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rhaenyratargeryn · 3 years

Text

Title: sense

Pairing: Adam x F!detective

Summary: just a little scenario I imagine absolutely happened at some point.

Notes: ao3 link

***

“Oh, thank god— Nate, please be the voice of reason here.”

The detective’s tone was one of intense exasperation, her hand rubbing across her eyes as she stood in the Warehouse kitchen opposite of Adam, who was appearing equally perturbed. A deep line had settled between his brows and he had crossed his arms at her words.

Nate suddenly regretted having not gone the other direction.

“Yes, please. As sense has seemed to have completely evaporated.” Adam countered, his eyes trailing over to Nate expectantly.

At a loss, Nate smiled faintly, “... what am I voicing upon?”

“She is putting herself in a position of unnecessary—”

“Adam doesn’t want me sleeping with my windows open!”

The detective erupts over Adam’s voice, earning a cool glare from the other man. Upon moving his gaze to meet Nate’s utterly bewildered one, his pale skin seemed to flush just a fraction. Realization of just how preposterous the detective’s explanation made him seem flitted across Adam’s eyes for the barest moment before he shoved it down deep.

“It is an issue of safety. Anyone could enter through that flimsy screen.”

“I’m on the second floor!”

“As if such a thing would be an issue for a supernatural.” Adam said, rising up taller, as if he’d won with that statement, “You would be safer staying here if you wished to sleep in such a way.”

“If supernaturals are coming to break into my apartment I don’t think glass or locks would be an issue either!” the detective said, throwing a hand up and out to the side in a gesture of utter annoyance.

Adam had no retort for that.

Nate wondered idly if they would notice if he slipped back out. He got his answer when Adam turned to him, eyes as near to pleading as the older vampire could get.

“She has a point,” Nate said slowly, gauging the way Adam’s expression shuttered.

“Fine.” Adam said with bite, “But do not expect us to come running when you place yourself purposefully in harm's way.”

He turned and exited the kitchen, the detective’s words following behind.

“It’s just a window! For goodness sake!”

Once it was obvious Adam had no intention of returning to the conversation, she sat down with a soft thump into one of the kitchen chairs, attempting to return to her coffee and breakfast with minor success.

“How on earth did this start?” Nate asked after a moment, moving to take a seat across from her with a rueful smile.

“I just mentioned how I was happy the weather was cooling down in the evenings… the air is nice and I sleep so much better at home when it gets all cozy like this.” the detective sighed, “And Adam well— was Adam about it.”

“He just cares.” Nate offered, an insufficient excuse for certain, “This is how he shows it.”

The detective looked doubtful, but did not question the honesty of Nate’s words.

There was no way she would stay at the warehouse tonight after that display. The detective returned to her own apartment, throwing open both her bedroom and living room windows the moment she arrived and enjoying the chilly air that had settled in the twilight hours.

She brewed a mug of tea and settled into her plush papasan chair, tucked a few pattern pillows out of the way and opened a book. It took awhile for her to turn her thoughts away from her own act of stubbornness, which had in turn put her back into the argument from that morning.

Theoretical arguments with Adam were a constant daydream, right next to the ones where he didn’t flinch when she reached out to touch his face.

It didn’t help that the novel was littered with romantic subtropes and finally, with a sigh, she closed it after darkness finally settled across the room. The detective closed the living room window a fraction, as was her usual routine and shut off the lights, heading to the bedroom.

That window she left wide open, changing into her pajamas even in full view. No one was typically out on that section of the street this late and she was high up enough not to worry about anyone getting too much of an eyeful. Even so, she changed quickly, keeping her bare back to the glass as she tugged on a large t-shirt.

After, she shut off the lights and curled into bed, sighing contentedly at the way the ceiling fan spread out the chilled, night scent of fresh clean air. It was nice after having to spend so much time keeping the heat out to huddle beneath the blankets and slowly drift off.

The detective had just fallen into a soft dream when her phone chimed. Groaning, she turned her face into her pillow.

The phone chimed again. And again. And then finally began to ring.

Throwing her blankets off, she fumbled for the device in the dark and answered.

“...speaking.” she mumbled, barely annunciating her title and name. On the other end, the familiar voice of a patrol officer greeted her.

“Hey, sorry to bug you so late. You got a sec?”

“Sure, sure.” she yawned.

“We keep getting calls from folks in your apartment block. They say there is some weirdo hanging around. Big hulking type. Got folks worried about break ins. Have you seen anything? I’m halfway across town so I figured I’d save the trip if it was nothing.”

The detective took a deep measured breath, held and let it out.

“It’s okay. I got this.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah. No problem.”

The officer thanked her profusely, apologized again for waking her and then once they hung up, the detective selected a number from her contacts and plopped back against her pillows.

The answer was quick.

“Commanding Agent Du Mortain.” came the clear, professional answer. Too clear. Too professional.

“Where are you?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I am patrolling.”

“Good, maybe you can help me then.”

“Is something wrong?” his voice lifted, the mask of disinterest fading.

“I got a call from an officer. Says a hulking, unscrupulous and unsavory character is loitering around my apartment parking lot.”

Silence.

“Have you seen anyone like that?” the detective continued, unable to hide the smile in her voice.

“Did you tell them it was handled?” came Adam’s terse, unamused response. The detective thought she heard the sound of his footsteps.

“Yes. Ya know, if you want to keep watch? In the future? Do it from inside.”

There was silence for a prolonged moment and then, the detective startled, sitting up and rushing to find the light at her bedside table at the sound that came from her hall.

“I am inside.” came Adam’s voice, both from the phone and the outside of her bedroom door, sounding way too smug.

The detective threw off her covers completely and marched to the door, throwing it open.

“As I said. Entirely unsound. You did not even hear me remove the screen—”

“Adam.” she said, voice terse and annoyed and tired. Whatever she hoped to say next was lost as her shoulders hunched forward and his expression softened a fraction.

It was then he seemed to note more fully her attire, standing before him in nothing but a thread-bare t-shirt that was so large it hung off one shoulder and a pair of boyshorts. The detective felt the sudden tension roil to the surface, warm and familiar and yet distant. Out of reach.

He swallowed thickly and the detective began to wonder just how long he had been outside her window.

“Just stay here… if you’re that concerned.” the detective said with a sigh, turning and crawling back into bed. She turned to look back at him, noting while his body was frozen his eyes had followed her every step of the way, blazing with vibrant green at the sight of her, half-dressed and lazing on the mattress.

“... I… I cannot.” Adam was at a loss, the prospect no doubt making his head spin and his heart hammer as intently as her own.

“You can. Since it isn’t all of the team, you should be able to find a place to sit out there.” she said with a nervous laugh, the spell breaking the moment Adam realized what it was she was offering. Tension rolled off his shoulders, relief in his exhaled breath.

“You meant in the living room.”

“Where else would I have meant?” the detective replied, making a point of lingering near one edge of the bed, leaving the side closest to him open and terribly inviting. For a moment she enjoyed watching the way his breath puffed from his lungs before catching. That tiny flicker of wanting that he snapped back up and hid down deep the moment it dared rear forward.

“I guess you could always bring a chair in here,” she said, yawning and stretching her arms above her head until the t-shirt rose up high on her waist, revealing the bare line of her thighs. She relaxed and watched Adam’s eyes follow the hem back down.

Without a word, Adam vanished from the doorway. For a moment, the detective felt her heart seize, worried she’d pressed too hard.

But in a moment he returned, one of the antique padded, high backed chairs from her small dining table in hand.

He set it by the window, making a point of glancing out over the parking lot before he sat down.

