carolynmichelle)
A question that I posed on MAR10Day (via retrogamerblog)...
It's not Super Mario Bros, but simply…. Bros (via therubberfruit)...
I've never wanted something "bootleg" to be official as much as as this Dark Souls fan art. And if the actual game somehow looked like this, that would be... gladly welcomed (via gamefreaksnz)
Oh God, Nier is amazing and all, but I would SO be down for a yelling & screaming match with Yoko Taro on this point (via @Avisch_)...
Behold my fave Twitter thread in recent memory: "You see, that was taken from Africa, but it belonged to the Keyblade Masters. Imma take it off your hands for ya."
"Nah, It was taken by British soldiers in Africa but it's actually from Gaia. A sword far heavier than any sword has rights to be, yet a true 1st Class will wield it with ease. Don't trip, I'm gonna take it off your hands for you."
"Nah, It was taken by British soldiers in Africa but it's actually from Hyrule. Originally crafted by the goddess Hylia herself. Only a true hero that is pure of heart and strong of body is capable of wielding the sacred blade. Don't trip, I'm gonna take it off your hands for you."
Naturally the star of Home Alone 1 & Home Alone 2 has both a NES Classic and Famicom Mini, like all Hollywood bigwigs (via @SimonParkin)...
While discussing Ready Player One with a colleague, was reminded of the dude who was so inspired by the book that he turned his apartment into an arcade (and then his fiancé broke up with him; via nydailynews.com)...
Recently there was some kind of event at Sega HQ, I think? Details are basically nonexistent due to the language barrier, but far as I can gather, 16 super fans were invited to come by & party (via @SEGA_OFFICIAL)...
... If you check out #セガ公式アカウントオフ会 you'll see numerous pics from the get-together, though the one thing that stands out is the assortment of Sega hardware (via @KK__Cy)...
... MIA, cuz no variants were on display, is my fave alt ver. of the Mega Drive: the Wondermega. But @yu100s took one of his own… with the ugly ass US Sonic 1 NOT FOR RESALE cart inserted, Jesus fucking Christ...
The Sega logo in katakana looks pretty hawt (via @Exciteless)...
... Yet the Sega logo in Arabic which is official, is even hawter (via boingboing.net)...
Please enjoy your daily recommended dosage of an erotic hospital-management sim (via @topherflorence)...
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NCSX makes the fidget spinner comparison, though the fidget cube seems a bit more appropriate; behold the fidget game controller...
Toy Fair recently took place, and naturally I took tons of pictures. You can find all of them on my personal Instagram, though a few are worth re-posting here. Like the latest in NECA's line of classic movie characters, as they appeared in video game adaptations...
Though in the case of their take on the Alien vs. Predator arcade game, they even included Capcom's original characters...
Unpainted, pre-production figures from Reflection's upcoming Ghost 'N Goblins line, sporting the oh-so popular Kenner-eqsue retro look...
Pint-sized arcade cabs, available this fall for $400. They’ll come unassembled, though dead simple to put together; the construction of the assembled mini cab was surprisingly sturdy, plus the screen wasn't bad (contrary to the picture that my iPhone's camera paints). Though the controls were shit; no word on whether the parts can be swapped or not...
Was delighted to not not only see Cuphead merch at Toy Fair, but more than just one instance (though this was the only time I was allowed to take a picture)...
Came across a producer of infant goods that had a selection of Super Mario baby bibs...
I asked the rep if this was their first foray into video games and the answer was "Yes." And when asked who's been mostly buying them, was told "Video game collectors, who don't even have children… it's so bizarre!!!"
Sticking with bibs, here's a set that tied to Dragon Quest (via miki800.com)...
... I asked on Twitter what they said and @alexfkraus was kind enough to provide translations, here and here.
