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shicheysstuff · 3 months

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Long Live 5

It takes a few days for our son to want to finish the story. I understood completely. It’s not easy to learn how your dad died so I just let him process and take his time to get to where he was now. He asks for the next chapter at bed time that night and I nod, grabbing the book and sitting down to read it to him.

Chapter 5: Breaking the News

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door of Gareth’s house where she knew the rest of hellfire would be. She had broken the piece of her arm that formed her shoulder joint so she had surgery and a sling, but today was Gareth’s last day in town so she needed to tell them in person while they were all together.

Mr. Emerson opened the door and smiled, “He’s in his room with the others.” He said letting her in and going back to what he was doing.

She walked to Gareth’s room and knocked on the door before walking in, “Hey guys.” she said softly. “I need to talk to you. “Holy shit. You’re ok.” Gareth said, sounding relieved. “Where’s Eddie? Is he ok?” Gareth was worried especially after he gave up Dustin, but her standing in front of them had to mean that they’re all ok.

“So we all know that Eddie didn’t kill Chrissy.” She started slowly, explaining everything that happened over the last week. Starting at the beginning and going until Eddie played master of puppets, “We were supposed to leave that place once the bats started coming in, but Eddie cut the rope and ran out of the trailer. He…he was attacked and when I found him he was hurt so bad. He didn’t make it and I couldn’t bring him back.” She said as she wiped her eyes as her voice cracked. She was trying to stay strong for the guys. “I held him in my arms as he died. It was…quiet. He could barely speak when he asked me to say I loved him.”

Jeff just stared at her his eyes quickly losing focus; he didn’t respond or move. He couldn’t believe Eddie was dead; to him there was no way someone larger than life could die quietly. The world should’ve stopped or…or something. Anything. He flinched at Gareth’s tone when the other curly haired guy spoke.

Gareth stared at her as she talked before shaking his head, “No. he’s not dead. You’re mistaken.” his tone sharp, angry, and holding pure denial. “I don’t know why you’re lying, but it’s not funny.” when he used her whole name her body jerked like he had slapped her. “Eddie isn’t dead. He…He can’t be.” When she reached for the drummer he hit her hand away. “Eddie didn’t die. Not like that. Not at all.”

“I checked. I had Harrington check. Gare, I’m sorry.” She said quietly and the drummer sat down running a hand through his hair before he picked up the dragon statue on his bedside table and chucked it at the wall. “My best friend can’t be dead!” he yelled before he sank to the floor and pulled his legs up to his chest before hugging them. “Leave.” He says weakly, barely holding it together. She stood and walked out to her car before she climbed in and sobbed leaning against the wheel as she did. She didn’t know what she was going to do. It was so hard to breathe let alone exist right now. She had lost her soulmate and now she was losing herself. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before driving back to the trailer where they had spent their last night together. Eddie’s room wasn’t destroyed by the gate so she went through the second door and began cleaning things out to take with her to Steve’s house. She couldn’t just leave his things there since it was all she had left now.

She heard Wayne’s truck and stepped out onto the porch just waiting for him to get out. What she didn’t expect is the gruff old man to hug her tightly as if he didn’t need any comfort and she needed it all. She hugged back as best she could with her shoulder messed up and buried her face in his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Wayne.” She sobbed holding onto him as she felt weak and like she would pass out any second. She wasn’t sure if the pain she was feeling was in her head or if her body was having a physical reaction to her heart being broken, but her whole body hurt.

“Why are you apologizing to me? You’re the one that lost your other half.” he said as he rubbed her back gently. He wasn’t sure how he was feeling. “Let’s get his things out of here.” He said once she had calmed down.

It was 3 weeks later, when things had finally started to calm down, that the government gave the official story that it was an earthquake. They were allowed to bury their lost loved ones of the bodies that could be found. They wouldn’t let Eddie be buried in the Munson family plot but the cemetery caretaker and grave digger felt bad for Wayne Munson so they placed a head stone at the base of a tree that simply said “Edward Wayne Munson Now At Peace. 1965~1986.”

She knew Eddie wasn’t there, but she called Gareth and them to let them know he had a headstone and then the day came for his funeral. She put on her black 50s inspired dress. It was pure cotton with a gathered flared skirt and wide lapel. She was wearing his necklace with his ring on it as she got in Steve’s car. She had made a call two days ago. Now it was time to see if it made a difference. She pulled at the dress around her stomach since she felt bloated and uncomfortable today. She stood with Wayne and the group. Jeff and Grant were there as well. Everyone was somber as they stared at the headstone.Then Dustin knelt and put a hand on the stone before closing his eyes. Steve knelt behind him and put a hand on his shoulder as he bowed his head. This led to a scene out of a fantasy as everyone else kneeled and she smiled with a wet laugh.

She never laughed at inappropriate times, but here she was laughing and crying, “He’d say you’re being dorks.” She says sniffling. She shook her head before wiping her eyes. “I think you should say some words, Uncle Wayne.” She said looking up at him

He nodded and looked around as everyone stood, “I have no idea what to say. I was there when Eddie was born because my brother wouldn’t be. His mama, Liz, gave him my name as a middle name because she said I was the only man that he could count on. He was my boy instantly. He never stopped being mine. Just because he was my nephew doesn’t mean he wasn’t. I should’ve told him that. I hope wherever he is he’s with his mama. He moved in with me just 2 years ago and things were smooth. I know that everyone here meant something to him as his friends and for Eddie his friends were everything to him.’ Wayne nods, “Thank you for helping me honor my boy.” That’s how the funeral went: people talking about their memories with him and things like that. She just listened with a proud smile until Dustin looked at her and told her it was her turn.

“A month ago, the day before Chrissy died, Eddie and I got married. I didn’t think that was going to be our last day together. We all know he was larger than life. He always had something to say, some snide remark to get the last word.” She laughed softly. “I don’t know what to say. All I can think of is a line from a poem. It goes, ‘This is the way the world ends; not with a bang, but a whimper’ I never understood the line before, but I do now.” She looked at them, “I wish I had something uplifting to say; some words of wisdom to impart, but I don’t. All I know is Eddie loved all of us with his entire being. He was charismatic, talented, and beautiful and I’ll love him for the rest of my life.” She noticed Al Munsons standing a little bit away and gave the man a nod before looking down and returning to Wayne’s side.

Over the next seven weeks she was throwing up, feeling tired, had major heartburn, and was growing nauseous at random things that never affected her before. It was one of those cases where Robin was holding her hair back and rubbing her back when she paused, “dear. When was your last period?”

She groaned, rubbing her stomach, “I’ve always been irregular.” she said softly.

“That’s ok. I think you need to schedule an appointment.” Robin said softly and rubbed circles in her lower back. “You’ve been nauseous, having heartburn, and throwing up. Not to mention you complained that your shirt was hurting your chest earlier.”

She paused and looked at her, “I can’t be…”she said quietly. “We were careful when we had sex.” she ran through each time and then she froze. “Three months ago. We didn’t have a condom and he…” she groaned. “Shit. shit. Shit. I can’t have a baby without a father.They’ll call them a bastard.”

“Honey. You need to breathe and schedule an appointment. Perhaps in Indianapolis?” Robin said as she watched her face.

She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut as another wave of nausea rolled through her. “What do I do? Steve may not even want a baby in his house.” There was no giving the baby away or getting an abortion in her mind.

Robin nodded and rubbed her back, “Steve loves kids, but you need to confirm it and then talk to him…maybe take him with you.” she suggested and looked at her. “Is everything ok?” Steve asks, knocking on the door. “Do you need anything?” “A pregnancy test.” She said and stood to rinse out her mouth and then she opened the door. “Can you go to the pharmacy and get a couple? I’ll give you the money.”

“I got it.” Steve said with a nod before leaving for a pharmacy. “I’m keeping Munson if I am pregnant.” She said as she sat on the tub and lifted her shirt to look at her stomach. She poked her stomach with a slight frown. “Is there a little one here?” She says quietly. “Are you a gift from your daddy?” She asked and talked to her stomach and Robin while she waited for Steve.

“Ok I got you 3 different tests. The woman said one is a cassette test, one’s a strip test, and one’s a stick test.” He shrugs and holds up a plastic cup, “She said you’d need one of these.”

She stood and took the bag, “Thank you, Steve. I appreciate it.” She is speaking quietly because she's so nervous. No she's terrified, but she watches them leave and shuts the door before doing what she needs to.

It's an hour later when she comes out of the bathroom looking pale and shaky. She was on the verge of a panic attack because she didn’t know how she was going to be a mother. She sat down and put her head on the table causing Robin to start rubbing her back.

“Are you?” Steve asked, watching her with worry on his face as he looked between Robin and her. He didn’t know what to do with himself so he stayed seated and waited for her to gather herself.

“Yes. I’m pregnant and probably close to three months if I remember my sex ed right.” She said quietly as she lifted her head. “I want to keep it. I understand if you don’t want a baby here, I’ll see if Uncle Wayne would want us to live with him.” She said and watched Steve for his reaction.

“You and the baby are welcome here for as long as you want.” Steve said, shaking his head slightly; he wanted her to know she had a home there. He felt partly responsible for the fact that Eddie was gone so maybe he could make it easier on her.

“Thank you, Steve.” She said and sighed, grabbing the phone to make an appointment to confirm with the doctor. She’s on the phone for maybe 30 minutes and then she gets off. “I have an appointment at 8 in the morning.” She says softly.

“I’ll take you to the appointment if you want.” Steve suggests and she nods. “Ok.” He adds.

At 4 and a half months they confirmed that she was having a little boy. At 6 months Dustin left them in a tragic accident. At 7 months she decided on a name for him. At 8 months Steve agreed to be on the birth certificate so the baby would have two parents legally and if anything happened to her the baby would go to him. At 9 months the baby was born healthy and with a scream that would make Eddie proud.

“Welcome to the show, kid. You’re in for a treat.” She says as she holds him close to her chest.

#eddie munson × female oc #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #eddie has a son #corroded coffin #steve harrington #stranger things #Long Live by Shicheystuff

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girlfrandletters · 1 year

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Flying Through The Air, Trying to Verbalize The Roiling Thoughts In My Head After The Episode From Last Weekend AND Panicking On The Plane (May or May Not Be Deleted)

I’ve been trying to explain the exact thoughts and feelings that I felt from this weekend, and the things that they have made me realize. Speaking the words aloud is impossible, because my mind is running at about 400 miles a minute, my brain cannot process fast enough and just tries to spit out sentences that potentially make sense, and my lips cannot keep up. So writing without thinking, without really allowing myself to read what I’m writing and hear what I’m saying in an effort to just word vomit it all out is possibly the only way to allow these things out of my mind, out of my head, and maybe clear up some space for other, more important things… like the fact that our new TYACK is making weird noises when there is silence in the car.

I should know myself better now than to allow myself to indulge in any form of mind altering substance, whether that is alcohol or THC, when I already feel like I’m falling down a spiral of negative thoughts and emotions. I spent the whole time at your mother’s when your Aunt Tikki (Tiki? Like Tiki Bar? Or Ticki? Tika. Tuna. Turkey) was visiting thinking about how I shouldn’t be there, I don’t deserve to be there. I wasn’t a part of your family, I never feel like I will be able to be a part of your family. Even after we get married, I’ll just be “Anthony’s wife” and I think that feeling comes from the fact that I never feel comfortable around your family, since their views and mine are so far misaligned. Not out of any intention from either parties. It’s just that being as negative as your mother can be, I get miserable being around her and I want to distance myself as much as possible - your sister being her unable-to-determine-the-proper-adjective self, I want to spend the least amount of time with her as possible - Sam and Marc being a slave to their individual woman, knowing there could be some way to change everything (not necessarily leaving them, but setting boundaries and life choices), but not doing it… I’ve been very proud of the fact that, while I was also in their same shoes for a while, I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’ve grown, and I don’t like to be around people who are like that. But at the same time, I know that I love you more than anything and I will have to make certain sacrifices for YOU, so that WE can have a happy, healthy life. I know that keeping my distance makes things strained for everyone involved and I do plan on really reigning myself in and being kinder and more open to the family. But at the same time, I also feel like I don’t want to get closer to them, because by opening myself up to them, opening myself up further to you, I run the risk of one or both parties just abandoning me entirely because of exhaustion of tolerating me.

But we can go into that portion a little later. Because I seem to have found the root cause of that particular feeling. *Cue gif of chihuahua war veteran*

So with that whole paragraph of things in my head, I had one of two choices. I could have not taken any alcohol or weed, allowed myself to feel and process those emotions, then discussed them with you to try to get comfort, and words of encouragement, maybe a hug and a snuggle that would make me realize that you wouldn’t leave me, barring any majorly asshole moves. Or I could drink or take a shit ton of THC to try to block out those emotions and forget they exist, bury them under the age old rug I have in my mind’s living room where all my other pent up emotions live. (For the record, under that rug, there are about 4 layers of emotions and feelings and memories. Maybe more. The ones wayyyy deep deep down are the repressed memories that were never supposed to be uncovered again. More on that later). I had the small glass of wine thinking I’d be fine to drive on a small glass. Was going to sip my wine and make fun of Kyle’s girlfriend with you. I’ll be honest, I completely forgot that I had that drink when Edwards offered me that first cookie. Definitely forgot by the second one. I think the part of me that tries to just block out and cover up the negative emotions took over and just wanted everything to mask the emotions. I used to do that often. I honestly used to drink wine until I was too tired to lift the glass. And that’s how I got through a lot of my earlier years.

I thought the whole drive home you were upset and angry. Maybe not at me - I was able to at least convince myself of that for a little while. But you were stressing about the CT scans and you were upset about that potential risk of increased cancer, which I know health problems are you main concern always. I knew you weren’t feeling well before I took the wine and I was supposed to drive home because you didn’t feel like you would be able to. And I still took all those things knowing that. Even asking you if it was okay was not a good decision, because maybe you said it was okay because you wanted me to have fun and put yourself and your own needs to the side. Which I never want you to do. I’m always afraid that you do things for me or let me do things even though you’re uncomfortable with it because you want me to have fun and enjoy. But you are important too, and I don’t have fun unless we are both having fun. So you were getting upset about the CT scans and I didn’t feel like I was properly doing what I should to help you, or at least provide someone to rage to about it. And I felt worse because I was the one who sent you down that whole path anyway. If I wasn’t so stubbornly ornery about medicine, I never would have mentioned CT scans, you never would have looked into them, and you never would have gotten stressed about it. And the car following us so close was scary too. And then (as stupidly vain as it sounds), I felt like you were upset by the fact that I always say I don’t want you to tell people I’m a veterinarian. I know for me I don’t say it because of the connotation that comes with telling people. But I also know we went there to make fun of Kyle’s girlfriend and passive aggressively show off to them that we both are doing wonderful and you’ve done better than all of them, for all their jokes about you. And I wouldn’t even let you do that. I felt all those mix of emotions - scared, upset, anxious, annoyed - I felt it coming off you in waves and I didn’t know how to process it. By the time we got home, I was certain you would start laying into me about everything. And I deserved it.

There are some times that I feel like I’d feel better if you just yelled at me, screamed at me, told me I was doing things wrong or something, anything.

When I was in the shower, I didn’t realize anything was wrong at first. Just me taking a shower to try to clear my head, breath in the steam, and the smells of the soap and shampoo. I think it was another way for me to try to drown out the thoughts. But they got worse. I could feel the water on my skin, I knew it was hot. But I couldn’t tell if it was too hot and burning me. It was around where I normally put it, but I felt like I was burning my skin off. But when I turned it down, it wasn’t hot enough, so I turned it up more. And I thought maybe I was just trying to burn myself because I had done horrible things and was trying to punish myself. So I turned it down again to stop myself from doing the self harm thing, but it wasn’t hot anymore so I had to turn it up. And somehow, while doing all of that, I lost the feeling of water on my skin entirely. I don’t know how else to describe the feeling other than I thought my literal soul of was leaving my body. I felt myself lifted upwards, out of my skin, out of this reality. And I Panicked. With a capital P. Because I didn’t want to leave this reality. I loved this reality. So I tried to tell myself, “This is real, this is real” over and over and over and over again. While I poured the shampoo in my hand, “This is real.” While I scrubbed my hair and felt the individual strands on my fingers, “This is real.” Frantically staring at the moon patterns on the shower curtain, hearing the water going down the drain, smelling the soap, feeling the water. I tried to ground myself with every sense but none of it seemed to be working.

And then I had a thought that struck absolute fear into me. If I left this reality, I would be leaving you. I would be leaving behind this whole life we have built together, that we had planned together. Your smile, your laugh, your voice and your arms - all of it was about to disappear forever. That’s when I got out of the shower and tried to dry off as quickly as possible. But the whole time I was drying off, I had this scene playing out in my head. Or maybe it was real, I don’t know. But I had this overwhelming understanding that I was not supposed to be here. I was supposed to be in a place that was not this good. I don’t think I was meant to be in a place of absolute hell, but I knew that my real reality was a world where my partner was not so kind, where my job wasn’t as comfortable, where my family and friends were not as loving. But I was put in this reality by accident - whether because of a mistake, or someone was giving me a helping hand, I got placed in this reality where you exist, where you hold me and love me and remind me every day of how much you appreciate me and want to be with me. And I wanted to stay in this one so much. I was sobbing to myself because I thought I wouldn’t get to stay and then… like a final judgment was made, I was back in my skin. Sort of. I knew that my skin was not fully dry from the shower, but I didn’t care at all. I opened my eyes and you were standing in the living room, over that air purifier, arms crossed, one hand on your mouth (I guess this is the point where you were thinking it wasn’t working at all).

That whole scenario I had stepping out of the shower, fighting to stay with you, that all happened probably in about 30 seconds time. Next thing I knew, I was running for you. At least, I felt like I was running for you. I probably wasn’t. But I had to touch you. I had to feel your skin, your shirt, see your eyes looking at me and hear your voice. And just having your arms around me, hearing you ask me what’s wrong, if everything was okay, was like a final damn breaking in my hand. And that’s when I started sobbing out loud. Because you were asking me if I was okay, because you cared about me and you were worried. You were trying to help me, keep me grounded, because you cared. And I couldn’t stop crying because I got to stay with you even though everything in me knew I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know how to tell you to keep talking, that I needed to keep hearing your voice, but you knew, instinctually, that I needed you to continue. You talked to me, you tried to make me laugh, you danced with me, all the things I needed from you that I couldn’t verbalize to you. I felt like I was floating in the air around the living room, watching you help me. All while also looking at you through my eyes and seeing you for my own self.