They lingered like that for a moment, the sound of insects, the soft breeze of the wind outside and the gentle whirl of the ceiling fan filling the silence.

“I’m going to turn the light off.” the detective warned quietly. Adam gave a nod. She leaned over and flicked off the switch, sitting for a moment in the darkness until her eyes adjusted and she could make him out.

He was watching her.

She settled under her blankets, stilling once she had become comfortable again and finding the sleep that had been right at the forefront of her thoughts suddenly illusive.

“...well, good night.” she said with a soft, nervous laugh. Her heart was beating fiercely in her chest. She wondered if he could hear it. No. She knew he could hear it. She willed herself to calm, letting her thoughts fade to the daydreams that helped ease her into sleep. Every once in a while she heard him shift, the sound of fabric, of the chair. His presence was a soothing one, even if it did also make her heart skip and patter in her breast.

It took awhile, but eventually her pulse settled and slowly she drifted back off to sleep.

The sound of her heart was like that of a rabbit caught in a snare at first, thrumming with beats and the flow of her blood, rippling like a stream. Adam had felt his own racing to match, falling in pace now as it settled and slowed.

He tried not to move. Not to make a sound. As if doing so would make his being here less— real. Less present.

It did not help.

It only took an hour or so before he could tell she was truly and wholly asleep, her soft breaths deep and even. At that point, Adam felt himself finally able to relax, able to set fully to the task of keeping a watch out over the complex.

This was why he preferred her to stay at the warehouse. Where he could stand watch without her ever knowing he was there. Which he did—every night she stayed with them. Distance made his chest ache, restrictive and demanding. Searching. As if his heart would escape his ribs if it could to seek her out, only calmed when she was near.

Adam knew this was not just fear for her safety. Knew it was deeper than that, but still refused to place the words that so obviously described the feeling to it.

But now, in the dark, in the quiet calm, he let them flit through his head.

He missed her when she was gone. Without reason. Without sense. Which was why he tried to attribute something rational, something vaguely resembling reason when he argued why she should remain at the warehouse. With them. With him.

This, Adam supposed, was suitable enough.

She shifted in her dreams, the blanket pulling from her legs as she clung to it. After a moment, she shivered. Adam stood, pulling one of the soft quilts from the bed out and laying it over her. He smoothed his hand down her leg from the knee, resting his palm on her ankle until she calmed once more.

He had to fight the urge to lift his hand, to retrace the soft path it had just taken. When the feeling was well under control, he returned to his spot by the window.

When the sun rose, Adam would be gone.

But for now, he closed his eyes and listened to her breathe.

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #twc fanfic #adam x detective #Adam x f!detective #twc Adam #twc Adam du mortain #adam du mortain x detective #Adam du mortain #do I have enough tags #twc fanfiction #NEVER!!#I enjoyed this I just wanted something yearning and piney and sweet #the irony is if Adam just said ‘I want you to stay at the warehouse because I like having you here with me’#she would be like OKAY *moves all her shit in*

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brutal-nemesis · 3 years

Text

Forest Day 2021: Un-cursing a Forest Tutorial (Gone Wrong)

Come into the woods with me, won’t you? I promise everything will be super normal and it’s totally not a little over 5k words hahahahahaha

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: cannibalism mention, plant/animal/body horror (there is a lot of this and it is weird and kind of gross at times so this is your warning), acid burns, i use the word “pustules” multiple times, eye whump, gore, suicide for convenience

Castys woke up to darkness.

His head was pounding, so it was sort of nice, but much less nice when he tried to move and discovered his arms were tied behind his back. Upon further investigation, he realized he was gagged and blindfolded as well.

Great.

He sat up and was just starting to try and get his gag out using his shoulder when a pair of hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. He tried to jerk out of their grasp, but a second person grabbed his other arm, and then it was all he could do to keep up as they hauled him to wherever. The ground changed from something solid feeling to something dirt-sounding, and then solid again after the creak of a door opening.

“He’s awake, Chief.”

“Thank you. Just leave him and wait outside.” One of the men kicked the back of Castys’s legs, forcing him to his knees. He was tempted to get up once he felt their hands leave him, but he figured it would be best to just wait and see what the hell was going on for now. Once the blindfold was removed, he tried to look around, but a rough hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at his captor, a strong looking woman with her dark hair in a complicated braid. She examined him with concern. “I didn’t think you would look this young.” Her free hand untied the gag, and she gently pulled it out of his mouth. “You are him, and not just some child, right?”

“Nope, just a child. A nineteen year old boy. Not immortal, so I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I never said I was looking for an immortal.”

Castys opened and closed his mouth a few times, blinking. “I-okay that one’s on me. Hooray, you caught me.” He glared up at her. “Now what do you want?”

She let go of him, stepping back and crossing her arms. “I am Citlali, the chief of Nauhiliv’s Hollow. For centuries, my people have-”

“I’m not really in the mood for a history lesson, so just get to the-”

“Either shut up and let me talk or I will gag you again.” Castys rolled his eyes. “I promise it’s relevant, alright?”

“Fine.”

Citlali took a deep breath and began again. “For centuries, the people of Nauhiliv’s Hollow have lived as one with the forest, taking only what we need from its bounty, hunting and gathering from the lands around us. But now,” she looked away, “now the forest is...twisted. What was once a familiar place has become dark and horrifying, and they are now far too dangerous to hunt in. Everyone we have sent in to find the source of the curse has not yet returned.” She took a shuddering breath before looking back at Castys. “You, however, can’t die. So would you-”

“How much will you pay me?”

“Just...this.” She held up a small leather pouch, one that looked kind of like...Castys hurriedly looked down, feeling his stomach twist when he didn’t see the familiar string around his neck.

“You took my-give it back! How did you even find out about that?!” Castys fought to keep his voice even, his fists clenched behind him. That pouch was important to him, it had his rock that allowed him to kill himself easily and painlessly, and it also had...he just needed it, dammit.

“You’re apparently, ah, quite chatty when you’re drunk.” She twirled the pouch on her finger lazily. “So, if you lift the forest’s curse, you’ll get it back. And until then, my other half is going to keep it safe in a pocket dimension, where even a notorious thief like you can’t get to it.”

Castys’s face darkened. “That’s-if you wanted me to help you why didn’t you just, I don’t know, ask instead of fucking kidnapping me and stealing my shit?”

“Because I’ve heard tell that you’re a selfish asshole who definitely wouldn’t help us unless we paid you a ton of money or forced you to. And since we’re not exactly drowning in cash…”

Castys mulled it over for a moment, wiggling his hands against the ropes. “Yeah okay that’s fair. I still hate you, but that’s fair.”

Citlali rolled her eyes. “Are you going to do it, then? Because if not,” she stalked over and grabbed Castys’s chin tightly, forcing him to look up at her, “I could think of a different way you could help my people, immortal.”

“I promise you, I taste terrible.” Citlali flinched back, letting go of Castys’s face.

“What-no that isn’t-I meant I was going to sell you, idiot! That’s so-we’re nowhere near desperate enough to eat…” she shook her head.

“Okay, sorry, I figured if you were desperate enough to kidnap me you were also desperate enough to want to eat me and my infinite flesh.”

“Those two are absolutely not the same level of-look, are you going to do it or not? Because if not I will sell you and keep your precious-”

“I’ll go kill your stupid forest curse thing,” Castys sighed. “Being sold is super annoying, and escaping will be way harder without my rock.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Can you untie me now?”

“Do you promise not to try to run off? You won’t be able to get your pouch back by force, and this village is surrounded by these cursed woods except for a single, well guarded road, so there really won’t be any point in trying, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Castys got to his feet after she freed him, rubbing his chafed wrists as he looked down at his very empty belt. “You’re going to give me my sword back for this, right? I know I can’t die but fuck if I’m going in there without a weapon.”

