#i was out of town this weekend but imagine me squinting against the sun to look at my phone as I am getting sprayed with water | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

333sth · 3 years

Text

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter ii. previous. series masterlist.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n

warnings: ptsd/military service, violence, injury detail, language, angsty.

summary: santi’s hunch is no longer a hunch, but only will knows how close they are to finding frankie’s girl.

rating: mature wc: 1.8k

When a strong hand had clamped around her shoulder, Dove’s instinct was to break it. It wasn’t menacing; they were just waiting at the bar to be served.

A burly, middle-aged man was towering beside her, clutching a beer bottle that looked miniature in his thick grasp. His arms, still holding the shadow of what was once impressive muscle, were littered with military tattoos. Dove could spot a stick-and-poke from a mile off.

“I recognise that,” He gestures to her neck, where a small Delta Force tattoo was usually disguised by her long hair. “You ex-forces? Delta?”

She wanted to kick herself. The sticky atmosphere had gotten the better of her and she’d thrown her hair into a ponytail without thinking.

“Yeah, but that isn’t exactly public knowledge ‘round here.” She murmurs.

Across the room, Roni throws her head back in exaggerated laughter. A group of men, who looked barely out of their teen years, had come over to make some desperate attempts at getting laid. Dove had excused herself to buy the next round after one of them had cracked a mortifying joke about liking older women.

“That’s understandable.” The man held out his hand, which she took hesitantly. “My name’s Mark, I just retired out here. Served for twenty three years.” He chuckled gruffly, his voice thick from cigarettes. “I got jack shit to show for it, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, but she doesn’t offer her name.

Mark notices as the conversation lulls. “I trained with a guy who made Delta. Santiago Garcia - we called him Pope, ‘cause he just had that way about him. You probably knew him.”

Dove swallows, chest lurching. “Sounds familiar… You know how it is though, the nicknames all blur into one eventually.”

That’s a lie, you never forget your teammates’ names. Mark knows it and so does Dove. Thankfully, he doesn’t push a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, and raises his bottle to her.

“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway. Enjoy yourself out here.”

“You too, Mark.” She tries to smile, but her lips press into a thin line that probably looks more like a grimace.

Mark had called Santiago the following day, the alcohol-blurred memory peaking his interest once he remembered his old friend’s plea a few months back. He’d asked around for any heads-up if any ex-Delta women around their age popped up. Mark had thought the man was delusional when he’d heard. If she was Delta Force, she wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be.

Apparently, he was wrong. Maybe even the best of the best got rusty after a while.

The town Dove had been spotted in was questionable to Santiago. It was too cosmopolitan for a woman who was starting over. However, after a onceover on a map of Mexico, Santi spotted its smaller neighbour. He’d never heard of it, which meant it must be the place. Small population, right on the coast, with enough amenities and business to get by without any trouble.

“And, man, she had a wicked scar on her throat. Sort of shit you’d only see on a Delta.” Mark had added, with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ain’t your girl.”

‘Dove isn’t my girl,’ Santi wanted to bite back instinctually. He bit his tongue, and instead offered, “It sounds like her. I can’t thank you enough, brother.”

Santiago only told Will what he knew about Dove. He had the mind to retain that information no matter what this trip threw at them. Plus, he trusted him with his life, plus a couple other lives that came to mind. Call it insurance, if things went south.

Plus, Will didn’t have Tom’s mouth, or twisted morality. Tom was more than willing to accept that Dove would miss out on their prospective fortune, that the ‘hunch’ would have to wait until Lorea was dealt with. Santiago knew his brothers well enough to know Benny would throw a hissy fit if they knew where Dove was and she wasn’t included. She’d spent enough time stitching up their war-torn skin and shoving them out of bullets to deserve a cut.

So, Pope told a little white lie. They had a stop in Mexico to meet with a contact.

Frankie had murmured, “Better be worth it, stuck in this shitty car with you fuckers for ten hours.”

Santiago resisted the urge to agree. God, he hoped it would be worth it too. He hoped he wasn’t driving them into a dead end, a bluff on Mark’s part. Or even worse, invading Dove’s beautiful new life without them. That would destroy everything; Dove, the boys, Frankie. What if she had settled down? What if he pulled into that idyllic beach bar she wanted and she’s there, a baby with the same brilliant eyes balanced on her hip? She was never sure about kids. A vivid mental picture of the wrong diamond, glistening on her ring finger in the afternoon sun, and the wrong man pecking her lips, made Santi physically wince.

Fish would never forgive him. Will and Benny would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself.

It was a long, apprehensive drive. Santi’s eyes were drying, squinting against the headlights that occasionally glared past them. His jaw had been clenched for the last few hours as his anxiety grew, nothing but open road to stare at while he contemplated over and over as to whether it was the right decision. It didn’t help that Frankie never really slept like the others did on the move. While the other boys passed out, Frankie’s soft eyes continued scanning the scene flying past the window. It was like he stayed awake to watch Pope’s back, as if they were still in combat, or as an unspoken act of kindness to keep him company.

Really, Frankie was a terrible sleeper. Santi remembered that from the early days, before he and Dove gave it up and became an item. He was the last to drift off and first to wake up, always restless. Once Dove started tip-toeing over to his cot in the night, he became the worst snorer in the division. Always splayed on his front, one arm tossed over Dove’s waist and the other under his pillow. She’d kick him in the night so he’d roll over and shut up, but it never lasted long.

One night, Benny had enough, and groaned to Dove, “Put us out of our fuckin’ misery and smother him with your pillow, for the love of God.”

Dove had snapped back, “Fuck off, Benny, just ‘cause you aren’t getting any of the action doesn’t mean you have to get all bitter.”

“I’ve told you guys - I’m more than willing to join in-”

“Ben.” Frankie grumbled into her shoulder. It was gruff with sleep but still menacing enough to make the hairs on Dove’s arms stand on end.

Before a pillow smacked into his head, Benny guffawed, “Oh, so he is alive after all.”

Wringing a soft rag for polishing glasses between her fingertips, Dove descends the wooden steps at the entrance of the bar. The last huddle of regulars holler behind her, wrapping up their weekend drinks as the evening creeps closer to the early hours; Dove always notices the time when moths start colliding with the lanterns.

Roni rises from a crouch on the ground, dropping a paintbrush into a can with a clatter. “See, your own little touch!”

The wooden panels that constructed the side of the bar, usually concealed by a stack of cardboard beer boxes, is decorated with little doves. Despite studying criminology, mainly for the satisfaction of her parents, Roni loved painting and insisted on brightening the exterior of their beach shack.

Dove cracks a half-smile. “It’s lovely, Ron. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She beams, throwing the half-empty cans into the nearby bins. She pauses, glancing hesitantly at the older woman over her shoulder, “Dove’s not your real name, right?”

“No, no. Nickname from when I was nursing overseas.” Dove chuckles, before adding, “Feels more like my real name than my Christian one nowadays.”

Roni passes Dove on the steps as she returns to the bar, “It suits you. You’re always graceful, but… you’re fucking fast.”

Dove laughs with her, ignoring the familiar clench in her chest. It’s exactly what Frankie used to say. The difference is Roni notices when she almost drops a glass, or her tray of drinks starts to wobble, and Dove is there to catch it with such fluidity Roni never saw her coming. Even the way Dove’s knife slices through fruit like each piece is a slab of melted butter. Frankie witnessed the extreme of that, the stealth and grace that usually ensured the enemy was dead before the others had even thought to raise their guns. Still, he admired her the same way Roni was right now. It was like awe.

It’s probably because he loved her effortlessly, every single aspect of her being without a glimmer of doubt or judgement. And now he wasn’t here.

The group of regulars stumbling down the steps break Dove from her thoughts, chortling and wishing her goodnight. One of the older men turns and jerks his thumb towards the road, “You might wanna tell them you’re closing, bonita.”

Before the road becomes the sand, there is a small, dusty wasteland that doubles as a makeshift car park. A vehicle is parked, glaring headlights facing towards the ocean and forming peculiar, alien-like beams in the dark. She’s definitely getting rusty; she’d barely registered the idling truck.

“I’ll sort ‘em out, Miguel, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” He jokes, waving to her. “Buenos noches, Dove.”

Military habits are practically impossible to shake, and immediately, Dove’s mind launches into overdrive. She raises her hand above her eyes, squinting against the blinding white LEDs in an attempt to make out a registration plate or even a recognisable model. Her mind is fine-tuned to memorise; most of the locals’ cars are already catalogued in her memory, but this isn’t one of them.

Maybe they’re tourists, ready to push their luck with the opening times. That’s the reasonable side of Dove’s mind. The irrational, dark edges whisper, ‘What if someone found you?’ By someone, it means someone bad. Someone she wronged during her service, an enemy or straggler that got away. Even a civilian that might have been caught in the crossfire. She thought about those ghosts often. Hell, some of them she could still name. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she lists them, pictures their faces if she can recall them, just in case they ever came back.

She inhales a sharp gust of ocean air through her nostrils, welcoming the clarity that spreads through her mind. Parting her lips (the lips Frankie always teased were in a permanent pout), she released the breath slowly, trying to relax the stressed scrunch in her features.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that someday.”

The voice is familiar. A deep, breathy chuckle, barrel-toned and gravelly. It sounds like home.

taglist: @mishasminion360

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x ofc #dove #Santiago Garcia #Benny Miller #Will Miller #pedro pascal #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales fic #francisco morales #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters

112 notes · View notes

house-of-galathynius · 3 years

Text

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Eight: Distractions

Chapter Seven ~ Chapter Nine

@aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @fredweasleyhasadhd @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas If you’d like to be tagged, just let me know :)

Aelin tried to busy herself in the coming days. She would wake just as the sun bathed the palace in its soft glow; when the world was still and all was quiet. She would leave her rooms, and would run for miles, until her lungs were burning and her legs sore. She would bathe and eat breakfast in her room, usually on her own, but sometimes with Aedion or Lysandra. No one mentioned Rowan or their curiosity to what had happened.

Aelin had not gone back to training with her magic, something always feeling off, like she was missing a piece of herself— it wasn’t hard to figure out what that could be— nonetheless she avoided using it.

The days meandered on, passing by with little excitement. Her afternoons were spent looking after the other Whitethorn family members or joining Orlon in meetings. Aelin found the monotony of meetings kept her mind from wandering too far into itself— they kept her from thinking of the gaping hole that was left in the absence of Rowan.

It had been nine days since his departure and she couldn’t deny the ache in her chest. She still did not know the real reason for his leaving. Endymion had said it was urgent business, but wouldn’t state what business, and Sellene wouldn’t even see Aelin alone, only acknowledging her existence at dinners or to deliver glum looks in passing. So Aelin tried to forget, giving herself no time or opportunity to sulk over Rowan or Sam.

The weekend proved difficult when she couldn’t busy herself with court dealings, but she found solace in Lysandra and their rides through the mountains. Which is where she found herself, bundled up in fur and leathers, teeth trembling at the bitterly cold wind that was blowing against the two of them as they made their way up the steep mountain path.

“Tell me again why this was a good idea?” Lysandra said. Her voice muffled by the maroon scarf she had wrapped up to her nose.

“It’s good to get fresh air. Plus the sunsets are beautiful from up here at this time of year.” Aelin could feel her toes going numb, she’d already lost the feeling in the tips of her fingers.

Lysandra let out a huff, her sandy horse doing the same. “I could’ve been curled up by the fire devouring the almond tart that Aedion got me.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. She would never admit it to Lysandra, but she too, wanted to be bundled by the crackling fire with a good book and a hot cup of tea. She would never admit it though.

“It’s only a few minutes longer, Lys.” She could already see the final curve in the road that led to a ruined temple; abandoned hundreds of years ago, but still in good enough condition to go in and watch the sun as it would flood the inside with a golden glow. She imagined the temple was built there for that specific reason.

“Is there a reason you’re not heating us both up with your fire? I could really do with that right about now.”

Lysandra was right of course, but Aelin hadn’t touched her magic, and every time she went to use it, she froze, her magic nowhere to be seen. “We’re building character. It’s good for us.”

“I have plenty of character already.” Lysandra pulled the scarf up higher, her emerald eyes squinting. “Please tell me that’s the top.”

The temple was in front of them now, the grey stone crumbling in places, ivy and plants swallowing the walls in their green claws; winding their way into the cracks and crevices.

“This place is so creepy.” Lysandra hopped of her horse, inspecting their surroundings. “I hate it.”

“Stop being such a baby. There’s literally nothing here Lys.” Aelin followed suit, jumping from her own horse and following Lysandra inside.

The ceilings were high, a huge dome rose above them as they entered the central part of the temple. The floors were once white marble, the walls covered in markings that had become indistinguishable. Tall pillars of stone circled the outer edge of the room, plants curling around them. Aelin could almost imagine the beauty that this once would have been. Towards the other side of the room a tall window stood, the view looking over the meadows and forests that eventually turned into the sparkling waters of the sea. The sun had started sinking into the horizon and Aelin lent on the ledge of the window, basking in the last rays, watching as the sky changed colours.

“Okay, so maybe it was worth it.” Lysandra had come to lean next to her, her friend staring out to the world beyond. The two of them silent as they watched the sun sink lower and lower, disappearing for another day. Lysandra broke the silence first. “I have something to tell you.”

Aelin looked to her, curious.

“I slept with Aedion.” Aelin didn’t reply as Lysandra continued. “We had been into Orynth to go dancing with a few friends. I had planned on leaving earlier, but they all convinced me to stay… so I did.” Lysandra sighed. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. But we were the last to leave, and he walked me to my room and I invited him in; and… you know.”

Aelin mulled it over. “You know you could’ve told me sooner. You went dancing last week.”

Lysandra shrugged. “You were preoccupied with Rowan and Sam,” she flinched at the names, but Lysandra continued. “I didn’t want you to think my problems were more important.”

Aelin couldn’t help but let the guilt rise up. “Your problems are just as important!” She faced Lysandra. “I don’t care if my life is a shit-show right now. I will always have time to listen to you. Always.”

Lysandra smiled. “I know, but I’m pretty sure your problems trump mine anyway”

Aelin huffed. “I would much rather not talk about my problems.” She turned back to the sunset. “Have you spoken to Aedion?”

“We haven’t spoken about what happened, if that’s what you mean. But we’ve talked, yes.” Lysandra twirled a strand of hair. “I don’t think he wants to scare me off. I think he’s worried I regret what happened.”

“And do you?” Aelin asked.

“Yes. No… I don’t know.” Lysandra pushed off the window ledge and leant back against the wall. “Everything is so complicated with us. He’s been chasing me for so long… and I’ve finally given in; and now I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” She looked at Aelin. “Does he want it to be casual? Does he want to be in a relationship?”

Aelin let out a laugh. “Lys, he literally told you he would marry you one day. I think it’s pretty obvious what he wants.”

She groaned in response. “That doesn’t help! He might have been joking!”

“Gods above. He is in love with you Lysandra! I think he has been from the moment you tried to fight me when we were twelve.”

Lysandra smiled at the memory. “I would’ve won if it hadn’t been for your father interrupting.”

Aelin chuckled, Lysandra had been a force to be reckoned with when she was younger.

The two remained silent for a while longer, dusk falling over the landscape.

“Have you heard from Rowan?”

“No.”

“He’ll come around. You’re mates, he won’t be able to stay away for long.”

Aelin wasn’t so sure about that. “I really messed up. Like catastrophically.”

“It can’t have been that bad.”

“I was practically crawling after Sam, bawling my eyes out, begging him not to leave.” She started to pace. “Rowan just stood there, he just watched as I begged for another man. And when he tried to offer some comfort, I refused. I turned down my own mate because— because…” she didn’t know. Pride? Embarrassment? Stubbornness?

“Sam meant a lot to you, and you didn’t want him finding out about Rowan that way.” Lysandra thought for a moment. “Life is messy and unpredictable; and so maybe this didn’t go exactly the way you planned it. But you’re still here, you still have a family that adore you, friends that would do practically anything for you. You just have to give Rowan time, give Sam time. They’ll both understand eventually.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” She smiled. “You know what? I think with everything that has happened we need a night in the city, just us women. We’ll see if Elide can tear herself away from Lorcan and then we can get absolutely plastered in town and forget all of the crap in our lives.”

“My parents will never let me go out without guards.”

“They can stand at the doors, or sit at another table making sure you’re fine. I don’t care, we just need to let loose, have some fun!”

Aelin hesitated just a second before squeezing her eyes together and letting out a long groan. “Fine. For a couple of hours tops. I want to be in bed by midnight.”

“Anything you wish, old lady.”

Lysandra grabbed Aelin and led her to the horses. The mountains were cloaked in darkness, the night air cold. They rode back to the castle in record speed, Aelin heading straight to her rooms to change. She knew this was a bad idea. Going into the city on the busiest night of the week… going drinking. But maybe it would be a good thing. She could forget about her problems for the night, relax with her friends for the first time in forever. Aelin pulled out the first dress from her wardrobe, an emerald green gown with gold lining the cuffs of the sleeves. She threw off her old clothes and dressed quickly, giving her hair a quick brush letting it fall in golden waves down her back.

Elide was the first to knock on her door. She looked lovely in a simple blue gown, her hair piled on the top of her head, small silver ribbons running through.

“Lorcan was adamant about keeping us safe… so he’ll be chaperoning tonight.”

Aelin barked out a laugh. “He couldn’t bear to let you go?”

“Something like that.” She smiled timidly, moving to the couch. “He won’t bother us.”

Lysandra entered at that moment, her red dress low and revealing. “Are we ready? I could do with some wine.”

Aelin gave a look to Elide, who returned it with her own. The three of them made their way down to the foyer where five guards were waiting, as well as a sullen looking Lorcan, and her parents.

“Remember to stick together.” Her mother said as she fussed over Aelin’s hair. “Don’t drink too much, and please be safe.” She kissed Aelin’s brow.

“Stop fussing! We’ll be fine.” Aelin swatted her mother’s hands away as she looked to her father who was chuckling at her mother.

“Just be careful.”

Elide and Lysandra started to lead the way, the doors of the palace opening to reveal a carriage waiting for them outside.

“Remember to pay your tab! We don’t need a bill being sent here and then having to explain to Darrow why you spent so much gold on wine.” Her father called out as they were climbing into the carriage.

“Did anyone bring any gold?” Lysandra laughed as the doors closed.

Aelin couldn’t help herself but laugh too. Gold had been the last thing on her mind as she had hastily got dressed.

“Looks like we’ll be explaining to Darrow.”

The carriage jolted forward as it began its journey. The city was close enough that it would take only ten minutes at most to reach it. Aelin was excited to go out, despite her reservations, she was looking forward to spending time with her friends. It had seemed that over the last couple of weeks she had neglected them and she had forgotten how nice it felt— to be with people who weren’t foreign royals or generals or mercenaries. She could feel herself starting to relax as they neared the city.

The tavern they had picked was not by any means fancy, nor was it the worst that Orynth had to offer. But it was nice enough, and it had enough privacy that they could sit in a booth and not be bothered by people. As soon as the barmaid saw who was entering the tavern a bottle of their finest wine was brought to their table.

Lysandra lifted her glass. “I’d like to make a toast.”

Aelin and Elide lifted their glasses in unison, waiting for Lysandra to continue. “To my two best friends who I love and adore. Thank you for putting up with me and joining in with my impulsive ideas. Cheers!” She lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip, the others following suit.

They remained in the booth whilst they polished off the first and second bottles of wine. They chatted about everything and nothing. Elide telling them about her newlywed life with Lorcan, whilst Lysandra prattled on about Aedion. Aelin mostly stayed silent, chipping in here and there with jokes or comments. By the end of the second bottle she had started to feel tipsy, her body going light and she found the lure of the music and the dance floor too much to resist. Lysandra and Elide refused at first, claiming they needed more to drink; so Aelin had marched up to the bar and ordered their strongest liquor, taking it back to the table and demanding they all drink.

It didn’t take long for it to kick in; and soon enough they were all up in the middle of the tavern, laughing and spinning to the music. Aelin couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so free… so light. The music changed to another upbeat song, Aelin joining hands with Elide and Lysandra, dancing in circles, her head to the ceiling, smiling from ear to ear.

They stayed dancing for a while longer, going back to the table a few times to swig some more wine that they had ordered. Not long after that Elide claimed she was going to be sick if she continued, Lysandra agreeing and the three of them going to sit. A guard came over shortly after exclaiming it was late and they should leave, much to the protests of Lysandra.

So they headed back to the carriage, Lorcan looking relieved that they were finally leaving. Even the guards looked happy at their exit. They scrambled into the carriage, giggling and breathless.

“I am drunk.” Elide said as the carriage pulled away.

“I’m hungry.” Lysandra leant her head against the side of the carriage, her eyes watching the scenery pass.

“We should raid the kitchen when we get back.” Aelin suggested.

“I still want to devour that piece of almond tart Aedion left me.”

“I want to devour Lorcan.”

Lysandra and Aelin stared at Elide, at the words that had left her mouth. Aelin could never remember Elide being so cras, the words so alien from her mouth. She couldn’t help but burst out laughing, Lysandra doing the same.

“Who knew you could say such things, Elide.” The three of them still laughing as the carriage pulled in front of the doors to the palace.

Elide and Lysandra were the first to stumble out, Aelin following. She didn’t pay attention to where she was stepping, and couldn’t stop herself as she tripped on the skirts of her dress and fell face first into the ground, her head smacking against the hard stone.

She didn’t hear much as she remained there, splayed on the ground, her head now pounding. The world was spinning and she could’ve sworn she could smell blood. She heard muffled voices around her, alarmed shouts of guards.