I thought I was settled down enough to get back into myself, but I somehow went from standing in your arms to sitting on the floor by the table, bookshelf side of the table, holding myself in a ball and sobbing about not wanting to be left alone. And I can honestly tell you that I don’t know how I got there. I thought I was okay. But I wasn’t. And all I felt in that moment was abject terror of being alone. Of being abandoned and left by someone who shouldn’t have left me. I don’t know how to explain that feeling. I was a little girl. Standing on the side of the road. Crying to my mother to not leave me. But I was also in my body, felt myself rocking, heard you talking to me, and I was telling myself, in typical me fashion, that I wasn’t actually feeling this emotion, that I wasn’t reliving a memory, I was just making up a story to excuse my behavior. I felt like I was making shit up to continue getting your attention. But the further into the memory I got, the more I realized that this was not a made up story. This wasn’t some lie I was using to make you look at me, touch me. Because I don’t need to lie to you for any of that. And I’m not that type of person. I think. Or maybe I was in this other reality, which is why I didn’t belong in this one.

If what I saw was a real memory, a real suppressed memory from when I was little, then I can fully understand where my inherent fears came from. The memory was that of a little girl, maybe two or three years old (meaning maybe I really am older than my parents were told. Like when a shelter dog is labeled as “6 or 7 years” so that people adopt them because most people don’t want older dogs. I was the child at the adoption shelter labeled as younger than I was because I hadn’t been adopted yet. Maybe I was there even longer than my parents know). I felt that my family, mother for sure, maybe a father too, were walking away from me. I was told to stay where I was and they were walking away from me. And I was begging them to come back, to not leave me. I remember the feeling of rubbing my eye with one hand that had tears pouring out of it (the way that little kids do, you know what I mean?), and the other clenching my shirt, begging, begging them to come back.

And I remember telling you over and over again, “Don’t leave me, don’t abandon me” or something along those lines. And when I was able to get back into my body enough, I know I was sobbing about the fact that my family didn’t want to keep me, that nobody wanted to keep me. And I heard you, over and over, saying I was kept, I was kept. And I tried to cling to that to bring me back to you. You were going to keep me and I wanted to come back to the one person that I felt was going to keep me. As irrational as that sounds.

Even now, after 3 days, I still have flashes of dissociation. The drive home yesterday I saw the twinkling lights and felt myself leaving my body as I was driving, which was so scary. Driving to the airport today, before the Easton exit, I couldn’t remember where I was going. Was I going to the airport or were we on a road trip drive? I recognized nothing on the road, didn’t recognize the exit signs or the environment at all. I’m not as bad as I was in the shower, but I am still having these moments that make me doubt that this is all real and this is not “the wrong reality.” I hear your voice still talking to me, still telling me you’re keeping me, and I want to keep hearing that but I don’t know how to ask you without sounding stupid. How do I ask “Are you going to keep me” after you’ve already told me seven times that you will? How many times can I say that before you get fucking tired of me. But I think a part of me also hears you when you say that I can ask you whatever, whenever, and however many times, because I still cling to you and ask. Or if I don’t verbally ask, ask least I’m able to convey my need to you in some way. With a touch, or a squeeze. And you know.

To bring this all back to my other comment from earlier (As a reminder: “But at the same time, I also feel like I don’t want to get closer to them, because by opening myself up to them, opening myself up further to you, I run the risk of one or both parties just abandoning me entirely because of exhaustion of tolerating me.”) if this memory was real and this really happened to me, then I understand exactly why I have such a massive fear of abandonment. I’ve always had this fear, by the way, this is a new fear that developed because of my exes always leaving me. I think I always had this fear, at least subconsciously, which made me act in certain ways and made me so scared of people leaving, that I pushed away my previous partners until they left me. And I think that’s why even now, I sometimes will inadvertently try to push you away, or come up with fights in my head or things to argue about, thinking you’ll start getting angry, and then leave. But at the same time, I don’t want to say the same fears and same things over and over again, I don’t want to do the wrong thing constantly because I do not want you to leave. It’s a weird combination. I don’t want you to leave me, but I also try to push you away because if I’m not fully 100% attached, it will hurt a little less when you do abandon me. And I think I’ve had this philosophy my whole life. I remember telling my mother when they first moved to Colorado and I had my first breakdown, that I had on a subconscious level, but so scared and upset when they moved to Colorado and I had to stay in Philly for school, because in some way, I saw that as a type of abandonment.

And to wrap this all up, I was thinking about all this on the car ride to the airport. And had a new flurry of emotions. Because I had all the above going on in my head, no way for me to explain it to you, and then last night (completely unintentionally and I by no means hold what you said personally and I know you meant no harm by it and literally just wanted to help me), you said that it would be better too just try to not explain it. And let it pass. And while it may not have been intended to sound the way it did, I heard that and thought “You’re tired of hearing me stumble about trying to explain it. And it would be better to just not say anything. Let it pass. Let it disappear and block it out just like everything else.” And you were also feeling depressed and sad and I didn’t want you to take up all your energy trying to help me, when you needed help too. And with being so tired going to work, and being depressed on top of it, I felt like I was being an extra burden to you. I should have driven myself because you were so tired. And then I started getting upset because your mother was all concerned about you driving this morning and between that and my natural guilty conscious I have, I felt like I was overtaxing you. And then I thought about everything I’ve done since the beginning of the relationship, driving 1.5 hours all the time to see you, driving that early in the morning to get to work, how often I would come up even if I was bone tired and I suddenly thought about how that was entirely unfair. All those drives I did for you, and then you have to drive this one time for me and she gets worried about it. And then with those comments and my inherent disposition, I felt like I was being forced to feel guilty. Felt like the codependency of your family was rubbing off on us and I should have been disgusted with myself for leaving you, or taking that time away because if I wasn’t spending it with you, then clearly I was up to no good. And I hated that I was “being made” to feel that way. I thought so what if I want to take a week with my family by myself. Why should I feel guilty about that and why should anybody make me feel like that was a bad thing to do. Why should I spend the time with them worried about you and if you’re okay because I’m not there, instead of enjoying the time with my family that I haven’t had in two years or so. It was entirely unfair that you and your family got to spend so much time together while I only get a week, and then made to feel guilty about that week. Because as much as I joke about your family being too close and me not talking as often to mine, I do get upset that they are so far away. I am upset that I can’t just drive a few hours to see them and go out to lunch with my mom whenever I want. I think I get a form of jealousy when you spend time with your mother or your sister because I don’t get to have that whenever I want. And I felt like it was unfair that you get to do that, but I’m forced to fly a plane and feel bad about leaving you for my family. Maybe I feel uncomfortable and unhappy around your family all the time because it’s not MY family and by being friendly with them, I feel like I’m betraying the people who first kept me.

And then I felt even worse because I know you did so much for me in the beginning too and you cared and wanted to make sure I was also okay anytime I was tired and drove up. And I know you are not intentionally making me guilty - that’s all in my head. And that I only ever drove myself into the ground because I never let you see how tired I was, or never let myself acknowledge how exhausted I was, or how upset I was with not being able to see my family and I have only myself to blame for any of this. And I was sad and upset for getting stupidly upset at you for no reason.

And I think that’s the mindset I have with everybody and everything. You’re upset and depressed, so I need to buckle up my own shit and help you. And I don’t resent that. I love helping you and making you smile and being there for you when you’re down. But I think I do it so often to everybody that I no longer see myself and hear myself and take time to understand me. I will ignore the fact that I’ll have worked 12 hours 4 days in a row if I know someone else is exhausted or upset. Because my time and efforts don’t matter, my feelings and emotions on the matter are unimportant when someone else needs help. That is my purpose in life, at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself for years. My purpose is to help others. And I do. But I push myself too far sometimes and I don’t even realize it. I don’t have to be happy and upbeat at work all the time, but if I’m not, everyone else seems down and angry. I try to be happy so that everyone else can at least know there’s a ray of sunshine and smiles in the building. I have to be happy for my parents because if I show even the smallest sign of being sad or depressed, they’ll find a way to blame it on you. Or if my mother sees me depressed and I try to explain it to her, she’ll tell me I need to learn how to tolerate it because everyone gets depressed like that. Not that she means it in a bad way, she just doesn’t know. And she never will. Sometimes I feel like I have to put on a face even for you, because I don’t want you to be so worried about me that you make yourself ill and don’t care of yourself.

I have this feeling that I never do enough for you - even if you think I’m doing above and beyond. I feel like I’m never doing enough for anybody. I’ve always felt like I’ve let my pent up emotions and past experiences dictate the way I act and speak and that it’s not fair to anybody I interact with because I’m not giving them my whole self.

But my whole self is a small sad girl, curled in a ball on the side of a dirty road, abandoned and alone. My whole self is a black ball of depression and negativity. If I had to put my whole self into an image, it would be that doodling I did when you and Marc were discussing finances and I was using my pen to draw on the notebook. Just a few lines of bad thoughts, which tumble weed itself into a black hole of badness. And why should anybody be exposed to that every day? How could anyone see that whole unfiltered part of me and not walk away disgusted and scared. Why would someone want to dive not that and untangle it, or at least break it up into small pieces and work through it. Why should they?

I think that’s what I’ve always wanted. I wanted someone to untangle me, or just sit with me and break these chunks up, and work with one chunk at a time. And I’ve never felt like I’ve been with anyone, or know anyone who I trust to do that. I have never been around that I thought would take the time for me and care for me the way you do. And I’m slowly realizing, even now, that you are that person. You will take the time for me, you will help me sift through all these emotions, these repressed memories and fears I have, you’ll work with me to get better in all aspects of our life. You will sit with me and hold my hand when I am ready to sob, and you will laugh and dance with me when I’ve cleared my head and my blockages. You will be there for me. You will keep me.

I hope.

~Girlfrand

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caitimetravels · 3 years

Text

she's insignificant

chapter 10: where you've gone

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: none

masterlist

with a sigh, y/n stood. five was still writing away behind her on the walls non-stop. she didn't dare interrupt him, simply leaving. she would be back anyways. all she needed was a nice walk.

as she wandered down the street with no destination in mind she spaced out, eyes trained on her feet. suddenly someone knocked her shoulder and brought her back to reality. she raised her head, hoping they weren't someone looking to start a fight or argue with her.

"y/n?" instead she was met with allison. her technically older sister seemed frustrated.

"allison? are you okay?" y/n's eyebrows furrowed, looking up at the curly haired woman.

"yeah.. i think so" she frowned, "i'm worried about vanya. she won't listen to me but her boyfriend, whoever he is.. i think he's dangerous. i couldn't find anything about him-"

"you went searching for his records?" y/n pulled back in disbelief, "allison! you know vanya doesn't like-"

"i know, she already got angry with me" allison sighed, shaking her head.

"why would you do that?" y/n tilted her head up at her, eyes narrowing incredulously. "where are you even going?"

"well, i found his address. i was going to see if anything's weird.." she earned a disapproving look, "i can't just sit around and do nothing y/n! please, help me, for vanya?"

y/n's expression only darkened, "why are you trying to ruin one of the only good things in her life?! she deserves to be happy for once and im not going to help you take that away from her!" she begun to shout, freezing as she realised her powers were getting out of control in the middle of the street. "just.. leave them alone!"

she took off, hoping to get away, she needed to get away.

————————————————–

as the sweet melody came to soft halt y/n smiled up at her sister. vanya donned a similar grin, placing her violin down and joining y/n on the floor, cross legged and leaning back against her bed.

"one day, you're going to be amazing, v" y/n mumbled quietly, looking like she was in a slight daze, "more amazing than you are now.. you're going to be a famous violinist, i can see it now. 'vanya hargreeves, the world's best violinist'"

vanya softly nudged her shoulder, shaking her head. "no way, the world? c'mon"

"i'm serious!" y/n was adamant, sitting up straighter to see her better, "you're gonna be so cool! and everyone here is going to see you and say 'damn, wish i had seen how awesome our sister was back then' and you're going to have lots of fans!"

vanya snorted, shyly brushing her long hair to the side, "yeah, right"

".. you won't forget me when you're famous, right?" y/n leaned back against the bed to avoid direct eye contact, her voice was much softer now. "don't forget me.. okay?" she nervously side eyed her sister, trying to gauge her reaction.

"i could never" vanya shook her head, leaning into the h/c haired girl. both of them shared small content grins.

————————————————–

as she walked upstairs to five's room she heard a commotion, hopefully he hadn't gotten into a fight with one of their siblings again, right?

wrong.

"put her down" five snarled, holding a gun up to luther who held dolores' body out the window. y/n grinned at the sight, highly amused. who would have thought luther would ever threaten someone? well, y'know excluding their missions.. but five nonetheless? she leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossing and waiting for them to sort out whatever issue she walked in on.

"put the gun down, you're not killing anyone today. i know she's important to you so don't make me do this" luther paused, waiting to see what five would do. "it's either her or the gun.. you decide"

eventually five did decide that dolores was more important and dropped the gun before spacial jumping to catch dolores before she could fall. not that much damage would have occurred to the mannequin anyways, maybe a few scratches.

"i can keep doing this all day" luther spoke triumphantly, now holding the gun at his side. y/n snorted, catching their attention.

"you're such children" both glared at her in response, "c'mon, surely you have a better plan than whatever ended up in this-" she gestured vaguely between them, "squabble"

"we did not squabble" five hissed, placing dolores down and straightening his jacket. "but yes, i do have a one other plan"

————————————————–

the three of them, five, luther and y/n, drove down an empty road before slowing to a stop. five unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed, looking around.

"you know, i never enjoyed it" he started and luther turned to him in confusion.

"what?"

"the killing. i mean i was- i was good at my work and i took pride in it but it never gave me pleasure" he took a deep breath, "i think it was all those years alone. solitude can do funny things to the mind"

"yeah well, you were gone for such a long time.. i only spent four years on the moon but that was more than enough. it's the being alone that breaks you" luther placed a hand on the briefcase, "you think they'll buy it?"

"well, what i do know is that they're desperate. it's like a cop losing his gun" he alluded, "if the commission finds out they'll be in deep shit, well not to mention that they'll be stuck here until they get it back"

"i should hold onto it" luther suggested, patting it with one hand.

"hm?" five's eyebrows furrowed,

"incase they make a move on you" he added to explain his point.

"okay, luther.. but be careful. i've lived a long life but.. you're still a young man, you've got your whole life ahead of you. don't waste it" y/n snorted and five turned to her, unamused.

"what?" they stared at each other for a moment before five shook his head, looking away with a small smile.

suddenly a car began to drive towards them and they all made to get out of the car. "here we go" five sighed again, he was doing that a lot, y/n realised.

the car continued to drive past them, stopping a few metres away.

"if this all goes sideways.. do me a favour and tell dolores i'm sorry" five turned to luther who nodded slowly.

as five walked away from them y/n leaned back against the car.

"i have a bad feeling about this" she nervously picked at her nails and luther frowned, looking over at her.

"why? what's wrong?"

"that.. i don't know yet" she looked down the road, "i just.. feel like something's off" she shook her head as five walked back, leaning next to her.

luther stepped forwards a bit, "what happens now?"

"now we wait"

barely a moment later they heard the music of an ice cream truck. y/n squinted against the sun and wind, trying to work out who it was. she took a moment to focus, sensing klaus, diego and ben. uh oh.

as the car got closer luther turned to five, "is that her?"

"luther, you idiot" y/n shook her head, "it's klaus and diego" right on time klaus waved to them as they passed.

the two assassins begun shooting, thinking it was a set up and y/n raised her arms to cover her head as luther stepped in front of her and five to block any shots.

suddenly time stopped.. well, only for five.

he frowned down at y/n next to him, the girl cowering in on herself. he felt bad for bringing her into something like this but she was very persistent.

he slowly stepped under luther's arm, looking at everyone frozen in slight confusion.

"neat trick, isn't it?" a feminine voice called out behind him and he turned to face the woman he had asked to see. the handler. she stared at him, pulling the veil over her face up and onto her hat instead before pulling her sunglasses off.

"hello, five" she smiled, "you look good.. all things considered" she softly gestured to all of him.

"it's good to see you again" he nodded back,

"feels like we met just yesterday, 'course you were a little bit older then" she teased, "congratulations on the age regression, by the way. very clever, threw us all off the scent"

"ah, well, i wish i could take credit" five shrugged, looking away. "i just miscalculated the time dilation of projections and.. well, you know, here i am" his gaze met hers once again, throwing his hands up before putting them back in his pockets, casually.

"you realise your efforts are futile" the handler shifted so that her briefcase was behind her, "so, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"i want you to put a stop to it" five moved his own hands behind his back.

"you realise what you're asking for is next to impossible even for me" she shook her head, "what's meant to be is meant to be. that's our raison d'etre"

"yeah?" five smiled sarcastically, pulling a gun from his shorts "well how about survival as a raison?"

"i'll just be replaced, i am but a small cog in a machine" the handler waved it off, ignoring the gun pointing straight at her heart. "this fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is just that.. a fantasy. i must say though, we'll quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-it-tiveness, really quite- quite something. which is why we want to offer you, a new position back at the commission, in management" the handler held a hand up, smiling like her offer was an obvious choice.

"sorry what's that now?" five scoffed as she stepped closer, hand tightening on the gun.

"come back to work for us again, you know it's where you belong"

"well, it didn't work out too well the last time" he glared up at her, not liking the persistence.

"oh but you wouldn't be in the correction department any longer, i'm talking about the home office, you'd have the best health and pension and an end to this ceaseless travel" she laughed freely, "you're a distinguished professional in.. school boy shorts. we have the technology to reverse the process. i mean you- you can't be happy like this" she slowly pushed his gun down, stepping ever closer.

"i'm not looking for happy" he spat through gritted teeth.

the handler only tilted her head, eyeing him carefully before raising a hand to stroke his cheek, "we're all looking for happy. we can make that happen, we can make you.. yourself again"

five huffed a laugh, gesturing to his siblings. "what about my family?"

"what about them?" the handler raised an eyebrow, acting like she didn't already know he intended to save them.

"i want them to survive"

the handler took in a deep breath, taking in the sight of luther protecting y/n who was still crouching against the car as well as diego and klaus who were in the middle of crashing the ice cream truck.

"all of them?"

"yes, all of them" he narrowed his eyes at her,

the handler gave him a small smirk, moving towards the recoiled girl. five watched carefully, waiting to see what she would do.

"it's such a shame.. she would have done well with us. if only we could take her too" she reached a hand out, about to touch her but five moved first, spacial jumping in front of her and grabbing her hand. he held her away from y/n.

"don't touch her" he snarled, unmoving from his protective stance.