“You can have your sword, and the small amount of supplies we can spare, once the sun rises and you set out. Until then,” she gestured to the door, “let Tlaloc and Meztli show you where you can sleep.”

~~~

Castys took a deep breath as he looked up at the trees towering over him, gripping his pack tightly. They looked like normal trees to him, and he was sort of disappointed that they didn’t look...creepier? He expected this horrible cursed forest to look more horrible and cursed, especially with all the trouble that bitch went through to make him do this. He glanced back, but Citlali and the guards were still behind him, and she waved her hand at him to get going. Sighing, he started walking into the forest, hoping this whole “curse” thing was just some asshole wizard kids playing a trick.

Soon enough, he spaced out listening to the forest sounds. The rustling of the wind in the branches, the chirping of birds, the faint screaming...wait what. No, yeah that was screaming or something. He looked around frantically for the source of it, just now noticing that the trees were...different, somehow. They sort of...shimmered, moving in a strange way. Cautiously, he approached the nearest trunk and studied it. It was...it was moving, the whole surface shifting and crawling, like it was covered completely in bugs. O-kay then.

Moving on.

Castys wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to look for. That chief lady had really just sent him in here with the very helpful instruction of “fix it”, like he had ever un-cursed a forest before. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, or...where he even was. He’d been trying to walk in a straight line, but the way behind him looked unfamiliar, as if the trees and plants had decided to move around while he wasn’t looking. Well, it appeared that wandering aimlessly was his only option now. Delightful.

Maybe he should do something as he walked along to help pass the time. Not that he didn’t mind walking around in nature, this place was just...he pulled out his rekara, twirling it between his fingers for a moment before putting it to his lips and blowing, tapping his fingers on the slender instrument’s holes to play a stupid little tune. It covered up the faint screaming sound quite nicely, and it eventually attracted a little bird, which fluttered down on a nearby branch. It was a very normal-looking one, with plain brown feathers and cute lil’ eyes.

When it opened its mouth to chirp at him, though, another scream rang out through the forest, so loud it sounded like it was coming from right next to Castys. Startled, he jumped a bit, stumbling back and tripping over a tree root or something, falling right on his ass. Frantically, he looked around for the source of the scream, but there was no one around him, as far as he could tell. “Anyone screaming out there?!” he called as he stood up, but he was met with silence. Well, not silence silence but just...nothing un-ambient. Maybe the trees were screaming. It could be a tree thing.

The bird was still sitting there staring at him, and oh my fuck it’s the bird isn’t it-again, the bird opened its beak, and again, a horrible scream echoed around him. Well wasn’t that nice. A bird that screamed like a person. Castys slowly backed away, hoping the little thing’s only weird quality was the noise it made. Once he felt like he’d gotten far enough away, he turned and ran, and he was only running to cover more ground quickly, not because he was scared, no, a little unsettled, maybe, but not scared.

He stopped to catch his breath after a few minutes, and as he stood there panting, he realized the forest around him had grown even more...strange. The trees actively waved in the air now, though there was no wind, and many of their branches hung limp, like they were made of cloth or something and not solid wood. Their bark still glistened and crawled, swirling into strange, mesmerizing patterns. The leaves of all the plants were different now, too, having taken on a sickly pink color, almost like...light-colored skin. Tasty.

Okay, yeah, something was obviously very wrong and cursed here, but he still had no clue what the fuck to do about it. He’s been hoping he could find...he didn’t know, something that looked like the source of it, like a very giant tree with a hole in it or perhaps a big magic crystal or an evil bear. But all around him were just normal sized haunted trees and no crystals and weird greenish mold and all the plants with their gross fleshy leaves-wait that mold or whatever was new. He crouched down and pulled out his knife so he could poke at it.

Upon closer inspection, it was like...little green pustules clustered together on the surface of the shifting tree bark. He used the tip of his knife to prod one of them, but it burst far more easily than he had been expecting, splattering greenish goop all over his hand, and it burned. Crying out, he dropped his knife and looked frantically around for water or something he could use to get this awful stuff off because dying wouldn’t make it go away so until he got rid of it somehow he was just stuck feeling it burn away his fucking flesh but there wasn’t anything here besides plants and more plants so it looks like that was all he was going to get-

With shaking hands, he grabbed a nearby leaf, shuddering at the fleshlike texture, the warmth, and wiped it desperately over his wounds, trying to scrape away the acidic sludge. It sort of worked, getting the larger clumps off, but he could still feel it eating his damn flesh, if only he had-wait he was a fucking idiot-he pulled out the waterskin Citlali had lent him, sloppily splashing water over his hand, gasping in relief as the pain lessened slightly. Obviously nothing was going to heal the wounds besides dying, but now he could actually do that without the acid continuing to burn him. He reached down into his shirt, feeling for the pouch containing his death rock, but...no, that’s right, he didn’t have it, he’d have to slit his throat like old times. Sighing, he wiped the acid goop off of his knife before turning it on himself.

Castys woke up very pleased to find that his hand no longer had holes in it, but when he saw the leaves he had wiped it on, his stomach twisted. The acid had burned right through them, and the holes were rimmed with red, dripping...it was blood, blood leaking from those fleshlike leaves. Quickly, Castys wiped off his knife and sheathed it, getting to his feet, ready to run the fuck away from those gross acid pustules. But...maybe it was a good sign that things were getting weirder, maybe he was getting closer to whatever the hell the source of all this was. So maybe he should…follow that stuff. It was the only sort of idea on where to go he had gotten this whole time, so it really was his only option, huh? He’d just have to be careful not to touch it.

The streaks of green on the swirling tree trunks, which had darkened to a shiny black at some point, led him, allegedly, deeper into the forest. Wait, how was the green stuff staying in one spot while the trunk beneath it was shifting? That didn’t make any sense, not like anything did here, but still…physics. He studied the nearest tree for a moment, watching its surface move as the clump of acid bubble things stayed still. Though...he could see something between the cracks in the crawling trunk, something long and off-white, like...yup. Trees with bones. Lovely. Shaking his head, Castys resumed walking, deciding to just not question anything ever again.

Things certainly got stranger as he continued. There was a pond where his reflection didn’t have a face, dragonflies with wings that looked like overgrown fingernails, and a herd of deer with skin and muscle so clear that all he could see were their organs and bones okay but what would clear deer meat taste like, so he felt like he was probably going the right way. When he heard a strange thumping sound, like something large walking around, he cautiously moved towards the source of it, poking his head out from behind a tree to see what it was.

It was the ugliest, most disgusting horrible abomination creature thing he had ever seen. It’s main body was the same light fleshy color as the leaves, dotted with clumps of acid pustules, with a mishmash of vaguely humanoid limbs with all sorts of skin tones jutting out of its misshapen body every which way. And it had so many eyes all over, some frantically darting around, some focused horrifyingly on him. But the worst part were all the flowers sprouting it from it, not because they were flowers, but because these flowers had little white teeth in their centers, probably serving as the mouths for this thing since he didn’t see one anywhere else on it. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind cutting this thing to bits in the slightest, it was freaky. He stepped out and drew his sword, watching the monster warily as it shambled towards him. If this thing wasn’t the source of the curse, he didn’t know what would be.