“Someone get a healer. She’s hurt.”

She didn’t respond as she felt herself being picked up, her body heavy and limp as they rushed her up the steps of the palace and inside.

“What happened?” She could hear Orlon as he walked beside whoever was carrying her.

“She fell getting out of the carriage, she’s bleeding. We’re taking her to a healer.”

The words of people around her became hard to decipher as she felt herself going in and out of consciousness, the pounding in her head only increasing.

She didn’t remember the rest as she plunged into darkness.

113 notes · View notes

pennyserenade · 3 years

Text

tags: nameless female oc x frankie morales rating: m ( mature ) warnings: language, some yearning, maybe even a hint of angst, a lil suggestive, fluff (yeah you heard that right, i really wrote that) word count: 1k summary: coming back to familiar places doesn’t always have to be a painful experience. notes: this is for the writer wednesday challenge set in place by @autumnleaves1991-blog

She knows its precarious situation, entangling her life in with the gentle and stable sway of Frankie Morales’ day-to-day, but she cannot resist the temptation. It has been a long time since she’s settled anywhere, moving from city to city, running as far as she possibly can from the quiet, Texas town they both grew up in. What he presents to her now is the sort of comfort she never could have imagined herself wanting all those years ago, though. A sort of comfort neither of them would’ve thought they would like, she supposes.

It’s an odd sight, seeing him pushing a stroller with a heavy-lidded toddler in it, but she doesn’t think it is not fitting. In fact, it sort of surprises her how well fatherhood does suit him. He’d existed in her mind for so long as a lanky teenager--just some boy who was a friend of her boyfriend--but now he’s entirely different. He’s about the same height, has the same features, but there’s wrinkles in spots there wasn’t before and a patchy beard that makes her laugh. He’s also much quieter. She never remembers him being loud, but sometimes his personality had the tendency to take up room when they were younger. Now it doesn’t. She reckons one could even call him shy if they wanted to.

If you’d told her that attending that silly high reunion would’ve led to this, a day trip to the fair with Francisco Morales and his daughter, she would’ve laughed incredulously two weekends ago. She almost can’t stand how much it doesn’t bother her, being like this with him, not hating every part of this town the way she used to.

“How do you feel about hot dogs?” he points to a stand. There’s a bit of a line, and in typical fair fashion, it boasts all kinds of insane choices. She scrunches up her nose, not rejecting the idea as much as she’s debating it.

“What?” he asks, smiling, “Fame made you too good for a Texas State Fair hot dog?”

“Fame has made me too good for nothing,” she answers. She looks over at him. “I’ll do it, but only if you order for me.”

“Why?” he laughs.

“I get nervous.”

“You get nervous?” he asked incredulously. “You’re an actress.”

“Playing different people is a bit different than playing yourself,” she shrugs. “I’ll pay if you order for me.”

He shakes his head. “Keep your Hollywood dollars, babe. I’ll pay.”

“You’re too much, Francisco,” she tells him as he moves the stroller into the line.

“Mm,” he raises his eyebrow, “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

She glares at him playfully. “Your mouth was doing better work then.”

“Could again, if you want,” he says nonchalantly, but there’s a challenge in his eyes. She smiles.

“You’d like that.”

“Love it,” he nods. “Could even stay over if you want. I don’t have to take her home until Sunday.”

She smiles softly. “We’ve got to leave at the same time.”

Frankie shakes his head. “No, you can stay longer if you want—“

“No, I mean I have to go Sunday. I’m shooting a movie next week.”

“Oh,” Frankie says. “Where?”

“México.”

“That’s not too far.”

“No,” she agrees. They step forward in the line. “It’s why I decided to stop through in the first place.”

“You never liked this place much, did you?” he asks.

“No, but I don’t remember you liking it so much, either.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “You get restless as a kid, but it’s not so bad as an adult. It’s quiet.”

“It is quiet,” she nods her head. She looks over at him, a soft grin on her lips. “The company’s not so bad, either.”

“Well,” he laughs, “You weren’t complaining about the company back then, were you? I think I remember you liking Jessie’s quite a lot.”

She cringes at the thought of that, the way she might’ve been when they were younger. Her and Frankie’s history didn’t expand far beyond the friendship they shared because she dated one of his friends in high school, but it almost ached to imagine that’s how he remembers her.

“Aw, hey, we all knew you were too good for him anyways,” he assures. “No need to get embarrassed.”

“I vowed to never go after another Texas boy again,” she says, shaking her head. “I must be some sort of fool for forgetting that.”

“I’m glad you did,” he tells her, voice a little too genuine for her to be able to handle without looking away.

“Yeah,” she nods. She squints her eye against the sun and stares ahead at the stand. “What are you gonna get?”

“Uh, I think I’m gonna get a regular hot dog just in case she doesn’t pass out before we order. I’ll share with her.” He looks down at his daughter before back at her. “What about you?”

“I’ll take the same, Top Gun.”

He grins. “Very cute nickname.”

“Only for the cutest pilot, yanno.”

He grins at her and they fall into a sort of comfortable silence as they inch their way forward in the line.

“Hey,” he begins, and she looks over at him. “I don’t wanna seem needy or anything, but how do you feel about stopping through again on the way back up?”

“Here?” she points to the ground. “This town?”

“Yeah, here,” he laughs. “I like you, believe it or not, and that’s kind of hard for me to do these days. I can’t leave here because of her,” he nods down to the stroller, “But I’d really like to see you again.”

She can’t help the grin that slides across her lips. Texas boys and their Texas boy charm, she thinks, before she finds herself nodding her head.

“If you want a strange girl like me, sure,” she tells him.

Frankie nods, grinning. “I do. I really do.”

“Order the hot dogs, hot shot,” she tells him, but she’s still smiling with all the might as before.

This is definitely not what she expected to get from the Texas State Fair, but she’s not disappointed by it. A part of her is almost overjoyed, actually.

She likes this Texas boy, she decides.

#writer wednesday #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x female nameless oc #frankie morales x nameless oc #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier

35 notes · View notes

oliverwxod · 4 years

Text

The hardest part is letting go (Part 3) - Geralt imagine

Pairing: Reader x Geralt

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, angst

Summary: Part 3 to Part 1 Part 2 (italics are flashbacks/memory)

"Geralt- please We- we need to get him to someone who can help- he's going to -"

"He won't" came Geralt’s blunt reply, staring at her in warning as if to tell her to stop panicking, it's was annoying and not helping the situation.

Bloody Jaskier and his need to be so sarcastic all the time, she had told him just minutes ago not to touch the gin, but no. He went and exclaimed his wishes, talking as if it were all a joke and then shooting himself in the foot as some people would call it. Well, in his case making himself not able to breathe.

She helped Geralt haul Jaskier’s slumped body onto roach before he climbed on making sure he would not fall.

"Follow after us with his horse" Geralt spoke, knowing it would be a lot slower if he waited for Y/n to bring her horse and Jaskier’s at the same time. "Meet us in the nearest village where we will find help"

She nodded in fear for Jaskier, she didn't care how scared she may be walking alone in the forest, she didn't even think of those who were after her to return her to her kingdom. Geralt did not think of this either.

For once panic was setting in for his friend. Even though he complained about the bard an awful lot he did not want harm to come to him. So he set off, supporting Jaskier and thinking of nothing except the thoughts of the nearest town and help.

---------- --------------------------- ------------------------------

Geralt had left her hours ago, she could sense she was near a village, the sound of horses, light chatter and village natter.

Y/n had been left with nothing but her own thoughts throughout the silence of the Forrest. And it was silent, oddly silent, no sound of the wind through the leaves of the trees, no creatures chirping, nothing.

The only thoughts she had were of the other night in the inn. Of Jaskiers words and the awkwardness of when she retreated for the night to the same room as Geralt. Thinking about the encounter made her curse under her breath, she had no doubt embarrassed herself, that or she had scared Geralt off, making everything awkward.

------------------------------------------ --------------------------

The walk up the stairs was unnerving, the creeks from the floorboards put her on edge, she was nervous to see him, would he be asleep already? Would he be waiting for her? Would he want to - like Jaskier said he did.

When she opened the door, slowly and cautiously she was met with the sight of Geralt shirtless, sitting in the bed, resting against the headboard staring at the pictures on the walls, one of his hands tapping on his thigh above the sheets. His eyes were drawn to her as soon as the doors opened, his shoulders slumping in relaxation as he realised it was just Y/n.

"The bard not win and persuade you into his bed for the night?" Geralt spoke, voice rough and grainy from tiredness.

"Couldn't risk him falling in love with me" she spoke, teasing.

"Hmm, am certain he already is Princess" he grunted. She moved closer to the empty side of the bed, Geralts eyes following her. She mirrored his position, however say above the covers, resting against the head board.

"Is that right?" She asked, an eyebrow raised as she waited for his response.

"He wrote a song about you" he stated.

"Well maybe I made the wrong choice, maybe I should go to his room, pay him a visit he won't forget" she spoke making a move to stand up. It was all teasing, she wasn't actually going to leave the room. Geralt’s hand stopped her, taking hold of her shoulder and pulling her back.

"'No." He said gruffly.

"No?"

"You heard me" he said "you're staying here"

"Why? Want me all to your self?" She smirked.

"Y/n-" he said, his tone turning serious, she could feel the scold coming back on, the tone that made her feel like a child being told off, put back in their place.

"What- do you not- " she spoke, stumbling over her words. "It's just Jaskier said-"

"What did Jaskier say?" Geralt asked, a sudden spike of anger.

"It doesn't matter- I just, I thought earlier, the way you looked at me when Jaskier asked me that question- you know about me being-"

"A virgin" he spoke watching her give a small nod, avoiding looking at him.

"You don't have to listen to him. There's no rush, no pressure- you shouldn't just do it with anyone-"

"You do, Jaskier does" she pouted.

"Yes. But you are not us, you are a princess, that's comes with consequences."

"Yes but if I want something then shouldn't I explore that possibility? That pathway it may lead me down?" she asked.

Geralt sighed. "You don't know what you want Y/n" he spoke, his tone turning soft, he knew the effect his words would have on the stubborn girl, she wouldn't like to hear it.

"And how do you know what i want?" She glared at him.

"I've seen the same situation hundreds of times" he said.

"Well right now I know what I want" she said defiantly.

"Prey tell" he grunted.

"You".

------------------------------------- ---------------------------------

She almost cringed as she thought of her words admitting something like that to a Witcher of all people. She must have been crazy to show that much vulnerability to someone like him. Someone who didn't care for others emotions. Let alone reciprocate.

------------------- ----------------------- ---------------------------

"You don't" Geralt’s response was blunt, harsh on the tip of his tongue and he knew they would hurt her.

"I do" she spoke sitting up, moving closer to him. He stopped her with a hand.

"I can't return your affections" he spoke, he had made his tone purposely blank, a way of warning her before she tried to push any further. Because Geralt knew how easily he could give in to Y/n.

"I don't care- I just want to know how it feels- what if I die tomorrow or the day after that- then I'll die never knowing the touch of another-" she didn’t know why she had suddenly become so - so desperate. That wasn’t like her at all and she knew it but couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

"You're not going to die" he spoke rolling his eyes at her dramatic speech.

"You don't know that" she huffed. "I'm sure Jaskier wouldn't say no to me" Geralt sighed again, was she really playing that card?

But the thought of her leaving his room to retreat to Jaskiers made him move his grip from her hand to her waist, instinctively squeezing it. She gave him a smug smile knowing she had won. Gritting his teeth he spoke.

"This will change everything"

"It will change nothing, I swear" she replied forehead resting against his. He closed his eyes briefly before opening then, gold meeting silver.

-------------------- ------------------------------- -----------------

Y/n was approaching the nearby village, an Elven doctor meeting her at the entrance with a smile.

“you must be y/N?” He spoke with a kind voice. “I am Chiredan. I was asked to meet you here and escort you to an Inn for the night.”

“how's Jaskier?” she asked eager to know before realising she was being rude by not greeting him back. “Sorry, that was rude of me” she said. “It’s nice to meet you”

“It is understandable” he spoke kindly again. “Your friend will be okay. He is in a deep sleep that was practiced by the sorcerer. He should wake soon, Geralt of Riviera told me to keep you away until tomorrow where I will escort you to the house.”

“Oh- well thank you” she spoke softly, she was angry that she couldn’t go and see them straight away , but that wasn't Chiredan’s fault.

The village was small, quiet and not very entertaining as Y/n spent the time alone in her hired room in a small inn. The only sounds were from the laughter and chatter from the towns people, drinking their way into the weekend, a joyous song ringing throughout, yet Y/n couldn’t find any joy in it.

She didn’t like being left so in the dark about her friend. She just wanted to see him to make sure he was okay. Maybe she shouldn’t have trusted Chiredan so easily, she didn’t know him- maybe he had taken Jaskier and Geralt and they were in need of actual help from her.

She didn’t sleep the whole night, worry keeping her head racing and anxiety ringing through her entire body making her restless.

Morning took forever to come. She was already up and waiting outside of the Inn, watching the sun rise from a dark blue to a pinky sky before setting into a blue mist of cloud, a chill taking over the lands.

“Good morning Y/n” Chiredan’s chirpy voice made her jump from where she had been staring across the cobbled streets.

“Oh- sorry, good morning.” she replied distractedly.

“I can take you to your friends now, it’s safe”

“thank you” she spoke, jumping up with an energy she didn’t have before. She untied her horse and Jaskiers, handing one too Chireadan to take when he offered.

They walked the paths in silence, it didn’t take too long to reach the destination. A gasp coming from the man next to her as they came to a stop.

Y/n looked at him to see he was focused on the house infant. She turned to examine it, seeing the entire upstairs of it had caved in, rubble and dust littering the surroundings, cobbles of rock still rolling across the floors.

“Jaskier” Y/n called aloud, spotting the bard from across the yard. He was looking through a window his face pale as he desperately searched for something or someone.

But Y/n’s voice broke him out of his concern, his head whipping to the sound of her, she had reached him by the time he looked, Y/n bounding into him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck, squeezing him to her in relief.

“I'm so glad you’re okay” she spoke into his shoulder, His arms automatically reached around her waist, hugging her with the same amount of strength, happy that he was near her. He always felt grounded with her around.

“where's Geralt?” she asked with a sudden panic, staring at the house in fear.

Was he in there? Was he hurt?

Jaskier pushed her behind him slightly as he continued to look through the glass, wanting to make sure nothing would suddenly appear and hurt her. Y/n edged forward at the same time as Chireadan, all three of them squinting to look through the cracked glass.

Y/n wished she didn’t, gasping as her eyes landed upon him. In plain view of everyone, Geralt was on the floor, fucking whom Y/n assumed must be the sorceress.

She backed away, yanking Jakier’s arm with her and turning to the horse to find them food, anything to distract herself from the image she was repeatedly trying to blink away.

She took a shaky breath, her heart clenching as she tired to breathe properly.

She guessed she shouldn’t have been so surprised. She had been told; A Witcher does not feel.

Tags: @sdavid09 @c-s-stars @bitcheswithbrokenhearts @fandomhell97 @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @tdntu0 @soulmatelove96 @saelwen-the-shy-elf @momc95 @kingniazx @diab1a @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @marvels-gurl @kathhdd @didi0666 @anotherweirdoontheinternet @Mary-ann84 @intoanothermind @awkwardcat16 @marvels-gurl @lovepandasloves @spiro-nagnew @randomzxx @germansarechill @comfortingcreature @namelesslosers @lovelifedaniela @p3nny4urth0ught5 @5sospenguinqueen @mgc-its-easy-as-123 @haleysucks00 @alwayshave-faith @ohyesmarvel @girrafeeeeeee @wiseeggspickleslime @starkspn-marvel2 @p-writes @fiftyshadesofrebel @20hannahbear01 @shondlenoodle @ashleighrebekah

soz if I missed anyone xx

#geralt x reader #geralt imagine #Geralt of rivia imagine #Geralt smut #Witcher iagine #Witcher smut #Henry Cavill imagine #Henry Cavill smut

936 notes · View notes

greywritesfics · 4 years

Text

Game Plan

Overview: What you thought was supposed to be a group outing with your friends turned out to be a surprise (planned) one-on-one with your crush.

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x Reader

Word Count: 1370

Genre: Scenario, Fluff

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a minute, and I finally said fuck it-- Midoriya. I might have really done sum y’all 👀 Anyways, thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy! 💗

“Oh,” you pause in your steps, eyes widening. “Deku? It’s only you?” you asked outside of the diner your friends had claimed to meet up for the weekend, only to find Izuku patiently waiting and scribbling away at one of his hero notebooks.

“(Y-Y/N)! You’re here already?” Rubbing onto your forearm, you nodded. Maybe you came too early? But Mina texted you to meet up here at 12pm, and it’s 12:05. Besides, Midoriya is already here, so you can’t be too early, right?

Said male must’ve noticed your internal conflict; being the observant male that he is, he picked up on the slight furrow of your brows and the way you shifted under his gaze. He probably made you uncomfortable with his statement. That was the last thing he wanted to do! “I mean, it’s not a bad thing that you’re here! I’m glad you are-- of course, we’re glad you’re here, especially when the rest of them come. I don’t mind waiting, a-as long as you want to!” Izuku stumbled over his words, internally cursing his nerves whenever you graced him with your presence.

You silently watched him, the slight hue of pink adorning his freckled cheeks, darkening the longer you peer into his glistening emerald eyes. The corner of your lips slightly tugs upwards, finding his tangent to be sort of endearing. “I can call Mina and ask where she and the others are?” you mentioned quietly, his lips shutting hastily as he abruptly stops talking. Giving you a slight nod, you pull your phone out, calling Mina and putting the phone on speaker, walking closer to the greenette so he can hear.

“Hello?” the voice beyond your small device sounds deep and groggily.

“Hey, Mina? Did you just wake up?” you playfully inquired with bright eyes, the slightest bit of hopefulness peeking through your irises as you waited for her response. The thought of spending more time with Midoriya, only the two of you, sent a zoo rampaging through your chest with excitement or nerves, probably both. Your eyes quickly flutter to the male beside you. He must’ve noticed you staring because the jade of his eyes flicker to you, the corners of his large eyes crinkling into his gorgeous eye-smile.

“Ah,” you squeak, turning back to your phone. “Deku and I are already here. We’re waiting for you guys.

“Oh,” you swore she said ‘perfect’ under her breath but dismissed the ridiculous thought. “Wonder why you two are so early. I texted you two, saying to be there for 1:30.” You squinted at your phone. You were sure she texted you for 12, no, you were positive, you even double-checked when you woke up this morning. “But that’s fine! You two can just wait for us at 2:00!”

“2:00? But you just said 1:30.”

“Oh well, would you look at the time! We’ll be there for 3:00!” With a squeal, Mina ended the call, and you two were left staring at the black of your screen. Still trying to grasp onto what the hell just happened and what time everyone was supposed to meet up; was it 1:30, 2:00, or 3:00? Suddenly Midoriya speaks up.

“W-we can walk around for now until they come. O-only if you want to! No pressure!” He blurted, trying to find anything to weasel out of the awkward silence that fell over the two of you.

With a downturned head, you mumbled a ‘sound good.’ That’s why the two of you began your afternoon walk around town, side by side. You two fell under a comfortable silence after asking about each other’s day yesterday. A gentle wind rustled his curly green hair, and his green eyes reflected the glare of the sun, making them almost glow. Biting your lip, your eyes darted from him, saving yourself the embarrassment of being caught staring again.

It was then you realized that the two of you ended up near your favorite shop. Without a second thought, you wrapped your fingers around Midoriya’s wrist, “Deku! It’s my favorite store we have to go in!” you gushed, eyes sparkling and smiling wide as you pulled him along.

Izuku’s entire face bloomed with a bright, radiant red that spread to his neck and ears. His large, viridescent eyes shot over to yours, but you were too busy pushing the door open and basking in the store’s comfortability. It had everything you could ask for: clothes, accessories, and food.

The glinting of silver caught your attention.

Walking toward the jewelry as if you were under a trance, you picked up the thick metal ring—the flustered boy following close behind.

“Deku, I think these would be perfect on you.” With your palm turned outward, obediently, Midoriya held out his hand to you, curious as you slid the ring over his scarred finger. “And these too,” you mumbled mindlessly, placing more onto him.

When you finally finished, you marveled at your artwork, rubbing your fingers over his, feeling the cold metal against his scorching and clammy skin.

Wait.

You froze, hand in hand, peering up into wide eyes and freckled cheeks lighting up with the darkest dusting of pink you’ve seen so far. “S-sorry,” you apologized with a shy smile gracing your lips, exhaling a nervous chuckle, hoping you hadn’t just made things awkward by holding your crush’s hand. His sweaty fingers twitched against your own, momentarily mesmerized by the feeling of your digits around his before they slowly unwrapped from him.

“No, it’s fine!” You blinked at him as he blurted out, grasping back onto your fingers, interlocking them. Izuku blushed wildly, realizing that he’d just gotten way too ahead of himself. He must have sounded so desperate right now!

“T-they look good. This is good,” he said, but his irises were locked onto your woven hands.

You don’t know if it was the comfortable atmosphere or the way Izuku’s eyes shimmered with beautiful greenery, but you had the sudden urge to confess, and so you do.

“I like you, Izuku.” Squeezing your clammy hand around his, you avoided eye contact.

“I like you, too, (Y/N). I cherish our friendship.”