Was so inspired by @MinusWorld listing which characters he'd like to see in the next Super Smash Bros that I decided to cite a few of my own:
- Mona from WarioWare
- Nester from Nintendo Power’s Howard & Nester comics
- Link from that Japanese A Link To The Past commercial
- A deck of Hanafuda cards
... BTW, had no idea Ollie also mentioned a Hanafuda; I only saw his initial four, initially! Anyhow, my second round of choices:
- Ashley from Another Code
- The "who are you running from?" guy in the Game Boy Camera
- Lucas from The Wizard
- The 4WD from Stunt Race FX (since Fighters Megamix with the Daytona USA 2 car clearly ain't ever happening)
I alas forgot to include BoxBoy, much like how I got these Uniqlo shirts when they were on sale last year (via minusworld.co.uk)...
Here we have my fave reaction on Tumblr to the Nintendo Direct with the Smash 5 reveal, if only for the punchline (via mendelpalace)...
And here we have my fave reaction on Twitter (via @redford)...
This one is also great because wrestling (via @SteveYurko)...
Speaking of wrestling, remember that time Tazz, while commentating for Smackdown, was also playing a game of Final Fantasy X-2… or so he thought? (via defjamvendetta)
"hey quick question whoever's developing the wwe games now: what the fuck"
"It helps him eat small fish"
"better question: why isn't this an option in every game ever"
"FAIR POINT" (via snoozlebee)
Whereas most publishers in Japan, during the 80s & 90s, had festivals (or carnivals) centered around shmups, Asmik's was based on women's wrestling (via oldgamemags)...
It's not for a video game, though the illustration is by someone who has been involved in a few; it's by Satoshi Yoshioka, of Snatcher and Policenauts fame (via videogamesdensetsu)...
It's not for a video game that actually exists, but is instead a completely fictional instructional manual, one that makes you wish it was real (via tomeccles)...
Just when you think you've seen every ultra, wacky & obscure video game box art there is to see out there (via @CoolBoxArt)...
I have a serious soft sport for the usage of video game imagery among early 80s musicians (via siryl)...
... What the final product looks like BTW/FYI...
A. so there's a VR version of Fruit Ninja, did not know that, & B. if you like watching people play it (for whatever reason), yet wish you could actually see a person swinging a sword and not just some abstract swiping motions… here ya go (via prostheticknowledge)...
Playing games in VR is so 2017… Handling your collection of games in VR? Now THAT is very 2018 (via mendelpalace)...
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Lots of friends are playing the new DBZ fighting game, though I'll give it a shot once it hits the arcades and is also in a cab like this (via @Fotosdecomics)...
I absolutely need to get my hands on this S.H. Figuarts Shinya Arino (via tinycartridge)...
Available right now, some Altered Beast, Bare Knuckles, and Rent-a-Hero resin kits (via miki800.com)...
Cursed? More like blessed amirite (via @Pretzel_Pup)...
I know Yoji Shinkawa is best buds with Hideo Kojima, but would he be open to doing another gig at Konami? Cuz him art directing a reboot of Twin Bee would kinda be the best (via @SESKOU)...
There's money on the table with this Metroid X Pepsi mash-up, am confident of this (via ryangilleece)...
Cuz even someone like Samus Aran needs a good stretch every once in a while (via jon-bliss)...
And this third piece of Metroid fan art in a row is very much related to Metroid 3, aka Super Metroid (even though it technically depicts the ending to Metroid 2; via mmillus)...
Awakening indeed (via brookietf)...
For those who have asked, yes, I have seen the hack that connects the Switch to an itty-bitty black & white TV...
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Though I'm only really interested in tiny b&w CRT TVs if I can play Duck Hunt on them (via arcade-crusade)...
I not only dig teeny-tiny displays for light gun games, but also for driving games as well (perhaps some of you might remember the following from this)...
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Back to tube displays; seeing Zelda on a CRT also reminded me of how Dark Souls look on a CRT, aka CRT Souls or 480i Souls (which again I'm hoping regular readers of the blog remember, especially since the original post has fallen victim to a Tumblr bug)...
"while playing king's field just now i died in the magic cave of fire and when i warped back there were beautiful graphical glitches everywhere" (via mendelpalace)...
Some landscapes, filled with beauty and mystery and terror, are accidental (see: the graphical glitches from before)… whereas others are completely deliberate, as in the case of Atlantia (via obscurevideogames)...