"my my, five, i didn't expect such protectiveness from you" the handler merely smirked, stepping away. as they walked back she once again proposed her deal.

"well" the handler begun, reaching a hand into her pocket and pulling out her sunglasses before putting them back on her face. "i'll see what i can do from them.. do we have a deal?" she reached a hand out to him, awaiting his acceptance. he merely stared at her hand before sighing,

"one thing" five stepped back, putting his gun in his shorts again. he walked over to hazel's gun on the floor, taking out the ammunition and chucking it on one side of the road before chucking the rest of the gun to the other. he turned and walked back, noticing the bullet headed towards luther and y/n. he frowned, using his pointer finger and thumb to move it over so that it would hit the car instead of them.

as soon as he shook her outstretched hand they disappeared and time was restored.

y/n shivered, ignoring the bullet hitting the car next to her and the way her siblings scrambled around to get away quick. she allowed herself to be shoved into the car with klaus and diego, spaced out.

"you alright?" diego turned to her while klaus stuck the middle finger up at hazel and cha cha.

"i felt someone else.. it was only for a moment but i felt someone.." she spoke solemnly, staring at her shaking hands. "and then five just.. disappeared"

tag list: (if your name is crossed i couldnt tag you) @rxses-and-reverie @lostgreekgod @on-yourmark-99 @bicyhot1 @navs-bhat @midnightmystic @shawkneecaps @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah @velveticxyyy

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua x sibling reader #the umbrella academy x sibling reader #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Vader Tries to Help

People encouraged me to share the dead dove concept! Yay! It’s a horrible concept with an undertone of comedic absurdity in the sense that you keep waiting to see what awful, incredibly stupid thing Vader is going to do next. Like it’s horrifying but it’s also very dumb.

By moving forward into the fic, you acknowledge that this is intended to be dark and liable to be upsetting, and that you are taking responsibility for your own engagement with the material.

This AU was helped along on discord by several parties but tbh I’m not sure how many of them actually want to be named.

Warnings: Mutual Extremely Dubious Consent (forced by a third party), drugging, irrational behavior (Vader), nonconsensual body modification, forced pregnancy, imprisonment, threatened torture of a child (not followed through on)

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Vader captures Obi-Wan a few years into the Empire. Because Vader is Anakin, but even worse on the emotional bullshit, he decides that he needs to keep Obi-Wan safe but harmless. Vader also got Luke in the whole 'capturing Kenobi' situation, so part of what Vader's thinking about all this is that Obi-Wan tried to protect The Baby and so Vader kind of owes him, obviously.

Palpatine lets him keep Obi-Wan "safe," because threatening Obi-Wan is a convenient way to make Vader shut up and do what he's told. Palpatine can kind of tell that threatening the toddler would make Vader lose his shit and attempt to kill good ol' Palps, so threatening the middle-aged depressed alcoholic being kept in Vader's guest room with Force-nullifying cuffs is pretty good. It's an additional layer of emotional torture on top of the electrocution of Vader himself!

Vader has Obi-Wan taking care of Luke, mostly, because Vader has Obligations and A Job, and Obi-Wan wouldn't hurt Luke, duh. He might try to escape with the kid, but he won't be successful, and Obi-Wan will definitely put Luke's safety first, so that probably won't happen.

This is all fairly normal for a variety of AUs, granted, and not very dark.

But see, Obi-Wan behaves. He's aware of how tenuous the situation is for him and his charge, so he plays nice. And Vader decides to reward that.

By giving him Cody.

There's an implied thought process there that Obi-Wan was fond of Cody, and Cody was fond back, and now that the Jedi aren't around, they can follow through instead of worrying about some silly Code. Vader's nullified the orders to kill all the Jedi, of course, possibly dosed their food with an aphrodisiac so they don't try to talk themselves out of What They Obviously Want.

Now, we’re going to make it a little darker, because why not make things worse by having Vader try to make things better?

Vader somehow twisted himself around to encouraging them to have a baby. This is accomplished through a combination of Sith Magic and nonconsensual surgery, and lots of questionable drugs.

Obi-Wan just wakes up in a hospital bed with a womb one morning, and is informed of the surgery then and there, after it’s already happened. The droid telling him about it is just like "in the Lord Vader's infinite kindness--" and Obi-Wan just.

Anakin.

What the fuck.

What in the actual fuck made you think this was a good idea.

(The Sith Chemicals, probably.)

I feel like Palpatine would maybe even order the pregnancy induction just to torture them by proxy because that's like eight levels of Fuck No and he barely has to do anything except tell Vader that he'd like to see what kind of children a Jedi Master like Obi-Wan has.

Luke needs friends, doesn't he?

Obi-Wan is having some very complicated emotions about all of this because Vader is, in his own absolutely insane way, trying to help.

Anakin wanted babies and Padme wanted babies so clearly, if Obi-Wan and Cody are in love, then they also want babies!

Cody and Obi-Wan very well might not be in love. Anakin definitely could have misinterpreted. It’s probably more angsty if they're just friends who ended up in this bullshit together.

(He's taking baby fever to new and somewhat horrifying heights, because... he would adore Obi's kids.)

(His family button is suprisingly large for a mass murderer.)

Vader Kindly Informs Bail That Obi-Wan Is Alive And Unharmed. Bail was a friend of Obi-Wan's, telling him this is only helpful and will keep Alderaan from getting more rebellious out of personal insult. Obviously.

Vader is almost offended when Bail implies he might hurt Obi-Wan. He kept his son safe, he owes him. Speaking of, don’t you have a child? How old is she, again? It would be Good for her to make friends, wouldn’t it? :)

Palpatine is just like... sitting back and eating evil popcorn as Vader runs around, ruining people's lives by trying to be less of The Worst than before.

Palps barely has to do anything, Anakin's fucking it up on his own!

Could have been just a sly "Kenobi is so attached to young Luke, but now that you've been reunited with your son, perhaps he'd be happier with a child of his own?" Come at it from both "make Obi-Wan happy" and "protect your relationship with Luke" angles.

Vader: I can't have babies anymore due to what you did to me on Mustafar. Obi-Wan: So you're punishing me by forcing me to have them instead? Vader: No! Children are a gift that you have been cruelly denied by the Order that held us in its chains! Obi-Wan: ...oh, right, you're insane. Forgot about that. Somehow.

Big dramatic speech about how the Jedi Order spent so long making them take lives, he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to create it! To put something good and bright into the world!

Poor Cody is like. "General, I am very fond of you but I'm having a million panic attacks at the same time because of the mind control, and also Vader is under the impression that we're in love and I need to be your stud? I wasn't aware you could have children--" "I can't. Or at least, I couldn't, but Anakin is... creative." "...what."

I don't want to actually objectify Cody in the narrative past the point that Obi-Wan himself is, because nnnnngh racism and clone stuff, so I'm going to say Cody was in love with Obi-Wan, and would have been okay with at least discussing the whole baby schtick if not for the absolutely horrible circumstances.

Like if the war had ended normally, and Obi-Wan had expressed a desire to retire, unlikely as that was, then Cody may have suggested a dinner, and they could have gotten married and then eventually adoption...

(Cody had a lot of fantasies he didn’t let himself think about too hard.)

But no. It's this... weird Vader-inspired bullshit.

I'm just so invested in Vader trying to help but making things legitimately a million times worse.

He wants to help :) Oh god, he wants to help.

Why aren't people more appreciative of how hard I'm helping them? - the Anakin Skywalker story

With less time to stew and also getting handed what he wants, Vader could absolutely flip on a dime the second he saw Luke being protected, and go from “I hate you” to remembering that Obi-Wan said he loved him, and now he must keep Obi-Wan safe out of debt and he just... he’s playing house.

Vader throws Obi-Wan a baby shower after the pregnancy is confirmed. Bail is invited, because Obi-Wan doesn't have a lot of friends still alive. Vader decides Bail is top of the Obi-Wan’s Friends List.

This is the first time they've seen each other in two years. Obi-Wan is heavily pregnant despite Bail knowing full well he didn't have the plumbing for that before the Empire rose. Cody is there and emotionally exhausted but more lucid than most troopers. Luke is running up to Leia because New Friend!!!

....there may be MORE of the 212th and 501st at the baby shower, with “kill all Jedi” orders revoked, of course. But it will keep the children safe!! And Cody and Obi-Wan can see their surviving friends!!

Cody: I'd be much happier to see my surviving troopers if they didn't all still have chips in their heads. Obi-Wan: I feel much the same. Vader: [404 error]

Bail and his family might be there at blaster point, but aren't you happy to see them, Obi-Wan??

Obi-Wan's endless trauma is honestly somewhat curtailed by the incessant need to facepalm at Vader’s bullshit

Obi-Wan and Cody both outwardly have a very "there are much worse people I could be stuck with in this situation but obviously I wish I'd had a choice, no hard feelings" attitude at each other.

Internally, Cody is suffering because this is NOT how he wanted his crush to be realized, and Obi-Wan is just suffering, period.

Cody: How did he even choose which of us ends up pregnant? Obi-Wan: He thinks I need to be protected, and that he needs to keep me safe. Cody: ...he does realize that you're better at-- Obi-Wan: Cody, he's completely lost it. No! He doesn't realize!

I feel like over the course of the year or two this plot unravels towards Palpatine getting murder-deposed and Anakin getting locked down, part of the driving force to Vader not being Vader anymore is that Luke actually really loves Uncle Obi and always starts fussing and going "Ben's sad" whenever Vader dismisses what Obi-Wan wants in favor of what Vader thinks Obi-Wan wants, and Vader can't deny his child anything.

Luke cries because Palpatine Feels Wrong like, once or twice, and Anakin goes “oh, okay, assassination time.”

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Luke Skywalker #Commander Cody #Codywan #Darth Vader #Bail Organa #star wars #dubcon #situational dubcon #nonconsensual surgery #medical abuse tw #forced pregnancy tw #nonconsensual body modification #Vader Tries to Help AU #Phoenix Posts #dead dove do not read #dead dove

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rosiehrs · 3 years

Text

kissing lessons | rosé

group ; blackpink genre ; fluff

pairing ; cheerleader!!rosé / fem!reader

summary ; roseanne asks you for kissing lessons to help impress the person she had a crush on. little did you know she only used it as an excuse to lock lips with you.

warnings ; mentions of sex, swearing

a/n ; this is the first thing i’ve written in approximately 4 months so it’s very rusty but i’m pretty glad i’ve managed to finally write something – woo! also not proofread xx

word count ; 2.7k

“i need kissing lessons.”

was the first thing she said to you when she entered the room. you looked up from your book in shock, “you need what now?”

“i need kissing lessons. from you.” she repeated. you examined her, looking for any sign of humor on her face, but there was none. right before you, stood the school’s most loved and popular girl, roseanne park. the both of you weren’t that close as you were one of the middle class, average kids while she was up there, rich and popular. she always tried talking and being friendly to you, you found it odd at first as she would just come out of nowhere and suddenly ask you about your day, but you’ve grown to appreciate and love her small acts of kindness. she looked down at you with a tight-lipped smile and hopeful eyes. saying you were speechless was an understatement. did the head cheerleader and long time crush really ask you to give her kissing lessons?

“okay, hold up. could you fill me in really quickly? why on earth do you need kissing lessons?”

“It’s silly, but i kinda like someone..” she began, looking away. she tried hiding it, but the biggest smile was plastered on her face and you knew whoever this ‘someone’ was – was really special. you were flattered, but even more hurt. you had no place to be hurt as you were even closer with your locker than you were with her, but you couldn’t help it. you were more than glad that she asked you to help her improve her kissing skills, but knowing she wants you to help her impress someone else really managed to hurt your heart a little. “ms park has a crush! who’s this special someone?” you asked in a teasing tone. roseanne rolled her eyes and sat down next to you. “i’m not telling you, but i just really need your help.” she stared at you, basically begging with her eyes.

“i would love to, but you didn’t answer my question. why would you, roseanne park, the heartthrob of the school, need kissing lessons? from me?”

“because i’m pretty fucking inexperienced and have kissed like 3 people in my life? and those three people have barely given me anything more than a peck, oh and the kisses that went further made me down a whole bottle of mouthwash afterwards.” you couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s words, “also because i’ve heard you’re a pretty good kisser, but i’m not telling you where i got that information from.” you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, although you were very flattered, you didn’t know how to react.

“come on, y/l/n. i’m not asking you to help me get better at sex- although i wouldn’t mind doing that with you-” you threw your rubber at her, making her giggle. “you suck.” you replied, making her smile. “i might be sucking something soon-”

“park! shut up!” you scolded. she laughed at you and shook her head. “so? what do you say, y/n?”

nodding and closing your book, you straighten your posture. “alright roseanne park, i’ll give you kissing lessons.”

roseanne looked at you with bright eyes and a wide smile, “yes! oh my god, thank you, y/n!” she replied, bringing you into a tight hug. “i owe you.” she whispered.

“you bet you do. now get your ass up and let’s get to class.”

–––

you spent the whole day worrying, it only just processed in your mind that roseanne wanted you to help her with her kissing. meaning you’d have to kiss her. panic rushed through you, holy shit. you were going to kiss roseanne park. the last period had just come to a halt and you packed your things slowly. your mind was all over the place and you didn’t know how to feel. once you stepped outside the classroom, the blond herself linked arms with you and dragged you out of school. “let’s get outta here, y/l/n.”

you let out a light chuckle as you got into her car, not long after she got in. “um, so my parents are out of town right now. should we head there?” she asked, looking at you through the rear view mirror. everything was just so bubbly and confusing, were you really about to do this? with roseanne park?

her voice snapped you out of your little mind debate, “y/n? you alright?”

“oh no, yeah i’m fine. your house is fine.” you replied, making her giggle. “loosen up, y/l/n, i’m not gonna bite you.”

“yet.” she smirked, you immediately looked at her – a beautifully elegant laugh escaped her lips. “i’m kidding – unless?” you smacked her leg, masking you blush away with a playful scowl. “just drive, park.” roseanne smiled and started the engine.

–––

the both of you sat down on her bed, placing your things down. rosé bounced down on the bed, excitedly, using the both of her hands to slap the mattress. “now how would you say i should improve, miss y/l/n?”

smiling sheepishly, you fixed your things. “now i wouldn’t know yet, miss park.”

“okay, so find out. i really need to impress this person.”

you kept your head down, trying to hide the disappointment on your face. she really needs to impress this person, this is just to help her with the person she has feelings for. and god, did you hate to think about it like that. but your heart was pounding and as much as you hated to admit it – you were excited to finally feel roseanne’s lips. “geez, easy, tiger. give me some time to prepare my lips or something.” you replied, making the aussie laugh. “well hurry, i need these lessons asap.”

“girl, what are you planning to do with your mystery lover? i’m pretty worried,” roseanne smacked your shoulder before grabbing her lip balm. “put it on.”

you removed the lid of the stick and applied it onto your lips. she looked at you, as if she was waiting for you to do something. her eyes were almost screaming, “come kiss me already.”

“y/l/n, do i really have to make the first move here?” she teased, making you roll your eyes and lean in. you placed your hand on her jaw as she placed hers on your cheek. slowly but surely, the both of you started to lean in. you closed your eyes, waiting. it felt like forever until her lips finally touched yours. it felt like everything had just stopped, you knew you had to give her pointers and ways to improve on how she was kissing, but all you could focus on was how soft her lips felt against yours, how addictive the tingles felt. your lips moved against each other softly and elegantly. you were so caught up in the moment – you were running out of air, so that’s when you finally pulled away. she rested her forehead on yours, out of breath like you were.

finally opening your eyes, the both of you stared at each other for what felt like hours. trying to really find out what the both of you were thinking. “i-” you started, your mind was blank. the only thing on your mind was the way her lips felt on yours, how soft, how sweet and how addictive her lips were. “well- i just.. you-”

“fuck, am i that bad?” she asked, worried. you were shocked, “no! god, no. you’re good, really good. i- i just don’t know how i’m supposed to help you after that.” you laughed, making her do the same. you went completely blank, you just stared at her, examined her. you really saw how beautiful and elegant she looked. “come on, y/l/n, give me something. like.. like how you felt! was i too soft? was there too much teeth? tongue, even?” she asked eagerly yet nervously. the tone of her voice and the look on her face was just beyond adorable. you giggled at the girl’s actions and shook your head. “roseanne, relax. you were great, it was – how do i say this without being creepy.. perfect? you don’t need any lessons, park.”

“oh come on, y/n. you don’t have to sugar coat it, give me the truth. go into details.. please?”

details, she wanted details. well shit.

“um, alright.. um, it was soft. but not in a bad way, it was sweet, gentle. perfect idea of a first kiss. i don’t- i don’t know how else to describe it. you’re good. end of story, park.” your words put a smile on her face, it made her feel proud, happy. “oh really?” she smirked, earning herself a smack on the arm. “shut up, rosie. you asked for the truth and i gave it to you. i’m gonna go home now..” you stood up, but was immediately pulled back down. “nuh uh, you’re not leaving. it’s been like 10 minutes, i just- i wanna improve. maybe go out of the kissing, how was the position of.. my hand? my body?”

you got to thinking, might as well give her something, right?

“okay well, maybe when you hold their cheek. just..” hesitantly, you leaned in and held her cheek in your hand. “before leaning in maybe just..” you caressed her cheek with the soft pad of your thumb making the girl blush a bright shade of red. “then when you kiss them, you could pull them closer.. like this-” softly, you pulled her closer to you. you were barely an inch away from her lips and you could feel her hot breath. everything you did made you feel so, so weak. you felt so vulnerable being this close to her. it felt unreal and you felt as if everything was just perfect at that moment.

roseanne’s eyes were glued to your lips and just couldn’t shake the feeling off, it felt so right. “should i try it on you?” she asked, breaking the silence. you cleared your throat and backed away. “um, yeah.. yeah go ahead.” you sat up straight as she brought her hand to your cheek. gulping, she caressed your cheek exactly how you did. her eyes were glued to your lips, she began nibbling on her bottom lip before pulling you closer and placing her lips on yours.

fireworks, butterflies, that was all you felt. her lips moved against yours, gracefully. before she could get carried away, she pulled back, staring into your eyes.

“i-..”

“was that good?”

“y-yeah, it was good.”

the awkward silence ate the both of you up, making you stand up. “um, i’m gonna get home. good first lesson, you’ll be fine, park.” you grabbed your things until she stopped you by grabbing your hand. “wait! i.. could you possibly.. give me more lessons? i don’t think i’m at my best yet.”

