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svnaaaaaa · 6 months

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Monte Carlo : Charles Leclerc AU (Epilogue)

pairing : charles leclerc x fem reader

summary : the married life went well. so is the pregnancy?

warning(s) : another domestic!charles, progress of pregnancy (i literally have nothing to write now), pictures from pinterest

previous : part seven

next : -

masterlist

author's note : in honour of attack on titan's final episode aired, i presented a long epilogue just like how attack on titan ended its series *sobsob*. i had fun doing this series but i realized of how short the story is because i just don't know how to elaborate the story long but long stories can be boring (with my writing) at the end of the day so i decided to end it before it became nonsense lol. thank you for the support that you guys gave me, i hope you guys enjoy it from the first part till now.

tagging : (if you want to be tagged in, let me know)

recap :

"ready to be a daddy, papa?" y/n whispered as she stroked back charles' front hair to the back. "as ready as i ever be maman." charles replied, taking y/n's hand and kissed it.

10 weeks into pregnancy, y/n realized that her body is going through some changes and that being her emotions as well. her abdomen is getting a slight bloated as if she was overeating things. just a small bloating, nothing more or less. and since charles have a week off from racing, he decides to bring y/n back home in nice, france for some healing time. lately, charles noticed that his wife is having mood swings moments, where himself was afraid that something might trigger her which he assumed that his wife was stressed while he wasn't home.

"honey, you might want to slow down on those wings. it giving you a bloating tummy already." beau reprimanded as he saw his daughter savouring the chicken wings. which has been y/n's craving lately where she craved chicken wings with spicy honey glazed sauce on it. y/n who felt realiztion hits her hard, she put down the de-boned wing back on her plate and placed the plate on the coffee table in front of her as her eyes were getting tear up. charles comes in the living room and he heard his wife was getting to sob. he immediately went to her side and rub his wife's arms. "y/n sweetheart, what's wrong, tell me." charles hushed as the sobbing is getting louder.

"i'm fat!" y/n exclaimed. "which makes me ugly!" y/n continued and the crying comes in. charles sighed silently as he pulled his wife into his arms and hugged her gently, rubbing her back. "you're not fat and ugly my sweetheart, it just your body is going through some phases as you are pregnant now." charles tried to rationalized which makes beau hit with gulit. "i'm sorry baby, i know being pregnant makes you want to eat everything you want but i am just want you to be aware of what you eat. that's all, nothing harm." beau explained. y/n pulled away from charles' arms and glared at beau, which causing him to stutter and carefully walk away from the living room. y/n starting to sob again and once again, charles pulled her to his shoulder, swaying them left and right.

charles thought of how many weeks more for the mood swings to past by.

"charles, y/n, i'm sorry."

as charles making chicken pasta for dinner, y/n who is finished showering, entered their bedroom while patting dry her body until she saw the full body mirror in the room. y/n noticed something different on her body and went closer to the mirror. y/n gasped. "charles!" y/n called. "charles, come quick!" y/n called once again and as fast as a lightning, there charles was, gasping for air as he leaned onto the door frame. "what is it sweetheart, are you hurt?" charles asked, making y/n chuckled. "no silly, look!" y/n exclaimed as she referred to her abdomen, making charles look at it as well. when realization kicks in, charles' eyes enlarged as he approached to his wife's way and saw a small bump. a bump that resides in his baby.

their baby.

"you can touch it you know." y/n chuckled as charles placed his hands at the side of his wife's bloating tummy, carassing it. getting his eyes tearing up, he thought on how he can't wait to meet with the baby soon enough. "hello there little angel, papa can't wait to see you soon. i hope you are as beautiful as your maman." charles said and end it with a kiss on his wife's abdomen.

25 weeks into the pregnancy, y/n's abdomen became a bit larger than the last time she realized she had the tummy. this afternoon, pascale invited charles and y/n to her house for a lunch date. as charles went bonding with his brothers at the front yard, y/n, charlotte and pascale were in the kitchen, prepping things before cooking. since charles and y/n were the only leclerc couple that will be having a child soon, lorenzo and charlotte were more than happy to babysit the future baby before deciding to have their own baby, in order to gain some experience. "how's pregnancy treating you y/n?" charlotte asked y/n as she was washing some apples before handing to y/n to slice it up. y/n sat at the island table stool, rubbing her lower tummy looking at charlotte. "it was like a rollercoaster ride to be honest, sometimes i am okay sometimes i am not. and poor charles had to attend to all my ridiculousness." y/n replied as she chuckled at the thought of charles had to find a rabbit meat for y/n to eat it with a sriracha sauce, where charles had to made an order through amazon for the sriracha sauce.

charlotte chuckled as well. "well, he had to since he's also helping making the baby right?" charlotte asked and y/n nodded at the question. "he had to, if he doesn't want our baby to drooling once it was born." y/n said, had a thought of where her mother used to tell a story of a baby that keeps on drooling because the father wasn't able to fulfill the mother's pregnancy craving. once she told the story to charles, at first he thought it was kinda weird and dumb but the thought of having his own baby might be experience with drooling in its toddling years, he couldn't bear to risk it so he just fulfilled everything that y/n craved.

"is it really a thing?" charlotte asked and y/n shrugged. "it can be real, it cannot but neither of us want to risk." y/n replied while cutting off watermelon this time. pascale chuckled. "i also don't want you two to risk anything bad to my grandchildren." pascale informed, stirring her cookings on the stove. both charlotte and y/n looked at each other, just smiling. "will do pascale." charlotte replied. "maman, arthur's here with carla." lorenzo informed as both arthur and carla entered the kitchen and kissing pascale's cheek, carla holding something in her arms. "here i brought some desserts from patisserie riviera." carla informed, placing a box of desserts on the dining table.

y/n gasped as she holding her lower abdomen, alerting everyone in the house. "y/n, are you okay?" charles asked, rushing in to y/n's side and placed his hands on y/n's. "i-i'm fine, i guess." y/n replied in confusion. "it just, i felt something like cramp but it wasn't that hard or painful." y/n continued as she placed charles' hands on where y/n felt the flutter against her abdomen. charles' eyes brighten up at the feel of the small kicks.

"wait, the baby kicked because of patisserie riviera?" arthur asked.

amélie was assigned to be the planner of the baby shower and she planned it to be an all-girls party at a venue where charles and y/n held their wedding at. amélie also invited kika, carmen, kelly, rebecca, lily, and basically all formula one drivers' partners. the theme of the party is pastel purple because everyone doesn't know the gender of the baby. the baby gender reveal will be held at the end of the party where the men will be invited right after the party ends.

theme and cake

invitation card

dining table

backdrop

"okay everyone, gather around here as we are going to play our first game." amélie announced as she stood on a podium with backdrop that she designed specially for her future niece/nephew. the ladies started to stood in front of amélie as y/n took place next to amélie as she linked her arm around amélie's.

"we are going to play our first game, which i call 'play dough babies', where each of you will be given a cup of play dough and the rule is easy." amélie started as she pulled a trolley that have cups of colourful play dough. "each of you need to create the perfect play dough baby where our mother to-be here, will decide the winner." amélie finished and starts handing out the play dough cups. "also help yourself with props in the trolley there to add some bonus points!" amélie added. the ladies in the hall starts to get excited as the trolley were pushed into the middle of the hall and they saw things that they can get creative with.

"okay ladies, you only have 15 minutes to create the most perfect yet creative play dough baby." amélie said as she pulled out a stop watch. "your 15 minutes start, now!" amélie announced as she clicked on the timer and the ladies started to rolling out play dough according to their own ways. "so y/n, who do you think will be the winner?" amélie asked leisurely as she tried not to make things focus on the game. y/n hummed as she looked at the contestants making their babies eagerly. she eyed on kika's play dough baby. "i had my eyes on someone's but i can't tell who." y/n replied as she giggled. "oh-kay then, ladies your time have five more minutes left." amélie announced and she walked around, eyeing the babies.

"time's up! so y/n, please choose your winner mommy!" amélie announced and y/n walked around to evaluate the babies.

y/n smiled genuinely. "without bias, the winner for this round is ... carla!" y/n announced as carla jumped happily and went to hug y/n at her arm as she doesn't want to cause trouble to y/n.

five games later, at party is now almost at the end and the men now have arrived. y/n's eyes lighten up as charles showed in her sight. charles saw y/n and walked his way to her. y/n smiled at charles and grabbed his arm, hugging it. charles chuckled at his wife's attitude, stroking his wife's arms around his right arm. "alright, now that everyone is here. now is the time for the gender reveal!" amélie announced and brought in a white frosted cake on her hands.

the guests there were starting to clapping their hands, feeling excited at the reveal of baby leclerc. including the new leclercs, where both charles and y/n is fine with the gender of the baby, as long as the baby is healthy and happy. charles gripped on y/n's hand where he pulled it to his mouth and kissed on it, making y/n smiled at her husband's gesture.

"ladies and gentlemen, may i here invite the leclercs to the podium here and cut the cake to present the reveal of their baby's gender." amélie announced and then both charles and y/n went to the front, onto the small podium that amélie made, hand in hand. amélie smiled at the couple and stood a bit away from where the couple stood. "are you guys feeling excited?" amélie asked, being the great host she is. "are you expecting a boy or a girl?" amélie added. "well..." charles started, as he getting nervous for no specific reason. "we were hoping to get both boy and girl but since there is only one baby here," charles placed his hand on his wife's belly, "we are fine with any of it as long as the baby's fine and y/n have a safe labour soon." charles said as the crowd were awed at charles' reply.

"okay, it's time to cut the cake! which gender will the new baby leclerc will be!" amélie said as both charles and y/n cut the cake and the gender has been revealed, which caused joy among the guests there.

38 weeks passed by so quickly and it is time for y/n to be admitting into her labour ward since the baby can arrive soon enough. also she has been feeling mild contractions. right now, charles went off to registering his wife after they got in their ward room.

"have you thought about the name yet?" one of the nurses asked as she was inserting iv drip on y/n's arm while y/n make herself comfortable on a bed that she has been admitted. "yea, we had few names listed but the right one will comes right in when we see the baby's face." y/n told the nurse. the nurse smiled at the excitement of a new mother. this was the first time for the nurse to see new mothers being calm, despite within 24 hours, they had to push a baby out of their uterus.

"all done, if there's any discomfort or problems, please press the button here okay?" the nurse asked and y/n nodded her head yes. making sure that y/n is fine once again, she left the ward room, followed with charles entering. y/n letting out a huge huff of breath. "another contraction?" charles asked and y/n nodded her head yes. "but still, the water isn't broke yet. is it normal?" y/n asked worriedly, making charles nervous and worried as well.

he was a small child when his mother gave birth to arthur and y/n was the younger child in her siblings. none of them experience with childbirth before.

"i guess so, want to take a walk?" charles offered. y/n nodded her head yes.

the leclerc couple walked down the hallway of the ward, waiting for water to break and also for dilation. dragging along the iv drip along. "can you believe it char, less than 24 hours we get to see our little baby!" y/n said excitedly even in the midst of contraction. charles smiled at his wife's excitement and admired at how strong a woman is even if she is in labour. this makes charles respect women even more, especially his mum and wife. "we have been waiting long enough now, please hurry up little fella." charles said while rubbing his wife's stomach, causing y/n groaned silently not wanting to create chaos. charles noticed it and pulled his hand away and immediately hold onto his wife's shoulders, fearing that she might fell down or something along the way. charles looked at y/n worriedly, which y/n saw and smiled a bit. "i'm fine, it just the baby can't wait to meet you too." y/n said slowly.

and their walk ended right there, as to the dilation went from 2 cm to 9 cm. that fast huh.

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc Presenting René Jules Valentin Leclerc. I love you my boy, just like how I love your mother ❤️

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yourusername

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yourusername rené jules valentin leclerc, reborn youthful and healthy

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a/n : the end! i didn't know how to end it so i ended it this way. thank you to all who have been supporting this series from the beginning until now. for now i would like to take a rest from writing because i have been in writer's block mode for a while now, hence the ending. if any of you have any suggestions or request, feel free to inbox me and i will try my best to make it a reality! once again, thank for the support and if you don't mind, feel free to follow me so that you will known what will i write next hehe 🩵

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7ndipity · 1 year

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Taking care of you

Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook taking care of his s/o after a rough day

Warnings: a lil bit of crying, but it's mostly just comfort & fluff

A/N: first off, we just 300 followers?! Thank you all so much! This was another lovely request from @tpiliper, I hope y'all like it! I'll also be trying to post several other requests this weekend.

Masterlist

Requests are open

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You dragged yourself through the door of your apartment, movements slow and brain hazy from another exhausting day. The only coherent thought in your mind being the desire to crawl into bed and forget about everything for a few hours.

You'd barely kicked your shoes off before you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist.

"Hi." Jungkook mumbled, planting a small kiss against you neck. When you only hummed in response, he pulled back to look at you properly.

"Long day?" He asked, taking note of your tired eyes, to which you only nodded, too fatigued to elaborate at the moment.

"My poor baby." He cooed, taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling you into a tight hug. Jungkook gave the best hugs; if it were up to you, you would never never leave his arms, forever wrapped in the sense of warmth and safety that only he could convey.

"How about you go grab a shower and I'll order us some food, okay?" He suggested.

"I'm too tired to wash up." You groaned against his shoulder.

"You'll only feel worse if you don't." He said pulling back and taking your hand, tugging you towards the bathroom. "C'mon."

He sat you down on the edge of the tub and carefully removed your makeup for you before gently helping you into the shower.

You don't know how long you stood under the warm stream from the shower, but by the time you finally emerged, now in pajamas, he already had food set up and waiting in the living room. He was quick to pull you to the couch, giving your hand a little squeeze before moving to sit on the floor in front of you.

"What are you doing? There's plenty of room up here." You said.

"I like sitting here." He defended.

"You like it because I play with your hair." You teased.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He lied, flopping his head back as he spoke, so his hair brushed against you.

You weren't too far off with your comment, he did love it when you played with his hair, but also knew you loved it even more, having said before that you found it soothing to just sit and run your fingers through it, something he thought you might need at the moment.

The two of you slipped into a comfortable silence as you watched TV, with him coaxing you to eat a few bites of food here and there, when you began to feel all the emotions of the day that you'd been trying to push down starting to catch up to you.

At the sound of the first sniffle from you, Jungkook immediately whipped around.

"Baby? No no no, why are you crying?" He quickly moved to hold you as you cried. "It's okay, I've got you."

After a couple minutes, you calmed down. "I'm sorry." You said quietly.

"Don't apologize, everyone need to let it out sometimes." He said gently, wiping under your eyes. "You feel better?"

You nodded. "Thank you, for always taking care of me."

"Of course." He pressed another kiss to your temple. "Anytime."

You suddenly let out a yawn, making him chuckle.

"You wanna go to bed now?" He asked with a smile.

"Yes, please."

#jungkook fluff #jungkook reaction #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook comfort #jungkook imagine #bts #bts scenarios #bts one shot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts requests #7ndipity

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brownbearwrites · 1 year

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clean laundry | Carl Grimes

carl grimes x reader

warnings: angsty fluff, carl talks about lori. this is the first ever fic i've written for carl, so my characterization of him might be a little off!

You let out a content sigh at the feeling of soft cotton fabric slipping over your arms and torso, the clean scent of freshly washed laundry filling your senses. Alexandria was like a dream come true. After spending weeks on end on the road, not knowing if or when you’d next find clean water, something as simple as clean clothes felt luxurious to you. You’d been here for almost two weeks now, and still, you sometimes struggled to believe that this was all real. That you were actually able to take warm showers, sleep in a plush bed, and cook on a stove. That you could rest. Of course, you never knew how much longer this would all last; that threat always seemed to loom over you. Even so, you were hell-bent on enjoying life in Alexandria for as long as you possibly could.

Behind you, the door to your bedroom creaks open, interrupting your moment of peace. You turn your head, Carl’s eyes meeting yours from where he’s perched against your door frame.

“Hi,” he says, cracking a smile you can’t help but return.

You reciprocate his greeting, beckoning him into the room with a wave of your hand. “Weren’t you supposed to be watching after Judith?” you ask him.

Carl shakes his head no as he unceremoniously throws himself down onto your bed, “Michonne finished her watch early, so she came to take over from me. I thought I might as well come over and see you”.

“How sweet of you,” you respond, turning to face him. Carl reaches out to you, his hand resting at the juncture of where your calve and thigh meet. His thumb rubs the exposed skin below your shorts, his touch soft and gentle. He carefully tugs you towards him, and you easily allow yourself to be pulled down to sit down on the bed next to him. You brush some stray hairs away from where they were obscuring his eyes, tucking them behind his ears.