“Oh…” You deflated slightly, and Midoriya saw your disappointed expression. Friendzoned. “Yeah, me too,” you sigh, pulling your hand from his grasp and turning away. The possibility of your relationship with the male sunk faster than you could have imagined, feeling like the biggest idiot for even thinking that he may feel the same way.

He was blushing! But he does that with everyone, you knew that. So why did you think--

The gears started turning in Izuku’s head as he helplessly watched you make your way to the exit.

“Wait!” He suddenly called out.

You stopped, a bit startled by his sudden outburst, completely forgetting that he was still there, and overwhelmed with your solemn thoughts. You turned around, swallowing the knot in your throat.

“Yes?”

Izuku gulped, feeling his palms sweat.

“W-well… I-- um…” he started, feeling his cheeks flush a dark crimson red. “I-I like you too,” he declared, deciding to force it all out at once. “I thought when you said you liked me, you were talking about our friendship. I never imagined you to confess to me. Although I hoped-- dreamed that you would… I never thought it would come true.” Midoriya shut his eyes tightly, holding his breath as he braced himself. Maybe you’d reject him now for hurting you, or his confession opened your eyes that you don’t actually like him.

You blinked, jaw slack, as you processed this new information before wrapping your arms around him, surrounding his stiff form in a tight hug, completely forgetting about your surroundings.

“I’m so glad,” you whispered, tightening your arms around him.

“Y-you are?” He croaked, his wide emerald gaze flickering to your lips without thinking, feeling his mouth go dry, and your eyes doing the same.

“Can I help you two with anything?” the worker appeared, startling the two of you and parting hastily.

When the two of you arrived at the diner hand-in-hand, one glittering with fingers full of rings. You can imagine the sound of relief exhaled from their lips as their plan to get the two of you together worked.

A/N: I now cannot stop thinking about how fine Deku would actually look with rings 😳 and I’m not even a Midoriya simp y’all 🙈

Taglist: @succulent-momma (shoutout to this beautiful baby for wanting to be tagged on every single one of my works, I love you 🥺)

66 notes · View notes

pacific-rimbaud · 3 years

Text

Drabble #39: "Hey! I was gonna eat that."

by PacificRimbaud for @grangerdangerfics

Rated M for language and sexual references

Pairing: Pansy Parkinson x Michael Corner

Tags: High School AU, Non-magical AU, discussion of teen sex

"Cocoa Puffs. Nice."

Michael, folded in half and pushing a half-gallon carton of Minute Maid aside to grab the milk, stood up quickly, cracking the top of his head on the ceiling of the refrigerator.

"Shit!" The gallon jug of milk hung from the index finger of one hand, and he rubbed the top of his scalp with the other.

He'd entirely forgotten that it had been Spirit Day, but he was reminded of it by the sight of Pansy closing his sliding back door behind herself, her twiggy legs poking out from the ass-grazing hem of her cheer skirt.

"Can you knock?" he asked, pulling the plastic seal from the cap of the milk. "Is that something you've got stashed away in your grossly under-tapped skill set? Or do you just do pom poms now?"

"Mom says I don't have to." She parked herself on the bar stool Michael had intended to sit on at the kitchen island.

"My mom or your mom?"

"Your mom."

He sat down at the opposite end of the bar, reached over to hook a fingertip into the edge of the bowl of Cocoa Puffs sitting in front of Pansy, and dragged it across the counter toward himself.

An enormous bow, purple with white polka dots, sat at the top of her head, crowning her blunt black bob. Her eyelids were shaded to match. Michael thought he smelled artificial grape, and wondered if it was her lip gloss.

"Why are you in my house, Minnie Mouse?" He poured milk over his cereal, then walked back to the fridge to put it away. Bent over again, he heard the distinctive sound of ceramic scraping across granite, and turned around to find Pansy with his bowl back in front of her and his spoon in her hand, chewing earnestly.

"Hey.” He gestured pointlessly at the bowl. “I was gonna eat that."

She waved at him. "Move on. I have a favor to ask you."

Michael pulled another bowl from the cupboard. "You mean besides letting you eat my cereal?"

She nodded, jamming a spoonful into her grape-flavored mouth.

"I need you to start fucking me after school."

Michael froze.

"Excuse me?"

As she waved her hand again, he fixated on her gleaming purple manicure. Each of her nails was a completely smooth oval.

"It's perfect. I checked, and cheer practice lines up almost exactly with robot group–"

"Robotics club."

"Fucking Legobots clubhouse, and mom doesn't get home until 6:15."

"My mom or your mom?"

"My mom. Your mom gets home at 5:45, so that’s another half an hour at my house, which we might need, I don't know. Anyway, like I said, you're right next door, it's perfect." She took another bite of Michael's cereal.

Carefully, deliberately, he set his new bowl down at his new spot at the island, and sat down.

Slowly, methodically, he filled it to the brim with Cocoa Puffs.

“Is this like a fake dating thing? Are you trying to get Draco back by pretending we’re sleeping together or something?”

Pansy shook her head. “No. It’s the opposite of that. We’re going to have real sex, but no one will know about it. And I’m still not talking to you at school.” She’d finished chasing the last globes of cereal around in her milk, and grabbed the box to top off her bowl.

Michael could feel himself glitching.

“Sex.”

“Yes, Michael.”

“With me.”

“Yes, Michael.”

He rebooted. “Why me?”

“It just makes sense. We’ve already seen each other naked,” she said. “Taken baths together. Slept in the same bed.”

“Yes, when we were two.”

He thought about the photo albums on the shelves in the TV room, and the series of photographs taken of her and Michael standing in a plastic pool in the backyard, arms looped around one another’s shoulders, wearing nothing but My Little Pony and Spider-man underpants, respectively, Michael squinting in the sun, Pansy in pink star-shaped plastic sunglasses, tongue out and hip cocked to one side.

“You can sleep with literally any guy at school. And not to be an asshole, like, get it, for sure, but my understanding is that you kind of do.”

She turned toward him with a look of unfiltered excitement and pointed the bowl of her spoon at him. “That’s exactly it. I don’t. But Cassius—”

“Cassius Warrington?”

“Mm hm.”

Cassius Warrington had graduated two years earlier, and now played college football in a very high-profile way.

“I’ve been texting with Cassius, and Daphne was messing around and said something to his sister who told Graham Montague who told Cassius that I’m incredible.”

Michael blinked. “Incredible at having sex?”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you...not?”

“No! I’ve never done it.”

He looked down into the detritus of cereal powder floating in his now-brown milk, and suddenly short on appetite, dropped his spoon in his bowl.

“But I thought you and Draco, you know, for what, three and a half years…?”

He wondered why he’d felt the need to specify the half.

“His parents are so weird about all that purity stuff. He went down on me constantly, but that’s as far as it went. But no, I haven’t had intercourse.”

“So...you’re asking me to have intercourse with you, so you can have intercourse with your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend yet, but basically, yes.”

Michael suddenly felt defensive.

“Why would you think I’d want to do this?”

Pansy stared at him, then waved a hand down the length of her body.

She was all soft, flawless skin and dark hair and big eyes and long legs and…

Michael breathed out.

“Because I’m me,” she said. “And you get intercourse, Michael. Until I’m good at it.”

“Isn’t that a big deal, though? Like don’t you want to have feelings with whoever you have sex with for the first time?”

“That’s exactly the problem. What do you think of when I say ‘virginity’?”

“I mean, it’s a social and not a biological construct, and there are some pretty gross gender disparities—”

“Exactly. That’s why you’re perfect. I don’t want some guy who thinks putting his dick in me is the equivalent of typing ‘First!’ in the comments.”

“And you think Cassius will be? Why date him then?”

“He’s 6’5”. But you’re an analytical nerd, you’re fucking hot, you’re definitely not going to tell anyone, you’re single—”

“What makes you think I’m single?” He paused. “You think I’m hot?”

She only rolled her eyes. “And yes, the double standards are unbelievably fucking annoying,” she said. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Have feelings the first time?”

He swallowed, and pushed the cereal further away.

“I haven’t done it either.”

Pansy and her grape lip gloss stood up abruptly from the bar stool.

He wasn’t tall, exactly, and she wasn’t short, exactly, but when she and her tiny skirt stepped between his parted knees, something about the way she was still a little shorter than him while he was sitting down triggered a rush of adrenaline, and his gut promptly became a thriving butterfly preserve.

“Are you―what, like, right now?” he asked.

He’d been steadily leaning toward saying yes, but if he did, there was a lot of research he’d want to do between now and the actual opening ceremonies.

“No, fucking dork.” Pansy rolled her eyes, and patted her hands against his knees. “My parents are out of town next weekend, and Cassius is gone for an away game, so he’ll be too busy to text.” She smiled, and it was something less like the Cheshire smirk she flashed at her friends across the quad, and more like the way she used to look when they tore open their first Otter Pops in Michael’s back yard every summer, until they’d turned twelve and both moved on.

“We’re going to be so bad,” she said. “But that’s fine.”

“I hope not. I mean...if we...I’d try. Obviously. To not be bad.”

“It’s not like AP Calculus.”

“No, I don’t imagine it’s anything like AP Calculus.”

Michael glanced at her mouth, glistening and faintly purple, and Pansy’s eyes widened.

Fuck it, he thought.

He settled one hand at her hip and the other at the back of her neck, and then he kissed her.

They separated a full minute later, both breathless.

Oh, Michael thought.

“Oh,” she said.

“Next weekend?” he asked, hand tightening over her hip. “Like, what time?”

“I guess...” She stared at Michael’s lips, and her hips tilted forward. “Whenever.”

Oh, fuck.

#Pansy Parkinson #Michael Corner #ParKorner #slytherclaw #drabble

31 notes · View notes

baby-grayson · 4 years

Text

Kind Stranger| Part 2|GBD

Read Part 1 Here

Word Count: 2.8k (teeny tiny)

Trigger Warning: quarantine talk Tags (Thank you to the amazing dumpling that taught me how to do this!!): @evergreendolan @someonetogray @vintagedolan A/N: Thank you to everyone who gave me their thoughts on the first part. Please let me know what you think on this one, I love getting any kind of feedback.

Grayson opened his eyes as the earliest rays of sunlight trickled in through his window. He pushed himself out of his bed and began his morning routine in a daze: half asleep as he brushed his teeth and found a clean pair of underwear. His consciousness awoke during his daily piece of avocado toast, which he ate while enjoying the view from their kitchen window. In his groggy state, he left the plate at the table when he went to put a load of laundry in the washer. He took the liberty of moving Ethan’s clothes from the washer to the dryer and starting it for him.

Grayson retrieved his phone from his nightstand, opening twitter for a brief scroll. He and Ethan published their video about Ethan’s acne yesterday; twitter was not very pleased with them. Grayson’s jaw tightened as he read the accusations about him and his brother. Grayson forcefully planted his phone back on his nightstand. He ran his hands through his hair, thinking back to the long nights on the couch where he wrapped an arm around Ethan’s shoulder and consoled him through his journey towards self-love. Without opening it again, Grayson shoved his phone in his pocket before grabbing the keys to the van from on top of his dresser. Walking out of the house, he quickly scanned the entryway and living room. He stopped and went back to place his avocado toast plate into the sink, reminding himself to wash it when he got home. He scanned again, not seeing anything out of place. Silently, he wished Ethan sweet dreams from across the house and slipped out the front door.

His breath left him when he reached the shore at his favorite morning beach. His lips turned down, jaw tightening as he noticed that her footsteps laid in the sand before he arrived. “Of fucking course,” Grayson groaned softly before collapsing down to the ground. It wasn’t enough that his brother was being accused of ugly things by strangers, but he missed crossing paths with Kate for the first time in the two weeks since their nearly silent friendship started. He laid back on the sand, feeling thousands of tiny, jagged pieces creep under his shirt and into the waistband of his shorts.

For a fraction of a second, Grayson thought about grabbing his phone from his pocket and looking again at the comments. He stopped himself quickly. Taking a deep breath, he knew the best way to deal with this feeling was with Ethan by his side. Ethan grounded him. Ethan tethered him back to Earth. Ethan was the cautious, practical mind to Grayson’s own idealistic, fanciful one. Grayson thought about Ethan, at home and laying in his bed. He hoped his brother slept well and long. Poor Ethan was going to wake up to the same storm that greeted Grayson.

No, he’s not going to think about this, Grayson decided dwelling on this topic was no use without his brother. Grayson sat up, his eyes followed Kate’s footsteps all the way to the right and then all the way to the left. Why was he so excited to see her? She was just a girl. A pretty girl, sure. But Grayson had met lots of pretty girls over the years. Damn, Ethan was right…maybe Gray was getting desperate. Next thing you know, he would be writing love letters to the old lady at the grocery store check out counter.

Damning Ethan aside, Grayson was genuinely excited to see Kate. She had crossed his mind more than once during his morning drive. He didn’t know anything about her. Grayson looked down at her footprints again, the only sign that she had already crossed the shore. He squinted.

One footprint was deeper than the other. Odd. He reached over with his own thumb to make sure his eyes were not tricking him. Yup, one foot was a whole half-thumb deeper than the other. Maybe she wears weird shoes. He didn’t think long on this before kicking some sand into the footprint. He swung his shirt from his head and rested it beside him. He laid back. If he couldn’t surf, and he couldn’t talk to a pretty girl, the least he could do was work on his tan.

The sun felt good on his skin. His breathing slowed, and he found a serene inner quiet. On that early Thursday morning, on a secluded beach in Malibu, Grayson found a moment of peace.

“You’re late” He grinned, feeling his face get warm.

“I thought you already left,” he opened his eyes to be greeted by her smile. “You do realize I have to walk back to get to my car right?” she chuckled and kicked off her sandals. She laid her purse in the sand and dropped to sit beside Grayson. He noted a sweet, citrus scent as she settled down on the sand.

“I guess I didn’t think about you having a car, you kind of just appeared here every day” “That’s fair, I’m probably just a figment of your imagination.” If it wasn’t for her laugh, Grayson would have considered that a possibility. “That is a possibility,” he chuckled, “why do you come out here anyways?”

She paused for a moment. Grayson noticed the sea breeze lift her dark locks from her shoulders. “I’m new to town,” she decided on. “Being stuck in my apartment during a pandemic, when I don’t know anyone around here gets real boring, real quick.” Grayson nodded in agreement. “What about you? I’m surprised you’re here without your board.”

Grayson sucked in a soft breath against his teeth, “I like being here. I mean, I like the beach. It’s a good place to get away, have a moment.” “Wow, that’s deep dude.” She looked at him with a glossy look in her eye and her lips pursed. Grayson looked back, feeling his cheeks get warm again. She threw her head back and let out a loud laugh. “I’m sorry. Sarcasm isn’t nice,” she said with a warm smile. Grayson shook his head softly and smiled at her, “I’m down with it.” Was that cringe? It sounded cringe. “But no, I really love the beach. I guess it’s my space to not have to think about the rest of the world.” “Hm..how California boy of you,” Grayson chuckled along with her this time. She was cute, the way she poked gentle fun at him. She was silly. “So you said you’re new here? where are you from?” She started “West Philadelphia born and raised, on the playground is where I spent most of my days” Grayson joined in “Chilin out maxin relaxin all cool, shooting some b-ball outside in the hood” They shared a warm laugh. Grayson grinned as she flashed him one of her bright smiles. “But really, where are you from?” He probed. She laughed, “West Philly, born and raised. Weren’t you listening?!” They giggled together.

“That’s cool,” he responded as his smile grew wider by the second. “I’m from just over the river in New Jersey.”

“Oh, so you’re not a native California boy. So tell me— how long do I have before the water gets to me and I turn into a blonde, Instagram goddess?” There she goes again, soft pokes. Kind of like kindergarten.

“I’m not sure. I’ve been here five years and I have yet to turn into a goddess if that means anything”

She laughed, “Well it’s good to know time is on my side.” She played with the brown leather band of a simple wristwatch. She looked down at the watch face and mumbled, “shit.” She started to gather her purse and sandals from the sand and stand as she said, “I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late for…something.” She wrestled her sandals onto her feet.

Grayson felt a wave of awkwardness wash over his body. Should he offer to walk her to the car? No, that’s too much. Should he ask what she’s going to be late for? Maybe that’s a little creepy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She pushed her hair behind her ears, looking down at Grayson on the ground. “Yeah I’ll be here tomorrow.” Grayson smiled shyly, more aware of his body language now than he had been for the past half hour.

She started to walk up the beach but looked back at him, “Don’t be late! Bye Grayson” His name sounded good coming out of her mouth.

”Bye Kate!” Shit, I should have asked for her number.

Once she was out of earshot, Grayson groaned out loud and threw a rock into the ocean. He watched the tiny, smooth thing pierce through the rough, complicated ocean surface. Grayson wiped the sand off his body as he stood up and started to walk back to his van.

When Grayson arrived home, he found Ethan at the counter, in his underwear, eating some cereal and dairy free milk. “You see twitter?” Ethan commented as Grayson put his keys down. For a small moment, Grayson had forgotten about the video fiasco. For a second, he had forgotten about every part of his place on the internet. His tough but clearly upset brother brought him back to reality. Grayson moved toward the counter and wrapped a familiar arm around Ethan’s shoulders.

***********

As Grayson settled into bed, later that same day, his mom called him. His mother asked if he and Ethan were willing to fly out to New Jersey to spend the weekend with her. His mother told him that his sister was coming for the weekend and she wanted all of her kids under the same roof for a few nights. Grayson told his mom that he and Ethan would make it out to Jersey for the weekend, wished her a good night, and said he loved her. Grayson used his phone to buy two plane tickets for Friday evening: tomorrow evening.

He thought about Kate. What if he doesn’t show up on Saturday and Kate thinks he’s not interested? Or mean? Or weird? Or a flake? And deep down, in a place he wasn’t ready to touch yet, he wanted more of her. He found solace in how different she was, so grounded and natural compared to his LA lifestyle. His own slice of New Jersey on a California beach.

He wanted to go back and talk to her every day, all day, until they both lost their voices and had to draw pictures in the sand to communicate. He had yet to separate these deep feelings from his general loneliness, it had been over a year since he was more than anyone’s ‘Netflix and Chill’. Ethan had taken to calling him desperate and urging Grayson to audition for the Bachelor. He pushed these thoughts aside, not having the emotional bandwidth to process this all right now. He was going to ask for her number. People still did that right? Maybe it had been too long for Grayson…

**********

The next morning, Grayson felt the beach winds move through his loose muscle shirt. He ran a hand through his hair, still getting used to its new short form. He decided against sitting on the sand since he was not intending to be planted on the ground today.

The decision not to sit started his anxiety. He was changing their routine, what if she wasn’t okay with it? Why didn’t he think of this earlier? How long were they going to spend together? What if she was just being nice? What is it that she called herself? Yeah what if she was just being a kind stranger?

Once more, he ran a hand through his hair. He plunged both of his hands into his pockets to prevent any future hair touching. He took a deep breath in, listened to a wave break on the shore, and released the air from his lung. When he looked up, a dainty, happy figure was walking toward him. “Good Morning” she said sweetly. “Good Morning,” Grayson smiled and took his hands out of his pockets. Oh no, did he just mess up his outfit? “Would you believe this is the first time I’ve seen you standing up?” she placed a hand over her eyes to look up at his face against the light of the sun. “I promise I don’t usually spend a lot of time on my ass” Was that funny? That was supposed to be funny..

She took a moment to look him up and down. Her eyes locked on his. “I thought you’d be taller”

Grayson laughed heartily while she smiled with an accomplished look on her face. He quieted down and found a moment when they were just standing there, looking at each other. A happy Grayson let the moment hang in the air before saying, “Can I join you? I’m curious to see where this beach leads.” A half-truth. Kate smiled and nodded “Yeah, come along. But don’t be disappointed, it just leads to more beach.” Grayson already knew that, but he nodded along anyway, “Still, I feel like a walk” The pair started along the shoreline together. Grayson smelled her familiar sweet, citrus scent. He felt the sunshine down on his arms and the exposed parts of his back, energizing his entire body. Her bright eyes met his and they shared a smile. From a few yards away, they heard a peculiar, gulping noise. Grayson looked up while Kate pointed and laughed at a seagull attempting to eat an entire banana.

Once again, on that Malibu beach, early in the morning, Grayson found a rare moment of peace. He looked down, seeing his large footsteps align with her tiny ones. I should say something, I should say something. Grayson felt his face go hot again. Grayson gulped down again, shaking his palms subtly to dislodge the sweat coming to the surface of his skin. He looked down at her face, beaming brighter than the sun on that Friday morning.

Grayson looked down at their feet, watching her walk along the sand. He saw her right leg dig deep into the sand, gracefully holding her body up. Then, he saw her left leg meekly touch the surface of the sand before trading off duty to the other leg. The footprints…

“Did you hurt yourself?” Grayson gestured down to her left side.

She stiffened. Her shoulders fell back like a toy soldier; small and inviting but erect and ready. Grayson’s eyes wandered to her lips; her full pink mouth sat pursed above her chin. She let out a small breath before replying. “No…I have a bad leg.” Grayson heard the period at the end of the sentence. She was curt with her words, but not harsh. “Oh, I’m sorry…” Was he sorry for asking? Or sorry that she had a bad leg? Well, he was sorry for both, so it didn’t really matter.