“oh, uh- yeah. sure, yeah, alright. just.. text me.” you replied, giving her an awkward smile. she nodded before standing up. “i’ll, can i drive you home?” she asked. “oh! no, please. it’s alright, i’ll just call an uber-”

“no, i insist! it’s the least i could do after you agreeing to help me out.” you were about to protest as she grabbed your bag and your hand. “come on, ms good kisser.” you giggled as you let her drag you out.

––

“okay, what on earth is going on between you and chaeyoung?” joy, your beloved best friend asks. “i- nothing, i’m just giving her kissing lessons..”

“you’re WHAT?!” she yelled, making you flinch. “sooyoung! be quiet!” you scolded, pulling her back down. “how long have you been giving ms. head cheerleader kissing lessons?!” she was shocked and offended - clearly. “just a few weeks.. relax.”

“how could i possibly relax when i’ve just found out my best friend has been making out with the school’s most popular girl?! you bitch! why haven’t you told me?!” she slapped your arm, angrily. you couldn’t help but laugh at your best friend’s actions. she’s been there for you since you were 3 and you’ve pretty much told her everything that’s happened in your life, whether it’s when you had your first kiss or that one time you stepped on gum and you had to walk barefoot the whole day. “i didn’t tell you because i knew you’d tease the shit out of me!” you protested.

“well yeah, alright. understandable, but y/n?! you’ve been making out with the love of your life – how does it feel?” she replied, smirking at you. “shut up before i smack that smirk off your face.” sooyoung laughed and shoved you. “i hate you! why would she need kissing lessons? and why would she get kissing lessons from you?” she asked, disgust evident on her face and the tone of her voice. “she said she really wanted to impress the person she likes, and also i will quite literally-”

“y/n! wait up!” a familiar sweet voice called out for you. you and joy turned around, seeing the said girl running towards your direction. she had her hair in a tight ponytail and was wearing her cute, perky and hot cheerleading uniform. “hi cutie,” she greeted, making you smile. “hey chae.”

“um, i was wondering if i could have another lesson? today, after school maybe?” she asked, but it sounded more like she was letting you know. “sure,” you agreed, smiling. “alright, see you around.” she then walked off, swaying her hips and her ponytail along with it. your eyes were glued onto her and joy just couldn’t hold herself back. “oh my fuck, you whipped motherfucker.”

“shut up, chicken joy. let’s just get to class.”

“do you even know who she likes?” joy’s question really caught your attention. you’ve been giving roseanne kissing lessons for about 3 weeks and you still have no idea about who she has feelings for. “oh, um.. well-”

“ha! you don’t! you know what that means,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “no, i don’t know what that means, park sooyoung.”

“ah, you lovesick fool.”

––

you and rosé walked into her room casually, putting your things down and talking about your day at school. you laid down on her bed, staring at the ceiling as she talked about how these boys stole her box of apple juice at lunch.

“hey.. you alright?” she asked, obviously concerned about your sudden silence. “yeah, i’m fine. i’m actually just curious about something.” you said it that way so she would ask you what you were curious about. you hated bringing things up out of the blue, it was just easier this way.

“oh sure, what’s up, sweetcheeks?” she rested her head on her palm as she laid on the bed, looking at you with such intent.

“who.. who do you like? who means so much to you that you’d be willing to get kissing lessons from me?” the question froze roseanne up. you saw how her shoulders tensed up and how her face fell. you watched as she sat up and cleared her throat. “um.. can you come here, please?” she asked quietly, patting the space next to her. you pushed yourself up and crawled to the space next to her. “what’s up?”

“um.. how do i say this..” she fiddled with her fingers and nibbled on her bottom lip. she was nervous and you could see it. “hey, are you alright?” you asked as you placed your hands over hers to calm her down. chaeyoung looked up and pulled you in for a kiss.

soft, gentle, passionate. it didn’t matter how many times you kissed her, it always managed to blow your mind. her tongue entered your mouth softly, she pulled you in closer with her left hand on your cheek and right hand on your waist. the lessons you gave her really paid off, she was perfect. she tilted her head to the side to deepen the kiss. once again - it felt like everything around you was floating and you were just on cloud 9. every time roseanne’s lips were on yours, you felt as if everything was just perfect. like nothing could be better. she softly pulled away with her hand still on your cheek.

“it’s you.”

#blackpink #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink x reader #blackpink fluff #blackpink rosé #park chaeyoung #park chaeyoung x reader #blackpink au #rosé x reader #rosé

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cheeseanonioncrisps · 3 years

Text

Honestly, controversial opinion, but Crowley arguably does move pretty fast, if you look at it from a celestial perspective.

“But they were friends for 6000 years!” No they weren't.

I mean, headcanons can vary, but if we're going purely by the text then they don't appear to have met up at all in the 1000 years between Eden and Noah's Ark (Crowley has to ask about the aftermath of the Flaming Sword Incident) and it's not clear how many times they encountered each other in the 3000 years between that and the crucifixion.

They don't go out for lunch together (that we see) until eight years after that. Once again, I've seen lots of excellent headcanons and fics about how they might have spent that intervening time together, but from a strictly canon perspective, Crowley and Aziraphale being basically just friendly colleagues for the first 4000 years of their relationship is a totally valid interpretation.

And then, of course, Crowley probably has to leave (he's “just popped in for a quick temptation”, remember) and the next time we see them is 500 years later. Which is a super long time for a human— and I'm not going to argue that they didn't meet up at all in the intervening time, since at this point I don't think it's implied one way or another— but for an angel or a demon?

They've both been on Earth for well over 4000 years by this point. How long is 500 years relative to them? Fifty years? Fifteen? Five?

Anyway, it's at this point— 500 years after what was quite possibly their first lunch together— that Crowley turns to Aziraphale and is like “hey? Want to commit literal treason?”

And make no mistake, that is what he is asking. These two are enemy agents, and Crowley is asking to exchange information about the secret plans of their respective sides. This would require Aziraphale to

a) trust Crowley not to take advantage of this information for the benefit of Evil

b) consciously choose not to take advantage himself of the information Crowley gives him, for the benefit of Good

c) accept (even just a little bit) the idea that the activities he's just spend the past >4000 years on don't make any difference at all in the grand scheme of things, and Heaven doesn't really give a shit about him.

… And he does it. He rejects the idea initially, but just over a thousand years later we see them together at the Globe, and the Arrangement is not only established, but clearly has been so for some time.

Long enough for Crowley to decide it's time to bend the rules. Not only are they arranging secret meetings and tactically keeping out of each other's way, but they've already done the 'taking care of each other's blessings and temptations' trick “dozens of times”. Aziraphale is still nervous and shocked when Crowley suggests it, so he's probably used to only doing it as a last resort in emergencies, but he knows exactly what Crowley is suggesting the moment he comments on what a shame it is that they both have to go to Edinburgh. This is not a new thing.

Aziraphale at this point still believes that angels and demons are fundamentally different. For all he knew, the first time he performed a temptation he would fall instantly and the first time Crowley performed a blessing he would… explode, or something. But still, at some point during the last thousand years, Crowley persuaded him to do it.

And then, just over 200 years after that (and how long even is that? It's ~4% of the time they've spent on Earth so far) Crowley asks for holy water, Aziraphale thinks he's going to kill himself, freaks out about how much he cares and brings out the Heaven Party Line to cover up his real feelings. Crowley takes it as a personal insult and they fall out for a century— according to the script, Aziraphale is convinced that they're not friends anymore.

100 years after that, and Crowley's back again, and he's just saved Aziraphale from discorporation (… by threatening him with worse discorporation, but still) and thought to rescue his books. Aziraphale has his big moment of 'this demon is the only being who truly cares about me, and I truly care about him' and then literally like 20 years later (which would be what on the celestial timescale? Two weeks?) Crowley's after the holy water again, and Aziraphale has to choose between letting his friend almost certainly die through inaction, or making him slightly less likely to die right away but ensuring that if/when he does die later down the line, it will be All. Aziraphale's. Fault.

He chooses option 2 and in the process has to admit— maybe not out loud, but definitely through implication— that the initial refusal to hand it over was never about Heaven, because Aziraphale couldn't give a toss about what Heaven thinks compared to what will ensure the safety of one incredibly irritating demon. Probably crossing his fingers that he's not going to Fall the whole way through, because that is a bloody extreme thing to admit given the circumstances.

And Crowley's response? “Cool, so we're now going to go off together and start hanging out like normal people who don't have the threat of each other's horrific destruction hanging over their heads every minute of the day? We're going to drive off in my car and just be openly BFFs forever now?” No Crowley.

In the past just under 2000 years you've gone from work aquaintances (which was already illegal! Literally every conversation you two have ever had could have resulted in your deaths!), to treason buddies, to Aziraphale fully admitting to himself that his loyalty to you is more than his loyalty to Heaven. That his loyalty to Heaven does not in fact play into it when it comes to your safety. Even though he's an angel, and that sort of thinking is exactly the kind of thing you Fall for.

And like less than thirty seconds after you've both come to that realisation, you're turning round and asking him to give up all plausible deniability and attempts at secrecy and just start openly hanging out together where Heaven and Hell could just stumble upon you at any time.

Like yeah he turns you down, what with finding out you're about to risk killing yourself, and handing you a suicide pill, and finally admitting his ultimate betrayal of Heaven in his heart, this has been a rough past few hours for Aziraphale. He's probably not ready to be making those kinds of decisions.

But he says he's willing to give it a try. Not yet— give him a minute Crowley— but he's willingly acknowledging that there is a Next Step to this relationship and he wants to get there.

And then the next time we see the two of them, in 30-40 years time, Aziraphale has made the step. They're going to the Ritz together and getting wasted in the shop afterwards. They seem to have done this before. Crowley now wants to form an allegiance and deliberately work to circumvent the Great Plan that Aziraphale believes was set out 6000 years ago by God Herself, and it literally takes an afternoon for Crowley to talk him into it.

Like, I see a lot of posts about the holy water scene where people are blaming Aziraphale or joking about how Crowley couldn't possibly go any slower than he is already. And yeah, from a human perspective, they're barely moving. But from the perspective of millennia old beings whose existence predates the Earth itself? And for whom literally every step in their relationship was utterly revolutionary and completely unprecedented?

To Aziraphale, it probably felt a lot faster.

#good omens #suicide mention #long post #good omens headcanons #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #If You Give A Demon An Oyster #then he'll want some wine to go with it #and then he'll want you to drink it with him #and then he'll probably ask you to commit treason…#to be clear #i'm not saying that crowley is necessarily going *too fast* here #just that aziraphale's not going too slow #given the circumstances #the situatuon is not as clear cut as it first seems

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

At ease, soldier (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader)

What is this? This is 8/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is “I’ve never seen you dressed-up like this and **** you’re hot.”

Summary: when Santi moves in with you following his divorce, he didn’t anticipate seeing you in THAT DRESS. It does things to him, and has him reevaluating everything he feels for you, and everything he thinks he knows about home.

Author’s note: this has divorced!dad!Santi, so it’s a bit different (marriage / child not with reader). This might not be my best thought-out one-shot ever, or my best portrayal of Santi, but it is what it is. I personally think the thing reader does is adorbs, fight me if you disagree :P I really hope you like it! <3 Thank you as always for reading, commenting, and sharing. It means the world.

Rating: M/E (18+ ONLY, Minors do not read or interact. Thank you.)

Word count: this is not as long as some of the others! Hurrah!

Warnings: masturbation (m); Santi has super sexual thoughts about reader and they’re not together- they are written but not said out loud. theme of divorce but not too angsty. few mentions of shared custody / parenting (not reader’s child). Food mentions. Swearing. Kissing. Lmk if I missed any.

GIF: @realoscarisaac

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @anetteaneta @stardustkenobi @casifer-is-king @foxilayde @tlcwrites @aellynera @kindablackenedsuperhero

“Hey, look. Thank you for this,” Santi says, softly and sincerely as you cross him again in the hallway, halting you with a hand on your shoulder. The heat from his palm bleeds through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and you consider wresting yourself sharply away from the pleasant torment of him. At the same time, you consider leaning in to his warm chest and staying there, so help you, curled like a leaf against the sturdy trunk of him.

He’s moving in with you, following the long, drawn-out process of his divorce. It has been a long time coming, but his marital house -which he has lived in alone going on a year - has finally been sold-off and split with his ex. And so, here he is, treading lightly and making himself small in your home - as if this isn’t somewhere he’s been loud and brash and welcome ever since you bought the damn place.

You can tell he’s grateful. He’s expressed it enough times. It’s the apology in his eyes you can’t stand - as if he’s some kind of burden. He’s been through a lot, but you want him to walk tall, instead of stooping under the weight of his “bad decisions”. He blames himself for a lot of things that you don’t think he ought to, not least the collapse of his marriage. She had cheated; although, he insists there were problems long before that. Perhaps even right from the beginning. He’d always been a travelling soldier, and even after he was discharged he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I promise. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet,” he adds, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his scruff.

You smile softly. His promises still mean something to you. Even if he hadn’t seen through the promise of his marriage, you know he had tried. You know his word is never given lightly.

It’s hard. To start again, all over again. You know. You, yourself, were rattling around in a house too big for one, bought for two, perhaps meant for more - but that hadn’t worked out either. You’d had to forego promises you made as well.

“There’s no rush. Honestly.”

There isn’t. Between the legal fees and alimony, and carving up his assets, Santi needs a little time to get his finances together before he can consider his own place. You’re happy for him to take all of the time he needs. Out of the options available to him, you had been both the preferred one, and the last to offer. The other boys don’t have space. He’d considered a houseshare, but he needed somewhere his little daughter, Ava, could still come to stay on weekends.

You have space. Ava adores you. You were spending a lot of time with Santi anyway. For all those reasons, it was a no-brainier. You’d only hesitated so long in offering due to your impossible, undying love for the man. Did you really want to do that to yourself? To torment yourself with him, in your home?

“It’s no problem at all, but I do need you to haul this stuff inside a little faster, okay? I still have a date tonight, slowpoke.”

“You got it, boss.”

You chuckle, punching him playfully in the tricep, and traipsing out to the lawn to pick-up another box.

Perhaps it was ludicrous to go on a date tonight, of all nights, but at least you admit to yourself that it is an exercise in majorly over-compensating. It is some conscious attempt to signify how Not Into Him you are, and you are hoping -if the guy is cute enough and the sex is earth-shattering enough- that perhaps you could even convince yourself.

Aside from your well-established feelings for him, this whole arrangement is pretty dangerous. Santi is too easy to be around, and if you let yourself sink into the cosy bubble of his company, you fear you will never think to look for anyone else again. Whilst that would be just fine with you - Santi, on the other hand? He’s never been interested in you like that. Probably hasn’t ever entertained the idea of it. Besides, the timing between you two - even if there was something there- has never been quite right. There was always some mission or woman or man or bad decision getting in the way.

You sigh, as you bend and pick-up a box, feeling like your date is already doomed as thoughts of Santi swirl relentlessly in your head.

You can hope, perhaps, that it won’t turn out to have been a terrible decision to invite him into your home. Perhaps living with him will even help you get over him, once and for all, in a way that nothing and no-one else has managed to. You could discover all of his annoying habits and start bickering over whose turn it is to take the bins out until you hate each other, perhaps? However, somehow you think this is unlikely - when you’d broken up with Malik, Santi’s presence in your house had gotten you through. His laugh and his warmth had curled into every corner of this structure and nestled there, driving out all of the cobwebs. Santi made this house a home again, before he ever lived in it. In a way, you dread to think what will happen now.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” you encourage - this time as you cross him on the landing. “Put your stuff wherever. Take up some space. Hang your guitar above the fireplace. Hell, get a new one. Hang that too.” That had been a point of contention with her. “Paint your bedroom black, like you always wanted when you were a kid, whatever you want.”

Santi smiles warmly at you as he gets the message you’re so desperately trying to hammer home. You don’t want him to shrink himself into a corner. You want him to be at ease here. You want him to feel welcome.

With words escaping him, Santi’s hands wind around the back of your head, and he casually leans over, planting a quick but heartfelt kiss of gratitude, right in the middle of your forehead. “I love you,” he says freely, and, as he trots abruptly down the stairs, you only wish he meant it in the same way your heart sings its reply.

You do want him to relax here. He’s carried so much for so long. He’s carried it halfway around the world and back again, and the man deserves the break.

****

“Can I ask your opinion?” you call through his new bedroom door, cracking it and poking your head in as he responds affirmatively.

“Sure, come in.”

Santi watches as your body follows the path of your head, the slow reveal of your striking dress oddly tantalising, and sending a subtle surge of heat through him which he wasn’t prepared for.

“How do I look?” you say apprehensively, holding out your palms before doing a little half-swivel, one hand poised on your hip.

Santi’s extremely conscious that his eyes widen, and he swears he must look like a cartoon, feeling like they’re popping out of his head in surprise when he clocks you.

You’re wearing a form-fitting, flattering dress. It’s long, and it hugs you perfectly where it touches, with subtle hints of leg and cleavage where the luxe material gives way to soft, inviting skin. Your hair and make-up are different than usual too, and you really look the whole package - so much so that Santi takes a minute to form a coherent thought, beyond the low whistle he expels when he sees you stood before him.

Shit - he knows it has been too long since he said anything, and yet all he can muster from his slack jaw is a feeble croak.

Wow. Holy shit.

Santi is a little thrown. Your body looks amazing. You look sultry and sexy, and like sex-on-legs, if he’s honest. He tries to think or speak, but he’s not sure if he’s ever seen you dressed-up quite like this, and you have him feeling more than a little stupefied.

He gulps.

It’s not as though you look transformed, or anything. You’re an attractive woman, always, and the dress simply highlights that. No change there. But the way he’s responding to you is something new, and not something he entirely understands. Perhaps he simply became so used to seeing you clad in fatigues and sweats and overalls, usually covered in mud and sweat and blood. Perhaps he’s spent so long schooling himself into believing you’re someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t hit on -his friend- that he simply buried it. Buried it under his missions and his marriage and his house and his divorce. But now that all of those things are gone, and all the silt stirred-up, perhaps there is space for it to resurface? Now that, for the first time in a long-time, he feels at ease, and, here you are, looking like that?

Oh boy. His eyes trail over you further as though he can’t get enough. His gaze snags on the places the dress clings to you, providing a subtle outline of your form. He lingers on the places where you’re practically busting out of it- he likes those places especially.

He likes it a little too much, he realises, as he experiences an involuntary rush of blood to his cock, and he subtly rearranges his hands in front of him to disguise the fact as he stands to attention for you.

Fuck, what would Frankie say? Santi thinks, as he reaches for literally any wholesome thought where none seem to exist - in his mind nor his vocabulary - while he’s looking at you.