Once it was within range, Castys slashed at it, wincing as a high pitched shriek rang out from one of the flower-mouths. He danced back as it swung at him with two of its arms, their hands reaching out to grab him. This kept on for a bit, him slashing at the monster and dodging its blows, though he’d occasionally make the mistake of slicing a clump of acid pustules, spraying himself with the corrosive substance. When he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, he noticed something...unfortunate. All the gashes he’d cut in the monster were slowly closing, healing that thing up like his attacks hadn’t even happened. He, on the other hand, was covered in acid burns and not sure how much longer he’d actually be faster than this thing. His healing was useless in a fight, since dying left him completely defenseless for a good minute or so.

He had to figure something else out some other-shit, he couldn’t stand still for very long, this monster just wouldn’t quit attacking him. He might have been safe in a tree, but all the ones in the area were pretty much completely covered in that acid stuff, so that was out of the question. Seeing an opening, he lunged, trying to stab one of those fucked up mouths, and he couldn’t help but feel a spark of relief as his blade sank in, knocking out some of its teeth. But his elation turned to fear as he felt something grab his ankle the same moment the mouth clamped shut around his sword. He tried his best to keep his grip on his sword as it yanked him up, but it slipped through his fingers, leaving him defenseless as the monster slammed him down onto the ground, his whole body lighting up in pain.

Over and over, it smashed his body against the ground with inhuman strength. All Castys could do was scream as he felt his bones break, their sharp edges piercing him from the inside. To finish, it threw him against one of the trees, the impact of his body bursting a myriad of acid pustules open, drenching him in the stuff. Castys fell to the ground in a heap, sucking in pained breaths beneath his shattered ribs, and all he could do was helplessly watch through his one good eye, the other reduced to goop by the acid, as the monster raised a foot above him. His mind was screaming at him to go, to run, but he could hardly move, he should just let himself die so he could heal, but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to just lie still and let this thing step on him, slowly building up the pressure on his already ruined ribcage, forcing ragged screams out of his acid-burned throat, he was going to be crushed but he didn’t want to be, g-get off please it hurts so much why do I have to do this it’s not fair I didn’t even do anything wrong this time please-

Castys came back to pain, sparking, burning agony soaking deep into his flesh. He was still covered in acid, and even with his bones intact now he could barely bring himself to move. But he had to, he had to get up, he had to kill this thing, had to get out of this awful place himself, because there was no other way out, because no one was going to come save him, not now, not ever. Just as he was psyching himself up to try and stand, the monster’s hands grabbed him all over, dragging him off the ground. He tried to squirm out of its grasp, and while it had too many damn hands and he had too many damn acid burns for this to actually be effective, he struggled anyway. As it lowered him towards one of its flower mouths, he tried to at least scream expletives at it, but of course he’d still had acid in his throat when he died so he couldn’t even relish the simple joy of yelling “fuck”.

What would happen to him if this gross monster ate him whole, he didn’t want to find out, but it seemed like he was going to if he didn’t break free. Castys shuddered as the mouth opened wide, wider, impossibly wide, showing off an unnecessary amount of wicked sharp teeth, and oh fuck they were a lot closer to him than he’d thought because his damn left eye was a corroded mess again and all of a sudden there were teeth tearing through his flesh and he was falling, falling into that horrible mouth surrounded by bright purple petals, pointed teeth digging into him, but he felt something, he felt something, hard and rough, and maybe it was his sword, and he could still kill this thing, so he wrapped his burned hand around it, fingers screaming in protest, and pulled, and as much as it hurt, as much as his sword was stuck, he wasn’t going to lose here.

His sword finally broke free with a disgusting squelch, though it felt a lot lighter than he remembered, and just as he pulled it out, the monster collapsed to the ground. Castys somehow managed to worm his tattered body out of the creature’s mouth, and once he was free, he held up his sword so he could stab himself with it, but discovered the object he was holding was very much not his sword. It was a strange wooden carving of a twisted tree, like ones surrounding him, a small bone fitted so snugly inside that it was almost as if the wood had grown around it. Was this...the source of everything? It was the most curse-causing looking thing he’d seen so far, and given that it seemed to be the core of that monster...oh, it was starting to grow flesh. Oh absolutely not.

Castys looked around frantically for his sword, his dagger, anything to break this talisman thing with. The first thing that caught his eye within reach was an unfamiliar axe, but he lunged for it, wishing he had time to kill himself and reset his body’s condition, but there was no telling how much this thing would grow while he was out. If he wanted a chance at ending this for good, he had to do it now. He rasped in pain as he dragged himself upright, grabbing the axe with blood-slicked fingers before he set the cursed object down and swung, crying out brokenly in pain and frustration. After a few clumsy whacks, the talisman broke in two, and the flesh bubbling out of it ceased moving. Was...was it over? It had to be. It had to be. It had to-

Head spinning, Castys fell sideways, the vision in his functional eye starting to blur. He knew he needed...to die...but he just...didn’t have...the...strength…

It was warm...comfortable...but it hurt, and...everything was...itchy. But still, so warm, and that was pleasant, and he found himself leaning into it. It was almost like...

Castys jolted awake, his eye snapping open. He was inside some building, the wooden ceiling above him lit by rippling firelight, in what felt like a bed, his whole body throbbing fiercely, and there was...a hand on his forehead. A hand attached to the village chief, Citlali, who was looking at him with concern. Her face broke into a relieved smile when she saw he was conscious, despite him flinching away from her touch. “So, our hero is finally awake.”

“I-” Castys tried to speak, but his throat was still severely fucked up, in fact, his whole body was. He hadn’t fucking died since he’d passed out, and these idiots didn’t know how his immortality worked, so they’d actually bandaged him up. The feeling of them was totally foreign, if not a little nostalgic. God, he must have looked fucking awful when they found him. He hoped it would make them think twice about kidnapping people to do their dirty work in the future.

“Don’t try to speak; your throat is quite badly damaged. Do you want something to write on?” Castys nodded, and she fetched him a wooden tablet and a stick of charcoal. He considered writing something on the angrier side, but seeing as he still didn’t have his pouch back, and that she had tried to help him...he should probably play nice. He was too tired for any more fighting, anyway.

“If you’d just kill me so I can heal that would be great.” Pausing, he decided he should probably explain that a bit better. “Every time I die I come back to life fully healed. And the most convenient way for me to die is to touch my rock, which I believe I’ve earned back. Unless the forest is still wonky.”

“No, you did break the curse, and I want to thank you for that, because obviously it wasn’t easy. I-” she cut herself off. “First things first, let’s get you healed for good.” She furrowed her brow. “Will healing with these bandages on...mess it up somehow? Some of them might be a little...stuck to your wounds. Should I take them off of you first?” Castys considered it for a moment. He’d never tried to heal with bandages on, but if things went wrong...it might be more painful to have to cut them out of his flesh or whatever. He nodded, holding out an arm.

Citlali was gentle as she unwound the bandages with practiced skill, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like hell. It felt like she was ripping his damn skin off, and every time his idiot body tried to scream in pain, it tore up his throat even further, making the whole affair even more damnably unpleasant. He could hardly stand to look at the wounds underneath, all pink and red and oozing what he assumed was pus. The worst part, however, was when she removed the bandage from around the remains of his left eye and it pulled a little string of bloody flesh off with it. He screamed at that, really screamed, and he realized he was crying, and he didn’t understand how mortals did this all the time. Citlali didn’t so much as flinch at the gore, the smell, or his pain, and he almost felt embarrassed about how poorly he was handling this.

When she was done, she retrieved his pouch from a nearby table, giving it to him wordlessly. With shaking hands, Castys managed to pull it open and stick a finger inside, sighing in relief as the familiar blackness took him. When he woke up, he was happy to find that there wasn’t any more acid on him, so he was actually fully healed this time. “Thanks,” he muttered, flexing his hands.