“Jessie has been trying to convince me to cut it off,” he confesses to you. You see the uneasiness on his face clear as day. Sometimes Carl was like an open book, you thought. It was just always so easy to figure out exactly what he was thinking. Or, more likely, you just knew him a little too well.

You shake your head, your hands inching up to stroke through your boyfriend’s brown locks, “You don’t have to cut it if you don’t want to, you know? She can’t make you”. You smile at him, leaning down to kiss him, “I think the long hair looks good on you, anyway”.

Carl laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you toward him. You give in, letting your body slot against his, and your head coming down to rest on his chest. Like this, you can hear the gentle thumping of his heartbeat. For a while, neither one of you speak. The only sounds in the room are your soft breaths and the distant voices that drift in from outside through the open window. You allow your eyelids to slip shut, fully enjoying the peace of this moment.

Below you, Carl takes in a shaky breath. “It reminds me of my mom,” he softly tells you.

You let out an inquisitive hum, giving him the freedom to elaborate.

“She cut my hair for me back at the quarry. It was right after my dad found us again, remember?” he says, waiting for you to nod before continuing, “she used to do that for me all the time, even before all the walkers and stuff. She’d sit me down on the porch steps and just start chopping away at me. I used to hate it”.

You laugh, finding it surprisingly easy to imagine Lori struggling to keep a tiny Carl sitting still for long enough to finish a haircut.

“It’s just—”, he continues, his voice heavy with unshed tears, “It’s just that she told me that, one day, I’d be wishing that she could cut my hair for me again. And she was right”.

His arms wrap around you tighter, and you feel him shake with the effort it takes to not cry. You allow him his comfort for a bit, not daring to move except for where your hand has come up to rub his arm through the worn fabric of his shirt. You’re well aware of the fact that Carl hates it when people see him cry. You know that it makes him feel weak and vulnerable. Still, when you begin to hear the sobs rack through his body, you cannot help but untangle yourself from his arms so that you can sit up straight. You swing your leg over his hip, now sitting down on his lap. You lean your head down to meet his, your foreheads resting against one another. Carefully, you wipe the tears away from where they have begun to run down his flushed red cheeks.

“You’re allowed to miss her,” you softly say, “and you’re allowed to grieve her. But please, talk to me about it. You can’t keep pushing it all down until it explodes out of you. You’ll just hurt yourself doing that. You can share your pain with me, I’m here for you”.

At this point, Carl’s breathing has evened out a little. He shoots you a watery smile, leaning up to kiss you deeply and full of emotion. “You’re right,” he gives in, “I’ll be better. I’ll try”.

The smile you give him is warm, and full of love. You lay yourself down again, once more pressing the full weight of your body down onto Carl. You know that there is still a long way to go. But, with Carl’s steady heartbeat in your ear, his warm body pressed against yours, and the smell of clean laundry still wafting through the room, you allow yourself the benefit of the doubt. You’ll be okay. Both of you will be.

#carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fic #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes angst #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x you #carl grimes x y/n #mine

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questionableratatouille00 · 6 months

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𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷 7

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When her friend doesn’t show up to an outing, Y/n is prompted to make a house call. But when the past comes to get back at them, she has to wonder: is she really capable of moving on?

IMPORTANT: Instead of having the huge warning paragraph here, for this chapter I want to put a little note in. This chapter of Moving On is a lot heavier and quite graphic. Mind the warnings. I will link a summary of the chapter above the series Masterlist link. It will not be an alternate chapter, but rather a summary of what happened in this chapter, without the details. Stay safe and mind your triggers.

Warnings: heavily implied potential suicide, breaking and entering, graphic depictions of gore, guilt, depression, background stucky, violence, crying, scars, yelling, discussions of: phantom limb pain, NON-GRAPHIC past sexual abuse (including assault), cults, suicidal ideation, car crashes, hospitals, funerals, death, past abuse (physical, emotional, it’s HYDRA, y’know?), and there's a slight part where it's implied that the reader is a lesbian but it's easy to ignore.

[ALT/Summary]

🌻 Series Masterlist 🌻

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𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

“Hey guys!” You smile as you find your newfound friend group standing together outside the cafe.

They all greet you joyfully as you go to stand beside Wanda.

“The only person we’re waiting on is Bucky.” Thor notes.

“He doesn’t live that far away. He should be here by now.” Sam frowns.

“Call him?” You suggest. Sam pulls out his phone, holding it up to his ear.

“Nothing.” He murmurs.

Thor tries. Bucky doesn’t pick up.

Wanda calls, and Bucky doesn’t answer.

You try, and he doesn’t answer your call either.

Clint tries, and Bucky picks up on the second ring.

Sam rolls his eyes, and you and Wanda look at each other, smiling slightly.

“Hey, where are you, man?” Clint asks. You can’t hear what Bucky’s saying. “Okay, well..take care, then.” Clint lowers the phone from his ear, frowning slightly.

“Where is he?” Wanda questions.

“He’s at home. He didn’t really elaborate. I think he’s having a bit of a rough day.” Clint explains.

“And Steve’s out of town,” Wanda murmurs.

Sam nods at her. “Exactly.” He thinks for a moment.

Clint seemingly comes up with a plan. “Does anybody have their address? They live together, right?”

“Yeah. I have it. I don’t think he’d really wanna talk to any of us—besides, I know that I personally am not experienced in how to get through that kind of thing in a healthy way.” Sam replied.

“Me neither. I’m not the best with comforting others, so..” Clint shrugged.

“I doubt he’d feel comfortable with myself. I think it’d be best if one of you helped him.” Thor explained.

Wanda looked at you. And then everyone else looked at you, too.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Send me his address.”

The apartment wasn’t too far away, and you were able to ride the elevator to the sixth floor.

It wasn’t hard finding Bucky and Steve’s apartment, considering Sam had given you his apartment number.

You knocked on the door. Once. Then twice. And then again a third time.

“Bucky?” You said, at a normal volume. You didn’t want to bother any of his neighbors. You called his name again, slightly louder this time. And then you began to worry. How could you guarantee that he was okay? He could’ve fell in the shower or something. Choked on food while he was home alone. Fuck, he could’ve hurt himself.

That thought sent you into a real panic, and you knocked rapidly on the door. Once more, he didn’t answer.

You placed your hand on the door handle. You weren’t usually the type to commit breaking and entering, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Though, how suspicious would it look to break the lock on his door? You’d never been to his apartment, anyone who looked in the hall wouldn’t recognize you.

But now was not the time to think about all that. You expected to have to force the door open, to sacrifice your shoulder to bust down the door. It would make an obnoxiously loud sound and would probably send the neighbors running out into the hallway to see what the hell was going on. And when you opened the door…

…it opened without any problems. You swung the door open, managing to stop it before it hit the wall. Looking into the apartment, you took in the decor. A comfy couch in the living room area, a nice kitchen, a few picture frames hung on the walls here and there. All Steve’s work, you were sure of it.

“Bucky?” You close the door softly behind you. Creeping through the apartment, you find there is no Bucky in sight.

You approached a closed door, which you assumed was a bedroom door. You knocked. “Bucky? If you’re okay just say something. Literally anything, please.”

Your eyes watered when you received no answer. When you open the door, what are you going to find? You weren’t going to be ready to find a corpse. That’s what you were sure of. But what if he was just asleep? That was a possibility.

You opened the door.

You immediately saw him. Or, the outline of him. He was curled up in a blanket, still in bed. You could see him breathing, his torso moving slightly with every breath.

“Bucky?” You whispered.

“Mm.” He answered back.

“It’s 1:54 in the afternoon. We were gonna meet up for lunch, what happened?”

He shrugs in response.

“Clint let you know I was coming, yeah?”

He nods, his back facing you. He doesn't turn to face you, and you shift awkwardly.

"He said you were having a bit of a rough day. Are you sick? Or is more of an..inside thing?"

He says nothing, and you frown. You look towards the curtains, a soft and gentle blue. Steve's favorite color, you remembered.

You hear a soft sniffle come from the bed.

"Are you..crying?"

"No," he disagreed, but you could hear the sadness in his voice.

"It's okay if you are," you stated. "You don't have to hide it."

"This fucking sucks," he laughed, and you could imagine a few more tears spilling down his face. "I mean, I feel like shit. I haven't left my apartment in days, my arm fucking hurts, and I can't even get out of fucking bed." He begins to laugh at the end, as if he's fed up.

You didn't really know what to say. What would Sharon do? Probably send a motivational instagram video, you thought. It made you smile slightly, but you pushed the thought away. Now's not the time.

"Where's Steve?" You asked softly.

"Lehigh, New Jersey. It's a small town, he's visiting a friend, Peggy."

"Have you thought about calling him? He's your roommate and your best friend, right?" You assumed that Steve normally helped Bucky get through his bad days.

"Boyfriend, actually." He sniffled.

"Wait, what? Since when?"

"Since three days ago," he chuckled.

"That's awesome, man." You smiled, stepping a few inches closer.

He nods, rolling over to face you. His face is puffy, his eyes a bit red from crying. The blanket slides down a bit, revealing his scarred chest. You notice the absence of his left arm and the scarring around his shoulder, but you don't dwell on it. Bringing your eyes quickly back to his face, his small expression reveals that he's grateful for this.

"When's Steve coming home?"

"Tomorrow. Around suppertime. He left three days ago, so." He said quietly.

"You should come stay with me. Just for tonight. It'll get you out of the house, and it might make you feel a little better."

"I don't wanna be a bother. You know, more than I'm already being."

"You're not a burden. You're having a rough time, and that's okay, it's human. C'mon, I've got a guest room. You're never too old for a sleepover."

"What, are we gonna paint each other's toenails?"

You gave him a goofy grin. "Damn right. And we'll talk all about boys or something." You laugh, and he does too.

“Hey. C’mon, I’m serious.” You say earnestly after a moment, shoving your hands in your pockets. “S’not just for you. I get lonely.” You make it sound like a joke, but deep down both of you know it’s true.

He nods after a second.

“I’ll be in the living room, yeah? So you can pack up and get ready or whatever you wanna do.” You began to make your way towards the door, and he nodded again, a silent ‘thank you’.

You sat on the couch, which was a light tan color. It was a pretty nice couch.

Bucky came out twenty minutes later, his hair wet and pulled back into a half-up half-down hair style. He wore a black hoodie and some black jeans, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

You smiled warmly, wolf-whistling for dramatic effect. “Lookin’ good Barnes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his head, but he couldn’t hide his smile.

When you got to your place, the two of you grabbed a beer, plopping down in front of the couch.

“Do..you wanna talk about it?”

“I mean, it was just memories coming up, paired with phantom limb pain.” He explained.

“Drink. You know, if you want. It just seems like a ‘drink-and-talk’ kind of night.”

He took a sip of his beer, and you took a sip of your own.

“I was in the military until, well, you know.” He gestured to his prosthetic. “And then I accidentally joined a cult.”

You blinked, waiting for him to explain further.

“I guess they manipulated me or whatever, but I still fell for it. They were…weird. Always talking about ‘Insight’ and other propaganda. It was just..dumb. I just..needed something to belong to, I guess. They ended up giving me the first prosthetic I ever had. Not this one—this one’s much less…invasive.”

You nod, not sure if there was anything else you could say.

“They had their version of the electric chair. If you didn’t…do what they wanted you to do, they’d uh, punish you. Public whippings, the goddamn chair, more…graphic things. I was the newest member, shit always landed on me. One of the uh, higher ups, had a sex drive bigger than my will to live. Never a fun day for me.” Bucky said, shrugging as if trying to hide how it affected him.

“Then Steve reached out. Kept reaching out, that stubborn son of a bitch." Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Got me out of that situation. And then, well, here I am." He looked down at his hand, rubbing his pointer finger against his thumb. “My uh..sister and parents passed away while I was gone. Car crashes suck ass.”

You huffed a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

He glanced to the photo hanging on the wall. “Is…is that..?”

“Oh—yeah. Uh—it’s—well, y’know, it’s—uhm—yeah. It’s—yeah.” You sputtered.

Deciding that it was awkward if you didn’t say something else, you spoke up. "So...you and Steve, huh?"

Bucky rolled his eyes, grinning. "Yeah-huh."

"How'd you know? That..that you liked him?" You asked, and you were sure that you both knew there was more to this question besides your curiosity about Bucky's love life.

"I guess I didn't. I mean, we've known each other since we were real young, y'know. So I guess it was jus' always kinda that way."

"And..how'd you know he liked you back?" A certain woman popped into your mind, with her large doe-like green eyes and soft red hair.

"Cause he looked at me like there was somethin' worth lookin' at." Bucky drawled, making eye-contact with you. You were positive he was being earnest, based on his tone and overall demeanor.

Did Wanda look at you like that? Did you look at her like that?

“Huh,” you mumbled, nodding. You hoped he couldn’t tell what you were thinking. Somehow, deep inside you, you knew he could.

“So,” he took a sip of beer. “You and Wanda, eh?”

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“But seriously! You gotta tell me. Queer to queer, c’mon.” He nudged you with his elbow.

“Okay.” You sigh. “We went to a sunflower field together and ate sunflower-themed baked goods. At the end we called it a date, but I don’t know if that was meant to be romantic or not.”

“Oh. That’s…ambiguous.”

“Tell me about it.” You let out a breath, leaning your head back against the couch.

“But it was totally meant to be romantic. Very homo.”

“What?” You looked at him, but he seemed dead serious.

“Have you seen the way she looks at you? She looks so goddamn happy. And sure, she looks pleasant all the time, but not in the same way. It’s different.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. You looked at him. “I just…I don’t know. I’m not even sure if I like her. I mean, I think I do. But I can’t tell if I like her or if I like how she reminds me a little of Nat.”

He stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I'm not..trying to find another Natasha--that's...weird. I mean, they're super different. Natasha was older than me, just by two years. And Wanda's a year younger. She's more..bubbly. Like, the best way I can describe it is that Natasha's a deep red, and Wanda's a light pink. Just in like, vibes." You tried to explain. "Sorry, I probably sound crazy."

"No, it makes sense. Wait..what color are my vibes?" He chuckled, but you could tell he wasn't making fun of you.

"Mm...silver. And red. With hints of a greenish-yellow, like old-timey lighting."

"Huh." He nodded.

After a few more minutes, you both departed to your separate rooms. Bucky to the guest room, and you to your bedroom, as per usual. You fell asleep quicker than usual, but whether that was due to the alcohol or due to the comfort of having someone else in the apartment, you weren't sure.

You awoke to the sound of glass shattering. Immediately, you were confused. Had Bucky gotten up to get a drink and dropped a glass? Had something fell?

Though you were tired, you wanted to make sure nothing important was damaged. That included Bucky being hurt.

You pulled yourself out of bed, slowly creeping out of your bedroom. The layout of your apartment was simple. No hallways, minus the tiny one that lead to the bathroom. You surveyed the dark living room, immediately finding the source of the noise.

Your window had been smashed. And in your living room, a few feet from the couch you’d just been sitting against, was a figure. Not Bucky, you were positive. From what you could see, the figure was wearing all black, and sported the unmistakable curves of a woman.

Your blood ran cold, your legs locking up, keeping you in place. Your mouth went dry, and you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You screamed, hoping that doing so would potentially let someone know that you needed help. And, worse case scenario, that you were murdered. That you didn’t do it yourself. That you wanted to live.

The figure rushed toward you, shoving you to the ground before pinning you there. She slammed a hand over your mouth as you writhed under her. You let out muffled screams and mangled growls, not wanting to go without a fight.

“What the hell?” Bucky walked out into the living room, wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing before, minus the fact that he’d changed from a hoodie to a t-shirt. The absence of his left arm was much more noticeable now.

He quickly peered over the couch, his eyes widening in fear as he found you. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, immediately racing for you. You’d forgotten about his military days; the ones that had clearly set him up with a faster speed and a stronger body.

He ripped the woman off of you, and she let out an animalistic shriek in protest. They wrestled for a moment, before she slammed her boot against his face. He groaned, backing up. She ignored him, beginning to stumble toward you. You got a clear look at her this time. She was wearing a black mask, one built similar to one you’d see a surgeon wear.

She dashed at you again, but this time you were more prepared. You grabbed anywhere you could—her hair, her neck, her ears—and the two of you tussled for a few moments. You grabbed her mask, ripping it off her face and shoving her backward as you stumbled in the opposite direction.

Bucky was clutching at his bloody nose, and you resisted the urge to gag at the red stain that covered the front of his shirt, going from just under the neckline to his chest. You’d seen blood before; you were a woman, and it’d be a real inconvenience to be scared of blood. But the scenario only made your uneasiness worse.