“You look nice,” he manages to say, but that’s not how he’s phrasing it in his head. Not at all.

I wanna shove my tongue between your thighs, honey. I want you to slip those red lips down on my dick until you drain my balls dry.

“Nice?” you bristle. “Nice, Santiago? I don’t want to look nice.”

“How do you want to look?”

Naked, on my bed? Or, maybe that dress hitched all the way up. Those juicy hips of yours being marked by my hands as I bounce you on me until I fill you up.

You cross to the cheval mirror at the opposite side of the room, further examining yourself.

Holy shit, you look good from the back too.

Santi may be a lapsed Catholic, but he certainly feels like he needs to visit confession with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. He swears he must have started visibly sweating.

“I don’t know,” you say, softly twirling. “Bangable, I guess? Come on, you’re a straight, hot-blooded male. If a woman turned-up to a date wearing this, would this do it for you? It’s not too much?”

He gulps. “Yes. Yep. For sure. That’ll do it.”

When you flick your eyes back to him, with a soft, humble smile, laced delicately with an inner confidence, he finally has a wholesome thought again:

You’re beautiful.

“I think it’s a little too much... but I guess we’ll find out,” you sing-song, his eyes following your hips as you wiggle back to the door, before turning back to him over your shoulder. “Do you have everything you need before I go?”

He looks at your plush red lips. He licks his own.

I need you on your knees.

Oh well, he’d managed to be wholesome for all of two seconds. That was something.

“I’m good,” he pushes out. “When will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” you breeze. “He has a nice pad, so if it works out I think we’ll be heading to his place.”

His place?

Santi can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly imagining what sounds you might make underneath another man. Hell, whether he could double the intensity of those pretty noises under him instead.

This is not ideal. This is not ideal at all, when he hasn’t even made it through day one.

He hasn’t felt this... aroused in a long-time. Not since long before things went south with her. He hasn’t been this hard for a woman in just as long. He’s been hard in the sense of a mechanical, routine need, sure, where he has the basic need to pleasure himself; but this is something else. This is potent. This is lust, raw and consuming. This is not a general need, but it is startling in its specificity.

As you leave, and he takes himself urgently out of his pants, he understands that this is all for you. Moreover, as he winds his hand around himself, and works his shaft to the thought of you, he has the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

When he’s done, he has some severe post-nut clarity, feeling guilty that he has moved into your home and spilled himself on your sheets to the thought of you; on day one, no less. It’s not very respectful.

But at the same time, he’s caught in a spiral. It’s like you have flipped a switch in him.

And, as much as he feels a little guilty, and a little terrified by the sudden onslaught of his desire, he feels oddly at ease. He already feels at home.

****

Santi is curled-up on the couch when he hears your key rattle in the door, and you tread in looking just as breath-taking, but a little more sombre than earlier. Having already shed your coat and kicked-off your shoes at the door, you collapse into the arm chair opposite him, your dress ballooning momentarily with a waft of air.

“It didn’t work out,” you explain solemly, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. He flicks off the distracting TV he was half-watching to give you his full attention.

“How?” he asks, leaning unconsciously forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised and mouth curling in a soft sympathetic smile. “There’s no way he didn’t like the dress.”

“Oh, he loved the dress. But I didn’t love him. He was a bit of an ass, actually. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You okay? Did he hurt you? Say something to you?” Santi searches your face urgently, his eyes suddenly intense and muscles coiled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

You lean forward in your own seat and pat him on the thigh. Your perfume wafts over him. You smell delectable. “Stand down, Garcia. You’re fine. I don’t need anyone knee-capped. I’m just tired.” You stand, and his chin tips up to follow you. “Gonna wash-up and go to bed,” you add, tiredly. “Your night okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he says briefly, more concerned with you. You look a little sad. A little wistful, he thinks. “Think I left my entire box of underwear in ‘Fish’s car. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He smiles up at you gently, with those deep, brown eyes of his, as that earns a light laugh from you. He saws his hand over his chin, gaze remaining soft as he watches you disappear and bid him goodnight. You swing around the doorframe as your hand clutches it, a trail of diaphonous fabric floating after you, as though you are a vision which could disappear in a cloud of smoke. It scares him that you would, he realises. He’s usually the one who disappears. Who retreats.

He watches you slink away, his mind already busy, working on how he might pick you up from your slump, and he plods to the kitchen.

You are upstairs in your en suite when he calls in to you, and, once you admit him, he transfers a steaming mug of sleep tea to your night-stand as a little pick-me-up. A small token, but one that makes you gasp in a breath, looking at his thoughtful gesture in confusion and surprise. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

“Don’t sound quite so surprised,” he says thickly as he approaches you where you hover next to the sink. “Just because she ditched me doesn’t mean I’m a total write-off. I do have some redeeming qualities.”

He wraps his hands around the back of your head and he pulls you to him, planting another kiss to your forehead; but this time, in the dusky bedroom light, it hits different. It is slower and softer, and he looks far more comely. It sends a hot flare of yearning through you, blazing into every nook of you.

“I know that,” you say steadily, your fingers and thumb reaching up to play idly with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Your fingers brush his arm before you check yourself, turning away from him and towards the sink so that he can’t see your desire catching like a flare - and instead you continue to cleanse the make-up from your face, grateful for the cover the activity provides. “In fact, maybe I should have gone to dinner with you,” you snicker, innocently, before you think of the full implication of your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean like that...” you hastily backpedal. “Just because we live together I’m not planning on getting ideas.”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady and soothing enough to halt your ramble. “You can go getting ideas if you want to.”

You whip your head towards him, a gulp trailing down your throat, as you see the vaguest hint of a suggestive eyebrow, of a smug smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You will yourself to remain in place; to avoid the call to lean in to his inviting lips or chest - even if he’s not giving you any signal that he would move away if you did.

You are hot aren’t you? Santi thinks. More than that; you are beautiful too. Now that he’s allowing himself to notice it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Seeking air, and space, the world shrinking to a dot, you tear yourself away from the sink and stride out into the bedroom, posting yourself at the door and signifying it is time for him to head out too. He takes the hint, and he comes to stand opposite you in the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweat pants.

“How are you doing?” you ask breathily, not knowing what has come over you but trying to push this heady, unravelling feeling away. To bundle it up and bind it back down. “First night in a new place?” You consider it, chiding yourself. “I should have been here. This whole date thing was stupid.”

It’s not a new place at all though, Santi thinks. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been somewhere more familiar. Anywhere more like home. Not even with her - Ava notwithstanding, of course; that little girl is his pride and joy.

When Santi doesn’t answer, his eyes softly glowing at you instead, you reach to fill the silence, lest you fall all the way into the pit of yearning. “Maybe us living together is a bad idea. This is day one and you’re already counselling me through a bad date.”

“What else are friends for?” he smiles meaningfully. Gratefully, again. You can tell what he’s likely thinking. He’s thinking about all the times you have counselled him through years of bad decisions. You’ve always been there for him.

“Right.” Friends, you remind yourself, as the hall-light pools around him like spun gold.

He reaches his sock-clothed foot out to gently bump yours. “Well, don’t take tonight too hard, okay? You’re a catch.”

Feeling bashful, you fold you arms and smile, looking down at the floor and away from the vision that is him.

You kick your foot out to boop his in return, with your sizeable, fluffy slipper. “Well. You’re pretty bangable too, you know. Someone will snap you right up, as soon as you’re ready.”

Someone.

He turns his mouth downward, and tilts his head to the side. “Hmm,” he says as if considering your point. “Kinda looking for a little more than a bang though. I want someone who can be my best friend too. And... best friends? They’re kinda hard to come by.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. His tone is casual, but his eyes are earnest, and your desire unravels like spools of red ribbons from your core.

The way he’s looking at you, from beneath his lashes, a smirk developing at the corners of his lips has you almost collapsed to the floor with yearning, and you think, if he doesn’t step away from your door soon, you will find it hard to resist the temptation to drag him inside - if he’s willing. You will be tempted to let these ribbons wind around him and coax him to you.

However, Santi simply lets his comment hang in the space between you as you fumble for a response, before turning away and shuffling down the hall and towards his room.

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he calls, the pet name lighting you on fire. Beautiful.

“‘Night,” you call back to him, as casually as possible, before disappearing hurriedly inside your door and throwing yourself face down on to the bed with a silent scream.

Santi, for his part, reaches his respective room, and throws himself backwards on to the bed, having to fight the urge to run straight back to your room and kiss you senseless, if he’s honest. As he sighs out a huge breath and brings his hands up to his face, a light chuckle befalls him, and he has to consider what’s so funny. He lands on it quickly.

She - his ex- must hate this living arrangement, he realises. She’d always thought the two of you had something. She’d insisted. Had gotten mad jealous over it too. In all honesty, Santi had never seen it. Or, not at the time, at least.

Perhaps the timing had never been right.

...Not until now, perhaps?

****

The atmosphere is different in the morning. More settled, thanks goodness.

You’re up earlier than Santi, and you get to work in the smaller guest bedroom, which you had kept off-limits to him the day prior. When you’re ready, you call down to him - he’s in the kitchen getting a head start on breakfast- insisting that he comes upstairs.

He pads up to find you in the hall, stood with a huge smile plastered on your face.

“I have a surprise for you,” you announce to him, and, a curious, happy look blooms over his sharp features.

“Okay,” he says, oblivious, but his interest piqued as you swing the door open and hustle him inside ahead of you, clinging to his t-shirt.

“It’s not finished yet,” you explain from behind him as he moves his head to look around the room, freshly painted and carpeted, and entirely different to how it looked before. “Ava still likes purple, right?” you say to his back, delight infusing your voice as he takes it all in. “Oh, and the birds-“ you point “-the boys and I each painted one. Benny’s is super wonky. I know it’s cheesy as all hell, but we wanted to remind you that you -and Ava- you’ll always have us as family.”

Santi doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s speechless with gratitude. It is all he can do to look around the room and take in all of the details. The little bed and princess canopy, the shelves lined with a few books to start her off.

This is something he didn’t dream he would be able to give Ava again for a long time. At least, not without some coordinates and a shovel.

He rasps one hand over his stubble, and you come up beside him, seeing that his eyes are full with tears, and his face pinched, as he fights to supress his emotions. He doesn’t cry often, and there’s not a lot that can reduce him to tears, so you can tell from his reaction how much this all means to him.

Your voice and your manner softening, you slot both of your hands around one of his and give him a squeeze there, before rubbing soothing circles into his back.

When you speak again, your voice is full, cracking with emotion. “I know this can’t be easy, Santi. And you need to know that you are home for Ava, wherever you are, whatever happens. But I thought this would help a little too?” He sneakily thumbs away a tear from the corner of his eye as your words overwhelm him. “I hope I didn’t take too much of a liberty,” you continue, looking around the room, and wandering deeper into it. “Thought I’d get it half-done and then you could choose the rest with Ava tomorrow?”

You turn back to him, smiling over your shoulder before turning all the way, your expression bright and hopeful and everything he hasn’t been able to muster for himself.

Still choked-up, Santi takes a few steps forward to meet you in the centre of the room, his long lashes beaded with diamond-like tears. He takes your hands in his, one to each side, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice full of holes, and your own eyes overflow too as his hands squeeze yours, happy that he’s happy, and sad that he’s in pain too.

After a few moments like this, the yearning creeps in, and, lest it invade everything, you extricate yourself from him gently, padding towards the door and offering, in a soft voice, to give him a minute alone.

“Wait,” he says, his voice catching you as you reach the hallway, evidently yielding a great deal of power for such a breathy thing, and it halts you in your tracks. “Can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, your heart and your voice fluttering in tandem, as Santi moves towards you in the hall with purpose.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes search yours, brimming with emotion and softness and yearning too, his thumb and forefinger coming-up to clasp your chin tenderly in his grip.

“Is this a good idea?” you babble, as his lips hover moments from yours, and you are drawn to him with an achingly slow gravity. “You’re emotional, and you’re rushing and maybe you’re projecting or... maybe a million other things and I... really like you,” you say, raising your hands in between you, your palms pressed to his chest as your voice catches on hooks in your throat - keeping him at a slight distance before you can succumb to him. Immediately, he stops his advances, one hand winding gently around your waist. “Santi, I mean, I really like you,” you elaborate, you voice brittle and coming undone.

As much as you want this -have wanted this-you couldn’t face being one of his whims or mistakes or bad decisions. You couldn’t face being something he ended up leaving behind. He means too much to you for that.

Sensing your pain now, Santi smiles softly at you, not angry or offended in the slighest, but nodding in understanding. Tenderly, he trails the pad of his thumb along your jawline, and across your lower lip. He still finds apprehension in your eyes, and so, instead of the kiss he craves, he holds your head gently with one of his hands, and he dips forward to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed and a single tear spilling out of you as it lands.

Then, he pulls back, both of you wearing watery smiles, and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

“I get it,” he admits, nodding slowly. “On paper, this seems like another of my bad fucking ideas, doesn’t it? But...” he explains softly, eyes shining at you. “I feel as though I finally have things figured out. I feel like I know where I’m supposed to be.”

You nibble on your lower lip, a tentative, shy smile brewing. “Guess that was one powerful dress I wore last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a gentle chuckle. “It was, for sure, honey. Honestly though? This sports bra and overalls get-up is doing it for me too,” he admits, with a lopsided grin, nodding down at your DIY outfit.

You examine his eyes in disbelief. You can’t believe that he’s looking at you like that. Like you’ve always wanted; and yet... you essentially knocked him back, your nerves and anxieties getting the better of you, despite his lips being moments from yours.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you gulp, eyes heavy with apology.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head towards the end of the hallway. “Let’s go make some more coffee. Also, I think you deserve some pancakes, sweetie.” He offers his hand to you and with a gentle song in your heart you take it, Santi leading you back downstairs into the kitchen.

You giggle, suddenly giddy as you shake out your remaining nerves and shock and doubts. As you settle.

By the time you watch Santi open-up the cupboards and search inside, turning back to you to ask if you want chocolate chip pancakes, a tiny note of delight in his eyes, he finds you looking at him with a gentle heat, brewing and eddying and clasping him in its tendrils, dragging him under with you. It causes him to double-take as he looks between you and the food-stuffs, until you have his whole attention. Until the world around him shrinks to you.

“Santi,” you suspire, tugging on his t-shirt to spin him towards you, your voice shaking like a leaf. “You took me by surprise up there. Any chance we can... C-Can we... try that again?”

A gulp trails down his throat, mirroring the heat sinking and settling into your core, even with the mere anticipation of his lips brushing against yours; of feeling his warmth where you have long been cold. You watch his tongue darting out to whet his lips, and it is as though you are already parted for him with the motion, your own lips already spread to accomodate the way he will delve into you, opening you up for him.

Then, Santi surges forward, hands holding you securely yet softly at your back and gathering you to his mouth, as if he is parched of you, all the yearning collapsing in on itself in one final surge as he flows into your arms. Yet, for all the force of your yearning meeting in the middle, and for the harsh initial crush of your lips, when the wave crashes, it is delicate and soft, his hand cupping your face and his tongue a delicate interlocuter, uttering promises against yours. Promises you are sure he will keep.

As the kiss deepens, you truly feel him, hard and sturdy everywhere around you except for this molten, supple tongue which courses into your being like a trail of fire. His kiss is like starlight tossed into a dark pit. You are lit but your hunger will never be sated; and instead you will kiss him and devour him again and again, opening yourself up to him to feed the dark.

Suddenly, with this kiss, his warmth is on you and filling you and one with you, unravelling, and you wonder what you ever did without it. How you ever felt at ease with this yearning within you; although, you suppose you didn’t. You suppose you longed for this divine quickening and stilling, this slickness and friction. You longed to feel him, and most of all, you longed for him to yearn for you in return.

And, finally, as the kiss wanes and you hold each other tightly, Santi considers that although he planned to stay in your house for a mere few months, he has a feeling his stay by your side will be far longer. And, on your side, as you hold him against you and this house feels like a haven in ways it never has before, you are content in the knolwedge that your travelling soldier is finally at ease.

Finally at home.

A home for one, but meant for more, finally fulfilling its purpose.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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arsonforcharlie · 3 years

Note

Your...mom smuggled a gun into the airport?

thanks to both of you for your concern and it is less bad than it sounds, i promise! it was an accident and nothing happened!

the story: okay, so my grandma died a few years ago, very sad, and mom was the executor of her will, so it fell on her, among other things, to clear out the house grandma had lived in for the past 55 years, alone for the past 25, and not cleared shit out of. it was a long process with a lot of surprises- i only managed to make it down there for a weekend because of school, but when i was cleaning out her craft room, i found grandpa’s old doctor bag with half-century-old vials of morphine just, like, hanging out there on a shelf in between bins of half started cross stitches. that was the vibe.

one of the surprises was in grandma’s secondary craft room closet. my mom found an old metal lockbox. she spent some time trying to open it, and eventually managed to pry the hatch with both locks holding it closed. inside were like 12 not very valuable stamps and a coin with lady di’s face on it. underneath that was an unlocked, unsecured cigar box, which had 2 guns nobody had ever mentioned in it.

now, my mom, being a good, upstanding canadian who did not know anyone with their handgun license, called the police, and got a nice young fellow at the local constabulary. their conversation, as described by my sister who heard mom’s end went like this. “hello, is this the police? good. i have some guns.... no, no, these aren’t guns i should have. they’re my mother’s. should i bring them into the station? [loud noise from the other end of the phone] no? okay, well, you can come pick them up, then.” after that, the same young guy came to get the guns to get them looked at.

one of the guns, which was apparently my grandfather’s from the war or something, was one that apparently we shouldn’t have had, and neither should have grandma, and given that it had never been registered, neither should grandpa. so the cops kept that one. but the other gun, a very wee and tiny older one that is called a muff pistol, a phrase that came up in conversation several times with my mother without me making any dick jokes, by the way, give me credit, was old enough that it counted as an antique and “most likely won’t work anyway” so mom was allowed to take it home. so she shows up at the police station, and heads down to the evidence room, and the lady working there takes it out of the little evidence baggie, and hands it back to mom.

my mother says “so, can i just...... take this out in my hand like this?”

she says “oh, you probably shouldn’t. here, put it in your purse” and wraps it up in a bit of paper towel for her. mom dutifully puts it in her large, bacpack-style purse, and heads out to her car, and runs a few more errands after that.

when she gets home, she does not remember all the errands she ran. perhaps if the gun was less tiny, it would have weighed her down more, or if it wasn’t wrapped in paper towel she would have seen it and not just thought “oh, purse napkin”. neither of these things happen.

flash forward a few weeks (WEEKS) when it’s christmas time! my ex and i were alternating years that we’d go back to our respective homes for christmas, even though mine was way chiller and a nicer place to be on the whole, and this was a blessed year that we got to see my family! now, i grew up in newfoundland, and one thing about that island is that people coming back home? big thing. huge thing. a hot 20% of the media from that place involves someone moving away for work or getting to finally come back home. so this week before christmas in the airport, while people (including my mother [who was carrying her purse]) were waiting for our delayed flight to come in, the energy was high. usually, they don’t let people into the baggage area to wait for people they’re picking up because airport security or whatever, but apparently sometimes at christmas the security guards just say “aw, alright! go see your family!” and let the crowd into the secured area.

so my mom is one of the sea of people wandering in past the metal detector to go see her family! it beeps when she goes through, and she says “oh, it must be something in my bag,” and the guy working it laughs and goes “haha, probably, go on through!”

she gets to meet us, big hugs all around, metal detector beeps again as we head out and the guy working it goes “merry christmas!” and it isn’t until a few days after that, we’re driving to boxing day dinner at my (still alive, non-secret-gun-hoarding) grandpa’s when my mom swerves the car suddenly as she realizes and goes “oh my GOD, i still have the GUN!” sure enough, i check, there it is, nestled in the bottom of her purse that she carries with her everywhere she goes!

so that’s how my mom inadvertently concealed carried a gun everywhere for almost a month and didn’t get arrested for smuggling weapons into the airport because of a christmas miracle

#i had to be mature about the phrase muff pistol #but yeah here's my charming family story for the evening #murray cartmart #Anonymous

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Insatiable

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC! Age difference!!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

WARNINGS : THERES JUST WAY TOO MUCH FILTH HERE !!!!!!!!