Once again, I REALLY need to figure out a way to play some PC88 games (via obscurevideogames)...
Here we have a semi-common Space Invaders sighting for the time, in an episode of Battle Fever J, one of the earliest Super Sentai shows (via himitsusentaiblog)...
And here we have a rare Game Gear sighting, in old OVA anime, Starship Girl Yamamoto Yohko. Hell, it’s a rare Game Gear in anything sighting; the only other example that comes to mind is Rumble In The Bronx (via @TheOtaking)...
And an equally rare Sonic on the runway sighting (via kotaku.com)...
I normally watch a video in its entirety before making a recommendation. Yet when it came to this overview of Last Bronx's legacy in Japan (and lack thereof in the West), hearing the main theme to Beat Takeshi's Violent Cop near the 3 min mark was all I needed (have since watched the whole thing, and as expected, it's another awesome Kim Justice production)...
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And finally, a friend notes: "subzero's right arm is real close to trump's spinal column
just sayin" (via @jbillinson)...
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Little Problems - Kim Yugyeom x Reader
Title: Little Problems
Author: Haru.
Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x Reader
Panic.
When was the last time he texted?
Her phone was clicked on once again, staring at her dimly lit screen, hoping to receive a notification from Yugyeom.
Yes, maybe he could be busy learning choreography, or spending the time with his hyungs or maybe not near his phone at the moment - all good acceptable reasons to why he isn't texting after four hours.
There's no reason to panic.
She put her phone down in front of her, resuming her studies and homework in front of her, busying herself.
Alright, Mathematics, she thought, hovering her purple mechanical pencil over the lined paper, about to write the equation down from the textbook. "If the absolute value of x minus three plus 10x is equal to--" The words started to mix up in her head. Well great, there goes trying to keep yourself distracted, (Y/N).
Alright, plan B.
Taking her phone, she stuffed it into the back pocket of her jean shorts, slipping on her varsity jacket and shoes and out the door. Ah, fresh air; that should do the trick. She slipped her hands into her pockets - thumb sticking out - and started to walk down her driveway and onto the street of the Crescent she resided in.
Her hands couldn't help but reach for her phone, tapping her screen and making the phone come to life, showing no new notifications. People called that clingy - what a stupid term for it -it wasn't her fault her brain jumped to horrible conclusions... Okay, she hasn't gotten that far yet, but it's slowly getting there. She then slipped her phone back into her pocket and felt her chest tighten slightly.
God, why did this have to happen? Why did 'it' decide to come today? Today of all days? The day was - to a certain extent - decent! And now, here she is, freaking out over not getting texted. What if he didn't want to text her anymore because her bad habit to double text? Or what if he finally found someone else? Or maybe he hates her? The possibilities are literally endless.
And there goes her mind going to that side of the scale - full freak-out mode.
Calm down, she told herself, taking in the scenery around her. She then started to ground her surroundings around her. Five things she can see; the blue sky that held white, fluffy clouds, owners and their dogs walking, trees with leaves starting to change color, basketball nets that littered the end of the driveway of most houses and her red dragon she got from her dad for good luck. Four things she can touch; her jeans, the gravel beneath her sneakers, her phone in her back pocket and her ball cap that was resting on her head. Three things you can hear; the birds chirping all around her, the sound of a car's engine from the busy street beyond her crescent and the sound of kids talking and playing basketball. Two things she can smell; barbeque which was probably coming from her own backyard since her father was BBQ-ing and the manure on the grass which was spread this early morning. One thing she can taste; the saliva in her mouth which was tasteless.
And mind slowly calming down; there is no reason to assume he hates us, no, he's just busy.
Keep telling yourself that, honey.
"He's just, uh, busy," She spoke out loud, not wanting her thoughts to get the better of her. Speaking to herself was - even though she practically looked insane to half the people who walked by her - more calming and much more safer than staying in her mind. "Yeah, that's all, he's just busy."
Or, he's just over--
Her phone ding-ed. Oh, please be Yugyeom.
Recieved 3:45pm
Yugyeom: Jagi! I'm sorry for not texting, are you alright?