She nodded softly. Silence hung in the air around them. On one side of them, the ocean crashed into the shore. On the other side, an eerily quiet LA hid behind the cliffs. “Speaking of injuries,” she broke the silence, “how’s your foot?” “It’s doing better, “Grayson noted, “I’ll probably be back on my board by Monday.” Or maybe Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday… “well if you came out looking like that, I would hate to see the other guy,” she smiled sweetly at him, “even though he’s a pebble” she held in a small giggle. “Funny you say that, I’m leaving tonight to spend the weekend with my mom. I’m worried that I might meet a mean pinecone and injure the other foot,” Grayson joked. “I’ll be here if you’re in need of anymore emergency medicine” she quipped back. “Thanks for the offer,” he chuckled. “But I’m actually going home to Jersey for a few days, so I’ll be too far away for any in person care.” Grayson swallowed hard in his throat. “Could I have your number?”

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Was that funny? Did she like it? Did she like him? Was she just being polite? Was that okay? It probably wasn’t okay. He hadn’t done this for like a year and a half. Do people still use phone numbers? What if she says no, how does he play it off? He felt a single bead of sweat dance down his neck and meander its way down his back.

She looked at him. She really looked at him. She saw the diamond embeds on his canine teeth. She saw the silver chain on his neck, sparkling in the reflection of the sun. She saw the tattoos covering his legs. She saw his muscles bulging through his tank top. He was so LA, so very LA and yet he wasn’t. And that part of him that was so not LA, made her say “Yeah, of course you can.” A/N: Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it! I would love to get feedback on the length. I prefer to write in short pieces but edit them heavily before I post them. I can write longer parts but it will take more time. Also, I know the pacing is a slow so tell me how you do/don’t like that. Thank you again for reading bb <3

#grayson dolan #graysonbailey #graysonxoc #grayson and ethan #dolan twins #fanfic #fluff #fluffy #ethan #ethan dolan

96 notes · View notes

ka-za-ri · 4 years

Note

34 and 11 please with Lucifer and Simeon.

So, I couldn’t tell if you meant Lucifer/Simeon as a pair or Lucifer and Simeon with the reader... sooo I just went with it. Took me a while to figure out how to write this with a good dynamic. A little bit of fluff, a little bit of angst, a lot of romance... I hope you like it! (unedited bc we die like heroes here) Gender Neutral Reader

_(:3 」∠)_

Part of the Two-Part Drabble Game Requests

Setting: Date gone wrong Quote: “Your hand is in my personal space. Not that I mind. Character: Lucifer and Simeon

It was supposed to be a cute little outing downtown with Simeon. It was supposed to be a well deserved break from your hectic life to unwind and spend some time with the guy you liked. It was supposed to be the perfect day out. Some lunch, some window shopping, maybe a stroll in the park and then watching the sunset together.

Supposed to be.

However, neither of you had been made aware of the festival being held in town that day. Instead of the usual bustle of a reasonably busy weekend, the streets were packed with crowds. Your senses were assaulted by all the sounds, smells and sensations that came with a festival.

At first, you wanted to ride it out, pretend it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. However, Simeon could sense your discomfort with having to deal with so many people in one place at one time. “Let’s go somewhere else.” he suggested when he noticed the way you flinched at any remotely loud, sudden sound.

You were more than happy to get out of the thick of things and to somewhere quieter. Simeon seemed to know all of the good hole-in-the-wall cafes and brought you to one of his favorites. Immediately, the warm wood finishing and the quiet chatter put you in a much more agreeable state of mind.

Simeon led you to a quiet corner of the cafe once your orders had been retrieved and placed his hand on top of yours. “Sorry I didn’t plan this day better.” he apologized, rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand. “I know how you are with crowds and I didn’t think to look…”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink and letting the familiar flavors take the edge of your frazzled nerves more. “It’s okay.” You reassured him. Though the date hadn’t gone as planned, you still got to spend some quality time with him. “I don’t think either of us really looked up if there was going to be anything going on downtown today. It’s neither here nor there.”

He smiled softly, adoring how you were still so determined to be out and about with him despite usually being an introvert. It was a rare opportunity for both of you to have time to do anything like this. Simeon didn’t have the right words to quite express just how happy he was to just have time with you. “Well, since we’re here, I think I remember there’s a pa--”

“Simeon?”

Simeon stopped mid sentence when he heard his name being called. He looked around to see who the owner of the voice was and as soon as he saw who it was, he broke out in a wide grin. “Lucy? Is that really you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Simeon scooted his seat over to allow Lucifer to join in. You stared, dumbfounded at the sudden intrusion, but didn’t question it. The way Simeon beamed and grinned when he saw this person was an expression you rarely saw. It was likely best to leave things for the time being.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it? And who might this be?”

“My partner!” Simeon stated proudly before introducing you to him.

“A pleasure to meet you. Lucifer.” The stranger greeted smoothly before pulling up a chair to join you at the table. “I hope I’m not intruding on your date together.”

“Oh, no not at all.”

It would have been rude to interject and tell him that he was intruding. You had to keep Simeon’s smile in mind. It was an expression you rarely got to see. He was usually so cool and collected, seeing him so animated was a bit of treat for you. For his sake, you didn’t want to cause a scene. Your initial date plans had been foiled anyway, it wasn’t like your day could get any worse, right?

“Lucy and I go way back.” Simeon explained. “At least two decades.”

“I think it’s a little more than that.” Lucifer chimed in. “And can you not call me that in public?”

“Okay fine Lucifer.” Simeon corrected himself. “What have you been up to these past few years? I feel like we lost all contact after you quit your last job.”

“Ah, well…”

What they had was a bond that went beyond what you could ever hope to achieve. The way they interacted and reminisced about the times they had together pushed a thorn of envy into your heart. They had all the time in the world and you had only ever occupied a fraction of Simeon’s life. It didn’t feel right to cut into their conversation as they reminisce over the past and caught up.

They pulled you into a life with them that you could never experience. The drink in your hand grew tepid as the hours went by and they continued to chat. It was almost as if you weren’t there, as if you didn’t matter. Despite being surrounded by people, it felt oddly lonely to be at that table with them. They were in their own little world and you could only imagine what it would have been like if you were with them.

For a moment, you were pulled out of the romantic moment you were having with Simeon to see him in a way you were never permitted to. This stranger and his stories about his life drew out an energy and a life no one ever got to see. It was an odd magic Lucifer had and you were equal parts grateful and envious of it.

There was something that drew even you in. Lucifer had a way with words that had you entranced and falling in love with the world he built. You could understand how Simeon seemed to be so smitten with reconnecting with him. The stories he shared were mundane yet somehow so colorful, you could imagine yourself right there with him. It put you in a comfortable lull and you didn’t mind being so quiet during the time the three of you shared.

“So what brought you out to this side of town anyway?” Lucifer asked, turning to you for a change and dragging you into the conversation.

You snapped out of your daze and blinked. Surely he was asking Simeon and not you; however, when you looked up at your partner, you were surprised to see that he too was looking at you, waiting for an answer. “Ah, well…” You laughed nervously, fidgeting with the empty cup in your hands. “We were supposed to be on a date downtown…”

“So I was interrupting something.”

“Well, no. I mean, it was too crowded downtown so we left early.” You shrugged, pretending it didn’t affect you as much as it did. Having a whole day of plans ruined more than once weighed heavily on your shoulders. But, moving the focus to yourself was selfish and rude. After all, Simeon hadn’t seen Lucifer in years, you weren’t about to break up a long awaited reunion. “It’s not a big deal. It’s probably better that we ended up here anyway.”

Lucifer hummed, tapping his finger on the table and assessing the energy between all parties at the table. “Well, I apologize nonetheless for interrupting and usurping your time. Allow me to make it up to you both.”

You learned quickly that Lucifer moved the world at his own pace and all in his wake were helpless in objecting his whims. He led the two of you out of the quiet cafe and onto the streets washed with the warm oranges of a perfect sunset. One of his hands held onto Simeon while the other near dragged you along to follow his impossibly quick gait.

He moved with a grace and a purpose you wouldn’t have expected for someone traveling so fast. You stumbled, half jogging to keep up with him. You didn’t know if you should be worried about where you were being taken. Simeon’s cheerful laugh as he was being towed behind Lucifer seemed to at least bode well.

While the scenery flashed by you and all you could do was focus on keeping up with Lucifer’s long strides and purposeful direction. You could only hope that he wasn’t about to lead you to your untimely demise. While frantically trying to match his pace, you realized that you couldn’t deny how easily this man had injected himself into your life. The way he asserted himself and dominated the pace of the day had you a little bit infatuated with him. His life beyond the little tidbits he shared at the coffee table had piqued your interest and left you yearning for more of his stories. The backdrop of Simeon’s gleeful laughing only added to his allure as it seemed like this man was the only person in the world who could pull such strong emotions out of your partner.

By the time he let the two of you stop and catch your breath, you were greeted with a grand view of the town below you. If you squinted, you could make out the rough outline of the downtown buildings where your day had begun. The sun had just sunk past the horizon and twilight washed across the city. Tiny twinkling lights from the windows illuminated the darkened residential areas, bringing the night sky to earth.

Further, the distinct whistle and pop of fireworks went off where the festival was being held. You made your way over the railing at the ledge you had arrived at and leaned against it to get the best view of the show. “Oh wow, I didn’t know this place existed.” You breathed, admiring the light show.

“Hopefully it makes up a little for the awful date this has been.” Simeon apologized softly, he reached for your hand and squeezed it softly. “It’s been a bit of a flop, huh?”

You giggled, it was impossible to be mad at him when he was so cute. Oblivious as he might be, you could forgive him for one terrible date. “Well, really, you have to thank your friend for saving it.”

Simeon tilted his head and looked at Lucifer who had joined you at the railing and mouthed a quick thanks in his direction. Lucifer only shrugged, waving it off as if he did things like this on a regular basis.

While they had their little silent exchange, you let your emotions stew. You were being unreasonably selfish wanting to keep Simeon in your life while also getting to know Lucifer better. The two of them had a chemistry you couldn’t deny and if all things didn’t work out in the end, you reasoned it would only bring them together while you made a graceless exit out of their lives. Perhaps it was the overall romantic ambience that emboldened you to go for it.

You tried to be subtle, but you were sure Lucifer was the kind of person who took note of everything that happened around him. Before you could reach out for him, you felt his fingers pull your hand closer to his, lacing themselves in between his own and securing your palm against his.

“Uhm… Excuse me, your hand is in my personal space….” You paused, averting your gaze and trying not to be too flustered about it. “Not that I mind…” You mumbled the last part as the boom and crackle of the fireworks drowned out your words.

One hand held the love of your life, the other held the hand of an alluring stranger who had an impossibly strong pull. Between them, you were torn and impossibly selfish, wishing you could have both in your lives. The show was dying down and before it ended, you knew you had to make a choice.

“So, Lucifer.” You started, finally gathering up enough courage to look him in the eye. “How about you come over for dinner sometime?”

“That sounds lovely, I would be honored to join you.”

Behind you, Simeon leaned to the side, catching his old friend’s eyes. He grinned from ear to ear, winking knowingly and squeezed your hand in reassurance.

Perhaps the date wasn’t a total flop after all.

#Simeon x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Simeon x Lucifer #Simeon x Lucifer x Reader #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Simeon #obey me fanfiction #my writing #requests #Anonymous #Happy sunday #I have never had a single coherent thought in my life

60 notes · View notes

squeeneyart · 4 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 7

AO3

Beta read by @thesnadger who does a great job

Tim and Martin sit out the nausea.

Martin talks to himself.

“You sure you don’t want to head home for the day?” Tim asked, picking at the grass beside him. He and Martin sat with their backs pressed against the cliff railing, facing away from the steep drop. The lighthouse loomed in front of them, barely casting a shadow as morning ticked closer to noon.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Martin replied. He rested his arms on his knees, his chin buried into the fabric of his coat sleeves. “I don’t really feel like walking down the hill yet? I’ll at least wait for the others to get back.”

“Well, they should be here soon, unless the place Simon pointed us toward is yet another weird building that makes you feel like you’re falling into a big hole.” Tim squinted up at the sky and immediately seemed to regret it, leaning forward to drop his face between his knees. “Ugh, the Fairchild place was almost as bad as here. I’m surprised we survived the walk back down. If we didn’t have someone leading us out, we’d probably be swallowed up by the carpet! Sorry to say, but I think your whole town is fucked. Or any place owned by the weird old guy club, I guess.”

Martin grimaced. “I don’t get how Jon and Sasha seem so unbothered by it. If it were just me, I’d chalk it up to stress or something, but, well.”

Tim nodded in solemn understanding. “‘But, well’.’” He lifted his head and squinted in the sunlight. “It could be they’re faking it and I’m the only one willing to ‘fess up. If that’s the case, they’ve been really good at pretending their stomachs haven’t been dropping straight into the sea all weekend. But, between you and me, Jon can’t act for shit.”

Martin’s shoulders bobbed with silent laughter. “He seems very easy to read, yeah.”

“Oh yeah, I don’t think he’s ever successfully lied in his life, unless you count avoiding a subject altogether.” Tim smiled and leaned back against the railing, brushing a hand over his hair. “Glad you two are getting on, by the way. I’m sure Sasha already talked to you about it, but the turnaround really was impressive. I was concerned he’d just be pissy this whole week over some spilt tea.”

Martin buried the bottom of his face a degree further into his coat. “Please don’t remind me. Anyway, I’m sure having something weird to chase after helped. Means this place wasn’t a total waste of time for you.”

“Hey, it wasn’t gonna be a total waste. I can’t speak for him, but I for one love to make new connections.” He waggled his eyebrow, making Martin snort and turn a brighter shade of red. “Really, though, you’ve been a lot of help. If the walk home is that bad, you should just stay up where the sun actually hits for a while. None of us will mind if you hang around, and I need someone here to prove that my dizzy spells aren’t just me being ridiculous.”

Martin’s mouth sunk into a frown. “No, once they get back I’ll head home. Lunch won’t make itself.”

“What, don’t want to grab something with us nerds?” Tim asked, smiling broadly.

“N-No, I just, y’know, I bought groceries yesterday, and if I eat out too much, I’ll end up wasting some of it, and-” Martin searched for more excuses that wouldn’t bring his mother into the picture and failed.

Tim scrunched his eyebrows together in thought, then took out his phone and asked, “What’s your number?”

“What?”

“Your mobile? In case we need to reach you. And so I can send you dumb shit in my down time that I’ve already sent to Sasha.”

For a moment, Martin sat in stunned silence. “Um. Okay?” He said, his voice cracking in the most embarrassing way possible. Then, slowly, he took an old phone out of his coat pocket, technically a smart phone but just barely. They exchanged numbers, and Martin stared at the new contact before slipping the phone back into place.

“There, now you’re stuck with me. I’ll keep you updated if Sasha and Jon do in fact decide to do something stupid that gets us all disappeared. Speaking of,” Tim said, shading his eyes with a hand. “Here they come now, and Jon looks especially irritated.” They both stood up, grasping at the railing and sharing a weary look.

“Come on, guys,” Sasha yelled from the bottom of the steps. “Break time’s over.”

Back inside, the four of them sat around the table. From the looks on their faces, Jon and Sasha had been disappointed by their short venture. “So, how are you two doing?” Sasha asked. “How’s the nausea?

“Oh, just fine. We can almost get up without losing breakfast.” Tim said. “How was the place?”

Jon crossed his arms. “Unsurprisingly, Simon Fairchild sent us to an inaccessible piece of private property owned by the Lukas family. We couldn’t even get anyone to come to the door. For now, it may be a dead end.”

“I could try to get Peter to let us in?” Martin suggested with little enthusiasm.

Sasha looked at his obviously pained expression and shook her head. “No, bad idea. Simon was pretty clear on Peter not knowing we went to his home. I’d guess that extends to any of us going into this other place. If what you said happened back at the house is true, I don’t want that kind of risk. We’ll have to try it later and hope for an answer.”

Martin let out a relieved sigh and stood. “Good, good idea. I’ll be going then. I guess if you need me for… questions? Updates? Tim has my number.”

Sasha raised her eyebrows at Tim in amusement, while Jon rolled his eyes and scowled. With a lopsided smile, Tim shrugged and said, “What? The guy lives at the bottom of the world. We can’t drag him up and down that hill all day.”

Perhaps quicker than necessary, Martin excused himself and walked out of the building. The last bit of conversation he heard was Jon complaining about a lack of workplace professionalism, followed by Tim making a mocking comment that Martin couldn’t quite hear.

Once he had walked a little ways away, he relaxed. They really did balance each other out, the three of them. He could imagine Sasha breaking them apart in a little while, then getting them on task like before.

His hand brushed against the phone in his pocket, and he felt a little pang in his throat. He pushed the sensation down. Chances were, they wouldn’t need to call him, and it would be best to pay as little attention to his phone as he always had.

After the usual walk home, Martin approached his mother in front of the television. There was one of her Christian programs playing, the kind with the television preacher. “Hi, Mum.”

“You took much longer than usual,” she said stiffly. He could see her attempting to swallow and went toward the kitchen.

“Sorry, work ran long today. I’ll get lunch going.” He began to look through the fridge, considering his options.

“I’m not hungry. Just want a glass of water,” she said, her voice hoarse. Martin winced.

“One second.” He quickly filled a glass from the tap and brought it to her. “You will need to eat something to get your medication down. I’ll make something for both of us and we’ll see how you’re feeling then.”

She huffed in response, taking a sip of water and clearing her throat. Once food was ready, she did eat enough for her medication and then some, setting Martin at ease.

“It’s sunny today, if you’d like to sit out front,” he suggested after cleaning up the tray in front of her. She sniffed and otherwise stayed silent. “Okay… let me know if you change your mind. The fog even cleared out a bit-”

“I am not going outside today.”

“Okay.”

Martin left her alone and went back to the kitchen and set some chicken in the fridge to defrost. His future self would thank him later, he thought, and he went upstairs to figure out the rest of his Sunday.

The first order of business was to lay down and sleep for a while. Two busy mornings in a row and he was exhausted, the muscles in his legs finally catching up to all of the extra walking. As he lay down, he thanked his walls, bed, and windows for staying in place and gently drifted off to sleep.

Several hours later, Martin woke to find the sun had retreated back behind clouds and a familiar layer of fog. He reached for his phone on the bedside table to check the time. 4:30 pm. It was almost time to get dinner started, but before he could move to set the phone down, he saw there was text notification. Without his glasses, he had to squint and hold the phone close to his face. The brightness stung his eyes. The messages were from about fifteen minutes ago.

Tim: hey Tim: what do these weird knobs and buttons do anyway

Attached was a distorted photo, apparently of the upstairs console in the lighthouse.

“Shit,” Martin mumbled, tapping out an answer.

Martin: dont know, peter never told me. work the lighthouse i guess, make sure the big light is running. Martin: also what does all the static mean

Almost immediately, he got a response.

Tim: is that how lighthouses work? Tim: means its weird shit. weird shit hates digital

Martin: its the only lighthouse ive ever worked in, your guess is as good as mine Martin: oh good

No response came for a bit, and Martin took the pause to get out of bed. Halfway down the stairs, his phone buzzed.

Tim: update, stairs still bad Tim: arseholes who don’t get spooky vertigo club

Attached was another photo, still fuzzy, this time of Jon and Sasha walking ahead with Tim’s hand just barely in frame, clutching the rail. Jon was looking at the camera with a stern expression, his mouth open in the middle of saying something. Martin laughed quietly and continued walking.

In the time it took to prepare the chicken for baking, his phone vibrated in his pocket a few times. With his hands coated, there was no way to check until he slid the chicken into the oven twenty minutes later.

Tim: dont think anything stupid will happen tonight Tim: no one’s gotten too desperate yet but tomorrow is a new day Tim: will let you know if we end up getting arrested in the middle of the night for trespassing tho

Martin: haha, very funny

Tim: give it until tuesday

Martin’s eyebrow twitched, unsure of how seriously to respond.

Martin: please dont get me fired?

Tim: no promises! ;)

It felt like a lighthearted enough response to put Martin at ease. Tim liked joking. Martin knew that by now. If Tim was saying it, then it was a joke. Plus, it was clear Sasha and Jon were very by-the-books. If Jon would lecture Tim about texting, he certainly wasn’t the type to do anything illegal.

Still, the number of times Tim had joked about it made Martin irrationally nervous. That and Simon being cryptic and threatening. And the buildings trying to make him sick. And Jon-

Sliding his phone into his back pocket, Martin distracted himself with preparing the rest of their dinner. It wasn’t the time to spiral. He had chicken in the oven and vegetables to steam.

Dinner was made and eaten within the hour, and Martin’s phone stayed silent for the duration. When his mother asked to go outside after dinner, he did his best not to be outwardly irritated at her change of mind and did as she requested, covering his face to protect himself against the night wind.

It wasn’t until later when he had just about settled down for bed that Martin checked his phone, under the pretense that he was setting his alarm for the morning. There were no unread messages, so he set his phone down onto the side table to charge.

The fog rolled outside his window, illuminated by the weak light of the front porch. When sleep eventually took him, he dreamed of nothing.

When 6 am came, Martin found himself in an empty lighthouse. Under his arm was the expected box of documents he was to work with for the week, which he set on his desk. He then dragged his chair back over from the folding table, which was still littered with loose papers and three used mugs.

“Right, right. Library day. They could’ve at least remembered to clean up a bit.” Martin brought the dirty dishware to the kitchen and placed them in the sink to soak, then looked around for something clean to use for himself. He managed to find a kitschy one he’d always liked, with a tiny, smiling whale on the side.

“Looks like it’s just you and me.”

His voice echoed through the building, the final ‘me’ stretching on much too long.

Martin glared out into the main room. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alone, laugh it up.”

Again, the last ‘up’ lingered and drifted up the stairs, and he wanted to slap himself for walking right into that one. There was no point in talking back to a possibly haunted building.