A huge thank you for the banner to @helenazbmrskai

Chapter 6

“You sure you don’t want to take that?” Yugyeom gave me a look as i rejected the call for the umpteenth time.

“Oh..uh... Yeah.” I shrugged it off feeling exhausted.

The whole point of going out with Yugyeom was to take a break from one Jeon Jungkook but that was impossible..... with said vampire calling me every five minutes.

“So...anyways.... Mingyu was way out of line and I really wanted to apologize on behalf of the idiot. Although your bodyguard seems to have put the fear of God into him....Kid was trembling when he came home last night. “ Yugyeom chuckled.

I smiled weakly.

“Yeah...he tends to do that.” I said hoarsely.

Jungkook was the one topic I was hoping to avoid. Because having sex with him hadn’t scratched the itch the way I had thought it would.... It had merely amped my lust by a few hundred thousand times and I was ill equipped to handle it. I didn’t know what to do with myself around him and I was so fucking terrified I was going to do something awful;.

Like jump him in front of everyone.

So I’d spent the whole day trying to be aloof but it hadn’t worked very well.

Jungkook stuck close me , tossing lingering glances that made my skin heat up, , hands brushing mine way too often, eyes trained on me without any restraint

And don’t even get me started on the touching.

Hand brushing my waist when we turned a corner , fingers brushing my hair off my face when I had my hands full with the kids, an arm wrapped around my shoulder when Minhyuk had asked me out again.

And I’m not saying i didn’t love it because it felt like Christmas and my birthday had come together but.... but... I had a job to do. With kids.

It wasn’t the place to be fantasizing about how good your bodyguard’s cock had felt inside you.

“Jungkook right? Jeon Jungkook ....” Yugyeom said thoughtfully.

“Uh ...yeah...”

“Tall dude? Black hair? Looks way too intimidating and dresses like he’s just stepped off a runway?” Yugyeom prompted and I blinked.

“You know him?” I asked surprised.

Yugyeom shook his head.

“No, but I think he’s over by the bar and he’s looking at me like he wants to tear out my jugular.” He said casually.

My gaze snapped to the bar behind us and I felt my eyes widen in disbelief.

Jungkook stood leaning against the bar, eyes narrowed dangerously and I groaned.

So much for avoiding him.

“He looks pissed.” Yugyeom commented.

“I kinda ditched him.” I muttered.

“did you tell him , I’m a friend?”

“Don’t think it would have made much difference. Gimme a minute?” I whispered, and Yugyeom laughed, waving me off.

I stood up slowly , bracing myself for the interrogation I knew was coming, before turning around and walking over to him.

Jungkook’s eyes stayed trained on me as I made my way over and I felt my throat go dry at the sight of him. He hadn’t dressed for the place today, a black turtleneck and a black jacket and black slacks with a silver belt buckle. Hair tousled all over his forehead as he stared, unsmiling.

“Is this whole angel of death thing really necessary?” I whispered as soon as I reached him.” I’m sorry. I just needed to ...” stay away from you for a bit and last night was so amazing and i can’t stop thinking about it.

“ You couldn’t take a few minutes to tell me where you were going?” He asked casually and I swallowed.

“Jungkook, Yugyeom’s ...a good friend.” I muttered.

“How about you let me make that call?” He said coldly, eyes narrowed in annoyance and I felt chilled.

“I’m sorry... To be honest, I missed you. I’ve gotten used to you being around and I was going to cut the night short. I promise.”

He scoffed.

‘Really? I don’t believe you. For someone who spent the better part of a month begging for my cock, the novelty seems to have worn off pretty fast for you.” He said casually.

My head snapped up , the words stunning me into silence.

I could only gape at him.

He gave me another lazy once over.

“And it made me wonder.....did I not fuck her good enough?”

Oh, Christ.

I felt my face turn a flame red , my fingers going clammy.

“Jungkook, stop.” I whispered , glancing back at Yugyeom quickly. He was fiddling with his phone,

“What’s wrong? You need to head back? YOur boyfriend’s gonna be upset?”

I frowned.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I muttered.

Jungkook grinned.

“Right...he’s just the clown you wanted to suck off when you were younger...”

“God, what’s gotten into you?” I groaned.

Jungkook shrugged.

“I don’t like being ignored. It’s a character flaw of mine.”

I gaped at him.

“I am not ignoring you.... I... I was out with a friend....It’s been less than an hour since I saw you... I literally spent the whole day with you.” I said shrilly.

“Really? Then why’d you not pick up when I called....?” He waved his phone and I flushed, looking away.

“Because I wanted an hour with an old friend....Without anyone interrupting.” I lied.

Because you’re driving me in sane and I need an hour without you around so I can get my friggin body under control before I get arrested for public indecency.

He clenched his jaw.

“I see. “ He reached for a glass of wine on the countertop in front of him and turned around. “ Here” He held it out for me.

I took the drink, suspicious.

“Go on , then.... I won’t interrupt...” He shrugged.

I nodded, relieved.

Turning around I made to move away.

“Thought you’d be interested in a little gift I got you.... but if you’d rather spend time with the clown... I get that.”

His voice was low and deep, a drawl that made the hair on my skin stand on end.

I turned back to him, eyes narrowed.

“What gift?” I demanded.

He shrugged.

“Nevermind.”

I felt my hackles rise.

“Jungkook...”

“Are you sure.. what if that clown misunderstands... ...” he pointed a finger at my table and I glared at him.

“Stop calling him that , God..his name is yugyeom. “ I snapped.

Jungkook’s smile was positively feral.

“Don’t know .Don’t care. So, you want it? You sure ?” He asked casually.

i nodded, holding my hand out.

“Gimme .” I said quickly.

He shook his head.

“Can’t give it to your here, angel.”

I frowned , drawing my hand back.

“There’s a ladies room on the fifteenth floor. It’s being renovated ... no one goes there... Meet me there in five?”

I stared at him.

“There’s a firework show in half an hour. I don’t wanna miss it.” I protested.

Jungkook gave me a thoughtful smile.

“You wanna watch the fireworks?”

I nodded. “ Yugyeom booked it for me. I wanna see it.”

“Alright.. I’ll get you back in time for the fireworks.” He nodded, face frustratingly neutral.

“Okay..then .. and I’ll meet you there.”

“Can’t wait ...” He murmured softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The restroom on the fifteenth floor was deserted like he said and looked less like the ladies room and more like a luxurious parlor. The stalls were further in and the waiting space had beautifully upholstered couches and armchairs. Ornate mirrors hung on all the walls and I found Jungkook seated on one the couches, legs spread wide as he casually browsed his phone.

I stepped in carefully , shutting the door behind me.

Jungkook looked up at me, smiling.

“Lock the door.” He said casually and I hesitated.

“Jungkook, we shouldn’t be-”

“If you need to be at the firework show , you need to stop wasting time baby...” He said firmly.

I locked the door quickly, making sure it couldn’t be opened.

I turned back around and jumped when I ran right into Jungkook, who had crept up on me.

He smiled at me.

“Hi.” He said gently.

I felt myself melt .

“Hi.” I laughed.

“Don’t like it when you ignore me.” He muttered. bending low and nipping my jaw.

I grabbed his shoulders, knees weak.

“Uh... is this the gift...?” I gasped when he bit down hard, teeth sharp on the skin and he licked the little abrasion, wet and warm.

“Not really but I’ll get to it. Before that, “ He pulled away, “ I just realized I never got to eat you out yesterday.”

The gears in my head stopped spinning.

I could only stare at him, stunned/

“But, I like to be thorough and we don’t have that kind of time right now. So I’m just gonna ask you this.....Do You regret last night?”

I blinked.

What even...? I couldn’t keep track of his thought process.

“No.. no of course not...” I said harshly.

“You wanna keep doing this?” He tilted his head, eyes boring into mine.

Only for the rest of my life.

“Yes!!” I said angrily and he chuckled.

“Okay...but angel, I don’t like it when you run around doing as you please without letting me know what you’re up to. What you did today...” He shook his head. “ That doesn’t work for me.”

I flushed.

“I said I’m sorry.” I muttered.

“But are you?” He said thoughtfully.

“what..What does that mean...?”

“Apologies don’t mean shit if you don’t back them up with actions. I’m just saying... you ready to back up your words by doing as I say?” his eyes flashed red.

I hesitated.

“What do you want me to do. ?”

“Just don’t ignore me.” He shrugged.

“Okay...” i agreed at once.

“ You can do that?” He asked with a frown.

“Uh...sure. “

He hummed.

“I’m not so sure... I think you need a little help with that.”

“Jungkook , what are you even -”

“Go lie down on the couch for me. “

I stared at him.

“Hurry up baby, your boyfriend’s waiting upstairs remember? .” He grinned.

“Please stop calling him that...” I whined, moving to the wide couch in the corner and lying down after toeing off my shoes.

. Jungkook grabbed an armchair, dragging it close to the couch. He sat down , close enough to touch and I swallowed.

Jungkook shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on the arm of the couch , near my feet.

He spread his legs and my eyes nearly popped out of my head when he began unbuckling his belt, dragging the leather out through the hoops before fiddling with the buttons on his fly.

“I was thinking of last night. Was your first time right angel?” He asked casually and I stared as I watched his hands. Long nimble fingers gripping the zipper of his slacks and yanking the metal down , revealing black briefs.

“Uh... I.. yes?” I felt my thighs clench in arousal, toes curling into the fabric of the couch.

“ I’ve been around enough women to know that I’m bigger than average. “ He sank his fingers into his briefs, hands curling around the hardened length of his arousal and I flushed when he pulled his cock out, hard and thick.

“Jungkook!” I whimpered, moving to scramble to my feet but he pressed a hand to my shoulder, pushing me back down.

“ Stay there angel.... Let me finish” He said sternly.

I pouted, not entirely sure if I liked this Jungkook. Where was the sweet man who wanted to let me call the shots?

“ This is what I’m like. “ Jungkook said , grinning as though he could read my mind “ Just because I indulged you last night, doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you walk all over me ....Running off without telling me where you went? That’s not gonna happen again angel and I’m gonna make sure of it. ” He reached out and gently gripped my chin before squeezing down enough to make me wince.

I glared at him before my eyes slipped back to his cock and my mouth watered. It looked so good, thick and hard and he was close enough for me to see the precum beading up at the slit. I wondered what it would taste like. How it would feel,

“Can I suck you off?” I asked softly, batting my lashes.

He gave me an amused look.

“No. You can’t. Anyways... Like I was saying , I know you said you were a virgin but then, you also took my fat cock like you’d been doing it all your life. “ He frowned.

Blood rushed to my face in embarrassment.

“That’s... you...” I spluttered.

“And that’s when I realized... Just because you’re a virgin, doesn’t mean you haven’t fucked yourself. “ He grinned devilishly.

I buried my face in my hands.

“Oh god...” I choked.

“Guess what I found in your room...”

My eyes snapped up to him and he was rummaging in his jacket pocket.

I shrieked when I saw a very familiar vibrator , a pale mauve in color. It wasn’t very long but it was really thick, only a hairsbreadth smaller than Jungkook.

I glared at him.

“You went through my things!!” i yelled affronted.

He rolled his eyes.

“Hardly. It was literally on your bed when I went looking for you in the evening because I couldn’t fucking find you.. “ He snapped.

I shut my mouth.

“Okay...fine ..yeah I use sex toys. Big deal.” I muttered.

He shook his head.

“No it isn’t. Which is why I want you to show me. “ He leaned back, casually wrapping a hand around his cock. I stared at him as he casually began stroking the hard length of his dick, after licking his palms.

Did he really think I was too shy to put on a show?

Boy was he in for a surprise.

Smiling evilly, I pulled my dress up quickly, hooking my thumbs into my panties and yanking them down quickly, kicking them off.

I gave him a smile.

“Can I turn around? You’ll have a better view.” I smirked.

His eyebrows shot up.

“Go ahead, princess. Better impress me.”

I rolled my eyes at that.

Sitting up , I sat back down against the cushioned arm rest, keeping my eyes trained on his and I bent my knees and spread my legs, utterly shameless because well... because I had always liked the idea of being watched.

Jungkook wasn’t shy by any standards and his gaze flitted right between my legs without any hesitation.

“Pretty.” He murmured gently and I fought the rush of embarrassment. I’d started this and I was going to see through it.

“What am I supposed to get turned on by?” I asked innocently running my fore and middle finger up andn down my slit gently. I was really fucking wet on the inside but he couldn’t know that.

And just for good measure, I let my gaze drop to his cock and back up, looking bored.

His eyes narrowed.

“How about the way I filled your sloppy little cunt last night? Remember that? Remember how fucking wet you got, just from me licking your nipples....?” He smiled.

I felt my throat go dry and my pussy clenched, damp wetness seeping out and coating my hand and my fingers slipped right in before I could do anything about it.

Jungkook laughed, eyes trained where my fingers had disappeared.

He kept his hands on his cock and leaned in closer, kissing the edge of my earlobe.

“Thought so. “ He whispered right into my ears, :” My horny little slut. Bet you walk around all day with that cunt dripping wet and ready. Bet I could fuck into you with ease, anytime I want...just flip that skirt up, push your panties aside and drive my cock into you, yeah? “ He licked a stripe up my cheeks and I shuddered, pumping my fingers into my pussy faster, “ Virgin..??? what a fucking joke... You are the farthest thing from a virgin my sweet little whore...”

“Jungkook...” I whimpered and he gripped my wrists, stilling my fingers and pulling them out. He pulled my hand closer, right up to his mouth and I groaned when he wrapped his lips around the wet and messy digits, licking up all the wetness there.

“Sweet and spicy , just like I thought...” He directed my fingers back down between my fingers...” Get more of that wetness for me baby...want you to jerk me off with that hot slick you have dripping between your thighs...”

:” On your knees.” He prompted and I sank down in front of him. “Jerk me off, baby...Make me feel good...” He whispered, spreading his legs and I wrapped shaky hands around his cock. I swallowed , gazing at him , licking my lips as I stroked his dick, faster. He took one of my hands and directed them down to his balls.

“Like this... This makes me feel good..”He whispered, showing me just how he liked to be touched .I nodded, following his lead and speeding up my movements, gripping a little tighter, using my thumb to trace circles on the head, rubbing the wetness around his slit and the thick vein on the underside of his cock.

He groaned and shuddered a little. And then he leaned forward, gripping my chin.

“ I want you to get on my lap now.... and then I’m gonna cum inside you “

I whimpered, already scrambling to my feet but before I could get on him, he gripped my waists.

“ Let me finish, angel.I’m gonna fill you up with my cum and then I’m gonna stick this , “ He held the vibrator up, “ inside you . If you can keep your slutty little pussy tight enough for me, keep this thing and my cum inside you till tonight...maybe you’ll get your gift. “

I stared at him, my jaw coming unhinged.

What.

WHAT.

He pulled me closer, maneuvering me onto his lap and I swallowed.

“I’m not... I can’t..” I whispered.

“Sure you can.. I believe you. But if you don’t want to.” His gaze softened. “ We can forget all about it.”

I bit my lips, staring into his gorgeous face and and really, it was a no brainer. I wasn’t going to say no to Jeon Jungkook. It was just not going to happen.

I spread my thighs and he grabbed his cock, tracing the tip on my slit.

“Ready?”

I nodded, sinking down on the hard length easily. My breath caught , fingers curling into his shoulders as I swallowed the whimper that threatened. God he was so fucking big inside me. So hard and real and good and I wanted to sit on his cock forever. Wanted to stay locked in a room with him forever, just fucking and teasing and fucking again and only stopping to shower or eat.

“Don’t cum.” He said gently.” You don’t get to cum till I tell you to. You understand baby?”

I whimpered as he fucked into me just once or twice. Warm wetness flooded my insides and I clutched his shoulders, burying my face there as he groaned, fucking me full of his release.

He grabbed the vibrator from the couch and I swallowed when he brought it down to my entrance.

“Ready baby? Gonna pull my cock out and put this in.....Need to you clench down on it and keep my cum in... Don’t make a mess alright?” He kissed my cheeks sweetly, the affectionate gesture a complete contrast to his filthy words.

I did make a mess...

A little bit and the vibrator was thick enough to stay lodged in, and I felt my eyes roll back in my head as he pushed it in fully.

“You okay?” He whispered, kissing me softly before running his palms up and down my thighs. “Gonna help you put your panties on, baby. okay? keep your pussy clenched for me. ”

I nodded weakly, trying to keep my muscles clamped around the hard length of the toy inside me as he helped slip my bikini briefs back up my thighs.

“You okay?”

I nodded.

“Good. Let’s go see those fireworks, shall we?” He grinned devilishly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook stood leaning against the wall of the rooftop restaurant , arms crossed as he watched her, a smile playing around his lips as he watched her squirm, shifting her weight from on thigh to the other as she tried to sit on the hard backed chair, her eyes glassy and unfocused as the Kim vampire talked to her.