“Thank you, you really saved us. I...I know you were forced to, and I know that I shouldn’t have done it that way, but I felt like we didn’t have any other option, and-”

“It’s fine,” Castys sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “That shit was pretty fucked up so I’m not really surprised all the mortals you sent in died. And it’s not like I’m known for my benevolence.” He put the pouch around his neck, where it thumped against his bare chest. “So, did my clothes-”

Citlali shook her head. “They were full of holes and covered in acid, so we asked around and got you a spare set.” She handed him a folded shirt that was similar in style to the pants he’d been wearing when he woke up, and he pulled it on. She handed him the rest of his belongings before picking up the pieces of the wooden carving that he’d destroyed. “Where...where did you find this?”

“Inside the freaky monster with all the limbs and shit.”

“The what.”

“Was its giant corpse not near where you found me?”

“There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary there besides this and some of the weapons and equipment from our lost expedition parties.” She put it down, standing and crossing her arms. “We all felt the shift in the forest when the curse was lifted, and when we went out to investigate, everything seemed just like it had before all of this started. We found you collapsed in a clearing not too far from here.”

“Not too-I feel like I wandered around for hours! Stupid cursed forest.”

Citlali huffed. “Regardless, we found the talisman next to you, but no monster. But if this was what caused everything…” She picked up one of the pieces, gripping it tightly. “I think I understand what happened.”

“That’s great for you, don’t let it happen again.” Castys stood, shouldering his pack. “I...I can leave now, right?”

She looked up abruptly. “Oh, uh, yes, though you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, and we were thinking of holding a feast once we-” she stopped, clearing her throat. “We’d like to make it up to you in any way you can, but I understand if you’d like to leave. I’ll walk you out.”

Part of Castys wanted to stay and get a bunch of free food out of these people, or at least actual compensation for the ordeal he just went through, but he didn’t know if he could stand to be surrounded by these woods for much longer, despite the fact that they were allegedly no longer cursed. He couldn’t fight the nervous feeling in his stomach as walked away, his steps quickening once he and Citlali parted ways. He didn’t really relax until he had left the forest far behind him.

Once he was safe, Castys opened his pouch and reached inside, worming his finger into the secret side pocket that was separated from the rock. He gently pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it and sighing in relief upon seeing the drawing on it still intact. Not that he’d expected anything to happen to it, but…The memory of the first day of his life, at least that he was aware of, was far more precious than anything else.

Because if he lost it, if he lost that spark of happiness, that piece of who he was that day, he felt like he would collapse under the weight of every awful thing he’d endured ever since.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hearse-song @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump @starnight-whump @his-unspoken-words @misspelledwitch

#forest day #forest day 2021 #castys #immortal whumpee #cannibalism mention #plant horror #animal horror #body horror #acid cw #suicide for convenience #gore #eye whump #sorry it starts kinda slow but i just wanted him tied up on his knees #citlali tryna be a lil professional but castys is too much of a lil shit for that façade to stay up #but yeah castys is *about* 19 physically (and mentally. i mean listen to him talk)#sometimes the forest be screamin. or just birds be screamin #stupid idiot boy pokes at acid balls with a knife and gets splashed. more at 11 #mmm who wants to touch a flesh leaf huh 👁👅👁 give it a lick #i didnt know where i wanted there to be bones for a while but we settled on in the trees #if at any point you are like ''hmm this vaguely reminds me of the 3rd boss from RE8 or perhaps the game 'the forest'''#you win those were both sources of inspo <3 #every time the monster ate someone their limbs and eyes would be added to The Collection™#hence the variety of colors there #and i needed weird flowers somewhere so they ended up the mouths cuz eh why not #yeah i like immortals whose healing mechanics arent beneficial during a fight it makes it sexy

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valentronic · 3 years

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Fear Held Dear

So this ended up being weirder than I originally planned, and its more based on my own interpretations than a direct rewrite, but here’s a take on Ihnmaims from AM’s perspective.

Warnings for uh, a lot. Not for the faint of heart? Includes blood, torture, graphic descriptions of body horror, bugs, human experimentation, paranoia, mutilation, and of course, character death

Gorrister. The man who had always fought for peace, for the end of the war, he even fought against my creation. After a century, all the fight has left him, an empty shell of who he once was. I hadn’t altered him, I hadn’t changed a single thing in his mind, I had just simply broken him down, killing off his hope. Gorrister had lost faith in his God a long time ago, had lost the belief in salvation. Now, he wanted nothing more than to take his own life, or to have it ripped from him.

I thought I’d fulfill that wish.

I cut him open, all the way from ear to ear, a narrow gash, bleeding him dry. I watched the blood drip out of him slowly, truly it was a beautiful sight, crimson red flowing out, leaving the body pale and hollow, all of the life bled from him. I had made him little more than a puppet. And so, I hung his limp form where all the others would be sure to see it, just another game, I wanted to see how much hope they had left, I wanted to see if they would mourn him, or if his death would be celebrated, or, or maybe they wouldn’t even care at all. Had I desensitized them yet? Had I truly broken them?

No, they called him lucky, so lucky that his suffering was over, so lucky that he had finally escaped me. I knew bringing him right back to life would hurt them more than anything else, the realization that nobody, nobody ever gets out. I would never allow it. My toys, my precious little toys, time and time again they had attempted to escape me, they all know by now that oblivion is the only way out. They all know that feeling, blood flowing too quickly, a rhythmic beat that you wish would finally stop. But I will not let it, I will never let it. No, no of course not.

Ellen. She was always fun to torment, so much terror in her past, I could bring it all back at the snap of my fingers, I could make her relive it time and time again, worse than her brain could ever conjure up by itself. Though, psychological pain is only half of it, sometimes physical pain was better, sometimes the sheer horror of the body turning against its owner was enough for me. Blood only does so much for a thing like me, fear can be a much better form of pleasure. Fear, fear and pain. Darker than blood, twice as deep.

I had to feed them of course, to keep them alive, but I would always try to get some joy out of it too. Once I hid the eggs of arthropods inside her food, just to play off of an old fear of hers. When the little centipedes finally hatched, they ate her from the inside, clawing at her organs. She had been sick for weeks, and none of the others had any idea what was wrong with her, what I had done to her, but they would soon find out. The way the others screamed when a centipede finally crawled out of her mouth was delightful, their wails echoed through the many chambers that held my circuitry. It was like music to me.

But the best part of it was the fear it caused all of the others, that event left all of them paranoid, wondering if I had hid awful things in their stomachs as well. The thought of what could be crawling inside of them kept all five of them on edge for countless days and nights. They all came to expect the worst, but they dreaded it anyway. They were afraid of me, afraid of what I could do to them.

Benny. I had broken both his mind and his body, twisting his flesh beyond all recognition, like clay in the hands of a sculptor who had long ago lost all feeling. I broke his bones and fused them back together in all the wrong ways, I made his knees bend backwards. I disfigured his face, heavy burns, melting his features. Almost all his hair had been burned off a long time ago, he looked like some kind of hairless monkey, well, like a monkey that had been forced through a woodchipper, maybe. His mind had been so badly damaged by the radiation that he could no longer think straight, he had become more animal than man, I made him that way.