He settled on silently making himself some tea, then dove into the week’s work. It was mind-numbing, as expected, but after a while it grew to be calming and familiar. The weird ache in his chest gave way to distraction, and hours ticked by without interruption. Martin began to feel normal, or his version of normal before things started to be poked and prodded. Before he knew it, he had eaten lunch and was on his way to the second half of his shift.

“...up.”

Martin jumped, almost knocking over his tea. That had been his voice. Just a single noise that hung in the air with no echo to be heard. No, he thought, no, no, no, he was not going to take any bait in this place. He righted himself in his chair and reached for the pen he had dropped.

“Me. Up.” Even with his original tone resting in those syllables, the new sense of urgency was unmistakable.

Against every part of his brain screaming at him, he took a step toward the stairs. Before he could go any further the front door swung open.

“Hey, Martin, we’re back,” Sasha said, carrying a file folder. “We- woah, are you okay?”

Martin stopped and stared at her, his jaw clenched to the point of pain. “Um. Define okay.”

The three researchers stopped and shared a concerned look. Sasha walked over to set her things on the table. “Okay, okay, clearly something happened.”

“What’s going on?” Jon asked, looking around warily.

Before Martin could open his mouth, his voice came from above. “Up.”

Everyone froze, holding their breath for a moment. Jon was first to break the silence, his voice filled with disdain. “Good. It can record us now.”

“Up. Now.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Tim gripped Jon’s shoulder and gestured insistently to the front door. They all vacated the building and stopped on the front steps, finally letting out a collective breath.

“Have you all, um, dealt with ghosts? Directly?” Martin sat on the bottom step, rubbing his hands over each other. “Ones that take the last word you said?”

“We don’t know if it’s a ghost, but no, not personally,” Jon replied, sitting a few steps up and typing on his laptop. “Can’t say I really believe in them, either.”

Tim snorted. “Yeah, sure, definitely not a ghost in there.”

“I’m inclined to suspect something more concrete. Somehow, the lighthouse was trapping the sound of our voices. According to Martin it only used the last words he uttered, and the same happened with me. With only a few things to work with, it wouldn’t be hard to-”

“To accidentally order us up the creepy staircase of the creepy lighthouse.” Tim stood, hands in his pockets.

“If it’s using ‘me’, ‘up’, and ‘now’, what else could it say? Otherwise, there was just ‘back’ and okay’ as far as I can tell.”

They continued to go back and forth, Jon being much more stubborn about the whole thing than Martin would’ve expected from a paranormal researcher. Maybe ghosts were an especially contended subject? It didn’t seem like it from Tim and Sasha’s reactions, but Martin was out of his depth. People turning into seals was a far cry from specters and mind-bending architecture.

Still, it being a ghost sounded right. There were meaning and intent behind the words repeated back to him, he was certain of it. If that was the case, maybe there was someone or something in this place trying to talk to him. That’s what ghosts did, right? Reach out to the living?

“Then we’ll just have Martin stay outside for a bit,” Jon said, closing his laptop decisively.

Martin found himself back in the conversation. “What?”

“We’re going to try the place Simon pointed us toward again. Hopefully, we’ll be let in this time and get some answers. The library didn’t have much in terms of useful information, I’m afraid.”

Sputtering, Martin replied, “So, what, I’m just going to wait out here? I still have work to do!”

Jon stared at him and sighed. “Bring it outside then. It shouldn’t rain today, and we don’t want to risk anything now that we know something is… active. You’re sure nothing like this has ever happened?”

“No, this is... new.”

“Then the safest thing is to avoid whatever is going on. It’s for your own well-being, and since we’re probably the cause of it, I don’t want to be in the business of putting people in danger.” Jon said. Martin was at a loss for arguments and nodded. “Good. If our luck hasn’t changed, we’ll be back soon. Otherwise, I suppose Tim will text you the good news.” There was a slight, acidic turn to Jon’s voice near the end that Martin couldn’t place.

Martin pushed himself onto his feet. “Okay… good luck? I guess? I’ll go get my work, then.”

Apparently satisfied, Jon placed his laptop into its case and motioned for the other two to follow him. As they left, Tim shot Martin a worried thumbs up.

When Martin walked back inside, he stopped halfway to the desk, eyes glued to the staircase. He had told Jon he would get his things and go outside.

“Hello?” Martin waited and got no response. “If you’re a ghost, now’s the time to say so.” Still nothing. He let out a noise of frustration. “Say something? Please?”

“Hello? Up. Please?”

Taking a glance back at his desk, Martin bit his tongue and internally berated himself. No use giving the place a name to call him. He really was an idiot, he thought, creeping up the staircase as if the ghost might hear his footfalls. Why had he taught it to be polite?

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #au fanfic #selkie au #fanfic

22 notes · View notes

cautelous · 3 years

Text

There’s a clean sort of symmetry to it. The game started, truly started, in Demacia. Now, with this, the game will start anew - so what better place than here?

The Sheriff isn’t in town, yet. He’s quite sure that he’d feel it if she were, feel her eyes on his back. But everything’s changed so much in a half-decade. Perhaps she is here, has been here - ahead of schedule - and he’s simply unawares of her laying low. Yes, that must be it… She’s always punctual, after all, and so the idea of her being late is unconscionable. She appreciates a good routine, and his cards provide them to an observant eye.

He’d felt so much pride when she’d cracked his code entirely, years ago, even though it made his job harder. But the challenge is the point. He walks down the wide boulevards of the city dressed as any other Demacian would be, a smile playing across his lips. It’s a beautiful city, even though its people are tightly wound to say the least, and he lets the rhythm of footsteps and carriage-wheels on cobblestones wash over him. (He’s been here for a few days, playing local and sightseer and everything in-between.) It’s a beautiful city, and he has such big plans for it.

He has to wonder what she’s doing at this moment, hidden so far out of sight that he can’t even feel her presence. Trying to divine where he’ll strike, he imagines. She’s always been sharp when it comes to that. But he’s always been a few steps ahead, and always will be… until the day he isn’t, he supposes. That day won’t be today, though. Ideally, it never comes.

The sun will be setting soon. The show’s about to start.

—

One of the first things that someone learns about thieving is this: people are not very observant. Even when they’re supposed to be on high alert, people miss things. For example, they miss that the night shift for security at the Royal Library has one additional member. (Even if they hadn’t missed that fact, he has all the right documentation tucked away. In another life, he’d have made an excellent forger-for-hire.) People under stress are suspicious, yes, but they’re also worried about themselves - what if we don’t catch him? - and that leaves them blind. They’re looking for style, for panache, for a catburglar to cut through one of the stained-glass windows. (As if he would ever destroy something so beautiful!) They aren’t looking amongst their own ranks, they aren’t looking for the guard who’s watching how his compatriots move and memorizing their paths.

Oh, if the Sheriff were here… she’d see through his disguise in an instant, he’s certain. He’s reusing an old method that she’s quite familiar with. But she isn’t just yet, for whatever reason, and so he breaks from his patrol and ducks into the back rooms. Everyone else is keeping to their schedules, and so he keeps to his. No one should see him, unless they break from routine or he’s slow. (Neither seems particularly likely. They’re Demacian, after all, and he’s not completely out-of-practice.)

What he’s looking for is here, taken off display to be restored. He’s still rather surprised that the place has no alarms, but that’s Demacia for you. Confident in their people and moral righteousness. (And, oh, what they do to thieves! He wouldn’t want to get caught here. He wouldn’t want to get caught anywhere, if it isn’t by her.) He sweeps the beam of his handheld light across table after table as he walks through the darkened preservation rooms, looking for…

There it is. The manuscript is loosely bound in dyed leather, the pages made of vellum. He pulls his gloves on and picks it up with reverence. The founding text of a nation. The cornerstone of Demacia’s devotion to duty.

The Measured Tread.

He has no bag to slip it into, which pains him so. But he leaves a card in its place, as is his custom, and grins. Now comes the hard part. There’s a plethora of guards stationed outside. There will be some on the roof - the Sheriff knows his tricks. He shrugs off his jacket - it’s the genuine article, filched from a particularly careless security guard earlier in the day - and tucks the manuscript into the pocket he’s sewn into the inside lining. It’ll hang oddly off his shoulders, if anyone is observant enough to notice, but that hardly matters. He doesn’t expect to be making conversation.

—

It’d taken slightly longer than he expected to locate his prize, but he walks back to his patrol casually. There’s a slight dejection to his posture, just in case…

A beam of light shines directly onto his chest, and then his face. He squints into it, lips peeling back into a mild scowl - a genuine reflex. It’s bright, after all, and would annoy even the most honest guard. It certainly annoys him. Broken routine and slow. No matter, he can play it off.

“What were you doing back there?” Demacian accents are always so… blunt. Blunter still when the question is asked with suspicion.

He looks up at the other guard and blinks a few times, shielding his eyes against the light. There’s a difference in the man’s uniform. Demacians love their hierarchies. He doesn’t love his luck at the moment.

“I thought I heard something, sir,” it’s all a matter of his own voice, accent sanded away to something duller. He casts his gaze downwards, thoroughly chastised. “But no one was there. I’m sorry, sir, for having gone off my route.”

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” ah, and there’s that military rigor - he lifts his head up, expression worried, “...You’re not one of my men.”

“No, sir. I’m one of the supplemental guards. I have my written orders, if you’d permit me to get them.”

The man’s face relaxes, just a hair. “Permission granted.”

He takes the papers from his jacket’s pocket, making sure to keep his back angled away, and hands them over. There’s no fear on his face. Perhaps a little unrest - being dressed down by a superior is never pleasant, after all, and one doesn’t get used to it even after their years of conscription are over - but nothing more. He waits as the other man looks over the letter, with its official seals and signatures. (He’s quite proud of that. It’s excellent work.)

The other guard sighs and hands back the letter. “You can never be too careful. Especially in these times.”

“Indeed, sir,” he nods solemnly, waiting to be dismissed.

“Now: get back to your patrol. We’ve got a thief to catch.”

He gives one final “yes, sir” and turns his back on the guard in order to leave. His heart pounds in his chest. But there’s no shout of alarm, or even a noise of confusion. So he returns to his patrol, walking the beat for a half-hour longer, and eventually ducks out of the main entrance when its guards peel away to investigate a noise. (He’d have waited until shift change, if necessary. This is just convenient - and who expects a thief to use the front door?)

The manuscript feels like a caress against him.

—

He leaves the city via carriage. The theft hasn’t been publicized yet. (He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of the Sheriff, which is unlike her… but this is a return to form after years of silence. It’s reasonable for her to lag a step or two further behind than usual. Isn’t it?) His luggage is searched, but not well enough, and his person is left mercifully alone. There’s a few others, of course, even at this early hour, and he spends some time guessing at their pasts and presents. But his thoughts turn to The Measured Tread eventually, and he pulls it from his bag.

Oh, not the original! Gods no, does he look like an idiot? But every good Demacian (and they are all good Demacians, paragons of moral virtue, et cetera) has their own copy. Half of them have vast swathes of it memorized. He supposes that his current persona is in the other half. He flips to one of the dog-eared pages.

“A true Demacian’s heart is with his or her country. This land has birthed us. Our fields sustain our bodies and our wilderness sustains our minds. Our nation is sustained by the unbreakable bonds of brother- and sisterhood and by the fearlessness and wisdom of our rulers. To die for our cause, our nation is a high honor; to live for it is higher still.

Your countrymen are an honest lot, just as you are. They have spent their days under the same bright sun as you, their nights at the same hearths. To show devotion and love to them is to show your fealty to Demacia.”

They’re nearly at fifteen years. Five of them had been spent, regrettably, on hiatus - for her sake, for the city’s sake - but he is back now. It had been his mistake to ever leave. He’d nearly forgotten how high his heart can soar. He’d nearly forgotten how electric it feels in his mind as a plan unfolds and completes. Gods, he’d been contenting himself with nothing. (All for her, of course, all for her.)

The Sheriff’s accepted his invitation - or should he call it a proposal? - he knows she has, regardless of whether or not he’s seen her.

He wants to see her, again, once more, a thousand times more. He wants to meet her. He can hardly remember a time where he didn’t want those things. (It’s been over a third of his life, and they can both appreciate threes - all good things come in them. Lenses and letters of the alphabet and the rule of thirds and everything, everything, everything.) He has, already, many times - seeing, at the least, not meeting. Always in the guise of others.

They hadn’t spoken until he’d worn one of his oldest masks. (He’d picked his last name from a theatre marquee, back when he’d first needed one.) He, for once, wasn’t the instigator. It was by virtue of his very first name, best-forgotten thing that it was, that she’d found him. Closing old missing persons cases, she’d told him, and she’d promised to mark his as resolved.

I don’t intend to leave too much undone.

Why admit that to a stranger? (He wonders if something compelled her, just as he has been for all these years.) She doesn’t know who he is. They went out dancing on the weekends, once, twice, thrice, a few more times. He held her hands in his. He led, she followed. He’d kept his expression as that of a lovesick-lonely man (the best performances…!) and never overstepped. He’d been a fool to think it’d be enough. To think that she’d settle for a normal man, after another had stolen her heart. She needs him, all of him. Look at where she’s ended up without him.

He can’t meet her as himself, though. Perhaps once, if she’d never tracked down the unchosen name of an unwanted man, they could have truly met. But she knows his face now, and… Well. He knows how it would end. He’d gotten too close for their rules. (He supposes he has to add ‘rulebreaker’ to his list of epithets.)

The carriage hits a rough patch in the dirt road and he’s jolted out of his thoughts. There’s really no point in speculating on what could have been. It’s his fault, after all, for assuming he knew best and leaving her. He looks to The Measured Tread, rereads the line that means the most, and shuts the book.

He considers his plans. Mountaineering season starts in a month or two. He’s been preparing.

He considers his future. Their future.

He thinks he’ll buy himself a ring.

#Writing ∵ ( woven with words. )#Event ∵ ( return to form. )#Caitlyn ∵ ( see me. )

2 notes · View notes

cruelangelstheses · 4 years

Text

with quiet courage

fandom: coraline rating: G characters: coraline, wybie words: 2.1k additional tags: canon compliant, post-canon, fluff, angst, mental health issues, character study description: years later, wybie gives coraline a gift. a/n: hi, this was written for the @ethereal-zine! i just thought it would be interesting to explore the long-term effects that the whole ordeal with the other world could have on coraline’s mental health. title from “with quiet courage” by larry daehn

read it on ao3

—

Something feels...wrong.

She can’t explain it, can’t even fully comprehend it herself, but the house feels different tonight, like it’s just waiting for the right moment to pounce. Every creak sends chills down her spine. This isn’t right.

Coraline glances out the kitchen window at their garden, but finds that she can’t really see it, despite the fact that the moon is close to full, last time she checked. She raises her gaze to the sky, squinting in confusion, and her heart nearly stops at what she sees: a shadow passing over the moon in the shape of a button, holes and all.

Gasping, Coraline pushes herself away from the window, every inch of her suddenly on high alert. That’s when she hears it: a familiar metallic skittering across the floor, a sound she knows all too well.

She bolts out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaping into her bedroom and slamming the door shut behind her. Her blood rushes in her ears.

It only gives her a few moments’ reprieve before she hears the skittering again, even closer and louder than before. Coraline backs away from the door, frantically searching her room for anything she could use as a weapon. She digs underneath her pillow for the pocketknife she bought in secret a year or two ago, but inexplicably, it’s nowhere to be found. Her heart nearly stops when she sees the hand crawl in from underneath.

The hand is severed at first, but from its wrist seems to grow an arm, a torso, another arm, all made out of needles. Coraline steels herself as the Beldam materializes before her eyes.

“You are my daughter,” she hisses, as something else appears in one of her hands. “You’re going to stay with me forever.”

In one hand, she holds another needle, already threaded. In the other is a gift box, and inside it sits a pair of black buttons.

“Hold still,” the Beldam continues. Coraline tries to move, to fight, to do anything, but her whole body is suddenly frozen. “This will only hurt a bit.” She takes a step forward, needle pointing at Coraline’s face, and then—

Coraline jolts awake and sits up rapidly, trying to catch her breath. The morning light streams through her bedroom window, a reminder of where she is: not the Other World, but the real one. Reaching under her pillow, she feels for her pocketknife. She is seventeen now, but still the events of her childhood plague her dreams.

She still has her stuffed animals. Most of the time, they sit on her shelf, watching over her like guardian angels, ensuring that danger doesn’t even make it through the doorway. Sometimes, though, on nights where the house creaks more than usual, on nights where Coraline swears she can feel a sinister gaze burning into her back, she grabs a few of them and sleeps with them in her bed, holding them tight against her chest, as if they will cast a bubble around her body that protects her from any harm. Sometimes she doesn’t even sleep, just lies awake in terror for hours on end. She’s far too old to sleep in her parents’ bed, but some nights, she tiptoes over to their bedroom and cracks the door open, just enough so she can see that they’re still there, safe and sound.

Coraline loves her parents, but they don’t completely understand everything. It’s not their fault; they have no memory of being kidnapped by the Beldam, and they weren’t witness to anything else that happened that fateful year. She tried to explain bits and pieces when she was younger, but they dismissed it as a child’s wild imagination or particularly vivid dreams, and she’s not sure she can really blame them. After all, it hardly sounds believable.

She’s made some other friends at her new school, and they’re wonderful, but none of them get it, either. They don’t understand why she cringes every time they point out the tiny door that leads to nowhere when they come over to her house. They don’t understand why buttons and dolls disturb her to this day, or why when she looks at a snow globe, it always takes her a moment to register that there is nothing frightening inside of it. “Something happened to me when I was a kid,” she told them once, to allay their concerns. “It was really scary. I could’ve died. So if I ever do something...weird, that’s probably why.” None of them questioned her, then, when she bought that pocketknife. If nothing else, she’s grateful for that.

Wybie and his grandmother are the only ones she can actually talk to about what happened, and she’s not going to come to them every single time she has a paranoid thought (which is, unfortunately, fairly often). Usually she can calm herself down, anyway; she just has to take deep breaths and remind herself that the key is gone, at the bottom of a bottomless well, and the Beldam can never open that godforsaken portal ever again.

It takes lying there for another ten minutes, eyes closed and focusing on nothing but the sound of her own breathing, for Coraline to finally muster up the energy to pull herself out of bed. At least it’s a Friday, she tells herself. She has to work a bit this weekend, but her job involves more stocking shelves than interacting with other people, so it’s still better than school.

It’s not that she hates school. She likes learning when it’s interesting, and she likes seeing her friends. It’s not even that she dislikes other people, because she doesn’t, really. Even people she thought were weird or annoying at first, like Wybie, have grown on her with time. It’s just that she fears she’ll have a flashback or a panic attack in the middle of class and embarrass herself. It’s happened before—in middle school she was branded a freak when a sewing project in her home economics class brought her to tears for reasons she didn’t know how to explain. Strangely enough, she feels safer in her neighborhood. It’s an environment she knows well, and as odd as her neighbors are, she trusts them to protect her, even if they might not be aware of it. She remembers Mr. Bobinsky’s warning not to go through the little door, and she remembers the adder stone given to her by Misses Spink and Forcible—and, of course, she remembers Wybie, who once called her crazy before he saw the Beldam’s severed hand for himself, before he helped her dispose of the key for good. Technically, he’s the one who found the Coraline doll that spied on her in the first place—a fact that she hates him for on her worst days—but she knows that he had no idea, and it doesn’t do any good to blame him. After all, even if he may have inadvertently introduced Coraline to the Other Mother, he also helped to defeat her.

While Coraline is choosing her outfit for the day, her phone buzzes: a text from Wybie. Hey Jonesy, it reads, meet me outside then. I got something for ya.

Coraline raises an eyebrow. That could mean anything. Still, she sends him a quick Ok and slips her clothes on. If it happens to be a slug or something, at least she can say her day got off to an interesting start.

Being writers, her parents don’t have to wake up as early as she does, so Coraline usually fixes her own breakfast—often something quick, like a muffin—and heads out the door. Today is no exception, her meal a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. It sort of makes her feel like a kid again, in a good way. Sitting alone at the kitchen table, Cheerios in her spoon, the sun rising over the foggy mountains, a feeling of quiet peace and even innocence settles over her like dust on a bookshelf. In this moment, there is no fear, no nightmares, no flashbacks. In this moment, she is not a teenager doing her best to survive even while her mind begs to differ. She is the little girl she once was, before she was forced to be brave in the face of true horror. The sky glows pink and orange, a phenomenon unknown to the Other World. She’s grown to appreciate daylight more since then.

Finally, Coraline vaults her backpack over her shoulder and pushes the front door open, saying a silent goodbye to her parents in her head. Sure enough, at the bottom of the hill, leaning up against the Pink Palace sign, is Wybie, who looks like he’s playing a game on his phone. When he hears the sound of her footsteps, he looks up and waves to her.

“You’re back,” she says once she’s close enough to him to talk without having to shout. For the past two weeks, Wybie has been on a school trip to Germany. (Coraline couldn’t go because she’s taking Spanish instead of German.) It’s pretty stupid for them to get back on a Friday and then have to go to regular school for one day, in her opinion, but that’s just how it worked out. “You said you have something for me?” She can’t help but wonder if it’s a souvenir of some sort. She’d joked about him getting her one, but she didn’t actually expect him to do it.

“Yeah,” Wybie says. As they start to walk down the path that leads to town and their school, he pulls something small out of his jeans pocket, holding it in both hands so she can’t see what it is. His voice sounds strangely solemn. “So, you know how you said Miss Spink and Miss Forcible gave you that stone that one time? The one with the hole in the middle?”