Dude didn’t seem to realize that she was so out of it she probably didn’t understand a word he was saying.

He stayed in the shadows because the front of his thighs was stained with cum, a little bit of white streaks, stark against the black of his slacks. She had let a little of it spill out of her when he’d pulled out...which was a little sloppy of her and usually, Jungkook would punish something like that in a partner but...well because it was the first time he would just let it pass. Besides, he was sure she would improve with time.

He trained his eyes back to her hips and his lips quirked when gripped she armrest, shivering a bit.

This felt better, he thought.

Watching her with other men was easier when he knew that he was the one on her mind. Knew that all she could think about was keeping his cum inside her, the hardness of the toy a reminder that he was the one she was trying to please and impress.

He slipped a hand inside his pocket, playing with the tiny little remote .

Should he?

Would it be too much?

He smirked.

Only one way to find out.

He thumbed the small knob at the top of the remote, eyes trained on her .

The moment he flipped it on , at the smallest setting possible, she went completely still.

And he wondered how it felt, the electric vibrations of the toy against her insides...he wished he could see it...she her pussy spread out for him, pink and wet and swollen and wrecked.... God, the things he wanted to do to her.

It annoyed him a bit, how shamelessly she’s spread her legs on that couch, let him see the pink of her cunt without an ounce of shame .....annoyed him because he wasn’t sure if it was for him or because it was what she was like....

Annoyed him because if it wasn’t for just him.... would she do it for other too?

He couldn’t stomach the idea of it.

That pretty pink pussy, so wet and wanting...he wanted it all for himself . He wanted her legs spread out on his bed, her arms tied to the fucking bedposts so he could show her just how dangerous he could be when he wanted to....

That just because he’d let her take the lead didn’t mean he would settle for anything less than her complete submission.

Smiling, he turned the vibrations up a little bit, smirking as he watched her.

Sera gripped the armrest gently, raising her hips off the chair a bit and turning around slowly to stare right at him.

He grinned wide, relishing the shocked desperation on her face. He pushed away from the wall, sauntering over to her slowly till he was right behind her.

“Doing okay? baby?” He whispered gently for her ears only.

“Don’t do this to me.” She said softly, nails digging indents into her part as she clenched her fists , resting her hands on her knees.

He hummed.

Poor baby, he thought fondly. . When this night was over he would shower her with kisses. Giver all the affection. Cuddle the fuck out of her, brush her hair back and make her feel so, so , good.

But the night was far from over.

He glanced at her companion.

Yugyeom gave him a smile and nod, went back to talking about art or something.

Sera had her eyes fixed straight ahead, glassy and unfocused.

He leaned over to whisper into her ear.

“Don’t forget...You cannot cum.”

And then he sauntered back over to his place near the wall, before slipping his fingers into his jacket and turning up the tempo for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Was fun catching up, Sera... I’ll text you, yeah?” Yugyeom gave me a light hug and I stared at him, slightly teary eyes and about a second away from collapsing into a heap on the floor.

I was sore and tired and a little out of my mind. The fireworks had lasted fifteen minutes.

It had felt like a year.

And I hadn’t even watched them because I had kept my eyes screwed shut, concentrating only on not cumming, because if I did, not only would I literally drip all over the chair , but I would likely scream loud enough to wake the dead.

Jungkook had turned the toy off when the show ended but it had done nothing for me...in fact it felt worse because the lack of stimulation was even worse than the steady thrum of the toy against my walls.

Jungkook looked entirely unaffected as he watched me bid good bye to Yugyeom and it was only when he had driven away that he lightly took my arm.

“You okay baby?” He gave a me a slow smile and I glared at him through wet lashes.

“I won’t go anywhere without you again. I promise. Please just get this out of me.”

He cooed, pulling me into a hug.

“Alright angel. I believe you. Come on...”

He led me to the large black Palisade , grabbing the keys from the valet.

“Get in the back seat.” He prompted.

I nodded, too out of it to even question it. I climbed into the seats and sat down, whimpering when the toy moved inside me, shifting in deeper. My clothes were damp , almost soaking wet and my thighs trembled.

He glanced at me.

“Can you hold on till we get home?” He asked gently.

I stared at him, unseeing. Tears filled my eyes and spilled over.

“Please.” Was all I could get out.

“Fuck, okay baby. Hang on.”

Jungkook drove quickly, pulling out of the hotel premises and into the road. But instead of taking the left like he usually did, he took a U turn, picking a side road that led away from the city’s bustle .

I gripped the seats as he drove in further away from the crowded city light , only blinking when he took a right into secluded side road, empty except for us.

I stared in confusion as he parked the car , turned off all the lights in the car. I watched him climb out of the front seat, slamming his door shut before prying mine open.

“Lay back for me baby. Up against the door.” He said gently. And then when I didn’t move he climbed, in all but lifting me up and settling me down till, I was leaning against the door, staring down at him.

He didn’t waste any time, spreading my legs, and pulling my panties off before pushing my knees up and apart.

“Gonna eat you out.” He growled and my eyes flew open, the first pang of lucidity hitting me.

“Wha-Wait...your...there’s...inside, there’s....” I couldn’t even say it.

“My cum? Yeah... i know my cum’s inside there...” Jungkook laughed, fingers gripping the base of the vibrating and twisting it just a little bit. “ i know angel, and now I’m gonna lick my cum out of your sopping wet pussy..”

Jungkook pulled the vibrator out of me and I sobbed at the gush of wetness that dripped out of me. But it didn’t spill, because he chased the wetness with his tongue, curling the hard length of it inside me, scooping up every last drop of the filthy mess inside me, taking it all into his hot, wet mouth .

He hummed a little before pressing a thumb to my clit, rubbing the nub till I began quivering already way too overstimulated to experience anything but a throbbing pain disguised as pleasure. I stared at him , vision swimming as he crawled to his knees on the back seat, head bowed because of the car’s ceiling and I watched him fumble with his belt, pulling out his cock and lining it up against my entrance.

He drove straight in, without any hesitation, leaning over me till his face was just a little away from mine, staring down at me, cheeks a little puffed. He fucked into me with a force that shook the car on its wheels, the large vehicle somehow shaking like a leaf from how hard he thrust into me. I felt like my body was on fire, breath getting punched out of me with every thrust of his cock inside me and I could only whimper , fingers curling and uncurling on the seat as I rode the high of being fucked into incoherency.

Jungkook grunted, hipped my waist hard used one hand to rub my clit harshly.

And then he bought his other hand up to slip two fingers into my mouth, prompting me to open my mouth. The digits slipped in , rubbing the flat of my tongue before pulling out.

I stared wordlessly, as his fingers slipped down to cup my jaw, squeezing till I opened my mouth wide. I stuck my tongue out instinctively and he groaned.

Jungkook gave me cheeky little wink, eyes flashing red before he opened his mouth, spitting the wet mess of his cum and my juices right onto my tongue just as he pulled back and drove into me, his cock going so deep I saw actual fireworks.

I went completely still, the sheer filthiness' of the act and the force of his thrust driving me straight over the edge , even as he groaned and kissed me full on the lips, tongue swooping in to swirl the mess on my tongue all over, his fingers gripping my hair as he fucked me harder, chasing his own pleasure now.

My body hummed, exhausted, drained, completely wrung out and wrecked.

I went limp as he gave one last thrust, spilling into me again.

He was panting against my neck as he came down from his high and I raised a shaky hand to gently stroke the back of his head as he shuddered against me.

When he pulled back to stare at me, brushing my damp hair off my face he had a smile on his face.

“Did you enjoy the fireworks baby?” He whispered.

It took me two whole minutes to even remember what he was talking about.

Author’s note :

Jungkook sure knows how to get her attention back on him doesn’t he?

@ladyartemesia @veronawrites @alpaca1612 @bonyg @unseejuice21 @sppvjj @ggukkieland @tae-by-tae @blr1004 @yoongichild @stussyjeon @jellybearo @sumzysworld @carolsummerlove

@bunniechoon

@preciouschimine

#jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jungkook vampire au #bts vampire au #jungkook fanfic #bts fics #bts fanfics #bts smut #bts au #bts smut fic #bts fanfic #bts jungkook

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lewishamil10n · 3 years

Note

Please please please make that "Sam wouldn't wake up" into a full fic!!! (If u don't want to that's totally fine, I mean no pressure at all :)) it's just suuuuper good :D

[Sam wouldn't wake up.]

—

"What do you mean Sam's gone to see Jody?" Dean asked, frowning. "He called me a few hours ago and said he was going to go to bed."

"She had an emergency," Castiel said. He wasn't meeting Dean's eyes, which Dean found strange. This was Castiel — the dude often had to be reminded that humans didn't like being stared at intensely.

"Such as?" he asked.

"Sam didn't say," Castiel answered evasively.

"Weird," muttered Dean. He moved into his bedroom and put his bag down on his bed. "You know what, I'm gonna call him. Just check in, see what's up."

Castiel hesitated at the doorway. "I'm sure he's fine, Dean," he said. "Sam is a grown man. He doesn't need you checking on him all the time."

"I know that," Dean said, trying not to snap. It had been a long drive after an exhausting hunt, and he'd hated having to leave Sam behind. But Sam had been sick, practically delirious with fever and no good on a hunt, and so Dean had reluctantly left him in Castiel's care. He'd spent the entire trip worrying himself sick over his brother, calling to talk to him as much as he could. He'd broken damn near fifty laws speeding on his way back, and now Sam wasn't even home and Castiel was being weird.

Something wasn't right.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and hit Sam's latest number on speed dial. The entire time he was aware of Castiel watching him, eyes narrowed, and if Dean didn't know better he'd say the angel seemed apprehensive.

Two seconds of dial tone later, Dean heard Sam's ringtone. It was coming from somewhere within the bunker, which made no sense. Sam wouldn't have left home without his cell phone. "What the hell," muttered Dean, leaving his room so he could follow the sound. Castiel trailed after him, quiet.

The ringtone was issuing from Sam's room, his phone vibrating on his side table. Dean watched it ring for a second before hanging up on his end. "Sam wouldn't leave his phone," he said.

"He left in a hurry," Castiel said. "Perhaps he forgot."

"Then I'll call Jody," decided Dean.

"No!" exclaimed Castiel, and cringed when Dean turned to glare at him.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded. "Cas, where's my brother?"

"Jody—" began Castiel weakly, but Dean cut him off.

"I think it's quite clear that's not what's happening," he snapped. "Or do you want me to call and confirm it?"

For a few moments Castiel just looked at him, posture tense and hands flexing, and then he said, "I do not know where Sam is. I came to his room and found him missing."

"Then why didn't you just say that in the first place?" asked Dean angrily. "Why did you lie to me?"

Castiel hesitated.

"Fuck's sake, Cas!" Dean threw his phone in the general direction of Sam's bed, where it bounced off a pillow to land on the floor. Paying it no mind, he ran his hands through his hair, trying to get his brain to work.

All of Sam's things were still in his room. His jacket slung over the back of his chair; boots at the foot of his bed; travel bag in its place; and of course, his cell phone on the table. It didn't look as if Sam had gone anywhere. He might as well have gone to the bathroom.

"How long has he been missing for?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure," Castiel said after a beat. "I returned to his room to find him gone a few hours ago. I had checked on him some time before that and he'd been asleep."

Sam's bed was unmade. If Sam had gone anywhere of his own volition, he would have made his bed, he would have taken his things, he would have told Dean. Dean had no idea what the hell was going on, and it didn't help that his tired brain was barely able to process his brother's absence.

"Okay, okay, focus," he murmured to himself, his hands curling into fists. This was basic. Finding a missing person. Something he could do in his sleep. What had Dad taught them? Clues. Look for clues. He'd done that.

Tracking spells. John had taught them some, and Sam knew a whole lot more too. Dean was sure that if he looked, he'd find something that could help.

"Okay," he said again, and began looking around for something he could use. Sam's DNA would be perfect, but if not that, then something he owned could do as well — and there, a few strands of long brown hair on Sam's pillow. Dean picked them up carefully, wrapping them in his handkerchief, and he stowed it safely in his pocket before turning and striding out of Sam's room.

"Where are you going?" Castiel called after him, hurrying to catch up.

"To find my brother," Dean answered with determination, heading straight for the library. Not for the first time he felt glad for Sam's overwhelmingly obsessive need to organize everything — it would make looking for spells a lot easier. He supposed he could always call Rowena too, but he'd rather leave that as a last resort. She was an ally and Sam trusted her, but the less people knew about his disappearance, the better.

"Are you going to track him?" asked Castiel, watching as Dean flipped through a book of spells.

Dean muttered an affirmative, eyes on the yellowed pages in front of him.

"What if it doesn't work?" Castiel asked.

"Why wouldn't it work?" countered Dean. "We've got ingredients for pretty much everything, and I've got what I need for the spell to track Sam."

"Just a possibility," murmured Castiel.

Dean didn't want to think about that, so he focused his energies on going through the book. He found a spell soon enough, and felt an almost overwhelming rush of affection for his brother when he saw the notes Sam had put in the margins. Even when he wasn't there, he was helping Dean out, making his life easier.

"Are you going to stand there and keep staring, or are you planning on making yourself useful?" he asked Castiel, who started as if he'd been jolted out of a reverie.

"Of course, Dean, tell me what you need," he said, straightening.

Dean handed him a list of the ingredients they'd need for the spell. "We've got most of these in the stores, but I'll need you to find the pigeon wishbone. I don't think we have that."

Castiel squinted down at the list, and then looked up at Dean. "Of course, Dean," he said again. "I will do my best."

"Cool," said Dean gruffly. "Hurry."

"Yes, I will." Castiel turned to go, and then paused. "Dean, if there is anything you want to talk about — I understand you must be worried and afraid. I just want you to know I am here for you no matter what."

"Thanks?" Dean said, after a moment. "That's really nice, Cas, but I'm all right. I just need to find Sam, and I'll be peachy."

For a nanosecond Dean thought he saw frustration cross Castiel's face, but it was gone before he could be sure. Castiel's expression was impassive as he said, "I understand," and turned his back on Dean.

—

It took Castiel around ten hours to locate and acquire a pigeon wishbone, during which time Dean got the spell set up and ready to go. He put the ingredients in the bowl as Castiel watched, and read the words from the book exactly as Sam instructed in his notes. He added Sam's hair to it and said some more words, and put the edge of a map to the flames arising in the bowl. He watched as the map burnt up, little flames traveling around the edges of the paper and eating it up until there was nothing left.

The spell didn't work.

"Fuck," snarled Dean, throwing his hand out and sweeping everything to the floor in his anger. "Fuck, how did it not work? How—" He rounded on Castiel. "Pigeon wishbone, are you sure it was pigeon wishbone? The real deal?"

Castiel looked taken aback at being questioned like this. "Of course I am, Dean. I verified what it was before bringing it to you."

Dean stared at him for a few moments, and then turned away. His heart was racing. With each hour away from Sam, it felt like he was losing years off his own lifespan. "I'm calling Rowena," he muttered, grabbing his cell phone off the floor.

"Isn't there anything else we can try?" Castiel asked, looking at the mess Dean had made of the war room.

"There is. I'm doing it," Dean told him, phone held to his ear as he waited for Rowena to pick up.

The phone kept ringing. She did not answer. Dean tried again, and then a third time. Nothing. It was as if he was dialing a dead end, which he knew was not possible because Rowena had sworn that that number would reach her no matter what. He knew that she wouldn't be reached if she didn't want to be — but it had been a long time since Rowena had felt the need to hide from the Winchesters.

Dean hung up and threw his phone into the nearest wall. It broke apart, screen cracking and the casing coming off, and Dean felt a second of vicious satisfaction before it immediately turned to regret. Shit, what if Sam tried calling that number? What if Rowena called back? Fuck. Sam could call and call and Dean wouldn't know, because all his other numbers redirected to this one, and— and he wouldn't know if Sam needed him.

Overcome suddenly with fatigue, Dean collapsed into the nearest chair. It felt like his legs were giving out on him, his entire body reacting to the events of the last few hours. Sam was gone, Rowena wasn't picking up the phone, and Dean had no idea where to even begin looking. He could feel the stress and lack of sleep catching up with him, and for the first time, it was mixed in with fear. Yeah, he was perfectly aware Sam could more than look after himself. But fuck, he was still Dean's little brother, and he was sick, he'd been coughing up a lung the last time they'd spoken on the phone—

"I shouldn't have left him," he said, and wasn't surprised to hear how hoarse his voice was. "God, I should have just — just stayed, and—"

"Dean. You can't blame yourself." Castiel sounded earnest, and was looking at Dean with pleading eyes. "You are a hunter, and you were doing your duty. Sam is not a child that needs looking after."

"Why do you keep saying that, man?" questioned Dean, suddenly annoyed. "I know he's not a kid, Cas. He's survived more than you and I put together, more than we could even imagine on our worst days. But he's my little brother, okay? He's all I've got, so forgive me for worrying about him!"

"Why do you say he's all you've got?" Now Castiel sounded irritated too. "Am I not here with you, Dean? Have I not been here for you whenever you've needed me?"

"Uh." Dean paused, taken aback. Castiel seemed... well, if Dean had to pick a word, he'd say jealous. Castiel seemed jealous. "Dude. You know what I meant," he said, watching the angel carefully. "'Course you've been here too. But Sam's different. You know that."

"Different?" repeated Castiel. "All the pain he has caused you, and you still care so much for him."

"All the pain — what are you talking about?" This was getting too damn confusing, and Dean needed a drink. He needed some rest. He needed — God, he needed his little brother back.

"You know what I'm talking about," Castiel said, almost snappishly.

"No, I don't," Dean said.

There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The air between them felt charged, almost electric. It felt like one wrong move, one misplaced word, and lightning would strike. The look on Castiel's face was strange and foreign. It looked like someone else's expression was twisting his features. He was always intense; now, he felt almost dangerous, and Dean couldn't quite put his finger on why. But something had changed, that much was clear. And so was the fact that Castiel knew more than he was letting on.

"I mean — don't you ever get tired of it, Dean?" Castiel asked, his tone a weird mixture of earnest and annoyed. "Dragging him around, making sure he's all right, that he is not... going off the rails, as you say. There is always something or the other wrong with him, some problem you must fix, and I don't understand how you do it. I do not understand why you stay. Why you even care enough to—"

"Cas," warned Dean. "That's my little brother you're talking about."

"Yes, I know, you've said as much multiple times," scoffed Castiel. He seemed almost crazed now, and he had that guilty look in his eyes that Dean was all too familiar with. The look that followed whatever he'd done that needed to be undone.