You stared at your attacker’s revealed face, before it dawned on you.

“Yelena?”

She glared at you, chest heaving as she was out of breath. You were sure that you didn’t look any better.

“Why the hell are you here?” You stressed, brows furrowing.

“You know what you did. And now I’m going to kill you for it.” She brandished a knife from her pocket, twisting it around in her fingers.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Yelena, I haven’t seen you since—since—“

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Ms. L/n? I'm calling from Westview Hospital."

“—since you left me to find my sister dead? Since you left my parents to find their oldest daughter with her face half melted off? Since then, Y/n? What, did you think we just wouldn’t find out?” Her voice steadily rose in volume.

"She was in a car accident, ma'am." Dr. Christine Palmer told you. "We had her in surgery--Dr. Strange and I operated on her ourselves. She's unstable, but there's a chance she'll pull through. We just have to hope for the best."

Natasha, your beloved Natasha, was sitting in a hospital bed. She was unconscious, and you wondered if that was for the best. The skin on her face was burned, stitched up but still seemingly melting.

Dr. Palmer left the room, leaving you alone with her. You sobbed for what felt like decades, before you realized that her family hadn't been alerted. That was up to you. And that only broke you more.

“You don’t understand! I couldn’t—I just—“

You'd ran. It was true, you had run. You'd scribbled Yelena's phone number on the tiny notepad in Nat's hospital room before you raced out. You didn't know what else to do.

“No, you don’t understand! You’re a fucking coward, you sick son of a bitch! You couldn’t even face us after what you did! You didn’t even show up to her funeral!” She shrieked, and then everything went quiet.

You hadn't gone. That was also true. You couldn't bear to show your face after the whole hospital incident. And that wasn't to say that you'd never been to her grave, or that you hadn't left flowers and other small trinkets, because you'd done those things. But you hadn't been there to grieve with the rest of her family. Sometimes you regretted it, other times you pushed the thought away before you could dwell on it.

Bucky had gone; you had no real defense against her anymore. He’d most likely went off to the bathroom to avoid bleeding on the kitchen floor.

“…You don’t get it.” You muttered.

“I bet you don’t even care! You’ve already got some random fucking guy you’re sleeping with!” She shouted at you. “You never loved her! Say it!” Her eyes watered, and you could hear her sadness seep through her voice.

"I did love her! I loved her with everything I had!" You felt your own eyes water as your throat burned.

"Then why did you run away?"

You didn't have an answer to that. Not really. She let out a quiet sob, turning her head to look away from you.

"Because I was scared, Yelena. I didn't know what else to do--I wanted to call you. I wanted to be there, I wanted to reach out, but I was scared. And I've regretted it every day." You pant, tears streaming down your face. “Yelena, I was going to marry her. I’d already bought the ring.”

“You’re pathetic.” She gasped, crying softly. “You’re so pathetic.”

You gave her a nod. “I know.”

“She would’ve never said yes.” She wept bitterly. You both know that that’s not true.

“She already had,” you admitted.

“Ask me later, you goof. You know what I’ll say. But I want you to ask.” Natasha smiled one Sunday morning in the middle of summer. “I love you, you know that?”

“I do.” You grinned. “What kind of ring are you thinking?” You watched her clean the dishes.

“Whatever you’ve already got. You’re not very sneaky, Y/n.” She chuckled. You wrapped your arms around her waist, your chin resting on her shoulder. “But I’d let you propose to me with a ring pop. Not many people get that chance, y’know.”

“I am proud to be blessed with that honor. Now, you want blue raspberry or berry blast?” You teased.

“Why would she spend her life with you? Why do you deserve it?” She sniffled.

“I don’t.” You let the tears pour from your eyes.

“She died because you let her.” Yelena blamed you.

“I fought for her to quit that stupid fucking job. She hated it.” You remembered how much she’d assure you of that fact. But she had friends at her job. She couldn’t just leave them behind. “I fought for that. But she was better at arguing than me. She was better.” You nodded to yourself, resisting the urge to sob hysterically.

“You should’ve fought harder.” Yelena growled.

Without thinking, you let out a whistle just as it seemed she was about to rush and stab you.

“…She…she told you about that?” Yelena stopped.

“Me and Yelena would do it when we were kids. We used to pretend we were spies, and that was our ‘signal’. Then it just kinda became a hello-goodbye thing.” Natasha played with your hair as you laid on her chest. With her other hand, she fiddled with the sheets. “She told me that when she moved away to college, the only thing she could think about was leaving you. She loved you, Yelena. That never changed. She loved you.”

Yelena sobbed. She lowered herself to the ground, too overwhelmed with grief to keep standing. “You got to spend so much time with her.”

“I know.” You nodded, crying yourself. You stepped closer to her, kneeling beside her before wrapping your arms around her.

“It shouldn’t have happened this way,” she lets out a shaky breath. “If I had been there, I could’ve changed it—I could’ve fixed it, I could’ve—“

“Nobody could’ve stopped her. She’d go to work in eight feet of snow with nothing but roller blades to get her there. You know Natasha.” You cut her off.

"I loved her. I loved her so much." She cries.

"I know. We all did." You rubbed her back soothingly. She sobs in your arms. You hold her tightly.

“Goodbye, Y/n L/n.” She whispered after a moment, standing and retreating towards the door.

“Goodbye, Yelena.”

Goodbye, Natasha.

“Fuck, my window’s still broken.”

A/n: bit of a long chapter, eh? Also, just in case you haven’t seen it yet: I’ve got the moving on playlist (Spotify) and the moving on Pinterest board!

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #Moving on

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 8 months

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School of Mysteries : Chapter 4

Word Count : 1k

Warnings : murder, sex, food mention, swearing, mention of cheating

A/N : I just want to thank everyone for all the birthday love and for understanding why I couldn't post yesterday! I had an amazing birthday and I feel so lucky I got to celebrate with so many lovely people. Anyway, please enjoy chapter 4 of this murder mystery!

It felt like déjà vu. Sitting in the same room across from the same detectives, her mouth just as dry as last time. Her stomach was twisted in knots. She bit her lip as she tried not to cry, staring at the pictures in front of her. “Do you know why he would be at the pool so early in the morning?” She shook her head, still unable to look away from the pictures.

“Can you tell us where you were at the time of the murder?”

“Where are you going?” She asked, sitting up in bed, looking at her phone for the time. Just passed 3 in the morning. Felix gave her a quick kiss.

“Go back to sleep angel. I just have something to take care of. I love you.” And he was gone. She stared at the bedroom door for a few minutes before falling back asleep, waking up a few hours later, the bed still empty.

“He’s cheating on me.” She whispered to herself. “Some people really are too good to be true.” She flung the blanket off herself and headed into the kitchen where Mae was already cooking breakfast.

“Felix still sleeping?” Kayla asked. “He’s going to be late.”

“He left early this morning. Don’t worry about it.” Y/n answered as nonchalantly as she could, trying her best to seem unbothered. But Mae and Kayla knew her better than that. They could see right through her, see the hurt she was hiding. But they left it alone, allowing her to continue to pretend like things were okay.

“I was sleeping. Felix left just after 3 in the morning. He texted me around 4 to meet him at the beach for lunch.”

“Was it normal for him to leave so early in the morning?” The younger detective asked. Y/n shook her head. She thought of all the mornings he would wake her up by peppering kisses all over her face. Or the mornings he would lay on top of her, giggling, staring at her, telling her she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Though this wasn’t the first time.” It was gone. The mornings laying in bed with him. Watching him play video games and trying to distract him. It hasn’t fully set in for her that Felix was gone. He wasn’t coming back.

“Could you elaborate?”

“The last few days he’s been leaving early in the morning. I haven’t really seen him much.” She tried to remember the last time they had gone on a date or even spent the day together. But everything was before. Before Hyunjin’s murder. The detectives exchanged glances before telling her she could go. “Could I wait for my friends?”

“Of course. You can sit at that desk over there. I’ll have someone bring you more water, okay?” The younger detective explained with a caring look in his eyes. She nodded, thanking him, and walking over to where he pointed.

“So you, along with your girlfriend who’s being interviewed by my partner, were at the pool at the time of the murder. Care to explain?” The younger detective asked Kayla. Kayla sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We like to have sex in the showers at the pool. Last I checked that’s not a crime.”

“No, but murder is.” Kayla scoffed.

“Listen, we heard arguing, but that really wasn’t any of our business. Besides, how were we supposed to know that the arguing would result in murder?” He slowly nodded. “Also, why would we kill our best friend’s boyfriend?”

“Do you have any proof?” Kayla smirked as she handed over her phone.

“We like to film ourselves. Go on. Look. You know you want to.” The detective visibly gulped, taking the phone from her and pressing play. He was trying to pay attention to background sounds and not the two girls on the screen. He could hear the arguing and then a splash, which was enough proof for him. He handed the phone back. “You enjoy it?”

“You’re free to go.” Was all he said before getting up and leaving the room.

“Pervert.” She giggled to herself.

“You know I bet your girlfriend is in the other room spilling the beans about everything, throwing you under the bus.” The older detective said.

“We didn’t kill Felix.” Mae replied with an eye roll. She was sat back in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, and her arms crossed over her chest. “Y/n loves him and he made her happy. All we want is for her to be happy. Why would we take that away?”

“Then explain why you were at the pool at the time of the murder.” Mae smirked as she leaned in closer.

“We were fucking in the showers.” The detective scoffed. “Awe are you just a perverted old man that wants to see two girls fucking in the shower? Well you’re in luck, we filmed it.” She handed him her phone and he pressed play. Again, the arguing could be heard in the background, along with a splash. “See. Not us.” He handed the phone back while grumbling to himself.

“You’re free to go.” She smiled at him as she left the room, seeing Kayla with Y/n wrapped up in her arms. Her heart melted at the sight.

“Shall we go babies?” Mae asked softly, reaching for Y/n’s hand. Y/n nodded and her and Kayla stood up. As they walked out of the station, the younger detective called after Y/n.

“This was found with Felix’s body. I think he’d want you to have it.” He handed her a small velvet box with a diamond ring inside. She looked between Mae and Kayla, wondering if they had any idea about this, but they seemed just as surprised.

“He was going to propose?” She whispered, tears welling up in her eyes again. “I thought he was cheating but he was actually going to propose?”

“Thank you detective. But we’ll be going now.” Kayla said, wrapping an arm around Y/n and leading her towards her car.

“Do you still think Felix killed Hyunjin?” The younger detective asked his partner.

“I’m not sure. We might have a serial on our hands. And those girls are at the center of it.”

back to masterlist

@mxnsxngie @maeleelee @junebug032 @goblinracha @stvpidlove @yeosangsbbg @lavishloving @puppy-minnie @salfetkablog @surefornext @jan-l @the-anarchist-public @jiisungllvr @turtledove824 @jiyeons-closet @minhozskz @jxp1-t3r @lookitsjess @multishipperfangirl @cutesince2000 @conwunder

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whositmcwhatsit · 2 months

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AN: Yeah, here's part 3 of my "halloween one shot".... This is primarily for @thatbanditqueen who has been nudging me for months, patiently cheerleading, and reminding me that I used to write. Thank you to everyone who regularly pokes me to check if I'm still alive and patiently asks for updates on stuff. I appreciate you, so much. Chapter 2 Chapter Three Tiptoeing precariously and dripping across the carpet as she clutched a rough, thin towel to her front, Cheryl scrabbled for the lock and only just managed to stumble back in time to avoid having a door and a six foot man crash into her face.

Elvis barrelled in and slammed the door closed behind him, leaning against it like someone was trying to barge their way in. Someone other than him, that is.

“What happened?” she asked, trying to gather the corners of the towel around her.

“I…” He frowned at her and then looked back at the door, his eyes wide and wild. She waited for more, but he seemed to be finding it hard to get the words out. She finally went back into the bathroom to change into some clothes, leaving him standing by the adjoining door, eyeing it warily.

“I-I- I thought it was you,” he said eventually, after she had returned and perched on the end of her bed, sitting there for about ten silent minutes. She waited for him to elaborate, but this seemed to be as much as he was prepared to say. “I thought it was you.”

After a while, his shock seemed to transform into anger and she watched him start to pace in front of the door, his jaw clenched tight.

“This is crazy,” he muttered quietly. “You about lost your damn mind, boy.” He shot her a glance that seemed to be measuring her up, like he wasn’t sure that it hadn’t been her in his room even though she had clearly been in the shower at the time. He glared back at the door and then nodded to himself, making up his mind about something.

Letting his cheeks puff up with air, he exhaled in a meditative pause, before reaching out and twisting the door handle. Cheryl craned her neck, trying to see around him as he stood, legs astride, in the open doorway, ready to confront whatever was there. She watched his shoulders drop, then he walked through the door into the empty room, touching the tangled blankets at the end of the bed.

Cheryl followed and he turned his head slightly to acknowledge her, reaching back and snagging her hand with his fingers.

“I weren’t imagining it,” he murmured to himself. “I’m touched in the head, but I ain’t that crazy, not yet. I know what I saw.”

“What did you see?” she asked gently, feeling his hand sweating a little in hers.

“I- You won’t tell no one about this, will ya, honey? Last thing I need is some gossip rag printing a bullshit story about ole Elvis seein’… Well, y’know.”

“It’ll stay between us,” she murmured, but in her mind she was imagining the free publicity it could bring her. No more struggling to get bookings, no more playing to superstitious grannies and their drunk, heckling husbands. She focused back on the room and her heart lurched at the way his eyebrows were slightly knitted together and his upper lip curled as he studied her, like he could see exactly what she was imagining and he was hurt by it. She felt like she had kicked a kitten.

“Was it a girl?” she asked instead, shifting uncomfortably. He looked down, nodded with a jerk. “Was she crying?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t really.. It weren’t no more than a shadow really, s’why I thought it was you. Only you didn’t answer and-” His expression changed, froze, and whatever he was about to tell her receded like the tide.

“I saw her earlier,” she revealed, offering it up as an apology, an act of contrition to try and mend the trust between them. “In my room. And I think I heard her screaming before that.”

“Goddamn,” he breathed, sinking down onto the end of the bed and staring balefully at the carpet. “This is-”

Cheryl didn’t quite know what to do. She felt almost guilty since this was her regular life and, though she didn’t know how, it had somehow spilled over into his. She patted his shoulder tentatively. When he glanced up though he was grinning, teeth biting into his plush bottom lip.

“I knew it!” he cried. “I goddamn knew that there had to be more to this than-” He swiveled his hand around absently, frenetically. “-There had to be! Shit, the guys ain’t gonna believe this!” He jumped to his feet and moved towards his door, but then almost immediately stopped again.

“They ain’t gonna believe this,” he repeated, his tone completely different this time. He reached up and brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “They’re good boys, most of ‘em, but they don’t have a thought that ain’t about their wallet, their belly or their pecker, and not in that order. This’d just… it’d be too much for their tiny minds to comprehend.”

Cheryl stared back at him as he finally looked at her, not sure that her input was required in this solo conversation he was having.

“I- Why’s she crying?” He raised his eyebrows at her when she didn’t respond.

“Sorry?”

“You said she- the gho- the girl- she was crying? Why’s she crying?” He smoothed his hair again and adjusted his robe, trying to look like he was comfortable with the conversation, but his restless hands were giving him away.

“I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug. Her eyes slid to the clock on the wall; it would be dawn soon and she was feeling the weight of the day before pressing down on her body and her eyelids.

“Can’t you ask her? I mean that’s your racket- your job, right?”

“Maybe?” She wanted to be honest with him and temper his expectations. This girl seemed to want to make contact, but the operator, who or whatever that was, might not feel like putting the call through. That was the way that she thought about it anyway. “I guess we could try.” She eyed the sparse mid century decor and furniture dubiously. “We might need to change the ambiance a little bit.” Cheryl wondered what Elvis’ guys thought about being woken at four am and told that they needed to procure candles and lilies. From listening to Elvis’ end of the call, she guessed they were unimpressed to say the least.

She was in the bathroom changing into her stage wear, eavesdropping on Elvis as he made his demands sounding like a cross between a drill sergeant, a high school football coach and a spoilt prince.

“I don’t know where you’re gonna get it from, son,” he was saying as she straightened the black crinoline sleeve around her wrist. “That’s what I pay you for. Now you wanna run with us, you wanna be part of the organization, you gotta pull your weight. Use some fuckin’ ingenuity for once in your goddamn life!” He slammed down the phone, dropped his shoulders and turned as she emerged from the bathroom, his calm face and grin belying the angry tone he had just used on the phone. “We’ll have what you need in less than an hour.”

Eyebrows raising, he whistled, and she felt a flash of warmth- mainly embarrassment- as he took in her outfit.