Coraline remembers it well: the adder stone that helped her find the ghost children’s eyes all those years ago. When she read up about them later on, she found that rocks with naturally occurring holes in them, called adder stones or hag stones, are said to have magical properties. One of them is the ability to see through a witch or fairy’s disguises or traps, but others include the prevention of nightmares and curing whooping cough.

Coraline certainly doesn’t have whooping cough, but she does have nightmares, and she’s already seen the power of an adder stone for herself. “Yeah,” she says slowly. “They’re pretty rare. The Other Mother destroyed the one I had.”

Wybie flashes her a little half-smile and opens his palms, revealing a round, grayish stone with a medium-sized hole in it. “We visited the north coast one day,” he says as she takes it from him, “and I just happened to stumble across it. Apparently that’s one of the places where they’re more common, in northern Germany.” He shrugs. “I saw it, and I knew I had to give it to you. Not like you’ll need to find any more ghost children’s eyes, but…”

Coraline holds the stone up to her eye, feeling an odd comfort when she looks through the hole, even though nothing seems different. Feeling a soft smile spread across her face, she slips the stone into her pocket and says, “Thank you, Wybie.” Then, to lighten the mood, she adds, “I guess taking German was a good decision after all.”

Wybie blows a raspberry at her. “Hey, who got to go to a foreign country? Not you.”

They banter back and forth like that for a while, but part of Coraline is still focused on the stone in her pocket and the thoughtfulness behind it. It’s so small, but both the stone and the gesture give her the burst of courage she needs to get through the rest of the day, the week, the month. It’s a different kind of courage from what she had to muster up to stop the Beldam. It’s subtler, quieter. It’s the courage of a girl who has seen real ugliness, who has felt the deepest and most primal sort of fear, who went through hell and came out alive but unsure where to go from there. How do you keep on going when you’ve been face to face with death?

The answer, she realizes, is simple: it takes courage. It might be the kind that only a few people can see, but it’s courage all the same.

#coraline #coraline jones #wybie lovat #laika #my fics

15 notes · View notes

ripspaghet · 4 years

Text

bff | 03

↳ series m.list | 00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 |

→ pairing: yoongi x reader

→ word count: 4,062

Prologue Summary; Your best friend’s boyfriend takes an unhealthy interest in you and just as he shows up something from your past starts to creep up on you again. Could this strange and mysterious man have something to do with it? And should you trust him, or your instincts to run far, far away from him?

→ warnings: none yet.

“____, come on. I know I can be boring when I teach but, please, at least act like you’re listening?” The odor of old books and dust wafted through musky air. Rarely any students come here anymore, opting to study elsewhere or not at all. So, it’s fairly quiet except for the few crickets jumping around outside the glass doors of the stuffy library.

“Ah, uh, sorry.” You pull your attention away from the tiled floor to look at your friend. He’s leaning over the table your both sat at. His long body looks awkward scrunched up in the small library chair, almost like he’s a grown man sitting in something made for a toddler.

A sigh passes his lips, “Let’s just call it a day. If you can’t focus it’s better to just get some sleep and study another time.” You nod along with his suggestion. He was beyond right. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to focus any time soon. Not when those dreams are still looming around in your mind and you remain unable to properly remember anything, which is no surprise but only furthers your annoyance.

“Oh, that reminds me! Sorry, I almost forgot to tell you. I’m going to be out of town for the next few days and won’t be able to help you study. Don’t panic though, I have a friend that agreed to help you until I’m back. He knows all about this stuff. He took it last year.”

Your shoulders fall limp, “You what?”

He began sliding his textbooks back into his bag with his other belongings, “I know, but it can’t be helped. My family is having a getaway and my parents wanted me to take a break with them.”

You click your tongue, “Only Kim Namjoon’s parents would want their kid to take a break from school. My mom might have my head if I ever even thought about taking a break. She’d think I was trying to drop out.”

Namjoon chuckled heartily, “I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t stress. My friend probably knows more about this stuff than me anyways. I’ll text you his number.”

“Is your friend Einstein??”

“Something like that, I guess.”

“Seriously,” You groan, losing your composure, and leaning back into your chair, “how could you do this to me? What if this guy tries to assault me or something? You can’t just leave me with some random.”

“You know, the more you hang out with Jimin the more you start to sound like him. This guy isn’t like that, trust me.”

“Jimin? What’s that supposed to-” A fist slams down on the table and you and Namjoon nearly jump out of your seats, “You’re leaving?!”

“Oh, Taehyung,” Namjoon laughs nervously, regaining his composure.

“Who’s gonna help me with my creative writing class?! I came here to ask you for help.”

You raise an eyebrow at the boy, “What the hell are you in a creative writing class for?” Taehyung doesn’t spare you a glance, keeping his eyes fixed on Namjoon, who’s checking twice for all his belongings.

“____ can help you with creative writing. She’s good with that stuff.”

Taehyung’s head whips over to you his eyes widened, “Really?”

“What?“ You adjust yourself to sit up straight in your chair, "Namjoon, don’t tell him that, I’m too busy as is. I can’t help him. Absolutely not.”

“Surely you could squeeze in a minute or two.”

“Namjoon,”

“It can’t be helped.”

“Namjoon.”

He just smiles at you knowingly, “I’ll be going. The weekend calls. Have fun you two.”

“Wait-”

“Bye, ____. Get home safe.” Your eyes flicker over to Taehyung and you squint up at him in irritation. He’s looking at you expectantly, tapping his foot.

"I’m sure Jimin can help you."

"You-”

“I don’t have the time.” You gather up your belongings, not sparing Taehyung another glance as you make your escape.

You’d made a habit out of avoiding Taehyung since you’d met him, as you did for all the frat guys at your university. It wasn’t anything personal - it's just that the whole school knows that they're bad news. In other words, party every night until we can’t walk straight anymore and mess around with as many girls as we want, types of bad news.

Your feet drag lazily across water-covered concrete once you make it outside. It had stopped raining for the time being, but that didn’t change the fact that it was now below freezing out due to the sun being replaced by a moon that was hidden behind dull rain clouds. The streets were empty aside from the few people making their way home from a late shift at work.

“You will soon.”

You grimace. Why is it so familiar? A voice very gravelly and intense, where have heard it before? You purse your lips in thought. Just at the remembrance of a voice, red begins to color your cheeks and your hands grow clammy. What is this? You’d never felt this way before. Except when reading something similar to a thrilling romance book. The dream had been so seemingly real, the voice so close to your ear that it was impossible to deny how intimate the situation had been.

You groan in frustration. Jimin can’t possibly be right about it being a wet dream though. “Right, because you never talk with any other man besides me.” You roll your eyes. You should’ve punched him in the gut right then. Plenty of guys talk to you, it’s just that you’re so obviously uninterested that they grow bored easily. You’re not interested in just some fling.

“Excuse me?” A tap on your shoulder drags you out of your whirlpool of thoughts, “You dropped this.” You turn, a bit startled to see a gold necklace dangled from elegant fingers, the gold clashing with the pale skin it rests on.

Deja vu.

“Oh, thank you.” You take the necklace from his fingers. It must have fallen from around your neck without you noticing.

“Oh,”

You lifted your gaze up from the gold now resting in the palm of your hand and meet brown orbs, that almost come off as black under the harsh yellow-toned street lamps. His dark hair hangs just above his eyes in unruly waves.

“Yoongi, ”

An expression of slight uninterest bores into your eyes despite his surprised tone, “What are you doing out so late?” Your hands attempt to bury themselves deeper into their pockets, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach as a familiar feeling of warmth consuming your chest.

“It not that late, is it?” You force a small smile that probably ended up looking a nervous cry for help.

He glances around at the dark city surrounding the two of you, “Seeing as it twelve o'clock at night, I’d say it is.“

"I was studying at the library with a friend. Lost track of time I suppose.” Another awkward smile.

“I’ll walk you home.”

“N-no, I’m fine. You don’t need to do that. My place isn’t too far and I always walk home late. I’ll be fine.”

“I insist.” His voice is firm and strict, making his words come off as more of a demand, rather than a suggestion.

“Ok, I-I guess it’s fine, ”

The walk home is quiet. You don’t spare another glance in Yoongi’s direction despite the taunting urge to. It didn’t help any that it felt like his eyes were constantly glancing over. How had the atmosphere between the two changed so much in such little time? How come you felt so utterly scandalous under his gaze? You can’t help but feel your insides coil as silence settles over the two of you and remain in it for the rest of the way to your dorm. And despite a nagging feeling telling you otherwise, nothing happens.

The next day is another cold one, but instead of there being snow, there’s a thin layer of ice stuck to the ground as gentle rain pats down against it. Namjoon texted you his friend’s number and address this morning and informed you he’d already talked to him about it. And as per usual, decisions were made without your consent. It was bad enough you had to get up early on a weekend for work, but now instead of head straight home to bed, you have to rush off to study with some random.

"I’m so sick of the smell of coffee. I go home, my clothes smell like coffee. I go to bed, my bed smells like coffee. Drag my ass out of bed and come here, to smell what? Coffee. It’s not even nice smelling coffee either. It’s bitter and too strong, like diesel gasoline.” You keep your eyes fixed on the coffee shop’s glass doors, opting to wait for the next custom rather than acknowledge your babbling coworker.

Namjoon told you that his friend had no other free time to spare. So, it was in the morning, or never.

“I mean, can’t they at least make it smell good? Heaven knows it already tastes like crap.” You learned rather quickly after taking this job that entertaining this man’s ranting would only add to the flames. You pity the people who walk in unknowingly and spark up a conversation with him simply for his good looks, to later find out that his mouth never shuts while doing something he despises, which would pertain to his entire job.

“____, are you even listening to me?” His voice goes up an octave, bringing his eyebrows along for the ride.

Reluctantly you turn your head away from the doors and stare blandly at his wide rounded eyes and parted lips, “Yes, Seokjin, I’m hearing every word of what you’re saying.”

He studies you for a moment before speaking again, something he rarely does, “Ah, that’s right, you’re not a morning person. I’m sure you have it much worse. I can’t imagine already being in a bad mood and having to come here.”

“Mhm,”

“And the customers are always so rude in the morning. I don’t know how you manage."

You don’t know how you’ve been able to keep yourself from shoving a bag of coffee beans down his throat, "Yeah,”

Work drags on as normal and as soon as the clock strikes 9:40 am you hang up your apron and fly out the door with the speed of light, completely ignoring Seokjin who calls after you, nagging about you not bothering to even tell him goodbye.

Once outside you follow your phone’s navigation down multiple streets, your hood up while you grip an arm around your waist in a sad attempt to retain even the smallest amount of body heat. Winter, what a season that you hated to love.

“You have arrived at your destination.”

You halt. Well, that wasn’t all too far. Looking up your gaze meets a tall luxurious building.

“Madam, may I assist you?"

You startle not realizing the man standing next to the building’s entryway, "Uh, yes? Maybe? I’m meeting a friend of mine. Would you happen to know someone by the name of Namjoon?” In your awestruck confusion, you figured that maybe the mention of Namjoon’s name would help in some way. You mean, Namjoon is the one who recommended the person who supposedly lives in, what appears to be, a tower of silver and gold.

“Ah, yes, follow me, Madam. I will show you to the floor."

"Ok,” Your voice turns into a small whisper as you look up the building again, feeling the sheer intimidation it radiates. This can’t be the place.

You follow the doorman inside as he leads you to an elevator at the center of a spacious lobby. Seeing as how early it is in the morning it’s not unprecedented that the whole place is empty. Most rich people probably leave as early as five in the morning to get a head start for the day, you’d assume.

“The Master is in the penthouse so we will be going rather high up. If you have a fear of heights I’d recommend avoiding the windows.” Your stomach turns as the elevator doors shut and you’re lurched up. The elevator dings each time it passes a floor and eventually you start to think that, maybe you’re going to hurl out of the top of the building and fall all the way back down to the ground because how could there be this many floors?? You supposed it was a fitting fate for one as tired as you. At least then you be getting some kind of rest.

“The Master?”

“All will be explained by the Master himself.” The doorman doesn’t even spare you a glance, his attention remaining on the rising floor number.

“Oh,” You nod and look away wondering what exactly Namjoon had signed you up for this time. Perhaps you were about to mean a famous business leader or a master of the arts? Knowing Namjoon had set this up left nothing off the table. That guy could probably arrange a meeting with the president of the United States with his whole family’s well regarded social status.

“Here we are, Madam. Be sure to push the doorbell before entering. The Master treasurers his privacy." The doorman bows his head and you step out of the elevator before closing the doors with the press of a button and ascending back down.

You turn to face the other way and push the doorbell to a pair of tall smooth wooden doors as instructed. But as you wait nothing happens. You hear nothing as a whole minute ticks away and you debate just going back down in the elevator to head home for your bed. Failing any of your classes isn’t an option for you though. You hesitantly ring the bell again and pull out your phone double-checking the address just in case. It wouldn’t be all too surprising if you were in the wrong place. What kind of person around your age, that just finished school a year ago, could afford a place like this?

Once again no one comes to let you in and your impatiens begin to teeter. You swear, if this guy made you come all the way out here this early in the morning just to stand you up, you’d kill Namjoon. So, with that thought in mind, you place your index finger back on the doorbell and let it have a piece of your mind. The dinging rings out over and over again. And finally, after what felt like a thousand dings you hear a door slam from somewhere inside the penthouse, then muffled swear words and stomping just before the large door is swung open so fast you feared it might be yanked off its hinges.

"What the hell do you want from me?!” A familiar head of messy black hair, that’s even messier than normal is laid over the wrong side of his head makes you gasp. His eyes are squinted and puffy as they stare back at you in an uncouth manner.

“Uh-”

“Wait,” He’s eyes get bigger and he reaches up to rub the sleep out of his eyes almost like he’s seeing things, “____?”

Your eyes dart away awkwardly as you try to find words to say in response, “I’ll be leaving now.” You turn on your heel to run for the elevator.

“Shit, are you Namjoon’s friend that needs tutoring? Fuck, I completely forgot about that.” You could tell from the sound of his voice he was running his fingers through that messy black hair of his, but you continued walking. Fuck that guy for being attractive. You’re getting the hell out of here. No more coincidental run-ins.

“Quite alright, no need to apologize. I’ll be going now.”

“No!” He ran out in front of you to block the elevator buttons, nearly falling down in his haste to stop you, “I mean, ” He paused hardening the expression, “I promised Namjoon I’d help you. You can’t just leave.” You looked him up and down. It was strange seeing this, a side of him normally only a girlfriend or best friend would see when you’d only just met. And you barely being qualified enough to be called an acquaintance made it so it shouldn’t have been a problem to feel so awkward, if it hadn’t been for a tiny part you that was thinking about how good Min Yoongi, not only looked in casual clothes but looked without a shirt in black baggy joggers, with bedhead, sporting a sleepy voice. In fact, the more you looked at the man the more pissed off you became. How dare he tempt you in sullying your friendship with Mina by looking like that.

Suddenly taking notice in your lingering gaze Yoongi tried composing himself, putting his hand atop his head in an attempt to hide his mess of hair, “Namjoon will kill me if I go back on my word. Just come inside.”

“Put some clothes on.” You spun around in annoyance, striding into the penthouse. In all honesty, you’d rather jump from this floor to the ground than stay here, but Yoongi had reminded you why you were here. Namjoon is gone and won’t be back until the day of the presentations and you know there’s no way in hell you’d manage on your own with an unfinished project that you knew would remain that way if not given a helping hand. You know yourself well enough to know that being uninformed and out of ideas would lead to you throwing in the towel without having even tried to make a fully finished piece.

Yoongi was close on your heels, shutting the door behind him, “Actually, I thought I’d tutor you naked. Just to switch things up a bit.”

“Excuse me?!” You spun again almost sure you’d get whiplash. Yoongi was just watching your reaction in amusement and it dawned on you he was being sarcastic.

“Just a joke, ____.”

You glared, “Yeah? Well, I’d appreciate if you didn’t joke about such things with me.”

He chuckled almost endearingly, “Why?”

“Why? What do you- You know what? This is inappropriate. I’m leaving.” Judging from this conversation you had no doubt in your mind that this man had the capability of cheating on your best friend.

You went for the door but Yoongi grabbed your upper arm before you could get past him, “You really shouldn’t take me seriously, ____. Now, stop being a child and let’s get this over with.” He removed his hand from around your arm as if it had never been there, to begin with, and walks away from you. “I’m going to put a shirt on and I’ll meet you back in here. Make yourself comfortable.” You feel like you’ve just undergone a full 360 in a short amount of time since you entered his home. Why are you here again?

Surveying up his home you walk further into what seems to be a rather cozy living room. All the colors in the room are either warm or extremely dark, except for the occasional white pillow or blanket laying around. Even the floor is tiled with warm reddish wood. The pitch-black walls contrast against the brightness flooding in through a window that covers the whole outer wall of the room. It’s similar to homes you’d only ever seen in magazines or movies.

“Wow,” you breathe out and take a seat down on a long black leather couch in the center in the room. The place has probably been professionally decorated just to Yoongi’s liking.

“Would you like something to drink? Have you eaten?”

You jump, startled, “N-no, I’m alright.”

He nods and holds a notebook out to you now sported a baggy black sweatshirt and unruly combed hair, “Here,” You hesitantly take it from him as he takes a seat next to you, “these are my old notes from when I was in school. They should be helpful. Is there anything in particular that you’re having trouble with?”

“Ah,” Right that’s what you came here for, “I’m not very good at this music stuff which is why I needed Namjoon’s help. Its extra credit for me is all. I’m majoring in film.” You pull your bag from your side, taking out all your own notes, a few hefty textbooks, and your laptop.

“What is your focus for the project then?” He leans over you watching as you open up all the proper program on your laptop. You nervously fidget, feeling your skin heat up and try leaning away from him without it being noticeable, “I want to present a completed song.” Yoongi gives you a look of ‘You can’t be fucking serious right?’ And you sigh, “Listen, I know I don’t even major in music and don’t really know what I’m doing, so it’s dumb of me to try this. But, I have a great love for music even though it isn’t my major. If I do something with this,” You point at your laptop screen, “I want it to be my very best. I really wanna try at it and I think I can hit all the points, I just need the opinion of a professional.”

He looks at you for a while before finally speaking, “You know, me helping you with this is kind of cheating.” You rose an eyebrow at him, gesturing that he elaborates. “It wouldn’t be fair to all the other students. Can’t you just choose a different route? Like, I don’t know? Doing a piece you’d put into a film or something? Something a little more down your alley?”

You shake your head, “I’ve already started. I don’t have the time to scrap anything and restart. Here,” You turn your attention back to the laptop and plug in a pair headphones then hand them to Yoongi, “Just listen and give me your thoughts.” Reluctantly he takes the headphones from you and puts them on. You press play and watch him closely, gauging his reaction as his breathe hitches not even five minutes into the song.

You quickly pause it and he takes off the headphones confused, “Was that you?”

“Was it bad? I suppose I can use auto-tune. That’s not breaking any rules right?”

“No, no, I mean,” He stops mid-sentence staring at you.

You turn away, facing your laptop, “You’re right, maybe I should just scrap it and start over.”

“No!” You flinched away from Yoongi at his sudden outburst, “No, you shouldn’t do that.” He’s to the laptop this time, studying all of your work, “It’s very good. It caught me off guard.” He puts the headphones back on then presses play again. You stare at him, in a loss for words. It was one thing to have Namjoon tell you your work was good when he was still in school, same as you. Yoongi, on the other hand, is already a music producer and judging by your surroundings he’s a very successful one.

“Is this all you have so far?” Yoongi slides the headphones back off, eyes on the screen of your laptop.

“Yeah…This is more of the ending rather than the beginning. I have parts written out and I’ve tried doing them myself like this but it just doesn’t sound the way I want it.”

Yoongi nods, “This has lots of potential. I’d like to see the beginning half. I think you can make an amazing piece with just this alone. I like how you’ve mixed the two genres. I can understand that it wouldn’t translate when using only your voice. With the way it flows, you’ll need to almost flip back a forth with two voices. Doing that will also add to the overall emotion in the song seeing as it’s a romantic piece. You’ll need someone with a lower octave that balances while with your own sound. Finding someone to do that should be hard as your voice is pretty enough on its own to captivate any listener. The difficult part is blending the just right amount of both that’s not overdoing it.”

You nod trying to ignore the flush you feel in your cheeks as you watch him flip from line to line on your recordings.

“I’m impressed.” He looks up to you and instantly looks away.

“Thank you.”

tags

@im-emo-motherfuckers @team-wang-puppy @seokchella

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi au #bts au #jimin #taehyung #namjooon #bff #yoongi #suga #bts yoongi #bts suga #suga au

49 notes · View notes

honeyutoda · 5 years

Note

hello~ can i request a junhee from a.c.e fluff? thank you!

Sunrise

———————————————————————

Group: A.C.E

Pairing: Junhee x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: I’m soooo sorry this took so long, my dear anon! As always, my excuse is school, but I hope you understand and thank you so so much for your patience! I’ve been obsessed with the sun lately, as 3 comebacks in October have had tracks on their albums named “Sunrise” or “Sunset,” so I thought it fitting to do a cute sunrise date. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for requesting! ❤️ also A.C.E stans how we feelin about all of these comeback teasers?? 😩

———————————————————————

Knock knock.

You stirred in your sheets, abruptly awoken by the rapping at your door. You glanced over to your desk, looking towards the light of your digital clock that, though dim, was far too bright for your unadjusted eyes. You squinted to block some of the light out, reading the clock.