Alright? Uh, yeah, let's go with that---
Sent 3:48pm
(Y/N): Oh, yeah! Sorry about the double texts
Read.
Sent: 3:49pm
(Y/N): I had free time during 4th period and didn't know what to do so I texted you--
Read.
Recieved 3:53pm
Yugyeom: Alright? I'll be home by 7:00pm, okay?
Sent: 3:57pm
(Y/N): Alright! I'll see you then, Yugy!
Read.
And now, back to trying to do math at home without stressing out or getting de-motivated, Part Two!
"And, done." The female sighed, finishing up re-checking her work and re-reading her notes she had made in class. Hopefully the way she had done the problems were correct.
Pushing her chair back slightly, she stood up and walked over to her closet, picking out her PJs, quickly changing out of them quickly. Her phone then buzzed as the alarm went off, signalling that it was now 7pm, around the time Yugyeom had said he was going to be. Great, her smile slowly made its way onto her face as she made her way out of her room, making sure to take her phone with her before going downstairs and sitting on the couch. "What to watch?" She asked no body in particular as the TV was pressed on. Turning on Netflix, the girl scrolled through what was on her list - anime, British TV shows, Supernatural, Superhero movies or Disney - and clicked on Supernatural. That should probably keep her entertained as she waited.
The first episode was halfway through.
A full episode of Supernatural is 43 mins. Half of 43 is--
"Didn't he say 7pm?" She thought out loud, glancing over to her phone which she had placed next to the table beside her. Clicking it on, the phone displayed the time as she paused the video - which was horribly paused at the wrong time of Dean Winchester making a horrible derp face - and got up, walking over to the window which displayed the front of their house, including the front yard - which needed to be trimmed soon - and their driveway. She bit her lip as she laid the palm of her hand, which wasn't holding her phone, against the glass.
This is not the time to freak-out. He isn't that late. Just by a couple minuets. Nothing major. But what if something happened?
"He's fine," She told herself, clutching the sleeves of her sweater she was wearing. It was getting to her again, well shit. Her phone fell to the ground with a big thud, which sounded very distant to her.
Please come home soon. She then put her back against the wall, sliding down until her bottom hit the floor and immediately brought her legs to her chest. Her chest tightened. Please get home soon.
Breathing became a little tougher as she laid her forehead against her knees. "In f-four," She barely managed to say as she started to undergo the breathing exercises she had learned from her counsellor a while back. In four, she inhaled air as best as she could for four seconds, held her breath for four seconds and--
What if he's with another girl?
Her mind decided to capture her into its arms at her moment of weakness, now in control.
He could be taking long because of another girl, probably on a date with her.
Don't you think? He wouldn't be gone this long if it weren't a date.
He probably got tired of your antics.
"Baby, I'm home," Yugyeom walked through the door, kicking off his shoes and placing his jacket on the oak coat hanger. "Baby?" He called again, peeking into the living room and found her on the ground. First thing he did, he pulled her into his arms and held her, whispering sweet nothings just to calm her down, running his hands up and down her arms - a little reminder that he's here - and just held her near his chest, so that her ears could hear his heartbeat, match her breathing with his. "It's okay." He whispered over and over, slowly watching her calm down and snap back into reality.
"Better?"
"Kind of," She whispered, head nestled in Yugyeom's chest, looking up at him with teary eyes. "Why do you deal with me? You know, all this?" He chuckled at the question, shaking his head side to side at her silliness. He's answered this a million times every time she's asked and always gave her the same answer and he would do it every single time she needed to hear him say it.
"Because," He started off, clearing his throat. "I love you and when I asked you out, I knew what I was getting into." Yugyeom glanced down at her, wiping the stray tear that had fallen down her cheek with his thumb.
"I knew how you were and I was ready to do whatever I needed to do keep you as mine, jagiya," He then brought his hands up to her hair, trying to untangle the little knots in her hair. "And I love you to the ends of space and back and nothing, even your mind, will make me run away. No matter what."
A/N: I really have not been feeling well so I sincerely apologize for everything. Everything’s just a little unbearable right now.