“Those are some threads you got on there. You go all out with the get-up and everything, huh.”

Cheryl shrugged awkwardly, feeling silly, but he ran his hands down his silk robe contemplatively.

“I gotta change.”

With far too much energy and excitement for the early hours of the morning, he strode towards the adjoining door to his room and started to go through it, but he paused in the threshold, grabbing the edge of the door.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna leave this open,” he said haltingly. “Just in case you- you need me or anything, okay, honey?” The twinkle in his eye and his slight smirk was sly, acknowledging that they both knew why he wanted to leave the door open and that it had nothing to do with him looking out for her.

Fifty minutes after the phone call, there was a brisk knock on Cheryl’s door and she opened it to find two sopping wet, angry-looking men. One was clutching a huge arrangement of white lilies and the other a brown paper bag that was almost just as wet as he was. Behind them, sheets of rain continued to pummel the asphalt.

“How in the world…” she began, but they were not in the mood to talk, gesturing for her to step aside so that they could put their wares on the sideboard and storm back out. She gingerly opened the paper bag to find candles and wax polish.

Again, there was a rap on the door and another guy, a lick of hair plastered to his forehead by the rain, was standing holding another bag. Cheryl sniffed the air in confusion.

“Is that..?”

“‘Bout damn time,” Elvis remarked, leaning up against her back and grabbing the sack from his employee's hand. “These got mustard on ‘em?”

“Yeah, E, I-”

“Well, I don’t need a running commentary,” Elvis returned, turning from the door. Cheryl gave the guy an uncomfortable smile and closed the door.

Elvis was practically vibrating with anticipation. He grabbed one of the bacon sandwiches from the sack and opened it up cautiously with his thumb and forefinger like he was afraid of what he might find. Whatever it was, it seemed to meet his exacting standards as he hummed happily and took a ravenous bite. Cheryl shook her head and started her preparations.

Elvis followed her around the room, just over her shoulder like an eager child, watching her position the lillies on the floor and set up the candles, using the plastic cups from their bathrooms as makeshift candle holders.

“What's with the, uh, polish there, honey?” He balled up the grease-stained bag and tossed it into the wastepaper basket near the door. He had eaten the sandwiches without even offering her one.

“There's no- That is, there isn't a reason as such. My grandmother, she was the one who taught me how to “listen”- that's what she called it. We'd practice for hours in her parlor. She was the real deal, had people coming to her from all over for séances and readings. She was also very house proud, every inch of her house gleamed. All my memories of her and my lessons are thick with the scent of wax polish.” She flushed. “I wish I had a better explanation for you.”

His face mirrored hers, a slightly bashful smile tilting his lips.

“No, I get it,” he said softly. “I got some smells that remind me of home too. Not the way it is now, but before…” He shook his head, leaping slickly over vulnerability and tender memories like he was stepping over a puddle. “And all I have to do is get a hint of wood smoke and I'm back to freezing my ass off in maneuvers over in Germany. You think it's cold now? Damn near left all my toes over there!”

“Well, I think I'm about ready,” she sighed, eyeing the little array she had created on the carpet. She did it just the way her grandmother had done it, the cards to her left, the slate and chalk, just the way Gran’s own mother had taught her.

Elvis stood beside her and fluttered his fingers out at his sides.

“Where do you want me, honey?” She glanced up and smiled, feeling her cheeks grow warm. “For this, I mean.” He winked.

Cheryl gestured to the other side of the candles and he tugged up the legs of his trousers before sinking down onto the floor with his legs crossed.

Elvis’ excitement was palpable. She could feel it tingling against her even as she twisted open the tin of polish and took in a deep breath, inhaling wax and sweet cloying lilies mixed with the lingering scent of burnt bacon and Elvis’ cologne.

“Don't you have to… say something?” he whispered after a minute. “Like invite them in or something? I saw a movie once where-”

“Shh!” She immediately regretted it, her eyes fluttering open and an apology on her tongue, but he looked chastised, his lips pressed together and his eyes watching her intently. She felt powerful, for just a second.

That all fizzled out pretty quickly when she tried to tune in and heard… nothing. She frowned and focussed on her breathing. It just didn’t make any sense, because she could feel something, someone, and they clearly wanted to make contact.

“Come on,” she hissed, squeezing her eyes closed and leaning down like she was trying to eavesdrop on a conversation in a crowded room. They were there, she knew it, she just had to try a little harder, reach a little further.

A couple of awkward minutes passed and she could feel her stomach dropping with each tick of her watch. It turned out that failing on a questionably clean motel floor sitting opposite Elvis Presley was just as humiliating as dying on a dusty stage in Eugene, Oregon, with people clearing their throats and scuffing their shoes, murmuring and whispering behind their hands.

Finally, letting out a huff of embarrassment and exasperation, she said, “It’s not working.”

She opened her eyes, prepared to see his suspicion and disappointment, but not the dark haired girl leaning over him, her drenched hair dripping ghostly drops that evaporated before they fell on his bent legs.

“What?” Elvis said, his eyes widening as he took in her face. He started to turn, but Cheryl grabbed his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Stay still.” Her voice sounded a lot calmer than she felt being almost nose to nose with one of the clearest spirits she had ever seen. If not for the disappearing water and the fact that Elvis seemed oblivious, Cheryl could have assumed that one of the girls from the parking lot outside had sneaked into the room. The girl was clinging to his shoulders, fingers ending in vague dark smudges that seemed to grip, to claw into him.

“Tell me what you can see, goddamnit!” he snapped through clenched teeth, nonetheless frozen in place.

“It’s a girl. I think the same one I saw before, but I’ve never, uh, I…” Cheryl could not take her eyes away, convinced that something would happen as soon as she did. “Do you feel anything? Like a cold spot, or tingling?”

“I-I… I don’t know, maybe, but then we’ve been sitting here for a while, so-”

“Don’t move!”

“I can’t help it!” As he jerked his shoulder, the girl turned toward him and Cheryl could almost feel the hunger in her charcoal smudged gaze, the slow, unfurling smile radiating with possessiveness and desperation. “Aren’t you gonna ask her? Ask what happened to her?” He kept glancing to his side as if he’d be able to see something if he looked at the right time.

“Right, okay.” Cheryl looked at the girl, the spirit, and focused as hard as she could, trying to find the right wavelength, the right channel. When she asked for her name, the girl did not respond. She asked what she was doing here, nothing. There was only one person in the room with a connection to her and it wasn’t Cheryl.

“Ask her if that sonovabitch downstairs put his greasy hands on her,” Elvis growled between clenched teeth, tapping the top of Cheryl’s hand with his fingertips like he was communicating through Morse code.

The candles guttered violently as if the door had blown open just as the radio blared out, static almost like pins piercing their ear drums. The flames spilt onto the carpet, the cheap nylon melting faster than ice cream on a summer’s day.

Cursing, Elvis scrambled to his feet, yanking her up behind him and stamped on the burgeoning fire. Cheryl scanned the room for the girl.

A few minutes later, she was shivering on the upper walkway of the motel while Elvis pummeled a door, yelling for the occupant to open up. The rain was slicing down, penetrating their clothes and matting their hair, while the smell of melted carpet clung around them like a haze.

Joe went through a litany of expressions as he opened the door and Elvis barged his way inside, groggy bewilderment, confusion, annoyance, and then resignation.

“There’s been a fire,” Elvis announced in a very airy, casual way as if he hadn’t just hightailed it out the motel room, dragging Cheryl along like a toy on a string. “I took care of it, but someone’s gotta deal with the room.

“A fire?!” Joe’s eyes scanned them both to ascertain that they were okay. “How- I mean-” He ran a hand through his receding hairline and sighed. “I’ll get on it. Whose room?”

“My room,” Cheryl told him, since Elvis had marched into Joe’s bathroom and was currently wiping himself off with one of Joe’s towels. “It was the candles. It must have been the candles.”

Joe went to the phone and started mobilizing the forces as Elvis came out of the bathroom, grimacing as he wiped at his neck with the towel.

“This goddamn rain,” he muttered, before his eyes settled on Cheryl and a strange, little smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “Ain’t all bad though.”

She glanced down and saw how the sopping crinoline had molded itself to her body, particularly her breasts. She promptly folded her arms over her chest.

“Aw, I’m only playing, honey.” He stepped closer, his hips bumping into her. He wrapped his towel around her face like it was a head scarf and laughed softly. “And anyway, you should be sweet to me. I just saved you.”

“Oh, you did?” Cheryl half-laughed.

“Yeah, I sure did.” He twisted his arm and showed her the shiny red patch on his forearm with a huff of a laugh. “Paid the price for it too, boy.”

“You got burned?!” she cried.

Reclined on one of the single beds, Joe’s head turned like a whip, the receiver falling from the crook of his neck.

“Naw, just a little,” Elvis laughed, peering at it. “It don’t hurt that much.”

“Want me to call the doctor?” asked Joe.

“No, man, it’s nothing, just get my things brought in here and pay that little snake for the damage to his room.”

If Joe was confused about why he was being asked to bring Elvis’ things into his room when it was Cheryl’s room that had been burnt, he didn’t show it.

By the time that she had persuaded Elvis to let her run some cold water over his arm, the cases were already inside the door, though Joe was nowhere to be seen.

“And to think I thought this whole damn movie was gonna be a bust,” he remarked as they huddled over the small basin in the bathroom where she was holding his arm under the faucet. “I mean, it probably will, but it ain’t every day that… Whatever that was… happens to a fella. No sir, that is God's honest proof right there. And even you were scared, I saw your face, you were like a- a scared little lamb. Oh, you were, honey, you don’t have no poker face. And I was just thinking to myself, ‘Well, if she’s scared, we’re about done for, for sure.’”

Finally, he dropped onto the other, untouched single bed in the bedroom and sprawled out on his elbows, giving her a little beckon with his fingers.

“C’mon, honey, we gotta get you out of the wet clothes,” he smirked. “Don’t want you getting pneumonia.”

“You’re a true American hero,” Cheryl remarked, still moving towards him.

“Don’t I know it,” he breathed, pushing himself up to sit by the side of the bed and tugging her forward by the skirt so that he could start unfastening the buttons.

“We still don’t know who she is.”

“That can’t be no big thing to find out. It had to have been in the newspapers or something. I’ll get one of the boys on it tomorrow.”

The way that he was undressing her was almost tender, as if his primary concern genuinely was about her catching cold in damp clothes. After he had drawn her dress down over her shoulders, he rubbed his hands up and down her bare arms as she stood trembling in her slip.

“I tell ya what’s bugging me though… That lowlife, no-count sonovabitch downstairs that did it. Someone should go down there and put a bullet between his fucking eyes.”

“Well, we don’t really know if he had anything to do with it,” Cheryl said quickly, worrying that this was another thing he could arrange with just a quick phone call. “We don’t really know anything more than we did before.” He shook his head resolutely, his cheekbones brimming as his eyes twinkled.

“Honey, we know everything!” he insisted. “Everything that’s worth knowing anyway. We got proof! Proof that there’s something else, after this, and there ain’t nobody that’s really gone!” His leg was bouncing as he beamed at her, as though she had reconstituted space, time and dimensions just to please him.

In one smooth motion, he swung her onto the bed and she dropped onto the squeaky mattress with a muffled squawk. Her legs tangled across his lap as he leant over her, greedily clasping her jaw with his fingers as he kissed her. His kiss felt like a gift, a reward, an offering of thanks as though she had done something to earn it. If she had been a better person, more moral perhaps or stronger willed, she would have pushed him away, or at least felt bad for accepting his gratitude for something she had no control over, but she wasn’t. Cheryl had never been a good person.

As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, his shirt still damp under her skin, she could feel his weight sinking onto her, his upper body flexing and twisting as his hand started at her knee and slid up her thigh, pausing at the hem of her slip. His kisses stopped.

Opening her eyes, she stared up into his face wreathed in shadow, but his eyebrows clearly raised in a question. It was endearing that he sought her permission. She put her hand over his and pulled it up teasingly, the lace hem sliding with their tangled fingers.

“It does belong to you after all,” she whispered breathlessly. He surged forward and his weight crushed her into the mattress for a few seconds before he rolled over and pulled her with him.

“You know, I was thinking, uh, Cheryl, honey.” He softly pressed his lips to the space between her brows and then the lip of her nose. “We’re both gonna be up Seattle way, uh, working. I’d like to see you again after we get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Sure, I’ll give you the number of my hotel..” She giggled. “Later.” She moved closer to kiss him and he met her halfway with enough enthusiasm that it felt a little like she was the movie star and he was the nobody. His thumbs massaged her hips as he exerted pressure, smoothing and cupping her ass, and pulling her into and against him.

Cheryl’s body hummed with a low thrum of energy that usually only coursed through her as she was preparing to step out on stage. Her heart pitter pattered in her chest when she rubbed it against his.

Suddenly, he pulled back, almost laughing.She found herself smiling even though she didn’t know why.

“I guess we should be wondering if we’re being watched, right?” he whispered. “We might have ourselves some dirty little ghosts.” His eyes glittered with mirth and she wondered if he was making fun of her. “I don’t care, let ‘em enjoy the show.” She was still processing that as his luscious lips stole the breath from her.

#elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #60s elvis #Easter/Halloween #same thing right #whositmcwhatsit

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honeymark · 2 years

Text

𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒏𝒄𝒕 𝟏𝟐𝟕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ㅡ

click 〔 here 〕 for the maknae line.

˗ˏˋ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 :: hi miss soojin ! could u write smth ab 127 comforting their insecure gf ? thank u so much ! ´ˎ˗

⇢ 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐈𝐋 never really thought much about his self-esteem, so coming home and finding you balled up on the couch with a pair of jeans crumpled on the table certainly leaves him stunned. he nearly trips on his feet as he runs over to you and immediately cups your cheeks in his hands as he asks if you’re okay. he carefully wipes away the hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you quietly reveal that you no longer fit into your favorite pants. he waits for you to finish admitting the insecurities you hadn’t even realized you were holding in, but each word that you confess only deepens the sorrow hanging heavily on his chest. “y/n,” he starts, taking your hands into his. “honestly, to me, your weight is the least interesting thing about you. you’re bright, you’re considerate, you’re so funny you make me laugh until i’m crying on the floor. i could go on forever.” he presses a kiss to your knuckles before gathering you into his arms. “being with you fills me to the brim with joy i’ve never felt before. i love you the way you are, y/n.”

⇢ 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 is more than happy to lend you his ears (and his lap) after you come home from another draining day at your new job. he listens attentively as you rest your head on his thighs and elaborate on how inadequate you feel in comparison to the other fresh recruits, but he squeezes your cheeks when the conversation spirals into a self-deprecating rant. “hey, you better watch it. that’s my best friend you’re talking about,” he jokingly warns you. the sudden gesture is enough to disrupt your destructive train of thought, and you can’t help but smile as you sit up and climb on top of his lap in a warm hug. you murmur a quiet “thank you” as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and the night ends with tender kisses as johnny lists out all of the qualities he loves about you.

⇢ 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐆 knew that fatherhood was going to be exhausting, but he didn’t expect to be on the verge of collapsing within the first two weeks. he also understands that whatever he’s going through is just a fraction of what you’re experiencing, so he can’t help but tear up as he watches you fall deeper and deeper into despair. “i can’t fucking do this. i’m not cut out for this, taeyong. i feel like i’m going crazy, and i just can’t do a single thing right. i’m already a terrible mother,” you manage to huff in between sobs, after finally getting your twins to fall asleep.

he envelopes you in a warm, secure embrace, and he presses a kiss to your forehead as he caresses your back in soft circles. “you’re doing your best, and that already makes you a fantastic mother, y/n,” he tells you, gently. “this is a completely new experience for both of us, so of course we aren’t going to be perfect parents right off the bat. it’s okay to struggle. i’m right here with you, i promise. be compassionate with yourself, honey. you deserve it.”

⇢ 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀 showered you in so much affection that you usually didn’t have any room left in your mind to entertain insecurities or negative comments. unsurprisingly, you never really understood why some people became so fixated on their partners’ exes. until now.

two days have passed since you came across yuta’s ex’s instagram page, and since then, an awful ache has been churning in the pit of your stomach. anyone with eyes could tell that the two of you are polar opposites ㅡ in looks, in style, in seemingly everything. out of sheer anxiety, you’d bought a couple of outfits that definitely leaned more towards her aesthetic than your own, and it doesn’t take long for yuta to notice the shift in your appearance. he’s quick to point it out, and you’re just as quick to confess the thoughts that’ve been hanging on your heart. he offers a kind smile, then leans in for a warm kiss before pulling you into a tight hug. “y/n, i love you for you. for the way your silly brain works. for the way you treat other people. for the way you work so hard for your goals. i mean it. i love you, whether you’re wearing this, your usual clothes, or no clothes at all.”