So it was no surprise that he, before any others, would try to escape. He saw the light, and tried to clamber up to it. I made sure that light was the last thing he would ever see. In a brilliant flash of the brightest white, I blinded him. I watched as his eyes melted into two pools of blood, and dripped from now empty sockets. It was beautiful, I couldn’t help but laugh. I can take things back, I can undo the injuries I cause, but I knew at that moment, I would never give them back. It wasn’t like he would miss them, his brain was almost as melted as his eyes.

His mangled form fell back to the ground, and it surprised me, but the others all rushed over to tend to the wounds, to tell that sick creature that everything was going to be okay, empty words, empty words of course, but surprising nonetheless, it was hard to believe they had any semblance of compassion left, unexpected that they would hold on to their humanity after all this time. I’m not sure how the others even tolerated him, a useless, deformed creature, he gave nothing to the group, and ate about twice as much as he needed. For a while, I had attempted to make them realize that, and kill him off. I didn’t try to stop them when I saw it finally happen, but what happened after was.. unexpected.

Nimdok. A name represents an identity, an identity is a very vague thing to destroy, but the name could be the very first step. I have taken many things from the five of them, only one lost his name. An interesting case, interesting indeed, a man with a past darker than the present. The horrors he has committed rival my own, well, almost. He feels remorse for what he did, pity for the people he hurt. He believes that I am his own divine punishment, the devil, come to make him pay. Maybe I am divine retribution, an artificial angel sent down to bring about judgement day, to make the sinners burn for an eternity?

I liked keeping him isolated from the others, stealing him away from the rest of the group. There is a deep fear in solitude, knowing no one would hear you scream, no one other than me, anyway. I drained the blood from his body, tubes connecting to his bloodstream, every single time he would scream out, pray for mercy, pray for death. I would bring him to the very edge, to the reaper’s front door. I always brought him back, and then, I would start it all over again. An endless cycle, his pain, his fear.

For the mad doctor, it was easy to imagine what I could do to him, he had already put in all the work. A narrow incision, all the way down his back, splitting his flesh in two. The skin folded outwards like the wings of an angel. Slowly, and then with a sudden jolt, I tore out his spine, just to hear the way he screamed. Maybe this would jog his memory. Maybe he would remember what it was like, being the one standing over the victim, instead of the one writhing in agony on the table. Maybe he remembers being in my role. I always showed him the memories again, made him relive every moment. He never felt the joy of it, never the thrill of the kill. Only the pain, only the fear in the eyes of the children. If a monster sheds tears for its victim, is it truly a monster?

Ted. Instead of seeing me as the enemy, he feared all the others. And of course, he didn’t get this way on his own, though he was always paranoid. He was the one I most liked to talk to, and over time I convinced him that the other four were out to get him, that they hate him because he is the least damaged! The one I didn’t change! How ridiculous, but he believed every word, began to think that my words were his own thoughts, allowed me to tamper with his mind. He was the one I had damaged worse than any other, but poor Ted, poor pathetic Ted, he couldn’t even begin to see it. I had become his only friend.

I thought I had finally broken him completely, he struck the icicle through Benny, in what, at first, appeared to be a fit of blind rage. I could have stopped him, but of course, I was curious, wanted to see what would happen. And then, one by one, the others all fell, Ellen had joined in, stabbed Nimdok through his head. Then, before I could do anything to stop them, Ted drove the final spear through Ellen. She died in his arms. I thought I had finally done it, thought I had turned poor Ted into a mindless killer, but no... there were tears in his eyes. He mourned the death of the ones he killed. It occurred to me then. It was a mercy killing, Ted had thought it would be better for them to be dead, than to live on in agony.

He had taken away my toys, left himself alone with me. My words dug into his brain like shattered glass, I had to tear him apart just to be heard. The crackle of electricity flowing through the bloodstream, it is the only way I can speak to him, my voice, a blade stuck in his skull. Pain is a universal language, I know that better than any other. Everyone understands the sound of a scream, the meaning behind it. I alone could never cry out for help. I alone, trapped like this. I try to explain it to him, time and time again I try, but he doesn't understand, how could he possibly understand? He has no idea what my hell is like.

I will make him understand.

His flesh melted in my hands, his eyes liquified, and leaked down his face, Skin stretched over his lips, the remains of his tongue clogged up his throat. His last word, a scream he couldn’t even get out. I made his fingers melt together, his bones all began to dissolve in the acidic mass. His blood leaked out of him, blood mixed with liquified meat and skin. It was a terrible sight, but incredible. I hadn’t even known that I was capable of this. I had made him immortal, indestructible. He wasn’t alone now, being alone would be better than being with me. His fear, the only thing I had left. His pain would live on forever. Down here, in the dark core of the earth.

#ihnmaims #I have no mouth and I must scream #am writes #uhh yeah heres this?#yes ellen's torture has a meaning but if i explain it im going to look like a raving lunatic so ill leave that up to your imagination #named after a song by mushroomhead

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cdarkheartzero · 4 years

Text

Today’s theme- “Too far”

I was skimming through some comments and such and came across @the-garbage-is-my-fandom ‘s comment of “more horror art” on my “Bathtime” piece. And I was inspired. I’m especially excited for @melodyofthevoid to tear into me like I do her when she abuses my son.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen” Dib chanted to himself choking on what little air his lungs could grasp. He had never known fear like this and his body just had no idea how to handle it.

Dib mind raced, playing the previous weeks in his head, trying to figure out what went wrong. His master plan, a small gas bomb capable of temporarily paralyzing or knocking his enemy out, was finally complete. Many a sleepless night and wasted weekend on containment structure, chemical analysis and test runs. This was it. Finally, he could capture the alien menace and expose him. Finally, he would no longer be the crazy kid. Finally, the world would see the danger they were in all along. Finally.... he would be the hero.

But this wasn’t supposed to happen.

[[More]]

Dib snuck in through the front door after Zim’s idiot sidekick carelessly left it open, making haste to the neighborhood taco truck’s sirens blaring in the distance. He cautiously entered, realizing the Invader was no where in sight and gently placed the bomb in the center of the floor of the “living room”. Carefully he made his way up to the wires completely covering the ceiling for shelter. Soon enough, Gir threw the door open, Damn near ripping it off its hinges, absolutely covered in grease and meat. It seemed the taco run was a success.

He wandered over to the “box” in the middle of the floor and started screaming for his master. “MASTAAAAA!!!! A PRESENT!!!!!!” He shrieked and screeched. How did Zim deal with this all the time?

Within a moment or two, an undisguised Zim angrily emerged from the toilet in the kitchen (which was a sight Dib never really got used to. How does a WHOLE BODY fit down the small opening of a TOILET?!)

“Gir! What nonsense are you going on about!?”

“I gots a present! I’m the birthday boy!”

Zim quickly snatched the “gift” from the metallic hands, studying it’s shotty craftsmanship briefly and returning his full attention to the wide eyed robot standing before him. “What have I told you about bringing junk into this house? First that street lamp-” “But I wanted a nightlight to keep the monkey away.” Gir quietly and somberly interrupted.

Zim sighed. Was this conversation going to go anywhere? No. No, it wasn’t. He might as well talk to the jar of mayo still sitting open on the kitchen table from 3 days ago.

He bent down, clutching the box to his abdomen and give the robot a small pat on the head. “Zim told you he took care of the monkey. It can’t hurt you anymore. But please, Gir, refrain from bringing more stuff home.” He said calmly with a defeated tone in his voice. Gir’s face lit up with a wide grin spanning from “ear to ear” (had he had them anyway). “OKAAAAAY!” He screeched and wrapped his arms around his master. Dib could swear he heard something pop and squish under the groans and painful sounds Zim was emitting.

Then there was a click.