-H.
#got7#got7 x reader#jyp entertainment#got7 imagines#got7 reactions#got7 scenarios#got7 scenario#got7 snaps#got7 screenshots#got7 ships#got7 jackson#got7 yugyeom#got7 bambam#got7 mark#got7 jinyoung#got7 youngjae#got7 jaebum#kpop x reader#kpop confessions#kim yugyeom x reader#boyfriend!yugyeom#got7 x mc#kpop imagines#kpop boys#kpop fandom#kpop scenario
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D•E•A•T•H•N•O•T•E
Meet my sides
What my sides look like
Ficlets: First day Sleepless Hold onto me (cause I'm a little unsteady) You Can Run Away With Me
I do not own deathnote or any of the content portrayed in the Anime. This is created by a fan in order to expound upon the love I have for it.
Now that we have copyright issues out of the way I do need to say that this has VERY MILD spoilers of episode 12: Love. Nothing beyond that. This is made because immediately after the *sterotypical dumb blonde* appeared and revealed their motives, I immediately started to pick them apart and try to understand them on a psychological basis.
If you are not up to episode 12, DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO HAVE IT MILDLY SPOILED!
With all that out of the way, let us begin. (Ps this also apparently takes place at a time after Sleepless)
****
Everything has started to finally relax after the attack from Salem on Parker and her sides, Parker went to a new doctor and got a new prescription for an antidepressant known as CeleXA, and after it kicked it Salem's clutches upon her loosened slightly, just enough for self-preservation to win out every time, and since Salem was much weaker, Katya's injuries got less and less severe but she still was just as exhausted each time.
Parker had decided that she wanted to take care of Katya's injuries as, 'it was the least I can do... you've saved my life how many times now?'
After a slightly more aggressive attack from Salem, Katya and Parker sit on the couch in the physical world watching Netflix together. More specifically Deathnote. A show that both of them had been wanting to watch for a long time. Originally they just planned to watch one episode as Parker cleaned and bandaged a scratch on Katya's wrist, but, Parker had pushed up her leather jacket and black flannel sleeves to see that all the old scars that littered her arm had reopened, "Katya! Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"
The side simply shrugs, avoiding the host's eyes, "Take off your jacket. The flannel too."
"Not gonna happen, Park. It's really not that bad." She shoves down her sleeves and hunkers in, watching the anime intently. When the credits roll the anxious side unfolds herself and stands and readies herself to sink out, "If you let me take care of all of your injuries I'll marathon this with you."
The Anxious side slowly turns to look at her, the wheels in her head turning, ".... if we marathon it, it'll be available in the mindscape for me to watch whenever."
"I know."
"If I can watch it whenever I'll be able to see how popular culture of the time and even theories possibly influenced the anime."
A smirk, "I know."
Parker can feel Katya's own excitement buzzing under her skin, and can practically see the wheels turning as she weighs the pros of staying (Deathnote, psychological evals of the characters, Deathnote, conspiracy theories of the time period, Deathnote!!! Psychoses of the characters! DEATHNOTE) verses the cons (jacket gone. Flannel gone. Skin on display. She's going to touch me. She's going to see all her old scars. What if that causes her to relapse. Will I be able to save her again.) Katya turns her matching green eyes to the host's, taking Parker apart and seeing if her own her own desires could possibly be taken into consideration and fulfilled for once. After thorough examination of her consenting host's mental state, she sighs heavily, "Start up episode 2." She slowly begins to remove her jacket and carefully fold it up, followed by her flannel so she only has a soft black tank top on. The various marks on her arms are on full display, the reopened wounds stand out vibrantly against her pale skin. She lowers herself back to the couch and scrunches into a ball, resting her head on her knees, stiffly holding her arm out.
Parker gives her a grateful smile as she pushes play, making sure it's started before she begins to clean and bind Katya's wounds. Too focused to notice how some of tension leaves the other at her touch.
~
It takes her a bit to finish cleaning and covering the reopened wounds, but as soon as she says she's finished, the anxious side immediately pulls her flannel back on, "... you know you don't have to do this every time right?"