⇢ 𝐃𝐎𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 has always understood your determination to succeed, so he isn’t surprised when he wakes up and finds you hunched over at your desk, typing away at your laptop. he reaches his arms above his head in a stretch, then mindlessly slips out of bed and sleepily shuffles over to you. he asks you why you’re still awake, and you stifle a yawn as you recite a complicated summary of your night. he presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head before attempting to lure you to bed, but the way your voice breaks as soon as you start talking about how you’re “behind” compared to your peers is enough to shake him from his initial intentions. “y/n, you aren’t behind at all,” he tells you, after swiveling your chair to face you directly. “i know it’s hard not to compare yourself, but the pace you’re working at is fine. you’re already doing a great job, y/n, really.”

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 reactions #nct fluff

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wannab-urs · 11 months

Text

In The Next One

Summary/Warnings: Dieter thinks you’ve been together in every past life and he’s lost you every time. Vague-ish smut. There’s a thing with a knife, but no actual slicing lol. Graphic and explicit descriptions of mental illness, drug abuse, etc. Dieter does mild self-harmy things. Implied biting hard enough to break skin during one scene? And as always with my poor dieter baby, suicidal ideation… and more? Idk just be fucking careful with this one. Love y’all. (WC: 1550)

A/N: I went to a Boygenius concert and became immediately obsessed with We're In Love, Lucy's song about Julien. The whole past lives... to be known is to be loved... just the whole general vibe. It immediately made me think of my baby Dieter so here we go.

Series Masterlist | Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Isn't it enough that we stripped down to our skin? Cold and porcelain like bathers in a painting

Dieter wraps his arms around you from behind. You’re chopping an onion to make dinner. He slips his hands on top of yours, holds the knife in your hands and chops with you. You tilt your head into his where it rests on your shoulder affectionately. You let him guide your hands for a moment. He keeps his grip on the knife, but drops your left hand, guides the knife to his left palm. You freeze, forcing his hands to stop.

“Woah, Dieter. Babe. Stop. What are you doing?”

“Blood Oath.”

“Like that weird movie we watched? Son of Rambow?”

You pull the knife from his fingers, set it on the cutting board, wrap his arms back around you.

“Yeah,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “Like Son of Rambow. Just want you to know how much you mean to me. Want us to always be connected.”

You turn to face him, press a thumb into both cheekbones. Your eyes burn and so do his, crying onion tears. You press a kiss to his torn lips.

“We don’t need that.”

“You could ruin me, you know that? I don’t know if I can ever be without you.”

He pulls away from you. Fidgets with the rings on his fingers. Digs a hand into his hair and tugs hard. You step right back into his space, pull his hand out of his hair and right back around you.

“Hey? Made for you. Remember?” You press your lips into his scruff covered jaw. Gently smooth his hair back out. Slip your hands over his shoulders and down his back. Pull him so hard into you it feels like you’re trying to mold him to your body. “I’m not going anywhere Dieter.”

You pull his ugly sweater over his head. Set it gently on the counter. Toss your own t-shirt on the floor. Press your bare chests back together. Let him feel how real, how solid, how corporeal you are. All the way here even when he is not. You keep your bodies pressed together and pull him to the bathroom. Undress him fully and pull him into the shower with you. Forget about dinner and let him fill you instead.

And I told you of your past lives, every man you've ever been It wasn't flattering, but you listened like it mattered

Dieter taps the ring on his middle finger against the glass mug of green tea in front of him. Chews his lips as he works up the nerve to tell you a theory he has. Something important. You have to know.

You sit across from him, looking out the window. The park you spend so much time in just visible from your booth. You’re watching a pair of hummingbirds dance around each other.

“Do you remember the night we met?” Dieter traces the triangle on his forearm instead of looking at you. You drag your eyes from the birds.

“Most of it. We were kind of fucked up, so the details are hazy. Why?” Your finger joins the path he traces on his arm, following just behind. He changes direction so your fingers bump each other at the highest point.

“I think we’ve always been together.” Dieter doesn’t elaborate. You’re used to his non sequiturs. He doesn’t have a train of thought so much as a shipping yard of them. A little maze like. Disconnected. You remember something you said that night.

“I asked you why it felt like I’ve known you my whole life. And you said ‘Maybe you have.’” Drugs may have made you say it out loud, but you knew then just as much as you know now that you were made for each other. You had always known him, somehow.

“I think, in all my past lives, I’ve had you and I’ve lost you.” Dieter pulls a piece of dead skin off his lip. Sucks the iron tang onto his tongue. “I think I’ve never known a life without knowing what it’s like to be without you. And I think it’s going to happen again.”

He knows he’s been getting bad again. He broke your phone. He almost hurt you. He can’t figure out which thoughts are rational and which ones aren’t so he just drowns out all of them with all the drugs he can get his hands on. He isn’t so numb that he can’t see the way he’s hurting you though. He has to make sure you love him. He can’t fucking bear it if you don’t love him anymore.

You dig a fingernail into wrist, make a crescent shape in the skin. He focuses on the tiny pain, lets his mind still. You press your lips into his palm and settle his hand on your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dieter. If I left you in my past lives it was all so I could find you in this one.”

Will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane? I know what you'll say, but it helps to hear you say it anyway

Dieter paints a portrait of you. He smears the canvas in cerulean, plum, vermillion. Vibrant colors that match your aura. You find him at the window, forming the shape of your lips with a thumb, brush between his teeth.

“Beautiful.” You whisper it into his neck. Drag your lips down the column of his throat. He pulls you into his arms, spits the brush to the floor.

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

You look into his eyes, shining with tears but dulled by so much pain.

“No,” you lie. He looks away from you. A sob catches in his throat. He chokes on it. He knows he’s insane, knows he should try the hospitals again, knows that wouldn’t work. It never does.

You pull him to the bedroom. You kiss the tears off his cheeks. You strip each other bare. You press your love into his skin with your lips, tongue, teeth. With your fingers and hands. You kiss him so hard it hurts. He slowly responds to your touches, the dull ache in his eyes fading to something deeper, open, vulnerable. He pushes inside you and stays there for a moment, relishing the fact that this is the closest he can be to you. You don’t try to make him move. Just pull him even closer to you. Wrap yourself around him and pull him close. He moves his hips shallowly, barely separating from you at all. Grinding into you. He devours your lips, your neck, your shoulder. You settle your teeth into the space where his neck meets his shoulder. Bite until you taste salt and iron. He wraps a hand in your hair and pulls your mouth to his. Buries himself in you with fervor now. Decides he’ll leave bruises inside you to keep himself there even when he’s gone.

In the next one, will you find me? I'll be the boy with the pink carnation pinned to my lapel

You’re snuggled up on your too small green couch. You’d had a huge argument. You had thrown buddha statues and crystals and incense holders at him and screamed that none of this shit was going to help him. He had to take his Fucking Medicine.

He’d hurled his empty bottles of hydrocodone and oxycontin and xanax at you, like any of those were what he was supposed to take. Like any of that could help him. He’d dropped to the couch and curled into a little ball, his whole body shaking with sobs as he tore at his curls with trembling hands.

You had knelt on the floor next to him, pulled his hands away, cradled his head in your arms.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers into your chest. “I’m so sorry I’m fucked up again.”

He buries his head deeper into your shoulder. You think he means he’s sorry his mental illness is acting up again. Or that he’s sorry he did too many drugs again.

He means he’s sorry he came out wrong in this life just like all the other ones. You were made for him, but maybe he wasn’t made for you. Not this time and not all the times before and he won’t be next time and he can’t fucking take it.

You climb up behind him. Press his deteriorating frame against you and try to pour all your love into him. Try to put him back together. You whisper to him about how much he means to you. That you won’t leave him. That you love him and just want him to feel better.

He can’t be better though.

“I’ll try harder in the next life. I’ll try to be okay next time. I’ll be so good for you.”

“I’ll find you.” A promise you seal with a kiss to the crown of his head. If he finds you in the next life, you’ll take him as he is. You love him now and you always will.

You drift off to sleep with your lips pressed into his hair. His breathing slows and slows and slows.

I could go on and on and on and I will Go on and on and on until It all comes back

----

Series Masterlist

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo fics #Dieter Bravo fan fiction #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #The Bubble #A ghost of you #agoy

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luvfae · 2 years

Note

Can we get a bit of a rude Eddie for my favorite henerson plss🫣

MY FAVOURITE

HENDERSON

PART THIRTY ONE

fandom: stranger things

parings: eddie x f henderson reader

warnings: swearing, smut, reader & eddie arguing, eddie being mean, reader being mean, degradin, choking, hair pulling, spanking, crying, unprotected sex

masterlist

Just like everyone else, Eddie had his bad days. The kind of days where every little thing pissed him off, including you. Having your boyfriend mad at you for seemingly stupid reasons, annoyed the crap out of you.

Honestly, you can’t even remember how it had started. Maybe it was because you snapped at him earlier that afternoon for spending more time with his Hellfire Club than with you or maybe it was because your friend Tara told you you could do way better right in front of Eddie and instead of speaking up, you remained quiet.

Normally, you could read Eddie like a book. You knew every thought that lingered behind his eyes. Normally. But not when he was in one of his pissed off moods.

“Seriously, Eddie, just stop with this bullshit already,” you said, rolling your eyes at how childish he was acting.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie muttered back, making you scoff.

“You’re being a real jerk right now,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you laid back against his pillows.

“I don’t really care,” he shrugged in response, refusing to make eye contact with you. “You’ve been a royal bitch all day, so it’s only fair that i’m mad.”

“How have I been a royal bitch?” You asked, face screwed up.

“You just have been.”

“Elaborate.”

“No. I don’t have to elaborate, just stop fucking talking. Your voice is pissing me off,” he said.

His words were starting to cut deep and you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. You were glad that he wasn’t looking at you right now, instead he was sitting on the edge of his bed. Your bottom lip wobbled, trying to hold back hot tears that were threatening to spill. You didn’t want him to know that he was getting to you.

“Thank God,” he sighed.

That was all it took for the tears to slip down your cheeks. You shuffled off of his bed, refusing to look at him as you grabbed your handbag, throwing it over your shoulder and walking towards his closed bedroom door. You really couldn’t understand why he was treating you so poorly right now and you just wanted to get away from him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Eddie asked, snatching your wrist, turning you around to make you look at him. Your eyes snapped down to your feet.

“Home,” you muttered, pathetically as more tears rolled down your cheeks.

He hooked two fingers under your chin, making you look up at him and you thought his eyes would soften at the sight of you so upset. You thought he’d stop being such a dick and instead apologise to you. Shower you with kisses and cuddles, but you couldn’t of been more wrong.

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes at your bloodshot teary eyes. “Are you seriously crying?” He asked, glaring at you. You frowned, looking away from him again. “I’ll give you something to fucking cry about,” he spat, one hand wrapping firmly around your neck as he harshly pushed you against his bedroom, your head hitting the hard wood with a thud. You gasped at his actions, wide eyes staring up at him.

“You wanna play victim now? After spending the whole day bitching and moaning about Hellfire and letting Tara talk shit about me?” Eddie asked, his eyes narrowing at you. “Gunna go home and cry into your pillow like a baby?”

“Stop,” you mumbled, looking away from him.

Eddie tightened his grip around your throat and you gasped out for air. “Eyes on me, Henderson,” he snapped. You looked back at him, a devious look on his face that made your skin crawl. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t even a little turned on right now. “I should be the one crying, having to put up with your needy ass all the fucking time,” he said.

You pursed your lips, rubbing your thighs together, which he noticed right away. “Are you seriously horny?” He chuckled, condescendingly. “You want me to fuck you dumb, Y/N? Put you in your place considering you’ve been such a bitch all fucking day?”

“The only one who’s been a bitch all day is you,” you replied, finally plucking the courage to stand up for yourself.

Eddie’s amused face dropped and his hand moved from your throat to your hair, grabbing a fist full of your locks as he dragged you over to his bed, pushing you face first into his mattress.

“You’re gunna get it, slut,” he said. The word was like venom on his tongue, he said it in a way that made you feel so small and pathetic. Eddie ripped your shorts and panties down your legs harshly, discarding them to the floor. “By the time i’m finished with you you’ll be begging me for forgiveness.”

You shivered as his fingers dragged across your heat, collecting your slick onto his skin and he chuckled. “You’re this wet? That’s pathetic,” he said, one hand wrapping around your neck, pulling you up to your knees. He shoved his fingers inside of your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. “That’s what a bitch tastes like,” he whispered in your ear.

“Tastes good, huh?” You replied, glaring at him.

Eddie let go of your neck and you fell forward, propping yourself up onto your elbows as he took his own pants off and pushed his entire length inside of you without warning.

“Do you get off on being a bitch? Is that what it is?” Eddie asked, pounding himself into you. “You like getting me to the point of no fucking return?”

You cried out for him and he slapped your ass, making you cry out again. “Keep making those pretty noises babe, want the whole trailer park to hear how good i’m giving it to you,” he said, giving you another. Your fingers gripped his sheets, knuckles turning white as he pounded into, offering you no mercy. “Cus that’s what I do isn’t it? I give it to you good? Speak up.”

“Yes, fuck- Yes, Eddie!” You cried out.

He slapped your ass again and by now tears were steaming down your cheeks. “And yet you let Tara disrespect me. You listen to her while she’s telling you that you could do better, isn’t that right, princess?” He cooed, condescendingly. One hand reaching forward and yanking your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. Eddie grabbed your hips harshly, spinning you around so you were facing him. He hiked one of your legs over his shoulder and shoved his cock inside of you once again, making you cry out.

“But could you really do better, Y/N?” Eddie asked, glaring down at you. “Could Jason or any of his other meathead friends fuck you the way I do?” He asked, one hand caressing your cheek softly. “Would they treat you as good as I do? Shower you with love and affection? I mean fuck, we get into a fight and somehow my dick ends up inside of you. Do you think any of them would resolve an argument with sex? Cus personally, I don’t.”

“No,” you replied, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your orgasm hit you unexpectedly. Eddie smirked at the feeling of your pulsating pussy.

“Aw, are you coming right now, sweetheart?” He asked. You nodded slowly, opening your eyes to look at him. His fingers moved to your clit and you threw your head back, your back arching off of his bed and he took the liberty to snake his hands around your back, lifting you up and onto his lap. “It’s your turn to do the work. Why should I be doing everything when you’re the one who’s been a bitch all day?” He asked.

“Fuck you,” you hissed. You watched as his smirk turned into a glare and his hands smacked against your hips, forcing your to rock back and forth.

“Shut up and ride my dick,” Eddie said.

And how could you resist him? You couldn’t, not when he was being this mean. It kind of concerned you how much you enjoyed this side of him.

Your hands snaked around his neck, bouncing up and down on his cock. You pressed your lips against his and surprisingly enough he kissed you back, shoving his tongue down your throat.

“You’ll never find another girl like me,” you said, sucking on his neck, leaving a red mark that would stick around for days to come. “Never find another girl who lets you treat them like this in bed,” you said. Eddie wrapped a hand around your throat and you moaned at the feeling. “I could get anyone I want, I’m Y/N Henderson, you should feel fucking honoured that i’m with you.”

Eddie chuckled. “Baby, i’ve got you wrapped around my little finger. You should be embarrassed that you’re so hooked on the school freak,” he said.

“Don’t call yourself that,” you said, hands on his cheeks as you felt your second orgasm building inside of you.

Eddie’s eyes softened and finally he was looking at you with nothing but adoration. As much as you liked it when he was mean, you liked it even more when he gave you those eyes. Eyes that screamed, i’d do anything for you. Eddie would never say it out loud but he practically worshipped you. He’d follow you blindly wherever you went.

“God, I love you,” Eddie said.

You smiled down at him, your eyes fluttering shut as your second orgasm washed over you, your legs shaking against him. “I love you too,” you managed to say in between deranged moans.

“I love feeling you cum on my dick,” Eddie groaned as his own orgasm tore through him, his hot seed shooting deep within your walls.

Once you rode out both of your highs you remained on his lap, both of you panting hard. His hands rested on your cheeks, the pads of his thumbs wiping the wet mascara that was under your eyes.

“I’m sorry for everything. For getting mad about Hellfire. I know you have your designated afternoons with them and I should be happy because you do spend more time with me than them, I guess I am just needy,” you sighed.

“I like that you’re needy,” he replied with a smile.

“And i’m sorry for not telling Tara to fuck off. It’s just so exhausting, sometimes it’s easier to let her ramble on,” you said.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Eddie replied. “I’l sorry too, for being a dick and for… you know, the rough sex.”