"Cas, what's going on here?" Dean asked one last time. "And don't — don't give me some story about Sam going missing, or whatever. I need to know the truth, Cas."

"The truth?" Cas let out a harsh laugh. "Okay, Dean. Here is the truth. I am tired of being sidelined. I am tired of always coming second to an absolute disaster of a human being. I am tired of pretending that I care for him as much as I do for you."

Dean's hand tightened on the handle of his gun. He hadn't even been aware he'd reached for it, though it remained hidden under the table. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he demanded. "I'm not kidding, Cas, you ever call him that again I'll make you wish you'd never been poofed into existence—"

"But he is," interrupted Castiel. His hair was standing on end from where he'd run his fingers through it, and his eyes were wide, demeanor frenzied. Dean couldn't recall ever seeing him in this state. Up until now, he'd had the impression that Castiel liked Sam, loved him, even. He knew Sam valued their friendship, always stood up for him when Dean was too hard on him, when he'd messed up again and felt guilt. He could never have imagined that all along, this is what Castiel had really thought.

He thought of how Sam would feel if he knew — the betrayal, the way his heart would break. It was the thought of tears in Sam's eyes that had Dean getting to his feet, gun abandoned in favor of an angel blade.

God, this was so messy. He had no idea how it had come to this.

"Cas," he said quietly. "Tell me you don't mean it. Tell me this isn't you, and we'll let this go, never talk about it again."

Castiel let out a hollow laugh. It rang around the room, making Dean's hair stand on end. "It is me, Dean," he said harshly. "I'm not under the influence of any spell, any magic, anything at all. But my words wouldn't be any less truthful if I was."

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Dean said then, voice quiet. "All this time I thought you cared about Sam, that you liked him. And here's the kicker, Cas — he fuckin' adores you. Fuck, he's been kinder to you than I ever have, even I know that. So what the fuck are you doing, Cas? Where is all this coming from?"

"You wouldn't understand," Castiel said, and there was hate in his tone. "You are so blinded by your love for him that you can't see anything else. Anyone else."

Dean blinked. "What." Then he decided it didn't matter, and held his angel sword higher so that it was in plain view of Castiel. "Never mind, I don't care. Cas, I'm gonna ask you one last time before I'm forced to make this dirtier than it already is. Where is my brother?"

Castiel looked down at the blade, and then up at Dean. He smiled, and it was cruel in its coldness. "I don't know," he said. "For all I know, his atoms are scattered all over the entire universe."

Dean's blood froze in his veins. "What?"

"There was nothing wrong with your spell, Dean," Castiel said. "But tracking spells are only useful for locating living people."

"No," said Dean, and then again, "No," because it made no sense, Castiel was talking crap—

"He's gone," Castiel said, with an indifferent shrug. "I didn't mean to. I was only trying to help him sleep, but... well. I don't know where he is."

"What did you do to him?" whispered Dean. His hand was shaking, angel blade unsteady in his grip. "Cas, what did you do?"

Castiel looked him in the eye. "I got rid of him."

—

Dean didn't know when or how it happened. The angel blade was cold in his hands, and Castiel was spread-eagle on the war room floor, bracketed in the burnt-out silhouette of his wings. The fight hadn't been long. Castiel had barely defended himself. He seemed to have resigned himself to the fact of his own death, and that did nothing to comfort Dean in the least.

Sam was gone. Sam was gone.

Dean sank to the ground, angel blade clattering to the ground, his head in his hands. He felt weak in the knees. His heart felt like it was going to give out any second, and his eyes were burning with rage and disbelief.

Sammy was gone. His sweet, kind, brave little brother. Gone.

He never should have gone on that hunt.

Maybe, he thought, half-panicked and hysteric, maybe Billie would accept Castiel in exchange for Sam. It was a very low chance, but — that was what they did. They took the odds and made them their bitch, and now was not going to be any different. He wouldn't take no for an answer. And if she refused, he'd just beg her to take him too. Either way, he was not going to live without Sam.

Dean got to his feet, took in a shaky breath, and reached for the spellbook.

end.

#asks #anonymous #my writing #aw anon im rlly glad you liked the ficlet! i hope you like this too #it somehow turned into like. dark!cas with a side of unrequited love #it's probably bc i've been thinking too much about how if you take the 15.18 confession as romantic #it implies that everything cas did to sam throughout the show was at least a little deliberate #because if sam's out of the picture then maybe he has a chance with dean #anyway i'll tag this just to be safe #anti castiel #samdean #supernatural #mcd #suicide mention

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0bsess3d · 3 years

Text

lies | j.m. | part one

masterlist

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader x Best Friend!OC

A/N: So idk if I like this or if I’m even going to continue this series (it’ll probably take a while). I also have no idea if I’m even gonna keep this shit up. I hope you enjoy it tho. also, the name sucks i know that, but i may change it later on idk.

Warnings: Cursing, Lying, I think that’s about it rn.

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Instead of rejecting your friend, you tell him you’re taken, which is a complete and total lie. Now that he’s asking to meet this so-called boyfriend of yours, you’re going to need someone to play the role of your imaginary love interest.

It was a shame that this great day was coming to an end. It was the first day of Summer Break, so, just like every other summer, you and your best friend spent the whole day on the water. Only, this time, you used his father’s new boat instead of your brother’s. It was now around 9 in the afternoon, and Julian was now driving you back to the chateau. Julian’s old truck finally came to a stop in front of the chateau, meaning that the fun was now officially over. “Thanks for the ride.” You went to open the door before Julian grabbed your other hand, stopping you. “What’s wrong?”

“I uh just need to ask you something.” You could tell he had something on his mind on the ride over here. He’s been all quiet which is very unusual for him, and he kept tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“What is it?” You queried suspiciously and somewhat afraid.

“Do you- Would you wanna go out somewhere Friday night? Like, as a date?” You froze, still processing what he had asked. You had no idea he liked you this way. You had only ever thought of your relationship as purely platonic. You were just best friends. And only ever that.

“Julian-”

“You don’t feel the same way, do you?” He nodded after you didn’t reply, not looking you in the eye. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” He just seems so sad and disappointed. You had to come up with something -- anything -- to make him feel better, even if it was just a teeny tiny bit.

“No, Julian, it’s okay. It’s just that I- I’ve been seeing someone.” You felt bad about lying to him. To be honest, it felt childish. Like you were in middle school again, making up a boyfriend to make yourself look “cool” to all of your friends. Obviously, this occasion was different. This time, you’re lying to protect your friendship from being ruined by the awkwardness that would surely follow up this conversation.

He was surprised, but there was still a hint of disappointment and maybe even embarrassment left on his face. “Oh- You haven’t mentioned anything about a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, we’ve kept it a secret for a while, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” You ended it with a slight chuckle. Ever since you were little, you’ve been a great liar. It was just a natural talent that you were born with. And it really did come in handy in times such as these.

Julian sighed, looking down at his floorboard. “I’m happy for you.” He gave a small, friendly smile. “Disappointed, but happy nonetheless.” The look he gave you made you feel guilty for lying to him. But, this was for the greater good, right? Because you felt like you were doing the right thing. “I do want to meet this boy, though.” He added, giving you a sick, nervous feeling deep down in the pit of your stomach.

“You do?” Your eyes widened for a split second before you told your body to keep calm. This lie of yours had already started to backfire, and you had only said it a few seconds ago. How the hell are you going to get out of this one?

“Hell, yeah, I do. As your best friend, it’s my job to make sure the guy you’re dating isn’t a complete asshole.” He elbowed your side after the phrase “best friend,” making you a hell of a lot more guilty than you already were. He gasped, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You should totally invite him to the movie night this Saturday. I’ll let Kassi know that you’re bringing him.”

He seems way happier to meet him than you are.

As soon as you got inside the house, you launched yourself onto the couch, your face landing right beside where your brother was sitting. You let out a muffled groan into the cushions below you.

“What’s wrong?” John B asked, stifling a chuckle.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Well, we all knew that already.” He laughed. You picked yourself up from the couch and sat beside him the correct way, giving him a death glare. “What happened, though?”

“Julian asked me out on a date, and, obviously, I only like him as a friend. But I couldn’t just say no because then it would make everything awkward. So, I did the only thing that made sense to me. I told him that I had a boyfriend that I’ve been keeping a secret. And the problem with that is that he wants to meet him now.” You rambled on.

John B laughed a little at your situation, earning a glare from you. “That sounds like a situation you’d get yourself into.”

You hit his shoulder. “Shut up, asshole. I need advice, not for you to make fun of me.”

“Okay, okay.” He thought for a second. “Try and find someone to pretend to be your boyfriend. Not someone he knows, though, because then he’ll catch you in the lie.”

“Who would I ask, though?”

John shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s your problem. I got to get ready for bed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, thanks for helping, jerk.” You said with sarcasm laced in your voice.

“No problem, sis, love you.” The next sound that was heard was your annoying brother’s bedroom door slamming shut and then the sound of your groaning.

Then, from the kitchen, you hear the voice of someone that you didn’t even know was in your house at the moment. JJ Maybank. “I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.” Your head snapped in his direction.

“You’re serious?” You questioned, relieved that you didn’t have to beg any of your other friends to do this.

“Yes, I’m serious. But you’ll owe me.” JJ moved from the kitchen to where you sat on the couch.

“Of course, thank you so much, JJ.”

“Nope, there is no way you are pretending to date my sister.” John B hollered from the other side of your father’s boat. You had just explained to everyone yesterday’s events, and everyone except for your brother didn’t have a problem with it.

“Come on, John B, please. It was your idea in the first place to find a fake boyfriend.” You tried to reason with the stubborn, stubborn boy you called your brother.

“I didn’t mean my best friend!” He shouted before pointing over at Kiara. “Kie, you’re the one that created the “no pogue on pogue macking” rule. Why are you okay with this?”

Kie shrugged. “John B, they aren’t going to actually date. It’s just pretending.” John kept silent as if he was rethinking his opinion on the whole matter.

JJ then spoke up, “She’s not wrong, JB. You know I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t break the Bro Code.”

John glanced over at JJ and nodded. “Okay, okay. I guess you guys are right.” The rest of the pogues cheered before being interrupted by your brother again. “But, if I see any PDA, real or fake, I’m murdering you both.”

“Got it, brother-in-law.”

“And don’t call me that, JJ.”

#jj x you #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj headcanons #jj imagines #jj maybank love triangle #obx jj maybank #jj maybank imagines #obx jj #obx pogues #obx #Outer Banks #jj outer banks #outer banks cast #jj x reader x oc #jj x y/n

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draculcid · 3 years

Note

steve kinda gets jealous easily and asks billy shit like “why were you look at her like that?” especially because all the mothers flirt with him (and billy doesn’t necessarily put a stop to it). maybe billy gets sick of it and feels like steve doesn’t trust him so he says something like “i might as well go fuck them if you’re so convinced i’m already doing so” and then angsty angsty angsty and then they kinda make up idk sorry i’m just spilling thoughts in ur inbox

steve spends countless weekends at the community pool because the kids make him drive them there most of the time- but it’s mostly because his boyfriend works weekends too- and that meant less time spent together. so steve goes there often, hangs out with billy when he’s on break.

the second billy steps down from the lifeguard tower, steve follows him into the breakroom. sometimes they just have lunch and talk together, sometimes they spend all of billy’s break making out in there.

this time it’s the latter. steve has got his hand halfway down billy’s shorts, and they’re moaning into each other’s mouths when someone knocks on the break room door. steve quickly slips his hand out and billy groans, not from pleasure.

billy saunters over to the door, adjusting his shorts in the process, and he plasters a fake smile before swinging the door open.

“oh, billy! thank god!” says a woman.

steve winces at what she’s wearing, almost all her skin exposed. he imagines his mother wearing something like that and almost gags.

he sits back on one of the swivel chairs when billy walks out to help the woman with whatever she wants. he leaves the door open though, and steve can see them from inside. he finds it amusing- how hard billy is right now.

he picks around the break room, trying to find something to entertain himself with.

and he’s getting a little annoyed- because it’s billy’s break, and he’s been out there helping someone for like ten minutes now. though it looks more like chatting than helping from where steve’s sitting.

he can see billy laugh and shake his head at something the woman says, and steve shouldn’t be getting jealous of a fifty-something year old woman, but he is. he’s so very jealous when she puts a hand on billy’s shoulder and leans in to tell him something.

billy doesn’t brush her off and steve dreads it. hates it so much, he can already hear the ‘you’re bullshit’ in the back of his head. the woman gives billy’s shoulder one last squeeze and billy gives her one of his signature grins before she walks off.

billy turns around and faces steve, grin still plastered on his goddamn pretty face. in annoyance, steve looks away. billy walks back into the room with wide eyes. “wha—”

“nothing,” steve says, way too quick and angry for it to be nothing. billy sighs, closing the room door for privacy, “‘s obviously something, stevie..”

steve furrows his brows and tries to brush it off, standing up from the chair he was on, but billy only pulls him closer to him.

“what’d she say?” steve asks, finally.

“nothing,” is all billy says. it doesn’t lessen the dread piling up in the pit of steve’s stomach. like we’re in love?

“nothing?”

“yes, nothing,” billy responds, slowly growing annoyed, “can we just get back to-”

“you were over there for, like, ten minutes. it didn’t look like nothing.”

steve hates how he sounds right now. whiney. clingy. but the whole situation puts him off. billy shakes his head in disbelief and decides not to respond. he’s far too tired and horny to argue.

but the lack of a response only makes it worse for steve, emotions getting the best of him.

“is she your friend?“ steve asks, voice more weak than accusatory.

“not really- i don’t know-“

“a girl friend?”

“yeah?” billy cocks his head. this was never a problem between them. girl friends. boy friends. so what.

steve takes a deep breath in because this was not happening to me, not again. not again. not again. please, billy.

he moves himself away from billy - and billy frowns, reaching out for steve’s wrist and gripping it tight to stop him from moving away. but steve yanks his hand away. “please don’t touch me.”

“jesus, steve! it’s nothing!” billy protests. “she’s just a random woman. an old random woman.”

“stop saying that! it’s not ‘nothing’ when ‘some random woman’ is feeling all over my boyfriend!”

billy groans as steve continues, “she was touching you! squeezin’ your shoulder and shit.”

billy takes a deep breath, deciding it was best to turn this into some fun joke, “…steve, me and this mother hook up in the break room every single day, and she was asking me when I was gonna be done with you so she could have a turn.”

steve rolls his eyes at billy’s sore attempt at being funny. billy’s starting to get frustrated- because steve is acting annoying. and steve should trust him.

“you’re upset at me for no reason.”

steve looks up at him, eyes big, like billy had done something. “i just want you to stop lying to me.”

and that. that makes billy want to tear steve apart. because it sounds just like when his parents used to argue.

“stop lying to you?” billy yells now. “did you see me touch her?”

steve laughs dryly, “I mean, you're sporting half a chub—”

“because you had your hand on my fucking dick a few minutes ago! why else would you think-”

billy’s eyes darken and he looks at steve a lot more serious now, “you know I don’t like girls. and I certainly don’t like fucking mothers.”

steve takes a sharp breath in, realizing how insane this entire thing is. it’s stupid and steve’s realizing that he’s just being insecure over nothing. he’s about to say, “okay- sorry. never mind.”

but billy already turns his back to him and starts rummaging through his drawstring bag. he pulls out his little tube of sunscreen and hastily reapplies it on his face and shoulders before throwing the tube back in to the bag.

“where are you going?” steve asks, fear settling deep into his stomach. he’s leaving. bullshit.

“to hit her up,” billy says, angry, before he walks out, slamming the door shut.

steve stands there, mouth gaping in disbelief. he opens the door and almost follows after billy. but there’s tears stinging in his eyes so he just walks over to where dustin is sitting.

“did you and billy have a fight?” dustin asks, automatically, the second steve comes into view.

“no,” steve says, sitting himself down on the pool bench and willing his voice not to wobble, “why?”

“well, you look like you just got slapped in the face,” dustin shrugs, “and billy- he looks like that,” he points up at billy, who’s back on the lifeguard tower, sunglasses covering his eyes and his arms crossed over his chest.

he was sure as hell not hitting her up. and that makes steve feel a little bit better, but he feels guilty. feels regret reverberate in his bones. and he just feels like crying. shitty boyfriend.

he rubs his hands over his face a few times. he sits there for a while, looking at billy, then back at his hands, then billy, then his hands.

it takes a few minutes, but he finally finds the courage to get up. he walks over to billy’s spot and stares at him from under the tower.

billy doesn’t even look his way, despite obviously knowing steve was standing right there.

“billy…” steve starts, his voice low.

“what?” billy spits back, looking at steve from the top.

steve takes in a deep breath. “i just wanted to know why her hands were all over you—”

“oh my god, are we really doing this again?”

“no- i just-”

“i don’t care about her- or anyone else,” billy reiterates. “only you, asshole.”

the two of them grow silent, the sounds of kids splashing at the pool in the background.

“that all? you done?”

“i’m sorry.”

billy looks at steve again and he almost breaks right then and there when he spots how steve’s fidgeting with the end of his shirt. but a part of him was still angry.

“i’m not nancy…”

steve’s eyes shoot up when billy moves down from the guard tower, gesturing for heather to cover for him with a wave of his fingers.

he grabs steve’s arm and starts leading him back to the break room. “you should trust me.”

“i do—”

“no. you don’t. today- that’s enough proof.”

“i know,” steve’s voice was merely a whisper, as billy walks them into the room and shuts the door, “i’m sorry.”

“i get that you’ve been screwed over but ‘s not exactly my fault.”

“sorry,” steve repeats, throat closing up and eyes brimming with tears. billy sighs, like, please don’t cry, and he pulls steve into his chest.

steve’s hands quickly wrap around his torso, face desperately nuzzled in billy’s neck.

“i’m sorry,” he speaks through sobs. “i love-you. i don’t want- to lose you.”

billy rubs his back, “i’m not going anywhere, steve… i’m sorry - about saying- the thing about hitting her up. i was angry and i—”

“‘s fine, i had it coming.”

billy pulls away for a bit, “you didn’t. i shoulda been nicer, even if you were being a crazy bitch.”

steve huffs a laugh, which makes billy smile.

steve moves his hands up to cup billy’s cheeks, “you’re the crazy bitch.”

“until a mother comes into the picture,” he whispers, jokingly, before pressing a kiss to steve’s lips. “we good?”

“mhm.”

#sorry it’s almost 5am #idk #not proof read bc i feel like i’m about to pass out HAHAH #also i don’t know how to end things #ask #anon #harringrove #me posting

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corpsentry · 3 years

Text

january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

#my stuff

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