"What do you mean?"
"Parker. Come on," Katya leans forward and presses pause, stopping somewhere in the midst of episode 4, "I'm a side. I'm not an actual person so I can't die, I need a few of the things that humans need to survive, but at the end of the day... when I get hurts it's not a big deal."
Parker stares at the other open mouthed,"Okay. You're an aspect of my personality, yeah. But that doesn't mean that you or your hurt are any less important," she grabs the others hands, just slightly colder than her own, "You're physical. Right here, right now you're real flesh and blood and bones. Which makes you just as deserving of care. Hell, even when you sink out you're still deserving of care! You protect me so much that literally the least I can do is to is try to help ease your pain afterwards! I can't be there all the times and that sucks, but when I can be I'm going to try to fix you up as best I can and try to take care of you. If movies are included with that, then we're gonna watch movies!"
Katya looks down, a small rare smile crossing her features and reaching her eyes, "I forget how stubborn we all are sometimes...but thanks..." she clears her throat, a bit uncomfortable, "Back to the Anime for crying out loud!"
~
The credits for episode 12 start to roll, "WHAT?!" Katya pushes stop, and gets to her feet, "Okay no," she starts to walk a line in the floor, turning back and walking the same line, pacing. Her heavy platforms loudly thunking with every step she takes, "Nearly everyone in this show is real messed up. So, we've got L, Light, and this blonde bitch, Misa. L is the most normal, he's a genius, he might be a sociopath- no it's more likely he's on the autism spectrum with how he operates. He's also highly functioning with a strong sense of justice-"
"He must be protected."
A pause in the rhythmic thumps, "Shh." The thumps Resume as she continues, "I really want to pick him apart but... I don't know enough yet!"
"If he gets hurt I'm gonna cry."
The platforms once again pause, "Don't even say that," they resume their stride, "Light is a huge piece of work.. Light could 100% be a sociopath but-"
"-But he exhibited signs of distress when he realized the Deathnote was real and was actually killing people."
"Don't blame him for that," Katya chuckles, "so even though thus far he exhibits a lot of signs of sociopathy... he might not be one. It's more likely-"
"-or lightly!"
"Don't start that. You're not as clever as you think. Anyway, he could have antisocial personality disorder... he exhibits lots of those traits..."
"He is also really narcissistic, I mean 'I will be the god of this world' come on!"
Katya smirks, "Yeah. He's definitely a narcissist. But he's also detached... he didn't give a shit in one of the first episodes if Ryuk was gonna take his soul.... but again, sociopathy... he doesn't give a shit about what happens to people if it helps him create his perfect world."
"Hmm... he's also extremely detached with himself since he was able to stay cool under L examining him.... so he could have some aspects of psychopathy as well.. if the spaceland date was anything to go by he's also emotional abusive with the girls he interacts with, and he only interacts with people if it will benefit him."
"I bet he pulled wings off of butterflies as a kid," Katya states ceasing her pacing and staring at Parker.
"There's no doubt about it," Parker nods.
"... but he also treats Kira as a separate entity, so he could have multiple personality disorder."
"... that's true. But now what about Misa-"
"Don't get me started on blondie. She's stupid! And arrogant! And she gives up half of her lifespan so she can maybe help him out by killing L? Did the shinigami dying for her give her some sort of a god complex?! And she wants to meet Kira so badly?! She does what's called Monster Worship! UGH!" Katya flops back onto the couch, drawing her knees to her chest. Parker looks at her, snickering when she's reminded of L,"How do you know so much about psychology? I thought it was Athena that handled all my knowledge."
"I'm left brain too. I know stuff too, plus it's interesting cause it lets me see people's motives easier."
Parker slowly nods, "I gotcha."
"But this show is driving me crazy! The characters are just... GAH!!"
The two are quiet for a moment before Parker breaks the silence,
"So you wanna watch more?"
"Fuck yeah."
"Light needs lots of drugs. Lots of prescription drugs to fix all that," Parker says, leaning forward to start the next episode.
"No fucking joke."
*
sorry this took so long to get up! I've had it written but no time to edit it
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