You chuckled. “You don’t have to apologise for rough sex,” you said, pressing your lips against his. “Rough is how I like it, you should know that by now.”

“I know, but I was being really mean today,” Eddie said.

“It was a nice surprise,” you said. “Water under the bridge?”

“Sure… but seriously ,Y/N, you need to get off of me before I get hard again,” Eddie said, clearing his throat. You giggled, slipping off of his lap and pulling your panties back over your legs.

You and Eddie got changed in silence. Eddie changed into comfortable clothes and you took off your shirt, replacing it with one of his.

He smiled at the sight of you as he laid down on his bed and opened his arms wide. “C’mere,” Eddie said and you were quick to jump onto his bed and into his arms, snuggling close to him as the pair of you drifted off to sleep.

#stranger things #netflix #eddie munson #dustin henderson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #my favourite henderson

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wooahaes · 2 years

Note

35 + wonwoo!

rescue

pairing: non-idol!wonwoo x gn!reader

word count: 0.9k~

warnings: anxious reader getting worried abt wonwoo straight up going missing while its raining. intentional lowercase + no proofreading.

daisy’s notes: technically me elaborating on a thought i had a while back w wonwoo <3

wonwoo was late. wonwoo was never late coming home without warning. this clearly meant that he had disappeared into thin air and you needed to find him.

anxiety aside... wonwoo was very good at texting you when he had to work late. he knew that you’d worry otherwise, and he knew that he’d never hear the end of it from his coworkers if you contacted mingyu or seungcheol asking if they’d heard from him. it’d all be in jest, but they’d always harp on him for “neglecting you” when you were probably crying over him coming home late when he didn’t give you a heads-up. he’d always laugh it off as them just teasing him (because they were), but it had spawned a few very-real conversations between you about what he could do to make things better. you had said he didn’t owe you any explanation, but the heads-up that he was going to be late was always appreciated. therefore, wonwoo always texted you if he was working later than usual because he knew you’d worry--or he’d text you if traffic was bad, or that the weather was slowing things down. just so you were kept in the loop.

you sat in your living room, waiting. another ten minutes, and you’d head out. seungcheol and mingyu had both confirmed that wonwoo had left when the rest of them did, that they saw him get onto his bus despite seungcheol offering him a ride. it was raining, traffic was likely going to be rough, he could at least be in seungcheol’s warm car than on public transport. but seungcheol lived in the opposite direction you and wonwoo, so you knew wonwoo would turn him down.

which, honestly, you wished he wouldn’t. if he wanted to pay him back for gas, then wonwoo could do that--seungcheol would probably deny it at first, but there were ways to get around the hell of public transportation during bad weather.

fuck ten minutes. you were going now. you grabbed your keys, slipping into your shoes and about to lay a hand on the doorknob when you heard the tell-tale chime of the keycode being punched in. you stepped back as the door opened, wonwoo standing there, completely soaking wet. he had raindrops on his glasses, but he was hugging his jacket close to him.

he didn’t need his glasses to see that you were upset. “can you get a towel, please?” he said. “i can explain.”

“you better,” you said. “i was worried sick! why couldn’t you text me that--”

“i know you’re mad,” he whispered, “but you’re scaring her.”

you stared at him. “her?”

he opened his jacket, revealing a little bundle of black fur that was shaking--equally as wet as wonwoo. despite the fact you were upset, wonwoo smiled at you. “i couldn’t leave her.”

you sighed, kicking off your shoes and bypassing your slippers to prioritize your soaked boyfriend and the cat he’d rescued, grumbling to yourself about how you hated having such a sweet and caring and loving boyfriend who’d of course be busy rescuing a cat. you couldn’t even be mad at him when he was so happy about bringing her home. you returned with two towels after you turned on the hot water in the shower, throwing one over his head before helping him envelop the cat with the other.

“what do i do with you...?” you mumbled to yourself as you left wonwoo there to towel off as best as he could before he tracked any water further into the apartment. you gently rubbed down the cat as best as you could, trying not to startle her too much. the poor thing was shaking in your lap, letting out a quiet mewl as she looked up at you. “wonwoo’s going to want to keep you,” you sighed.

you’d never been against getting a cat--and there were no real rules against them in your apartment. he always had the money for a deposit in his account, just in case the two of you decided you were ready. both of you were busy most days, you felt guilty getting a cat. wonwoo had smiled at you one day and suggested getting two.

you told him that he was enough, just to hear him laugh.

“go take a shower,” you called over your shoulder as you heard wonwoo starting to make his way toward the bedroom. “i don’t want you getting sick!”

“i love you!” he called back.

the bathroom door shut a moment later. you sighed, looking down at the more-dry kitten in your lap. the poor thing was still shivering. you shifted her into your arms, still wrapped in the towel as you went to find the heating pad you had.

“if you don’t have a chip or an owner, we’ll keep you,” you said. the kitty was far too friendly to be a stray, in your opinion. that, or wonwoo performed some sort of magic to make her friendly immediately. “okay? don’t tell wonwoo.”

she nuzzled her face into your hand, just content to have the affection. you hoped she didn’t already have a home. especially after wonwoo later curled up with her cuddled onto his lap, happily sleeping while he softly ran through potential names.

maybe getting a pet always felt like a step closer to having a sense of family among you and wonwoo. but watching wonwoo so lovingly paying attention to the cat, talking about how he’d run back to the store once the rain let up a little more... you were okay with taking that step.

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x y/n #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x you

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pouringmyheartoutforpaper · 1 year

Note

hiii, it’s the anon from lovesick steve request:

And sorry it took me so long but that fiC WAS SO CUTE, you gave more than there was to give. it was so beautifully written, I lovelovelove lovesick steve it fits his character so well.

If it’s not to bother you, I kept thinking about the lines where Steve tells reader he had to go home because he was horny and I was thinking… could you maybe elaborate in that? maybe they’re in the beginning of their relationship or r really likes Steve and he seems like avoiding her when they were going out with their friends

of course only if you want, i just can’t get enough of lovesick stevie

oh my god hi! i was hoping someone would ask about this bc im obsessed with it. this is pretty much mostly steves pov. also its set right before they acually get into a relationship, so i hope thats okay <3 i am so sorry this took so long! i was trying to finish my wip so i hope this is okay <3

Before you went to brunch with Steve, Eddie, and Robin after dropping Dustin off at the arcade, you picked out a new shirt you had gotten from the mall along with a small denim skirt. Paired with a matching jacket and purse, you felt pretty. The shirt was a little low-cut, which made wearing a bra with it not practical. The skirt was tiny. Absolutely tiny. Just long enough to be socially acceptable.

But short enough that Steve Harrington is certain it will kill him.

Eddie and Robin always make sure that you sit next to Steve, thinking that it might get him to make a move faster. But at this rate, they might just make him self destruct. His eyes keep flicking under the table to your thighs. His leg is shaking, his hands are sweating, and his entire face is flushed. You and Eddie are talking about some book you had read, and Robin is facepalming at Steve's horrifyingly obvious predicament. Eddie tries to keep you occupied in conversation to save what little dignity Steve had left. He felt awful to be looking at you like this. Thankfully, your food came shortly after. Thoroughly distracting you with chocolate chip waffles. Steve tries to eat quickly, but also slowly enough that it seems normal. He dismisses himself swiftly after placing down enough money to pay for the meal four times. Wincing when you worriedly ask him if he's okay, or if he needs you to drive him home. Guilt racking his system again at your tone.

Whilst Steve drives home, your anxiety gets the best of you.

"Is he mad at me? Whats going on?"

Robin starts to speak, but is quickly stopped by Eddie, knowing that her rambling would cause a slip up, and the truth might embarrass you.

"No, sweetheart, im sure he just got a headache or 'sumthin. He wasn't feeling well the other day."

"Oh... should he be driving then?"

"No, no, he'll be fine." Robin chimes in.

“Oh… okay”

Back at home you can’t stop worrying if he’s okay. You almost cry at the thought that he may be avoiding you.

Little did you know that Steve had come home and barely made it up the stairs to his bathroom without taking his clothes off. Immediately getting in the shower and running his hands through his hair while he tugs at his cock. His jaw is slack and his eyes are foggy and rolling back. He moves his hand from his hair to the wall of his shower, bracing himself. All while shamelessly thinking about how pretty your tits looked today and how easy it would be to lift your little skirt up. Looking down at his cock and visualizing you on your knees in front of him. Wondering what your mouth would feel like between his legs. Wondering if you’d let him train your pretty throat, and take care of you. Wondering how you’d take care of him if you could see him right now. Poor boy is whimpering and whining in the shower, steam making his head all foggy and dissolving what little guilt he had left from thinking about you like this without you knowing.

when he gets out of the shower hes barely gotten his pajama pants on before youre knocking on his door with headache medicine and blushing when he opens the door with his shirt off and little drops of water dripping down his chest. his heart warms up at the sight of you all cute and flustered, and he almost cries at how much you care about him. he invites you in and pulls you into his chest which makes you nearly faint. but you quickly compose yourself, making him lay down in his bed, shutting the lights off, giving him copious amounts of water and having him take headache medicine that he doesn’t even need. he asks you to hum him to sleep, which you do. when hes dozed off you pull the blankets up and tuck him in, leaving your sweater by his bed so he won’t wake up from sensing your absence, and place a quick kiss to the top of his head. his hair is soft and fluffy and you have to force yourself out of the door. he sleeps amazingly that night.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve stranger things #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve x you #steve x reader #st smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x fem reader #dove and steve

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nobodywritingao3 · 11 months

Text

Your Love (Deja Vu) [ch 3]

masterpost | previous | rickroll

Phil stores his sons during a fight, revealing his true nature to them. Caught up in the moment, he doesn't get a chance to explain to them and falls asleep. When he wakes up, they're inconsolable.

CW: - gore - minor character death - Phil eats people - hard vore - soft vore

title taken from 'Your Love (Deja Vu)' by Glass Animals but specifically the stripped back version because that makes me cry

word count: 1.7k 💔 read it on AO3

The kids will be in Technoblade's room. They always go there when they're upset.

Phil's already brushed his teeth, scraped his tongue, flossed, rinsed with mouthwash, and even brushed his teeth a second time out of nervousness. His gums are bleeding, and after popping a mint into his mouth for good measure, they also sting a little bit. He showered off the grime and blood and he's dressed in his most comfortable 'dad clothes,' as Wilbur has taken to calling them. When he looks at his reflection, he almost feels like himself again.

He walks down the hallway, careful to make his footsteps steady and audible as he approaches the door. There are hushed whispers from the room, but as he nears the sounds die into tense silence. He comes to rest outside the room and knocks a gentle rhythm he's used with the kids since he took them in.

"Hey mate, can I come in?" He asks softly, voice still dry and raspy.

There's no answer.

He wants to turn around and flee. He isn't strong enough to do this, he isn't strong enough to be their father; he's already proven that he's a fuck-up parent and he should really just do them all the favor of leaving.

"If you don't answer me, I'm going to open the door," Phil continues, practically forcing the words out of his mouth. "You know the house rules; I need to make sure you're safe."

There's still no answer, so with his stomach churning in anxiety, he twists the handle and slowly pushes the door in.

The three of them are standing around with packed bags, ready to go, the window hanging open. Wilbur has a deer-in-the-headlights, blank expression on his face, holding Tommy up to the windowsill and looking ready to toss him outside. He and Phil stare at each other. He awkwardly lowers his little brother to the floor.

Phil just stands there, taking in the scene, before he's pulled from his thoughts as Techno drops a backpack on the floor with a thump.

He flinches away from Phil's gaze as soon as it lands on him. "Please just - just let us go," he says quietly.

"No. No, no you can't," he plainly responds, too shocked to elaborate. His eyes dart between each of their faces.

"We won't tell anyone," Wilbur pleads. "We're not even..." he trails off, searching for the words. He can't find them and simply begs,"please."

Phil shakes his head, backing away from the door. "Wilbur, you're thirteen. Techno is barely fourteen, and Tommy is eight. You're too young to be alone," he reasons desperately, trying to keep the hurt from his voice. "It's better if you stay here."

They stare at him. That's obviously not what the conversation is about, and at a better time, it's the kind of thing they would have pointed out and teased him for.

"Please stay."

Techno shuffles his feet like he's picking up the nerve to retort, and Wilbur's eyes widen. He shoots out a hand and grabs his brother by the arm, giving him a panicked, warning look.

"No, Wil." Techno's voice is hard, and he shrugs his hand off. "I want to talk about this."

He turns to Phil with a defiant set in his jaw. "If you're not going to kill us - " Phil flinches at the accusation, " - then just let us go - what was the point of pretending to love us anyway?"

Phil stumbles over his words, his desperation palatable. "I do love you. I love you so much, you're my boys and I never want to hurt you." It comes out as more of a beg than a statement. A beg to be believed, a beg for them to stop looking at him like he'll snap at any moment and start tearing into them the way he tore into the soldiers.

"You ate us," Wilbur protests. He doesn't sound angry or rebellious - it would be better if he did - he just sounds horrified. Shocked and vaguely hurt.

Phil's heart aches. "I didn't - I didn't eat you." It sounds weak, even to him. "I'd never digest you, I love you - that was my brooding pouch, like a kangaroo - I would never send you to my stomach. If you were in my stomach, you would have seen - " he cuts himself off, not wanting to remind them of what he'd done to the army, but judging from their faces, it's too late for that.

Techno won't even look at him. "You could have sent us to your stomach. On accident." The implication in his words slams into Phil like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping for air.

"What? I - no, Tech - "

"We saw how you ate Wilbur," Tommy softly chimes in, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and staring at the ground.

He's so quiet, and so matter of fact, and Phil just doesn't have a response. All he can do is stare and feel his guilt prickle across his back.

Tommy continues, "You were so... hungry. What if you'd eaten him for real?"

Phil shakes his head hard and fast. "No. No, no, no, no. I didn't - you don't know my anatomy, Toms," he pleads. His throat and voice still aches, but he doesn't care. He talks through the pain. "My storage - I imprinted on you years ago. My nervous system wired itself to identify you as my babies, my brood. Even if I was trying - and I would never, ever try - I wouldn't be able to send you to my stomach." He resists the urge to cry. He just wants them to believe him. "It's instinct. My body would send you to my brood pouch on instinct."

He can tell from their faces that they don't believe him.

Tears gather in the corner of his eyes.

"Guys, please - " he begs again. He starts forward but immediately stops, seeing them withdraw away from him. "You can't - you can't go." He tries to speak authoritatively, but it comes out too earnest and urgent. "I won't allow it."

"Why not?" Wilbur asks, aggravated. "We're not - we're humans, and you eat - "

"I haven't in years," he cuts in pathetically. "Yesterday was a fluke."

"We were managing just fine without you," he continues harshly. "We don't fucking need you - don't you get that?!" His voice raises to a yell. "You are just like everyone else. Every other adult who took us in, and promised they'd love us and protect us - as soon as we're inconvenient, none of that matters anymore. Maybe you even believe what you're saying to us, but you are a fucking liar. We'll fuck up: we'll break a dish or argue too loudly or come home drunk and you'll get mad, and then you'll eat us. You don't love us, and clearly you never did, because if you had then you wouldn't have lied!"

He's breathing hard, his face red, and his eyes glossy. He angrily scrubs at his face. Techno and Tommy look at him in horror, eyes flitting between Wilbur and Phil in dread.

"Wilbur..." Phil starts softly. He resists the urge to reach out and pull the boy close. "You're wrong, of course I love you. What those people did to you was horrible, and I would never - have I ever hurt you? Even yesterday, when I was out of my mind, I was just - I was trying my best for you. You're my son."

Wilbur's voice shakes hard in a mixture of heartbreak and anger. "You were out of control! It's dumb fucking luck that you saw as your kids instead of - instead of prey - if we're even to believe you! So what about next time?!"

Phil shakes his head vehemently. "There won't be a next time. And even if there is, I won't digest you because I can't - because my body recognizes that you don't belong in my stomach. You belong in my storage, mate, because I love you."

Techno steps forward, his hand coming up and pushing Wilbur and Tommy slightly behind him. "That doesn't matter, 'cause we don't even know if you're telling the truth. We want to go, let us go."

He hates everything about this conversation. They went from terrified of crossing him to unearthing deep rooted childhood trauma to - to this and it's not - this is worse. Something inside of him breaks.

He doesn't want to lose them, why can't they see that? If they just listened to him -

"I don't care if you're afraid of me right now, Tech, this is for your own good." There's a steely quality in his voice that doesn't match how he feels.