6:23 a.m.

You furrowed you’re brows, raising your hands to your face to rub your eyes as a yawn escaped your lips. Was it just my imagination? You thought to yourself, slowly sinking back down into your comfortable bed, thinking you had just dreamt it up. Surely no one lacked the common sense to not wake someone up so early on a weekend! You shut your eyes, letting out sigh. You hoped you would be able to go back to sleep.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

This time the knocks came with force, hammering on the door and echoing throughout your small apartment. You groaned and reluctantly rolled out of bed, shuffling your feet and rubbing your eyes. You sauntered towards your front door, eyes half shut. You didn’t even bother to turn on the light as you reached your front door, opting to preserve what sleep you had left if this really just happened to be your imagination.

With lazy hands you unlocked your door and opened it - not all the way, but enough to where whoever was on the other side could see you. You poked your head out to see who it was that seemed to think it was appropriate to wake someone up at this hour on a weekend. When you saw, though, your eyes immediately widened.

In front of you stood Junhee, your boyfriend.

Your cheeks immediately heated as you realized your current state: tangled hair, dark under-eye bags, and ratty clothing. You made a mental note to always prepare yourself for whoever could be behind the door, even if you felt too lazy to do so.

“Hey!” Junhee chirped, a wide smile illuminating his face.

You coughed, trying to make your voice sound at least a little presentable, before attempting a small smile.

“Oh, hey!”

“So,” he began, his smile growing ever wider, “I had an idea.”

You chuckled, “oh boy, not another one. Last time you had an idea you almost set yourself on fire-“

“Yah yah yah yah,” he interrupted. “That’s not important,” he said as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of your apartment. You squeaked as he did so, hitting his arm playfully and laughing.

“Yah! What are you doing?” You smiled.

“Never mind that. Do you have your key with you?”

You nodded slowly, reaching into the pocket of your sweatpants to pull out your apartment key and placing it in his already outstretched palm. He smiled and locked your door before turning around and grabbing your hand.

“Come on,” he started. “We’re going somewhere.”

“But I’m not dressed or ready at all!” You complained.

“What did I say earlier? Never mind that.”

He led you to his car and opened the passenger door for you, shutting it as you buckled your seatbelt. He got in on the driver’s side and started the car, and soon, you were off to your boyfriend’s mystery destination. You wanted to know where exactly it was he was taking you, but you knew better than to ask. Jun was too stubborn to actually let you in on his little plan.

You looked out the window, noticing that he had taken a turn onto one of the many hills in your city. The hills were large, but not tall enough to be considered mountains. You looked at the town below you as it slowly shrank beneath you, only taking your eyes off of the view when Jun turned and parked in some grass by a ledge. You looked at him confusedly.

He got out of the car and opened your door, helping you out of the car like the gentleman he was. You smiled to yourself when he didn’t let go of your hand, butterflies fluttering in your stomach even though he’d done the same thing many times before.

He led you to the edge of the hillside, a beautiful view of the city below you stretched as far as your eyes could see. Tiny lights from individual buildings made it seem like the city was part of the sky, matching the brilliant twinkling light of the stars above you. You could see the tiniest shade of pink begin to emerge from the dark sky. It was breathtaking.

“Is this the part where you push me off?” You questioned jokingly.

He laughed and pulled you closer to his side, untangling your fingers from yours and instead wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I wanted to see this with you,” he stated. “I wanted you to see this with me.”

A faint pale yellow light had begun to shine across the dark sky, allowing you to see Jun clearly for the first time since you opened your apartment door.

He looked angelic. His jet black hair was messy - almost messier than yours - and he wore a thick, fluffy sweatshirt and sweatpants. Simple attire, but the perfect type to snuggle into when you got cold. And, as if on cue, a brisk wind blew through the autumn air, sending a shiver down your spine. You pressed yourself into his side, the warmth radiating off of him like a cup of warm coffee on a cold morning. You closed your eyes, enjoying the comforting feeling.

“Let’s sit down,” he suggested, and you did.

He tugged your hand as he sat so you would follow. The grass was soft. As soon as it made contact with your body, you immediately reached a hand out to touch it. You ran your hand through it absentmindedly, the blades caressing every inch of your hand and between your fingers. You leaned once more against Junhee, shutting your eyes to embrace his warmth again.

You lifted your head and gave him a questioning look when he suddenly shrugged his shoulder, trying to get your attention. Your gaze followed his arm as he raised it and pointed at the sky.

He spoke quietly and with wonder, “Look.”

You did as he said, averting your gaze from his arm to the view in front of you. Sure enough, the sky had begun to fade even more - the pale yellow now fading into a fiery orange.

You looked back at him. The stars that had previously sparkled in the night sky were now captured in his own eyes. They twinkled with bewilderment as he watched the dark abyss that is the night slowly be painted over by beautiful strokes of vibrant hues. The now colorful sky shown a golden glow against his skin, making him seem all the more heavenly. He was mesmerizing.

He must have felt your staring because his head turned towards you, eyes following shortly after, not wanting to avert from the spectacle of the sunrise. He broke into his wife smile again. There was just something he seemed to love about you more than anything else.

He hooked his finger under your chin, tilting your lips up to his before pressing them against each other in a lingering kiss. You reached your hand up to the back of his head, twining his hair around your fingers and pulling him impossibly closer. Your lips were like magnets, both attracted to one another, neither able to part from the other. You were both entranced.

He was the first to break away, smiling once again. You laughed to yourself and looked down at your hands, which now lay folded in your lap. He reached his hand up and gingerly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear before leaning back in and placing a kiss on your cheek. He pulled away, suddenly throwing an arm around you and pulling you to lay down with him. You laughed at him, kissing the tip of his nose. You truly were utterly in love with this boy.

82 notes · View notes

miss-noo-na · 5 years

Text

Vos Anima Mea (Chapter 10 - END)

Title: Vos Anima Mea

Genre: Vampire AU

Rating: R - Mentions of blood and violence in this chapter.

Note: Holy shit you guys its done! Thank you for sticking with me and being patient as I finished this up. I hope you like it!

* See Masterlist for additional chapters

It was a crazy idea, and the thought of Kihyun being put in harm’s way made your stomach hurt. But, you knew he was strong and persistent.

He gathered some names and addresses from Victoria’s records and made a few phone calls under the guise of a business deal. Mentioning who his father was got him a long way, and a meeting was set up. You begged and pleaded with Kihyun to let you go, and it was a firm “no” for about a week. Then he relented a little and said maybe you could wait in the car. Finally you convinced him that it would look less threatening if he had a girl on his arm.

“The first sign of trouble, I want you to get out of there, okay?” He said firmly.

“Yeah, of course.” You shrugged.

“Look at me.”

You sighed and turned to him, not thinking it would make a difference, but when you locked eyes you felt frozen.

“You promise?” He asked steadily and you nodded, then you felt your body relax.

“Are you doing that?” You asked in an accusatory tone. “Controlling my body?”

“Yes, I am.” He answered nonchalantly. He had done it to you once before, but back then you were too nervous and put out to ask about it, chalking it up to your imagination.

“I don’t do it often, it's rude.” He said, and you actually had to laugh at that. Leave it to Kihyun to consider supernatural hypnotism rude.

“Are you going to use that tonight?”

He stopped as if thinking about it. “I mean, I guess I could.”

You shook your head at him. “Those powers are really wasted on you, aren’t they?”

He squinted his eyes at you and suppressed the urge to smile.

“Keep up the smart remarks and I’ll do it again.”

The way his voice got a little lower when he said that made you tingle all over, and you dropped the subject, not needing to be distracted by dirty thoughts right now.

The sun was coming up soon and you both needed your rest for the big night. Though mortal, the gangsters were well acquainted with vampires and knew to set up the meeting at an appropriately dark hour. When you both rose from sleep, you started to get dressed.

One thing you hadn’t expected, but now made complete sense, was how Kihyun spoiled you. Even if you mentioned something in passing on a whim, he’d find a way to get it to you. He also insisted on buying you new clothes, since you had left so many behind at your place. You offered to go and retrieve them, but he dismissed the idea, telling you he could get you whatever you needed. You expected a trip to Walmart, and were taken aback when he drove you to a designers home in the middle of the night, to fit and measure you for a completely new wardrobe. You felt incredibly uncomfortable with the idea at first, but started to ease up with Kihyun’s encouragement. You told her what you liked, what felt comfortable, the styles you preferred, and she delivered it to you within a week.

That said, you knew you had to pick something for tonight that would scream “possible wife of a vampire investor.”

You stood in the walk-in closet thinking way too hard about it. Kihyun came in after he hadn’t seen you in awhile, and he was already dressed. Of course, he looked amazing and dapper.

“You still haven’t picked anything?” He asked, fastening his cuff links and you stared for a moment, before blinking yourself out of it. Again, now wasn’t the time.

“No, not yet. I’m a little nervous and I can’t think straight.” You confessed, biting your lip as you stared back at the clothing.

“Maybe you should stay home then?” He offered, and you knew what he was doing and shot him a glare.

“There’s no way I’m letting you do this alone.” You said, before blindly reaching up and yanking the first dress you touched off the rack. To your surprise it wasn’t bad, a navy blue dress with an A-line skirt and quarter sleeves.

“Perfect.” Kihyun smiled at you, and you felt a little better as you got ready. However, the drive over to the seedy part of town didn’t help your nerves at all. Kihyun abandoned the idea of a driver tonight, electing to take one of his cars out for himself, assuming it would look better.

What you pulled up to was a restaurant inside an old stone building. The lighting was garishly yellow and gave everything a sickly pale tone. It was thick with smoke from patrons who all cast a sideways glance at you as you entered. Kihyun spoke low to the host, who directed you to a staircase.

Upstairs wasn’t much better, it smelled of must and cigarettes and inside the room was a table full of men playing cards. When the two of you entered, the one at the center shooed most of them away, but a few stayed behind.

The man had a sallow face and a visible scar on his throat, but he was dressed well. He shook hands with Kihyun and introduced himself as Luke, before turning to kiss your hand. It made you incredibly uneasy, but you had to go along with it. He paused afterward, holding your hand for a moment.

“A human?” He asked Kihyun and not you, as if he himself weren’t mortal.

Kihyun cast you a glance before looking back at Luke. “She is. Is that a problem?”

Luke laughed and pat Kihyun on the shoulder. “Nah, just surprised is all. Snatched yourself up a live one, eh?”

He nudged Kihyun with his elbow as if he was supposed to know what that meant, and Kihyun forced a laugh in return.

You were invited to sit at the table opposite him, and a woman appeared not long after to serve you drinks. Luke insisted you have a dry martini, because you “looked like the type”, even though you weren’t. However, you weren’t going to argue and accepted it graciously. In fact, you were glad you were given something strong, and sucked it down with a grimace. You needed the courage to get through this night.

“The old man talks about you a lot.” Luke said, shuffling a deck of cards mindlessly.

“I’m sure he does.” Kihyun replied.

“I didn’t think I’d ever lay eyes on you. He was always going on about how you were going to take over, but I didn’t believe it, he seemed delusional.”

Kihyun smirked. “Well he was half-right.”

Luke looked up and stopped shuffling. “Is that right?’

“I do plan on taking over, but not in his succession.”

A devious smile curled over Luke’s thin mouth. “You’re going to other-throw the king?” He asked, and you were surprised Luke knew so much for a mortal.

“Not without help.”

The way Luke laughed made your body cringe.

“So you came here looking for dirt?” Luke said as he leaned forward, and now your entire body felt strained as you dug your fingers into your own thighs, swallowing as you watched him.

“There are a lot of things you can say about me,” Luke started in a quieter tone, leaning across the small table, getting dangerously close to Kihyun’s face.

“And out of all of them, a snitch ain't one.”

You cast your eyes carefully over to Kihyun, but instead of fear or apprehension he only smiled, and you saw his eyes burn black. He looked so different from this angle, and it didn’t take you long to catch on.

“I’m not asking you to snitch,” He said, and Luke hovered over the table, the harsh lines in his face slowly relaxing. The other men in the room could sense the tension but also looked at each other in confusion, not sure what they were witnessing.

“I’m asking you to provide me with the information I should have rightful access to, as the new king.”

You relaxed, and his strong words sent a shiver through you. It was the display of utter power you knew he was capable of, and it was as exciting as it was terrifying. In this moment, he could make Luke do anything he wanted.

Luke swallowed and when he spoke, his voice was faint with a hint of fear. “What do you need?”

“Anything that will prove my father is the scumbag we all know he is.”

You almost laughed at that, raising your hand to conceal your smile, especially because you could tell Kihyun might actually be having fun with this.

“Give me a few weeks and-”

“No.”

Kihyun cut him off firmly and the deep tone of his voice startled you.

“A few days?”

“That’s better.”

All at once it was as if Luke was released and he fell back into his chair, almost like he’d been pushed.

Kihyun stood and brushed his hands down his suit. “I’ll be in contact,” He nodded, then turned to you and smiled as he offered a hand. You took it and he pulled you up from the chair.

The men hung back and watched you exit, and no one followed. You could hardly contain yourself on the way out, and once you were in the car you leapt across the center console and threw your arms around him.

“You were amazing!” You gushed, and pressed a kiss onto his temple. He laughed and gently grasped your arms, pulling them down.

“You think?” He asked, unsure of himself.

“Are you kidding? You had everyone in there wrapped around your finger.”

“Truthfully, I was a little afraid.”

“So was I.” You breathed, and he reached up to stroke some hair back from your cheek.

“I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

You raised your hand to his, keeping it in place and laying your cheek against his palm for a moment. “I know.”

Luke kept his word, and within 3 days he was faxing over document after document. You were surprised that criminals kept documents, it seemed dangerous, but Kihyun explained they had to keep their affairs in order as well, they were just a lot more secretive about who got to see them.

Every new piece of information that was uncovered made Kihyun’s smile grow wider and wider, and you knew he was getting what he needed. It laid out all the missing pieces, and fully proved how unfit his father was for his position.

“I’ll go to the high courts first thing Monday, but I need to spend the rest of the weekend getting everything in order. Victoria has agreed to testify, everything is going exactly as it should.” He said, but when he looked up at you his smile started to fade.

“What’s wrong? You asked, and Kihyun’s arms dropped to his sides.

“I hate to pressure you, but you know there is one last thing.”

You swallowed and nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

“I know, and you’ll have your answer soon.” You assured him. You should have just told him then and there what was in your heart, but you had to be absolutely sure. This would alter the course of the rest of your life.

You closed the gap between you and touched his shoulder. “Thank you for being patient.”

“Of course,” He said softly, and you knew he would have waited for a 100 years if you asked him to.

You tried to stay out of his hair the next 2 days while he gathered all his evidence, helping where you could, and all the while mulling over your decision.

Sunday night, you sat perched on the couch with a cup of tea, while Kihyun shuffled through his paperwork in his office, leaving the door open so you could pop in on him and ask how he was occasionally. He said he liked the breaks from monotony and it kept him from getting too stressed.

A light wrapping sound on the apartment door took you out of your relaxed reverie, and you instantly felt a knot in your stomach. No one ever knocked, they had to get passed the doorman first and usually he would call up in the event of a visitor.

Kihyun was so consumed in his work it didn’t seem he even heard it, so you stood and made your way toward the door, peering into the peephole. What you saw made you recoil.

“Kihy-” You started to call out for him, but couldn’t even get your words out before the door was violently broken open, slamming back against the wall and sending you tumbling back as well. As you caught yourself and got to your feet, Kihyun was already there, placing himself in front of you.

You peered over his shoulder, your entire body shaking. You locked eyes with his father and the man smiled.

“What are you doing here?” Kihyun asked in a firm, deep voice, almost growling. You latched onto his shoulder both for leverage and because you were simply terrified. His body felt completely hard and still under your hand.

“You think you could overthrow me and me not even know?” He laughed, then just as soon stopped and let his features set into a hard scowl. “I gave you a choice when I let you leave last time, and you chose wrong.”

“You didn’t give me a choice, you gave me an ultimatum.”

“Dear boy, still so unreasonable,” He took a step forward and Kihyun instinctively moved his arm to cover you, pushing you back even further behind him.

“Top drawer,” He said quietly over his shoulder toward you, and you didn’t quite catch it at first, your brain a trembling mess.

“What?”

“Top. Drawer.”

Kihyun was not stupid enough to think his father might not try to come after you again, and he had told you that if anything happened, you were to take the key from his desk and open the top drawer on the left and take out what it held inside. He said you didn’t need to worry about what was inside unless it came to that.

You glanced at his father, then him, before scurrying toward the office. You heard the shuffling as his father advanced forward to stop you, but Kihyun seemed to catch him, if the thud of bodies from behind you was any indication. You didn’t want to look back to see.

You pulled the office door closed behind you and locked it, just like he instructed, even though it killed you to leave him out there alone. Yet, it wasn’t as if you were going to be any help in a fight.

Your hands were shaking so badly that you fumbled getting the key and dropped it twice while trying to open the drawer. Once you finally pulled it open, you reached inside and picked up a pair of light-weight, golden handcuffs. They were engraved with some kind of unknown language and for a moment you were mesmerized by the shine and the intricacy of the lettering, then you wondered how such a measly pair of restraints was going to do you any good.

A crashing from the living room jolted you out of your trance and you jumped to your feet, rushing to open the office door with the handcuffs, but slowing down and acting more cautiously as you pulled the door open. You peeked out just in time to see Kihyun’s father slam him into the ground with one hand, and the sight startled you, making you gasp.

The sound caught the old man’s attention and he looked up at you. Before you could even think about closing the door, he was there in a flash, shoving it open and pushing you back in the process.

“What do we have here?” He asked with a sinister drawl, glancing down at the shiny metal in your hands, then he laughed.

“My son, using magick against his own father, how cruel.” He said mockingly. “Hand them over, girl.”

You shook your head, backing up into the desk in the process.

The man let out an exasperated sigh and advanced on you quickly, and before you knew it the cuffs were hitting the floor and he had your arms behind your back. He started to march you out of the office and even as you tried to use every ounce of willpower to fight back, your body could barely move under his control.

He walked you past Kihyun, who was just barely pulling himself up off the floor. He was in bad shape and he had hit the ground so hard it splintered the wood flooring underneath him. You wanted to cry out for him, but whatever hold his father had over you was much more than physical, and you couldn’t make much noise besides a few whimpers and strained cries.

You felt like your lungs were going to burst once you saw where he was taking you, forcing you towards the balcony. Kihyun had caught on, too and you heard him yell out obscenities at his father as he tried to stagger to his feet, only to stumble again.

His father’s hand was now encircling your throat, and he forced your upper body over the edge of the balcony. You had enough strength to claw at his arm, but it wasn’t doing much, and slowly you were coming up off your feet.

This is it, this is how I die, you thought to yourself, and tears started to sting at the back of your eyes, blurring your vision, which was focusing through the doorway to a battered Kihyun. Somehow he lifted his head in time to watch your eyes, and you tried everything in your power to convey your thoughts to him. You couldn’t speak, but you could think, and you told him everything. Things he already knew, and the things he didn’t. You rushed through as many thoughts as you could in such a small time frame, barely aware that his father was speaking. You caught pieces of it, the same sneering monologue about how Kihyun could have been great, could have been the second greatest king if it weren’t for the girl.

His grip on our windpipe was making it hard to keep your eyes open, and even as your vision blurred to black and his awful voice tried to invade your mind, you made sure you focused on Kihyun.

I don’t regret any of it. I love you.

You repeated the last part like a mantra, it was the only thing to distract you from the pain and the impending doom. But just as quickly as the darkness filled in around you, your eyes snapped open as your feet connected with the ground and you sucked in a heaving breath, making a choked sound through your lungs. You fell to your knees on the balcony and began to cough violently.

You blinked through the tears in your eyes and looked up, to see Kihyun had not only managed to his feet, but had taken his father by the back of his neck and slammed him face-first into the ground, hovering over him with blood staining the edge of his mouth and a wild look in his eyes. He picked him back up by his neck and slammed him down again, and you looked away at the god-awful sound it made as his face cracked against the floor.

When Kihyun was satisfied that the man was incapacitated, he staggered to the office and came back with the cuffs. He fell heavily to his father’s body, and forced his hands into the metal. The cuffs glowed yellow for a moment, red searing over the lettering, and then fading out. You would have to ask him about that later, but right now you had other things to deal with.

You pushed yourself up on your knees and attempted to stand, but you were dizzy from lack of oxygen still and fell back down. Kihyun, weak as he was, found his way over to you.

“Don’t get up.” He said, coming down onto the ground next to you.

He wrapped an arm around you, all he could do at this point, and pulled you into his chest. You nuzzled your cheek against it, but couldn’t help but look at his father, as if he was going to jump up at any moment, even as he lay in a pool of his own blood.

“Is he...alive?”

“Unfortunately,” Kihyun said, then nodded to the handcuffs, “He’s not going anywhere with those on.”

You trusted him, and after a long moment you were both able to rise with each other’s help. You went to the couch while Kihyun retrieved his phone and made what sounded like an important call. 20 minutes later, a barrage of men in black clothing showed up to carry his father away, and one in a suit spoke with Kihyun for a moment as he sat next to you on the couch. He was regaining his strength quickly, but he was still going to need some time.

You, on the other hand, were mortal and completely exhausted from the ordeal. Your throat hurt from the strangling and Kihyun encouraged you not to speak too much. Your entire body felt sore and you had a massive migraine.

Just as the men were finishing up some paperwork and heading out, you were shocked to see Victoria come through the ruined doorway. She glided over elegantly, but in a rush with panic on her face.

“I came as soon as I could.” She said, coming over to where you sat. You thought she might go to Kihyun, but you were taken aback when she came to you, taking your hands in hers, brushing your hair back, tsking her tongue like a worried mother.

“I told you that you didn’t need to.” Kihyun said, but you could tell he was trying to hide a relieved smile.

“Don’t be absurd, Kihyun. I told you I would be there for you and I’m here. Oh and this one, look at her, she’s a wreck! You mortals are so fragile, what are we going to do?”

The concerned pitch in her voice and her cold, gentle hands were actually making you feel better, and you even wanted to laugh a little, peering at Kihyun from the corner of your eyes who had the same tired but amused look.

“And this apartment!” She stood and swept her arm over the expanse of the place, which really gave you a moment to take it in. The front door was destroyed, as well as the wall behind it. There were indentations and cracked wood on the floors, scuffs on the walls, and part of the balcony door had shattered when Kihyun went after his father. it was going to take some serious repairs.

“You two are coming home with me.” Victoria said, and stopped Kihyun with a hand before he could even speak. “I don’t want to hear another word,”

“We’ll be fine, Victoria.” He sighed,

“Maybe you will, but your little dove needs time to heal.”

You blushed deeply at her words, snapping to look at Kihyun. “You told her about that?” You spoke though your voice was hoarse.

“Besides, you can’t relax in this atrocious apartment until its cleaned up. Come now, gather what you can, we’ll get the rest later.” She fluttered her hands in your direction and started for the door, letting her driver know they would be having guests.

“Are you okay with this?” Kihyun turned to you to ask, and you nodded. Even if his father was safely put away for the time being, you didn’t feel very comfortable being here after what transpired.

An hour or so later you were in Victoria’s home, and you almost forgot how much you loved it. She set you up in a guest room with no windows, but a beautiful painting of the seaside above the bed. She brought you something to eat and supplied Kihyun with fresh blood, and part of you wondered why she was being so kind.

“Victoria, you’ve done enough already.” Kihyun said as she made plans for her chauffeur to take them to court tomorrow. Kihyun would be mostly healed by tomorrow night after a good rest, and he fully intended on seeing this trial through.

“Hush,” She said, then stopped to look at him, back at you, and then back to him again. “Kihyun I never got to properly thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I may have stayed within the family longer than I should have, but you opened up my mind and heart in a way no one else could have. It’s because of you I have the ability to live the way I do now, and I want to see you find that same happiness.”

You felt a swell of adoration for Victoria, watching them talk from where you sat on the bed. Kihyun was sheepish, but you could tell he appreciated the sentiment.

“Now get some rest, you have a big day tomorrow,” She said, then glanced back at you again. “Same goes for you, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of while Kihyun is gone.” She nodded.

“Thank you Victoria, for everything.” You said, and she gave a dismissive wave before leaving you alone.

You went about your routine in silence before you both settled into bed, facing one another as if it were planned. There was one bedside lamp on, giving the room a copper glow that felt cozy.

Kihyun reached out and trailed his fingers lightly over your neck. “Does it hurt? You’re starting to bruise.”

“it’s tender, but nothing I can’t handle.”

He chuckled and nodded once, “Good.”

There was silence, and you wondered if now was a good time, but you had to know.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean one minute you were on the ground hurt, and the next you were beating the shit out of your father.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that one, then quieted down and seemed to get serious.

“I’m not sure if you’ll believe me.”

“Try me.”

He sighed and took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking again. “I felt so helpless seeing what he was doing to you, but then all of a sudden it was like something cut through the fog. I could hear your voice in my head, yet you weren’t saying anything out loud. The louder you got, the more compelled I felt. It was like I was able to gather all my strength at once. I must have been running off pure adrenaline.”

Your bottom lip quivered hearing his words, and you pulled it under your teeth to try and stop it. He saw the glossy look in your eyes and stopped speaking.

“What’s wrong?”

“You heard me?’ You asked wearily, and his eyes widened.

“So that was you?”

“I couldn’t speak but I was just saying all these things in my head, hoping you could hear me somehow and-” You rushed out in one breath before stopping to suck in a shaky sob.

Kihyun cradled your face and gently shushed you, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. “Hey, it’s okay.”

You tried to breathe deep and regain your composure, overwhelmed by the events of the past few hours, all of it hitting you at once with this revelation.

“I’ve been able to see into people a little bit when I glamour them, but nothing like that, never just hearing their thoughts so plainly.” Kihyun explained, stroking your hair in a comforting motion.

“Can I….say something?” He asked then, and you nodded, wiping away stray tears.

“I love you, too.”

You felt your body go hot at his words, a warm wave of peace washing over you. He had heard that part, too.

You pushed yourself closer, pressing your face into his chest and inhaling. He wrapped his arms around your back and pulled you close, and you laid like that in silence, his hands stroking you until you fell asleep.

You weren’t asleep long before you had a terrible nightmare about Kihyun’s father coming back and killing him, and woke up in a cold sweat, panting, Kihyun at your side asking if you were alright.

“It’s just a dream.” He told you over and over again until you relaxed back down in his arms to be held once more.

“Kihyun,” You whispered into the dark of the room after a few minutes.

“Hmm?” He asked, his eyes closed already, obviously tired.

“I want you to change me.”

His eyes shot open and he pulled back to look at you.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve thought about it for a long time, and deep down the answer has always been yes, but I was too afraid to say it. But, after everything, I know for sure now.”

“You won’t have your old life anymore, you know that, right?” He asked, and you suppressed the urge to laugh. Did he really think after all this time you hadn't gone through every possible scenario?

“I already gave that all up, and I don’t miss any of it. I’m here, I’m yours.”

He let out a held breath and pulled you closer.

“If you’re absolutely sure-” He stopped himself from doubting you anymore and continued, “We have to wait until you’re fully healed, it's a strenuous process.”

“I’ll be ready.”

When you awoke hours later, Kihyun was getting ready for the trial, already healed from his battle wounds. You watched from the bed, somehow even more tired than when you had gone to sleep. He looked handsome in his black suit.

“You’re going to do great.” You assured him, watching him fuss over his tie in the mirror.

“I’ll let you know as soon as its over.” He said, walking over to kiss the top of your head before giving you a little wave from the door.

Victoria had insisted you stay in bed, and you couldn’t argue with that. Your neck was fully bruised now and the rest of your body felt like you had been hit by a bus. Since they were at the trial, her servants had come to wait on you, and it felt awkward at first, but over the course of the night you came to appreciate their attentiveness and care, because you needed it.

Your stomach was all up in knots about the trial, and you checked your phone obsessively over the course of 4 hours. Finally, Kihyun texted you one simple sentence.

“We did it.”

You could almost burst from joy, not that you ever doubted it. Especially with his father’s most recent behavior, the courts had to see how unfit he was, and how capable Kihyun would be.

When Kihyun got home, he came straight into the bedroom, lifted you out of the bed, and kissed you hard.

“Be gentle!” Victoria called from the hall, still worried about your frail mortal body, as she put it. You giggled against Kihyun’s mouth, not minding one bit.

“Did I just kiss a king?” You asked cheekily, and Kihyun laughed.

“You sure did, your majesty.”

Your face fell as he eased you back down on the bed. “What was that?”

“Once I change you, you’ll be my queen. I mean, not that you aren’t already,” He teased, “But in the court’s eyes, it will be official.”

It was a lot to take in, and you wondered if you were fully prepared for all this. Then again, you had never been prepared for all that had happened lately and you seemed to be doing just fine.

Typically becoming king meant moving into the king’s quarters, but Kihyun didn’t think it would be wise to take you back to a place that had such horrid memories for you. Plus, he had no desire to inherit something his father had put so much hate and corruption into. He sold the estate off to another official in the higher ranks and purchased a renovated 3-story Victorian house downtown, close to all of his clubs. He made sure one of the rooms was reserved for your studio.

Through all the chaos and transitioning, you asked almost every day when he was going to change you. You healed through this time and were back to your usual self, but still he told you “soon”, and that he would know when.

Kihyun was already laying the groundwork for all of the new changes he planned to bring to the vampiric world, and clean up the mess his father had left behind. He was busy, but he always made time for you. If he couldn’t, you would occupy yourself painting or hanging out with Samantha at the club that started it all. He had even let you take creative control over some of the stage productions, and it occupied a good chunk of your life now.

Finally, it came at a time you least expected. Just when you had stopped asking, he sprung it on you when you came home one evening.

“Tonight? Are you sure?” You asked.

“Why, did you change your mind?” He asked, half-teasing.

“Of course not!”

“Then come with me.”

He guided you to your bedroom and instructed you to change into something comfortable.

“It’s going to be a long night.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and did as he instructed, watching as he did the same. He dimmed the lights and came to sit next to you on the bed.

“Are you nervous?” He took your hands into his, feeling them tremble. It reminded you of the first time he ever fed from you.

“A little.”

“I’ll be right here the whole time.”

“So how does this work?”

“I drink from you, like I've done before, only this time when you get to that drained state, I nourish you with my own blood.” He explained, rolling his sleeves up.

“Interesting.”

“Don’t ask me how it works, I just know you have to be at a certain high point in order for my blood to take its affect on you.”

“Will it hurt?”

He pursed his lips and hummed. “I can’t say for sure, I’ve never experienced it myself.”

“That’s comforting.” You scoffed, and he chuckled.

“It might be uncomfortable, but it won’t be unbearable. Besides, I know you’re strong, you can handle it.”

You felt a little bit of relief from his words.

“Now, come here,” he said softly, making a shiver run down your spine. You did as you always did, move your hair to one side and crane your neck toward him so he had access to the right spot. He knew your veins by now, it never took him long to pinpoint your pulsing blood, and he sank his teeth into it. You didn’t even flinch now, just closed your eyes and made a happy noise.

He drank from you, only this time taking more than he ever had. This time, you were hazy and dizzy before he even pulled away, like you were suddenly very drunk off good wine. Your eyelids fought to stay open and you swayed.

“Stay with me.” You heard his voice as he steadied you by the shoulders, and you nodded faintly.

You could see Kihyun lift his wrist to his own mouth, and when he pulled away, dark red blood ran down his arm. He cradled your head and brought it up to your mouth. When it touched your lips it was surprisingly ice cold, which shocked you out of the haze a little, and you began to drink. It was bitter at first, metallic and robust in flavor, but as it slid thick and sticky down your throat you began to enjoy it.

You suckled the wounds he’d made with your eyes closed, and he stroked the back of your head and whispered encouraging words. When he had felt like you had enough, he guided you onto the bed to lay on your back. The room was spinning something fierce, so you closed your eyes to find some control of it.

The swimming in your head was starting to scare you a little, and you reached out your hands and felt Kihyun take them and lay them down against your stomach.

“I’m here.”

He laid next to you and you tried to breathe deep to fight through the waves of nausea and vertigo. You almost drifted to sleep, when you were jarred out of it by a hot feeling running through your veins, like they were all on fire. Your body jolted and your eyes shot open.

“It burns.” You moaned, clenching your fists against his hands.

“I know, it’s normal.”

“How would you know?” You mumbled, a little aggravated, but Kihyun knew it was only because of the pain and he let it go with a small laugh.

It came over you in waves, like hot lava bubbling over the surface before breaking through the rock. Every time, your body would convulse on its own, and Kihyun would squeeze you a little tighter to him and help you through it. It lasted for hours, and you didn’t speak much, you were too out of it, but every now and then you would say something, like ask him how much longer or comment on a change you felt in your body. Kihyun was patient and spoke quietly, soothing you in every way he knew how.

Soon the sun would be coming up and the waves got shorter and less invasive. You actually started to relax and now you were getting sleepy.

“I’m so proud of you.” Kihyun said, kissing your temple.

“Hmm?”

“Go to sleep.”

That was the last thing you remembered before you passed out.

When you awoke, you felt groggy, but good. Your body didn’t hurt anymore, in fact it felt better than it had in ages. No nagging back pain, no foggy morning headache, no aching limbs.When you pulled yourself to your feet and found the mirror, you were shocked at what you saw. It was you but...different. You were a little paler, but your eyes were brighter, and everything looked smooth and crease less. You pet your hair, softer than you ever remembered.

Kihyun walked in and stopped short, expecting to see you in bed.

“You’re up.” He smiled, then realized what you were doing.

“This is so strange.” You commented, not looking up at him, and he laughed.

“I don’t notice that much of a difference,” He shrugged. Of course he would say that.

“I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.” You said, now turning to him.

“Not at all, it was an honor, actually. How do you feel?”

“I feel great,”

“Good, we’re going to the club then. I want to celebrate with you.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“Work can wait.”

An hour later you were headed to the bar to see Samantha, who stared with wide, happy eyes when she saw you.

“You gorgeous creature of the night, you!” She gushed as she came around the bar to hug you, then pulled back to pet your hair and cup your chin.

“You make a beautiful bloodsucker, my dear.”

You laughed and looked away, embarrassed, and the two of you chatted, catching up since the last time you had been there. After awhile, she showed you to a private booth and brought you blood-tinged cocktails, which you enjoyed immensely.

As you took in the scenery, Kihyun close to your side, your mind wandered to how you got to this point. From being a silent observer, to a portrait painter, to so much more. It all seemed like a wild dream.

“I’m curious about something,” You said then, as a sudden memory gripped you.

“What’s that?” He asked, leaning close.

“When I first started painting you, you changed my passcode for the club. Anima mea, was it?”

Kihyun swallowed a drink of his cocktail and nodded, but he avoided your eyes.

“What does that mean? I know what the original passcode means, obviously, but not that one.”

Kihyun placed his drink down and cleared his throat. “It means...my soul.”

You blinked at him in confusion, and also felt your stomach do a little flip as a smile slowly took hold of your lips.

“Oh?”

“I mean when I first gave it to you, it had to do with the painting. You were capturing my soul.”

“Oh,” You responded, deflating at his explanation.

“It did take on a new meaning for me after awhile, though.” He said then, and you waited for him to continue.

“You didn’t just capture my soul, you are my soul.” He said, then nervously looked away. Even after everything, he still got shy around you.

You lay your hand on top of his and leaned in to kiss him, closing your eyes tight as you conveyed through your thoughts alone that he was yours, too. He got the message loud and clear.

#monsta x scenarios #kihyun scenarios #monsta x #yoo kihyun #kpop scenarios #vampire au #kpop #fanfiction

89 notes · View notes

spective90 · 4 years

Text

Medusa Complex - 1

Many people in my hometown believed that the house next to my parents’ place was destined to be empty for as long as it stood its ground. Built in 1929, the Victorian palace sat on top of the hill that cast its shadow upon the entire valley.

We think the royals lived in it before the world wars begun, where dynasties collapsed, and common people revolutionized the lands. It could have been torn down ages ago but after years of standing tall, the town has pretty much left it alone. It’s like a totem protecting Foxwood from disaster; we hadn’t had any devastation in a long time. Everybody knew about the house and its lonely reputation, so you can imagine my surprise when a black SUV pulled into its driveway one day as I returned from the grocery store, carrying a realtor and a pair of young house hunters.

“And here, as you can see, is by far the oldest house in the neighborhood,” the realtor said as he exited the car, “I figure this relic might not be exactly what you’re looking for, but if you’re going to move to Foxwood, this is a nice part of its history–”

“Well, we’re open to buying any property at this point, Mr. Lorem,” a middle-aged man said, climbing out of the back seat, his voice loud and deep. His skin fair, he sported long, ginger hair with a trimmed beard, and dressed nicely. He rounded the vehicle as the realtor waited by the cobblestone stairs, and opened the door for who I assumed to be his wife.

The first thing I noticed were her black pumps and silk tights as she climbed out of the car. I tried to keep my eyes on what I was doing as I gathered bags from the back of Waylen’s sedan, but despite myself, I looked again as soon as I heard the door close.

The woman, tanned and lean, wore white-framed sunglasses and a matching summer dress. Her hair was dirty blonde and she carried herself confidently beside her husband while he led her by the arm. The action struck me as odd, and I wondered if she was older than I originally thought; I couldn’t see her face too well, but the body she had was almost criminal.

My eyes traveled over her as the three of them walked into the building, and I nearly lost my grip on one of the bags on my way up the driveway.

As soon as they disappeared, I sighed and shook my head.

“Jessie,” my brother called from inside, “You good?”

“Yeah,” I replied back, throat feeling a bit dry, “Give me a sec.”

After the last of the bags, I shut the trunk and locked it up. Our parents had tasked us to fix their house up while they went away for a bit. Its birch wood structure and wide, open backyard was definitely a sight to see; it was exactly the same as I’d remembered it to be.

I headed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Sitting on the couch, my brother squinted his eyes as he watched a soccer game play out.

“Hey, do you know if the house next door is for sale?” I asked him as I unscrewed the cap.

Waylen made a confused face. “The castle-looking one?” I nodded. “Uh, not that I know of. Why?”

I took a few swigs and played with the hem of my tank top. “Some couple is looking at it right now. I don’t even think the guy showing it is from around here.”

Waylen scoffed and turned to look at me. “How does that even...? So it’s not someone from the local place?”

“No. The dude kinda looks like Willy Wonka.” I thought for a second. “With glasses.”

“Heh,” Waylen chuckled, “Maybe they’re from the next town over? Darton, or something?”

“Dunbarton,” I corrected. “Maybe. Or Cozy Lake.”

My brother shook his head and turned back to the game. “We’re surrounded by rich people out here,” he grumbled. “Not gonna lie, I’m happy to get away from everything, but I think I’ll be happier when the rents get back. You can only be out here in the boonies for so long before it just... gets to you.”

I put my drink down and looked out the living room window, watching the wind tickle the flowerbeds outside. “Yeah. I just hope mom and dad find what they’re looking for on their trip,” I mumbled.

“True.” Waylen threw his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “They deserve it, right?”

“Mhm,” I nodded and glanced towards the stairs. “Hey, I’m gonna hop in the shower. When is Laurie coming over again? Sunday?”

Laurie was his fiancée. She’d offered to help with the job since we’d first gotten out here a few days ago. “Eh... I’ll call her. She said sometime this weekend,” he confirmed, his focus torn between the TV and our conversation.

I didn’t wait for him to elaborate. The floorboards creaked as I ascended the stairs and got ready for my shower.

What I knew about this entire expedition was that we had about two months to finish it. To celebrate their anniversary, my parents bought themselves a 6-week long vacation to rekindle what had been lost while they both worked and sent us away to college.

Waylen graduated with a degree in business management and I barely finished with a degree in traditional arts this past May. All I knew heading into school was that I was good with my hands, and I liked to create things. As far as I was concerned, maybe I’d be lucky enough to be in a gallery one day.

Part of the reason I decided to come out to Foxwood again was to take a break before finding a job, and to spend time with Waylen before he went back to his suburban life outside the city. Our parents’ place was still in good condition but definitely needed some touch-ups, as the wood was stained and matted from constant weathering, and my mother was having none of it.

“Just give it a facelift, honey,” she’d said to me over the phone not too long ago. “We’ve already asked your brother to come too. Think of it as a small vacation; you’ll be there until the end of November... you don’t have to pay us anything. We just want to see what you can do with it.”

“You’re asking the twins of terror,” I said dramatically, “to give your house a makeover while you travel the country with dad?”

“Yes, thank you, Jessie. You’re a sweetheart for agreeing to do this.” I hadn’t— not yet, at least. “We love you very much.”

I didn’t seem to have much of a choice in the matter, anyway. “Love you too, mom.”

Over dinner later that night, after the pizza guy came, the two of us started spitballing ideas for any serious reparations during the next few weeks.

“So here’s what I’m thinking—” I started, twirling some spaghetti with my fork, “We start with the outside first and work our way in. It’s gonna be cold by the end of October and I really don’t wanna be out in the woods with the temperature below 30.”

“True,” Waylen agreed.

“So outside first. We can figure out colors when the sun’s up.” A flicker of light caught my eye and I turned to the living room window, watching as the people from earlier wandered outside on the Victorian house’s balcony.

“Ooo,” I hummed as I pointed. “Look. Told ya.”

My brother looked at me quizzically before catching the scene outside. He stood and walked over to the kitchen window to get a better angle. “Huh. Yeah, they’ve gotta be from Dunbarton,” he mused, taking another bite of his pizza. “Imagine if they end up buying the place? That’d upset the town for sure. Watch them knock it down and build a park over it.”

I shook my head. “No way, dude. It’s held up since the beginning of time. They’d need a ton of lawyers for all that.”

Waylen scoffed. “Well, from the looks of it, I don’t think money would be a huge problem for them...” He paused. “Do you see that guy’s wife? She’s wearing sunglasses and it’s like 6 o’clock at night.”

Furrowing my brows, I leaned forward to get a better look. Sure enough, she hadn’t taken them off, and the sun had definitely gone down since they arrived. My curiosity grew

when the woman stalked back inside, her husband still supporting her with his arm, and the realtor shuffled through a bunch of papers in his hands as he followed them.

“You think the rents would be psyched if they came back here with new neighbors?” Waylen said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Living in that house, no less.”

“Funny.”

“I mean, the dude’s got the paperwork right there,” he pointed out. He probably had a better view than I did. “Yeah, wow, I think they’re shaking hands.”

I was still highly skeptical, no matter what it looked like.

Waylen moved back into the living room and joined me on the couch. “If anything,” he said, grabbing the remote, “you’ll have some good eye candy for these next two months, right?”

“Shut up.”

#lesbian #short story #fiction #lgbt #original #medusa #mythological #story

5 notes · View notes