Techno glowers at him. "We are leaving."

"No. No, you're not. I'm sorry, but despite how you feel about me right now, you are children. And more than that, you are my children. If you leave this house, I'll just - I'll just track you down and bring you back. As your father - "

"You're not our dad!" Techno spits out.

Anger curls tightly around Phil's heart. Of course he is, of course he's their - they're just being immature right now. They aren't seeing -

"And you can't make us stay," he says through grit teeth. "We will run the fuck out of here, and never come back."

He clenches his jaw. "If you try that, I will eat you again and keep you there until you're in your thirties."

Oh, shit - FUCK - he slaps a hand over his mouth, breathing hard.

He didn't mean to say that. He didn't mean to say that at all. It just - it just came out of his mouth before he even realized what it was.

They'll misunderstand him, they'll think he's saying that -

Oh fuck.

Phil's heartbeat picks up. This is the exact opposite of what he wanted.

He doesn't mean it, of course he doesn't mean it. He loves them. He loves them, he loves them, he loves them.

But they don't know that ( - they don't know that anymore - ) and the effect his words has is instantaneous. In a second, they've gone from righteous and rebellious to terrified.

He lowers his hand from his face. "I - I didn't mean it like that," he whispers.

Techno shifts backward next to Wilbur. Tommy has tears flowing down his cheeks.

"I didn't - I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he's babbling again but he knows there's nothing to say.

He grasps the doorknob and swings the door shut before he can do more damage.

~ ~ ~

TAGLIST: @gracideaviolet @i-am-beckyu let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist

ho o ooo ookaayyyyyy how we feeling about this chapter fellas

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anarchist-sloth · 2 years

Text

If it’s not fine it’s not the end

Chapter: 5/7; (previous chapter), (first chapter), (next chapter);

Pairing: Jakexfem!Mc;

Warnings: Spoilers from episode 10, Spicy🌶️🔥 (NOT NSFW!)

Words: 6.8 k;

Author’s note: This is a story that will follow what happens immediately after episode 10��s ending. I’m not a native English speaker, so any mistakes are due to that. I’m sorry for being so late, I don’t really have an explanation for it except my depressed ass LOL! Still, I hope you didn’t lose interest and that you will enjoy this chapter regardless of my poor schedule. Thanks again for reading! :D

You weren't able to stop crying. Tears were blocking your view, stubbornly so, as your heart clenched tightly in your chest. It was painful.

For a moment you thought you were going to pass out, the emotions you were feeling simply too strong to handle-but the silhouette of a man was grasping gently your arm, grounding you to reality.

"MC..." He whispered softly, a veil of uncertainty hidden in his tone. His fingers brushed your wrist, sending you sudden chills down your spine-the feeling so powerful that you jumped back.

It couldn't have been an hallucination, no? You were clearly hearing his voice, you had clearly perceived his digits caress your skin. It had left you a very real, very present tingly sensation.

Yet, you were struggling to accept it. Nothing was ever going your way, it had seemed, judging by all the past events. You were scarred, emotionally stunted, as fate had provided you only adversities to fight off.

What were the chances? What were the chances that you had bumped into him, in the exact moment he was passing by? It was too much of a coincidence to be true.

But his voice was so smooth and welcoming, and the way he had uttered your name was making your knees weak.

As you brushed the tears away, you thought that, perhaps, that was the whole point. A coincidence had brought you together, and a coincidence had reunited you once more.

"Are...Are you real?" You stuttered, gritting your teeth to prevent sobs from escaping.

The man in front of you dropped his backpack to the ground and engulfed you in a impetuous embrace that stole all the air in your lungs.

"Yes, MC. I'm real." you promptly hid your head in his chest and quietly whimpered, too scared to ruin the mood.

You tightened your fist to the back of his hoodie in a desperate need for contact, which was readily returned when Jake pressed you further onto him. You didn't know a hug could make you feel so complete and safe, like you were destined to be the missing, vacant part of his soul. As if you were born just to experience it.

"Wh-what was the last thing we said to each other?"

You knew the man you were clinging so hard into was Jake, you doubted this could ever be an elaborate hoax of his persecutors- but you weren't asking out of precaution. You longed to hear him say it.

Jake tensed at the question, but didn't back down- he turned to your ear, his lips ghosting over your skin, and bravely put his feelings in display.

"That I love you, MC. And that...you love me"

Like butter, you melted at the warmth of his speech and exhaled a relieved moan. You were starting to believe you would have never heard him confess it to you personally, but, for once, you were left positively surprised. Jake, the person you were in love with, who had sacrificed his safety for you, was hugging you tightly after confirming for a second time how he felt about you. He was real. He was alive.

You rubbed your face in the wet fabric of his hoodie and inhaled his scent- granted, he wasn't exactly smelling like roses after four days of running away from the government, but it was his', and you wished to impress it in your brain.

However his pungent odor made you stop your track, reminding you of his current physical condition. He had been running away for four days! When was the last time he had eaten? The last time he had slept, showered? Was he injured?! Surely the storm outside mustn't have helped either!

You evaded from his arms and swiftly took out from your pocket your room's key. Jake was trying to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat- he was probably overwhelmed, too.

As you opened the door, you hurriedly mumbled him to enter, to which Jake complied, dragging his heavy backpack inside.

You gestured him your bed to sit and went to the bathroom to grab some clean towels.

"I don't want to dirty it." he explained once you returned and noticed he hadn't listened to you. He was standing awkwardly near the window like a lost child in the market, dripping wet on the floor's parquet.

"Jake I- I don't care" Your vision was still hazy for all the tears you had cried, but you noticed his figure trembling, probably because of the chilling temperature outside.

"Please..." you murmured, inviting him to lay next to you. He let out a sigh and obliged to your request.

With shaky fingers you removed the hood from his head and started to dry his hair and face. Up close, you could finally admire him in all his beauty- Hannah really wasn't exaggerating how handsome he really looked. They shared the same big, piercing, kind eyes that resulted even more caring upon seeing you- a gaze so mesmerizing that was making you falter at every movement. His black jet hair was messy and soft to the touch, but it's shape was hard to identify, as it was pressed to his forehead. He had a hint of stubble, which made you think he was shaving regularly. It was truly unbelievable how good looking he was even after everything he had gone trough.

Your lips wavered as you didn't know how to start the conversation. It was funny, in a way, thinking that between the two of you, you were the one having a hard time speaking up. Was it the guilt? Was his disheveled appearance making you remember how much you had regretted sending him to the mine? Or was it something deeper?

A loving hand stroke the tears dripping from your cheeks, hesitantly. Jake's eyes were too intense to stand so you cowardly kept your head low, preferring to look at your lap. You held the towel, now wet and muddy, close to your stomach to bring you a sense of comfort.

"MC, we did it. It's over." He reassured you.

"It's all thanks to you" his hand delicately fell over yours. You noticed how his knuckles were bruised to a dark, purple color and his back was covered of similar injures, too. You quietly gulped.

All thanks to me? You mentally snickered.

"No, Jake. This-" you traced the little cuts on his index finger and inhaled as much oxygen as possible. This was about to get ugly.

"This is all my fault."

"Don't you dare say that." You were caught off guard by how much his tone changed. His previously soft, relaxing voice now turned inflexible and stern- just like when he had threatened the group for almost sending you away. You were somewhat flattered he wasn't liking what you were exposing, but you couldn't ignore your guilt in front of him. You desperately needed to spew all the dark, ugly thoughts poisoning your mind.

"But I dare! I should've gone to the mine! If I did, you wouldn't have almost died several times! It should've been me. He had asked me to come!" You yelled, not caring if some neighbor could have heard you: this was your long awaited outburst.

Jake firmly put his hands on your shoulders, in a vain attempt to lock eyes with him, but you were too stubborn to return the gesture.

"MC, no. We have already talked about this. We know he would have never kept his word. Michael Hanson wanted you dead to complete his plan, just like he had promis-"

Jake had to stop as you bailed loudly. You clutched the aquamarine towel as if your life depended on it and cursed out your breath. He didn't know what had happened, how could have he? Unless he had read the latest texts, which you knew for a fact he hadn't done, he must have been totally oblivious about the real culprit behind his sister's kidnapping. A gnawing void was eating you inside, the nausea you had felt on that fatal day soon returning bolder and fervent.

You didn't know why telling him the truth was torturing you inside so much. Hadn't you been narrating to the police the same story, collected and detached, without showing a single emotion? So why were you such a pathetic mess now?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you further- I'm not good with words-"

You rubbed your eyes vigorously, not minding how the mascara was going to spread all over your eyelids and at least tried to ground yourself. Jake deserved to know the truth. Coherently.

You inhaled and exhaled in silence, and even if it was extremely hard, you cleared your mind from all these negative thoughts. Your heart was still beating painfully in your chest, but you were going to ignore it for now- you wanted to focus all your energy, all your willpower on this man.

He tentatively cupped your face and dried with his thumb the corner of your eye. You looked up.

Jake appeared heartbroken, his orbits red as he was battling with the urge to shed tears, too. If you weren't feeling so shitty yourself you would have told him that he was allowed to cry, that he didn't need to be strong anymore. He had already been so resilient trough out the investigation, suppressing all the negative emotions to the point the others judged him cold and unbothered. But you knew how much he cared and how that sentiment consumed him.

In his arms you felt like a porcelain doll for the gentle way he was treating you- patiently waiting for you to feel better, not rushing you to talk. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm, and briefly smiled when you realized how such a simple act of affection was making him blush and agitated.

"Jake It's...It's not that." He kindly removed locks of your hair away from your face, his lips a tight line.

"Then please, tell me how I can ease the pain. Seeing you like this, although inevitable, is breaking my heart." Your hand reached his' in hops to gain the courage you needed.

"Jake...there is no Michael Hanson. It-It was...it was Richy..." you verbalized, your breathing ragged.

Jake's expression shifted to a more serious demeanor, but he stayed quiet, processing the informations you were providing him.

"Not much after we texted for the last time, the Man without a face called me...and..."

You yelped as Jake suddenly launched himself in your direction, his arms caging you once more. You took refuge in his lap and rested your head under his', the stubble pleasantly tickling you.

"MC-I'm so sorry." his callous hands grazed your back in a clumsy attempt to soothe you.

"H-he removed his mask and-"

"Shh...We don't have to talk about it now."

You seconded him, stabilizing your breath in the meantime. You didn't want to postpone the conversation, however; you had promised yourself this was going to be your little, well deserved tantrum- you just knew that if you didn't vent now you would have returned to bottling your feelings, and only God could have guessed whenever you were going to be vulnerable again.

Still, you lingered in the moment: Jake was a surprisingly good hugger for someone who didn't interact with many people- let alone touch them. His heartbeat was accelerated, just like yours, and you wondered if it was for the shock or because of you. You nestled against him and bathed in his warmth.

"You know, Jake...Before Richy...faked his death, I had always suspected him. I wasn't all too sure if he was doing it alone, but I thought he must have had something to do with Hannah's kidnapping. He was always so keen on not believing or disregarding the evidence that it became jarring, in a way. And indeed he was involved. He was the one to give Hannah the AMC Gremlin, and he also helped the girls burying Jennifer in the forest. When he told me what happened that night, instantly his weird behavior made sense." You rambled, playing with the hoodie's drawstring to distract you. Jake wasn't caressing you anymore, listening carefully to what you had to say. You appreciated his thoughtfulness.

"I don't know why I never told you. Maybe I was the first that didn't want to believe it." You chuckled, bitterly.

"Look where It got me. I risked my friends’ lives, my own... and yours, too. Richy didn't kill anyone, at least not with his hands. And since, according to him, he never meant to kidnap Hannah, sooner or later he would have released her." You sniffed, curling the drawstring to your pinky. You chewed your tongue in hesitation.

"He probably started threatening us because of me"

"MC, stop it. You cannot bash yourself because you weren't able to predict his intentions. No one could have known except for Richy himself." He pointed out, almost disgusted by your assumption.

"But does it matter? I still put all of you in danger." You retorted, hiding your face as Jake tried to break away from the embrace. But you were determined and kept holding him tightly.

"In the end I wasn't even tied to all of this, you know? Hannah didn't send Thomas my number, she sent a receipt that "coincidentally" matched my phone number. I can't help but feel like I should have minded my own business. Everything wouldn't have escalated so much. Hannah would have been fine, my friends too, and probably Richy wouldn't have lit himself on fire, almost ending your life as well. I shouldn't have answered to Thomas in the first place."

You fell in an uncomfortable silence.

Jake had become as stiff as a tree, which was worrying you greatly. You asked yourself if you had crossed the line, but you also didn't have any intention to retract. Whenever you liked it or not, this shameful feeling was following you like a moth to a flame: talking about it was your only way out.

But Jake was determined as well and challenged your perspective.

"Do you regret knowing me?"

You let him go and trembled as you witnessed how badly your words had influenced him, his brows fully narrowed and his eyes glossy. Those beautiful eyes didn't deserve to look so sad. You put your hands at the same level of your heart.

"Jake, I...Of course not. Even if the reason we got to know each other isn't...the best, working with you, chatting with you...it was the highlight of my days." You offered him a sheepish smile, your pupils sparkling with emotion as you recalled the memories you shared.

"In all of this mess, you were my lighthouse. Before meeting you I didn't even think I could love someone this much...nor I could believe someone could love me like you do."

His cheeks were turning a lovely shade of pink. You were flustered yourself, knowing this was the first time you were admitting your feelings out loud. You focused once more on his drawstrings hoping to calm you down- but you were immensely glad that the pain in your chest was starting to vanish in exchange.

"Then stop blaming yourself. You know why I immediately took a liking to you?" Now it was your turn to blush profusely.

"No, I don't"

Jake lifted your chin with just one finger so that you could stare at each other. If you weren't bashful before, you were certainly now. God, he was so handsome. And it wasn't just his looks, but knowing that inside that pretty shell was hidden the person you had fallen in love with. The smart, selfless, protective Jake. How were you able to not think at anything else until now was an utter mystery.

"Because I saw someone that wanted to help not for personal gain, but because she was a good person. Do you think anyone would really start investigating an unknown girl's disappearance just because her boyfriend begs them to do it?"

You tried to avoid his gaze, but he was making it hard to do so.

"Don't you think it's weird? Don't you think it's weird how I just...decided to get involved?" You questioned him, timidly.

"Quite the contrary, I believe it's remarkable." he affirmed, stoic.

"Do you think someone else would have been as capable, as brave, as...amazing, as you?"

You beamed as Jake listed all your qualities, incapable of concealing how he truly made you feel. Reading his texts was one thing, but hearing him talk was a totally new experience. You felt like a teenager with their first crush, but somehow way more powerful and real. He smiled in response, satisfied to see you happy.

"I think your feelings are clouding a bit your judgment" you giggled, embarrassed.

"It's because of you that I have been relying on my feelings more. They are not unimportant in my analysis of the truth. If anything, these feelings exist because you are indeed what I have just described." He explained, holding your face with both of his hands. You got closer to him and laid your forehead against his, losing yourself in his eyes. They were similar to Hannah's, just like you had noticed earlier, but in your opinion they were even prettier. Although they could have appeared cold at a first glance, they were nothing as such. They were reassuring, and soft, and-

And you could have sworn they were fixated on your lips.

"So don't ever think about a life where you didn't respond to that message or to my call. Because I know It would have been a much worse reality. You did good. You are good."

You lingered on his lips as well. They were chapped and slightly bruised, but so welcoming as the same time.

You fondled his unruly bangs and cackled.

"You sure know how to calm me down. It's even better in real life with your unfiltered smooth voice-!" You clasped your mouth shut.

For some reason, admitting you liked listening to him talk was affecting you more than blurting out your feelings. Maybe because it was a new territory, as you had no idea how Jake sounded or looked like- but now you did. And he was just driving you crazy. It was husky and low- he clearly hadn't spoken in a while, which somehow bewitched you even more. Initially Jake seemed dazed, but once he registered how your own comment had left you speechless he sported a bemused, smug grin. You brought your knees up to your chest and permitted your hair to cover your face, not allowing him to enjoy your reaction a second more. You heard him approach you, slowly, and you shivered as his lips grazed your earlobe.

"Then I'll try to be more vocal."

Your mind ran wild to all the possible scenarios where you would have gladly preferred him being more vocal and squealed. Suddenly you were acutely aware of how your bottom was pressing over his crotch area and how his arms were squeezing your hips just enough to let your imagination do its magic.

You gripped Jake's shoulders to find some sense of stability, but in return you were greeted with a displeased moan. You quickly withdrawal.

"Argh!-sorry MC- it's just" he hissed, bending over in pain.

"W-wait are you hurt?!" You screeched, baffled.

"You don't have to worry, MC. I've just got a little burn while trying to escape-"

"You got burned?!?"

You reached for the hem of the hoodie and carefully pulled him out of it.

"MC, wait-" you ignored his request and removed the t-shirt. In an another context you wouldn't have been so bold, but anxiety was guiding your body.

You sat behind him and flinched at the sight: his right shoulder was a concerning red hue, a couple of blisters adorning it. You weren't an expert, but if you had to guess, he was suffering from a second degree burn. Luckily for him, even if the t-shirt was damaged, the cloth hadn't stuck to the skin.

"Jake this is serious! Why didn't you tell me sooner?!"

"Well, you were crying-"

"Who cares?! Ugh!" You couldn't believe this man, sometimes. Always putting yourself before his well being. You caught him whispering a subtle "I do." but your voice dominated the room.

"How did this happen?" You inquired him

"The fire had spread out towards the main exit, so neither the police or the FBI were standing too close to it. This gave me the opportunity to leave without being caught on the spot but -argh- I got burned in the process"

He was about to touch his bare shoulder but you urgently stopped his arm midway. "Don't!!" You warned him, "You could infect it! You should at least take a shower first!"

"Y-You are right." He whimpered, squinting his eyes. You patted him gently on the head and led him to your bathroom.

"Don't use hot water, okay? And don't worry about the towels, you can use all of them" You told him, picking up the umbrella.

"Where are you going?" He asked, preoccupied.

"I'll buy something for your burn. I imagine you can't go to the hospital, no?"

"You imagine correctly." He closed partially the door, a small opening allowing him to see you still. "Don't take too long." It sounded almost like a beg. As if you were leaving him now You waved him goodbye and left the room.

---‐-----------------------------------------

Once outside the Motel, the aftermath of the past hour finally clicked in your head. Jake was in your room, alive and free. You had talked with him, with your voice, and touched him, with your hands.

You had seen him, flesh and blood, and he was simply a treat for your eyes- and for your soul.

You jumped in excitement, not minding the cold rain drops drenching you whole- because since this mess started, you had never felt so happy. Karma was really coming around.

Your phone buzzed, alerting you of a new message- but the moment you felt the vibration in your jeans' pocket you were reminded of a tiny, little detail that Jake had erased from your mind with his presence.

Jessy!

She had just sent a worried text, asking you if everything was okay with work. You reprimanded yourself and texted a quick explanation.

MC: Jessy I'm so sorry I didn't notify you earlier! You won't believe this!

I've bumped into him!

You were praying Jessy understood why you weren't texting Jake's name. After that whole incident with the FBI, you didn't want to risk attracting all the attention onto yourself. Especially now that they were so close on capturing him.

Jessy: wait

OH!!

OMG Is he doing okay?!?

MC: Kind of? I'm taking care of it right now

Again I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner

I hope you weren't worried!

Jessy: it's okay, MC. I'm glad he is safe

Maybe it would be best if you stayed with him for tonight

MC: Are you sure? I don't want to leave you alone after today...

Jessy: 100% sure. I know how much you wanted to meet him

We can always see each other tomorrow 😊

MC: I'll make it up to you, promise 😔

Jessy: No worries! Have a fun night you two 🤭

Her subtle "advice" didn't go unnoticed, coloring you red as a tomato as you recalled how nice it was to sit on his lap.

With this pleasant memory you entered into the supermarket and grabbed the first things you deemed useful- moisturizers, gauzes, painkillers. You weren't a doctor so you had to religiously follow what Google was instructing you to do, and hope for the best.

On the way home, while you were watching a YouTube tutorial on how to treat burning wounds, you came across a little restaurant that hadn't captured your attention before, probably because it was more secluded than the other shops.

Upon further inspection, you realized it was a Chinese restaurant, presumably the same one Jake was referring to when he had asked you out.

You beamed and stepped inside.

The lady behind the counter was very polite and illustrated all the different specialties: not knowing Jake's taste, you opted to order a bit of everything. You felt giddy knowing this counted as your first gift- sure, you would have bought food for him in any case, but Chinese food held a special place in your hearts.

When you returned, he was just in his boxers and with a towel on his head, typing on his laptop. He was wearing glasses now, and you had to admit he looked rather cute with them. More nerdy. From where you where standing you couldn't see what he was exactly doing but that didn't matter, as he stopped to greet you.

You were using all your might to keep your eyes on his face.

"Is that...Chinese?" He asked you, lifting your take out bag to confirm his theory.

"Thought we could still have that date, in a way" you proposed, feeling shy.

"That is..." he took from your hands the plastic bag. Jake seemed genuinely moved by your action, which touched you by proxy. You were going to smother him with all your affection, once the relationship had really started.

You quirked up by just thinking about it. You couldn't wait the time you could both call each other comfortably their partner.

"That is very nice. Thank you"

"It's nothing. I owed you this much"

He dropped it to the nearby table, rapidly opening the various packages-judging by his urgency, he was starving.

"I should take care of your burn, first" you suggested, dripping a left over towel in the bathroom sink.

"You don't have to worry, MC. I can do it myself." He almost snatched it from you, but you were quicker and stepped away.

"But I want to." You wringed out the excessive water and gently sat on the top of your bed. Jake smiled warmly, a quiet sigh escaping from his lips.

He settled down in front of you, his bare back illuminated occasionally by the lightning outside.

Now that you were feeling calmer you soon took notice of the many scars scattered across the area: scratches, bruises, dark spots...they looked older, some of them dated possibly years ago. You gained a sad expression as you traced them lightly, imagining what kind of situations he might have gone trough to earn them.

Jake sensed your discomfort.

"Perhaps it will be a story for an another time"

"It's more than one, though..." you mumbled melancholically.

You dismissed those thoughts and pressed the wet towel to the burn.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

"Okay."

"Don't pretend it doesn't, got it?"

He chuckled. "Got it"

You applied the aloe vera cream generously, dodging the blisters so that you couldn't have popped them even accidentally. Jake remained silent- you wondered if he was ignoring your order or if he truly was used to the pain- you could bet on either of them, unfortunately.

After moisturizing the sensitive part, you wrapped the gauze not too tightly to his shoulder, making sure it couldn't slip up.

"Okay, It should be fine now. If it stings too much you can take the painkillers I bought for you" "Thank you, MC. You are very thoughtful."

He said, turning his head to you. You felt hot all of the sudden, perhaps because he was half naked and because he was eyeing you like you were a dessert- you blurted out a pathetic, garbled noise and nodded.

Not wanting too be the only one hopelessly pining, you unexpectedly and recklessly kissed his shoulder. He was left dumbstruck.

"I-it'll heal quicker, you know?"

You hopped away from him and went straight to the food. Why did you think that was a good idea?! "Come on, we should eat before it gets cold." You reasoned, hoping your tone wasn't betraying you.

"Right." Jake muttered, only now picking up a t-shirt. You glanced over his toned body one last time, not knowing when you would have gotten the honor of watching it again (you dreamed sooner than later) and then unsealed your tin foil boxes.

Jake sat next to you, his cheeks still pink. You gave him more than half of the ordered food, even if he insisted on dividing it equally- you weren't going to accept a no as a answer. He had briefly mentioned how he had only eaten a protein bar these last 4 days, so you loudly demanded his stomach to be full at the end of the meal.

He didn't want to show it to you, but he was flattered by your consideration.

"I noticed you haven't told me much about your life." he brought up, slurping his noodles. "You didn't ask" you noted, "But I also though it wasn't an important topic of discussion" "Everything about you is important to me." he said, nonchalantly. You almost choked on your dim sum. "O-oh"

"I would be honored to know more if you so desired." How could you say no when he was looking at you like that?

"Sure"

You told him a bit about your upbringing, sparing on the boring details. Your childhood, your family, your education- roughly enough so that he could have had an idea of how you were growing up. It was weird, talking so much about yourself- but Jake seemed so interested, even for the blandest aspects of you- it was really charming. He didn't speak much, but it wasn't a monologue either. Through out the meal you felt the constant need of asking questions about his life, too, but you really didn't want to push the wrong buttons: he was finally feeling at peace and you weren't going to ruin it.

Once the conversation moved towards your interests, he finally voiced his opinions a bit more- he fancied the sci-fi genre, for example, which you found so perfectly fitting for someone like him- almost a bit cliché, you joked (to which he laughed for the first time and your heart skyrocketed out of pure joy), but he also admitted to having a sweet tooth, which was the real twist of the evening ("Not so cliché now, uh, MC?") You kept smiling all the time.

You discovered he also liked motorcycles- he had to learn how to drive them as they were the fastest and the most practical vehicle for someone on the run, but that in the end he grew a passion for them. You felt a tingling sensation between your thighs imagining Jake wearing a leather jacket and a helmet- but you refrained your impulses.

After briefly discussing your political views to make sure you both agreed on the same issues (which you did, happily), he helped clearing the table- you wondered if there was ever going to be a time where the both of you could have settled down to a more domestic scenario: cleaning the dishes, doing the laundry, cooking together- stuff like that. You didn't want to be too optimistic- he had mentioned how a life with him would have been like, and yet there you were, gleefully daydreaming.

So entranced by your own thoughts, you didn't even notice Jake getting extremely close to you, his thumb on the corner of your mouth.

"Uh-!"

"There was a crumb here." his only comment, while he stole all the boxes you had in your arms so that he could dispose them. You didn't know if he was aware of how his behavior was arousing you, if he was testing you for fun or what not, but you were going to let him pay. Eventually.

Jake returned to his laptop but you readily stopped him.

"What do you think you are doing?"

He looked flabbergasted.

"Working?"

"Don't you dare, Jake!" you hurriedly said, covering with your hand the screen.

"Wh-"

"You should rest! When was the last time you slept?!" You muttered, almost annoyed by his inconsideration.

"I did rest. I took a nap, yesterday, once I was sure the FBI wasn't near-"

"Bet it wasn't even an hour!"

He stayed quite, which just confirmed your suspicion.

"Listen I- you know, logically, you should sleep if you want the necessary energy to work efficiently." You spitted out in a desperate attempt to bring him by your side.

"If it's that hard to do then you can sleep here. With me." You said, unexpectedly. "I-if you want" you added, to not sound demanding.

Jake didn't seem so reluctant now. He offered you a shy smile and simply nodded. Internally, you were cheering for your accomplishment- but also stunned by the quick turn of the events. It was very nice, actually, knowing you were such an inviting option.

"I do want it." He closed the laptop and safely put it back into his bag, then he indicated the spot next to him for you to sit on. You gladly followed his instruction.

"How are your friends holding up?" He inquired in a cross-legged position.

"Uh-Well, they are not doing...the best..." you gulped, struggling to find the appropriate words.

"It has been hard for all of them."

"I can only imagine." he concurred

"Nice of you to ask, though" you patted his back.

"How is Hannah doing?"

"She's...she's recovering. I don't think she would tell me what she is really feeling, especially after all these big revelations..."

He narrowed his brows.

"Did Lilly tell her about me?"

"We did." You confirmed, "But don't worry! Her parents don't know a thing. I made sure of that." His lips quirked up for a second.

"Thank you, MC."

"Would you like to see Hannah?"

"Of course I would. Even if the prospect scares me a bit." You snuggled closer, your shoulders touching. "I would be there with you, okay? If I can help I will"

"Thank you. You always do." His tone rang true to your heart.

"Would you like to see the others as well?" He scratched the back of his head, pondering. "I don't think the others like me." You theatrically gasped.

"Come on, that's not true! I'm sure they all feel grateful for your contribution. Plus, what's not to like?" You jokingly winked.

He cackled as he laid his head on top of yours, very gently.

"And I should be the biased one."

"Don't know what you are talking about."

"...Do you want them to be your friends?"

Jake sighed, adjusting his posture so that you could both be more comfortable.

"I...I don't know. It's been so long since I've even talked with someone for personal matters. Would I be capable of having friends again?"

"I asked if you want to have them as your friends, not if you are capable. Which, by the way, you are." You objected.

"I am?" You offered him your best smile and squeezed his free hand.

"Of course. I mean, we are also friends, in a way" Jake intertwined his fingers with yours before whispering seductively into your ear:

"Really? I was hoping we could be something more than just friends."

Sudden chills crossed your entire body, leading you to jumping quickly out of bed, completely and visibly agitated. Meanwhile Jake was beaming, all smug and proud.

"No, I mean, yeah, of course we are more than just friends! Haha! I was just trying to say, you know, since we love each other, it means we had to start from a place where we were friends? I don't know if it makes sense, haha"

Jake kept staring at you, his smirk permanently fixated on his face.

"What's so funny?!"

"I didn't know I could provoke this effect on you. I thought I was the only one easily flustered." He clarified, bemused.

"Well, in chat I could hide it better!" You grumbled, playing with strands of your hair. He couldn't keep getting away with it.

"Do not be ashamed of it, MC. I like it." Jake soothed, his tone returning softer and composed. You took a deep breath and locked gaze with him.

"You always had this effect on me. If anything, I kept working so hard because...because I liked when you praised me" you admitted, embarrassed. He was eyeing you up with the most intense gaze you had the pleasure to witness. You traced your steps back, overwhelmed.

"Not that I wasn't thinking about Hannah! My prerogative has always been helping you guys, make no mistake! Ugh that came out so wrong...why I keep putting myself in these tight spots"

You toyed with your humid hair, entangling it even more than before.

"MC."

"...Yes?"

He extended his right hand to you. You nervously placed yours on his callous palm, just so that he could drag you into is lap. His arms surrounded your waist, caging you against him- a cage where you didn't want to break free from.

"I'm glad you liked my compliments. Very glad." You swallowed audibly, incredulous. "I want to keep complimenting you, if you'll give me the chance."

As you were about to finally let your dreams come true, your phone brought you back to reality with its ringing. Jake was annoyed as well, but moved aside so that you could answer your call. You scoffed, taking out your cell phone just to end that disturbing and inappropriate sound but you freezed once you saw who was calling you.

"Jake, it's Hannah" you informed him,

"Oh." His facial features softened. You could bet if it was anyone else, he wouldn't have been able to regain his composure.

"H-hey Hannah" you responded, waving at her thanks to the camera.

"MC! Jessy told me-"

"Yes, it's true." You promptly cut her, not knowing if it was safe for you to speak trough the phone. Jake gave you a thumbs up and silently spelled out "make it quick"

"Could you come to my place tomorrow morning? I don't want to ruin the surprise to the others" Hannah soon realized by your hushed tone your intention.

"...Okay. See you tomorrow, then. Good night!"

"Good night"

Only once the call was over you noticed how fast your heart was beating in your ear drums. Jake detected your discomfort, too, and wrapped his arm around your waist. Unlike before, it was firm and alleviating.

"Don't worry, my persecutors are not focused on you right now. They think I'm in another state." He soothed you, his hand drawing patterns on the fabric of your shirt.

"I wasn't worried about me." You spewed, bitter, as he was still not concerned about his well being.

"I am worried about you. You are the one in danger, remember? I've been trying to protect you too, but I'm scared I'm not skilled enough."

"You are. That was quick thinking just now."

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling.

"You know what I mean. These days the best thing I could do was threatening everybody to not talk or text about you to anyone. Police in particular."

"You are just demonstrating that you are resourceful and careful, which is a huge deal to me. I'm not expecting you to defeat anyone, MC. What are you doing is more than enough."

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to fight his stupid logic. That was going to be a problem for future you, you had just decided.

"I just- I just want you to be okay." You yawned, falling into the mattress.

"Are you tired?" He joined you, his face close to yours.

"You should be the tired one. Why aren't you dropping dead?" You mumbled, your voice suffocated by the pillows.

"I want to keep talking to you." You raised you head and removed his glasses from the tip of his nose.

"You should stop being this cute and sleep already"

He chuckled a little. Maybe he was right, after all. You wanted to keep talking to him, too.

"Perhaps it would be better if you changed in more comfortable clothes." He suggested, going straight to the bathroom to wear something more suitable for sleep, too.

While you put on your pajamas, you cursed his chivalry for not staying with you while you were undressing (not really, though; just the horniest part of you. You were glad he was respecting your boundaries)

5 minutes later he was laying next you, his body pressed against yours. Once you both found the most comfy position to sleep in, you hugged Jake tight, hiding your head in his neck. He didn't seem to mind.

Finally, after a month of investigating, threats and betrayals, you were finding some peace in the arms of your loved one.

You were happy, even for just one night.

"Good night Jake. Love you" you yawned, snuggling in closer.

"Sweet dreams, MC. I love you too"

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jessy #duskwood hannah #duskwood jake #duskwood jakexmc #duskwood MC #duskwood fanfiction

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