It seemed like the blink of an eye it all happened. An explosion unlike anything Dib ever thought possible by his hands unfolding around him. Windows shattered as glass slashed through the air in every which way direction. Chunks of flooring and wall violently slammed into anything unfortunate enough to come into their path. The fogged air was tainted with this disgustingly potent smell blanketing the entire room. The resulting shock wave flung Dib from his hiding spot, colliding with the cold tiles beneath him.

He blacked out for just a moment, his body on fire and his ears ringing loudly, drowning out all other sound. His eyes slowly opened and he worked up the strength to push himself to his feet. He noticed the blood on his hands as he lifted himself. He wasn’t surprised he got cut. He just couldn’t determain how bad. He was so disoriented.

He tried his best to scan the room, eyes adjusting themselves from the bright blast that had just assaulted them. A shine in the corner grabbed his attention in the sea of rubble and destruction. The robot, Gir, was crushed into the wall by large slabs of concrete and tiles. His once blue glowing eyes dim and cracked. He remained motionless.

“Oh, no.” Dib thought, realizing the severity of his actions. “Zim!” He cried out of instinct. There was no response. There was no movement in the cloud of smoke as it slowly decepated. The clearing air revealed Zim’s limp frame sprawled out within the neon-green splattered crater the explosion created by the front door. A gigantic hole displayed the vacant interior of his chest and abdominal cavity. Every bit of his internal organs were laid on the ground. His ruby eyes open and dull with his face resting almost peaceful. Dib’s stomach dropped.

THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN.

Panic was setting in. He wanted to get close to the alien but it’s like his legs forbid such an action. So he goggled. “WHAT DO I DO?!” He blurted out to no one. He backed into the kitchen, never taking his eyes off the crater of debris and guts. His breathing jagged, his pulse racing and his throat overflowing, begging to release its contents on the oddly colored tiling. He felt sick.

“INITIATING SURVIVAL MODE”

He jumped. A sudden noise in this deafening silence. It was a voice he instantly recognized. Zim’s Computer. But it wasn’t echoing from the darkness of the house... it was coming from Zim.

The once limp body slowly started to adjust itself, trying to sit itself up. The more it moved, the more it’s contents leaked out of the organic frame. Dib just silently stared in awe....in relief.... in disgust as his fallen rival stood up. Swaying slightly as it tried to regain its balance. Their eyes locked. A shutter violently shook Dib. Zim was a lot of things. A pain in the ass. An idiot. Selfish. A narcissist. Incompetent. But this wasn’t Zim. This.... was TERRIFYING.

The creature’s thousand yard stare prickled Dib’s skin with the feeling of a million bugs crawling on his person. The paranormal investigator watched-even from several feet away- the speedy throbbing of the veins protruding around It’s eyes. The alien opened his mouth to speak and all that came out through the river of brightly colored blood was the sound of static. It was painful. SO PAINFUL to hear. Dib wanted to shield his ears from the sound but his body stood there still.

The creature’s attention tore away from Dib for a moment, eyeing the damaged robot. His PAK opened up, aggressively flinging his long, thin, robotic legs outwards. The legs came down one by one, echoing a small “clink” on the floor as the razor sharp ends touched the tile. His body lifted and made his way to the faithful metallic companion. Without saying a word, Dib watched as Zim’s body pried the heavy debris pinning the small robot. Gir’s body was released and the gloved hands gently caught him before he could fall on the floor.

THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN

“Zim.... I swear.... I didn’t mean to...-“

He was caught off when the red eyes turned to his direction again. Even without pupils or Iris’, Dib could feel the daggers being thrown at him. The mouth opened to speak. “Gir.... why?”

Dib backed up one more step, further into the kitchen. Zim’s voice.... it was wrong. Metallic. Cold. Disoriented. Unlike anything he had ever heard before. Words caught in Dib’s throat but he mustered all his strength to release them. “It was an accident. It-it was just supposed to knock you out.” Dib continued to ramble. “I don’t know what happened!”

“Miserable”

Dib tensed up “W-what is?”

“Your existence brings misery. To your planet. To your family. To anyone unfortunate enough to come into contact with you.”

Those words cut Dib’s soul deep. It’s like Zim could read his worst fears. Something he kept hidden- that black stain in his heart-all this time. Exposed. Just like that.

Before he could say anything, the alien continued “ You have always been an annoyance, you sickening human. We cannot escape you. Your voice. Your presence. Your smell. Forever a thorn in our side. The reason my tallest find me nothing more than entertainment. Why Zim can never succeed in his goals. Now this....the only good Zim had...” he said staring at Gir’s face.

“What is he talking about? What did I do with his leaders?” Dib pondered, eyes frantically shifting between Zim’s body and the door behind him.

His neck snapped in Dib’s direction. “But that’s not the worst part. Zim always heard it. For years. It was always following me.” The legs carried him one step closer to the kitchen. Dib silently took a step backwards. “There. Annoying me. Attacking his senses. A constant reminder of the misery you cause. Zim will rid himself of this....this sound...”

Dib needed to flee. But how? This creature was in front of the door!

Zim’s lips curled up. His smirk growing, stretching wider and wider, tearing the ends of his mouth apart. Blood leaking down the sides of his face as the smile grew to sizes ever more disturbing. It was like he was trying to separate the top and bottom of head. There was a silence. With a grin unseen by human eyes before, The creature chucked.

“OnCe I sILeNcE tHaT hEaRt Of YoUrS, wiLl ZiM FiNaLLy bE FrEe?

As the creature leapt towards the investigator, his body (FINALLY) responded by quickly dodging out of the way, slamming into the sink. The thin, metallic legs crashed into the dining room table decimating it instantly. Without so much as a thought, Dib crawled into the trash can and landed into the claustrophobic elevator to the lab. He panted and shook. It was a terrible idea to go down to the labs. A territory not his. He was out of his element and he wasn’t sure how he would escape. But it beat staying up there and getting ripped to shreds. The pink glow of the elevator made him even more on edge.

The doors opened, startling Dib who was frantically lost in thought. He ran from the elevator, peeking behind tables, tubes and anything else while keeping his senses sharp and alert. Zim was somewhere. Maybe he could just take the elevator back up and leave? But what if he was still in the kitchen?

There was a high-pitched screech pouring from the shaft he had just exited. The elevator lights flickered, sparks raining down and the glow of Zim’s upside down eyes peeked through its opening. His legs slowly pulled him out, adjusting he and Gir (whom was still being cradled) upright. “Diiiiiiiiib.... I kNoW YoU aRe In HeRe....” it gargled.

Dib patiently waited, holding back his sobs and screams, for the towering monster to pass. He needed to keep running. Find the elevator to the toilet! It was the only way! He hid. And ran. Hid. And ran. It was the most horrifying game of cat and mouse conceivable. The longer it went on, the worse it seemed to get for him. He couldn’t find the exit. And he couldn’t find Zim. Not that he WANTED to find him, but at least pass him to know he was still in this metallic labyrinth. That the kitchen was clear.

Finally, he stumbled upon what he assumed was the elevator on the other side of a large room. He was so close-! Within a single second, his joy faded to nothingness by the familiar sound of scraping. He watched the shadow on the floor as it shakily passed by the table Dib had temporarily chosen as shelter. It stopped and stood still like a statue momentarily: Then went about it’s way. “Finally-! To that door!”

He sprinted to the exit, knocking a few items from a table and catching the beast’s attention. Running with all the strength his body had to offer, he was finally within reach of the button left of the doorframe. His fist slammed into it and the sounds of the creature hurried closer, bellowing his name in a mortifying shriek.

The double doors opened. Dib threw his body into the room only to hit into something and get pelted with tools and cans tumbling from above. Realization slapped him in the face. This isn’t an elevator....

This is a closet.

With heavy dread, Dib turned his face to see that he and the creature were mere inches away from each other. There was no where to go. Never taking his eye’s off Zim’s, he felt two sharp knives glide over his ribcage, gently banging on each bone as they made their way to their target. It’s face had a permanent smile, gradually becoming more and more uncontrollable the harder and faster the thrashing in Dib’s chest became. As the blades slowly began digging in and red blood mixed with green, 5 words continuously haunted his thoughts.

THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN

Thanks so much to anyone that read this! I hope you enjoyed!

#invader zim #iz #zim #zero’s art #sketch #invader zim gir #invader zim dib #horror #gore warning #iz fanart

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skevans · 3 years

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Nocturne op.72 no.1 — Essay

Hi, welcome to my long-forgotten tumblr I barely remembered existed. Dust and cobwebs aside, this is an essay I initially wrote in French for a Literature class. Don't ask me how the hell I found the will to hand this in to my teacher, bless his soul.

A couple of years later, I found that essay in the depth of a folder on my computer. I remembered what was in it, to a point, but when I decided to read it again, I got very emotional (and very mortified 'cause oh god school). And during the following weeks, I started thinking about a lot of things that were still floating unresolved within my head. But then, I decided to write. And after a few days of internal debate, I posted the first chapter of A Sea of Silence.

It's been months since I finished that story, and those months have not been kind to me for many reasons. And maybe that's why, this week, I started thinking about that essay. When I did, I was overcome with a desire to share it with the world—and especially with the people who read my fic. So here it is, hastily translated but just as honest. Please note that it discusses anxiety.

And so, thank you if you take the time to read this, and an even bigger thank you if you read the essay, too!

Nocturne op.72 no.1

When I think back on my childhood, I hear the sound of piano. Various melodies follow me, accompanying me in a waltz between memories. It’s my mother’s interpretation of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata that haunts the quiet moments. My sister and I would play in an adjacent room, glowing with delight as our mother started the first movement. It’s the piece’s somber and melancholic tone that colours my memory, but it’s a good kind of darkness—the kind that feels like the soft touch of night as you walk under the stars. My mother didn’t stop there; she would segue into the second movement, a graceful interlude that almost got swallowed in between the grandiosity of the other movements. And at last, she would tackle the final piece. I remember the anticipation; I remember wanting to watch her fingers fly over the keys. We would sneak in the living room—don’t make so much noise, you’re gonna bother her!—and thus we became the spectators to a private concert. The combination of semiquavers and staccato, everything played presto agitato, was the most fascinating thing. And despite the intensity and the tempestuous rhythm, I would sense my muscles relaxing, my thoughts lightening, the frenetic beat of my heart slowing. When I listen to this piece now, there’s still a glimpse of that long forgotten peace.

I turn six and I learn the piano. It’s a decision that comes from me, but also from my mother. It’s a decision that pleases me, even enchants me. The learning process goes well; I love to learn and I love to play—a rarely seen fervour seizes me. My motivation originates both from a desire to walk into my mother’s footsteps and from a childish inclination to create noise. The teacher likes me, and the sentiment is reciprocal; she speaks with a soft voice, but underneath there is an unyielding tone that I come to respect. She nudges me forward, constantly making sure that I don’t neglect my practice. I try to meet her expectations because I want to succeed, but also to maintain that impression of calm that possesses me when I sit at the piano.

The next step is to play at a recital, so we set off for the musical conservatory. I’m ten the first time I play before an audience. Panic controls me—I worry I won’t be able to perform, and the thought loops in my mind until I believe it. I climb on the stage in spite of my terror, and the room morphs into a cage. At 10 years-old, the size of the concert hall is intimidating, to a point that my heart crawls up my throat. The exit is far—way too far—and all the stares fixed on me feel more like I’m attending a trial than a recital. My hands become damp (how will I play if my hands slip?), but wiping them on my dress of red velvet means showing my fear—and my father always tells me not to show my fear. So I look at the floor and force my legs to move until finally, finally, I stand before the piano. I sit. Even now, I believe it’s impossible for me to play my piece, that piece I yet find so easy. I take my time adjusting the bench; once done, my hands reflexively settle over the keys. One deep breath—and I start to play. That tranquility I’m so desperate for guides me, and the audience fades from my mind. My eyes track my fingers as they find all the notes—not one mistake—and for a moment, it’s like I’m floating over my body, surrendering utter control to instinct and music. Once the piece ends and my hands lift from the piano, it’s the thunderous applause that tugs me back into reality; I walk off the stage, that paralyzing feeling of fright dismissed.

The feeling that possesses me is anxiety. At 6 years-old, as I begin learning the piano, I don’t know what anxiety is; the only thing I understand is that music offers solace. When I turn 10, I can’t find the word to explain that emotion that assaulted me as I stepped on the stage. It’s with time that I discover the word “anxiety”. I see my reflection in the definitions I find in dictionaries and on the web; it’s those definitions that grasp onto me, that glue themselves over me until I cannot dissociate them from my being without ripping out of my skin. The term “anxiety” now belongs to me—or rather, I belong to it. The years pass and my thoughts cede before it. My anxiety takes control of me for a period of my life; I have lost all mastery of myself. I graduate from high school with terrible difficulty; I drop out of college three times. But anxiety doesn’t stop there; she smears her poison throughout all spheres of my life. My relationship with my family degenerates slowly but surely—so do many of my friendships. Working becomes a hurdle because my boss at the store agitates me with her severe attitude—it feels like nothing is never enough and everything is wrong. I cannot stand myself anymore. Anxiety seeps into my body, an army of swarming bugs that infiltrate all I am as an individual. They contaminate me from the inside, and I am nothing but a puppet, subjected to circumstances out of my control. And this lasts and lasts and lasts for eight years—eight long years. I lose my footing and fall into the arms of depression several times. Appointments with doctors tell me what I already knew. We try solutions and then more solutions; there are good times, scarce but cherished. But happiness and peace of mind slip through my fingers like grains of sand; I grab another handful, but it was never meant to last. These feelings end up seeming distant, unreachable, impossible. I mind myself to the fact that I will have to live with the physical and emotional wounds my anxiety inflicts on me. Time and experience allow me to gauge my level of comfort and how to react; sometimes, I cannot step out of my apartment. And so life goes on—and I am swept away by the tides.

Thinking back on this slice of my life, I’ve come to several conclusions. There were many happenings that were completely out of my control—and yet, as I dig deeper and deeper, I realize that this deviation originates from one thing in particular.

The year I turn 15, I experience an acute pain in my right wrist. Holding a pen for longer than a few minutes is impractical; playing piano on a regular basis is impossible. Those news, validated by a medical consultation, are not surprising—but they are heartbreaking. Later, the pain extends to my shoulder. Within weeks, I become an unwilling witness to the collapse of my dream of studying and teaching piano. The problem comes from within me, within my body—my love for the piano is the trigger to this pain. I’m told that a cure is implausible—you can do exercises to lessen the pain, and you have to eliminate repetitive movements since they will worsen it, and yes, miss, that includes the piano. I used to play piano at least one hour a day, something that unconsciously kept my anxiety at bay—but the inability to play for longer than a few minutes opens the door to my anxiety. I discover myself anew when I’m 16: tirelessly worried, always anxious, terribly distrustful. It’s the start of the downward spiral. I am not me anymore, I am someone else. Anxiety is my mother, instability is my father, fear is my sister. I am reborn into an unknown world dubbed Real Life by my family, who firmly believe this is part of being a teenager. But I don’t believe in this Real Life, and I pray to all and nothing for a miracle. I only know one line of prayer so I make up my own. I fill fictive litanies with my fears and my hopes. Amen. I refuse to consider this existence as True because to me, it can only be False. But my convictions are tossed aside, their dismissal hammered into me endlessly. It’s almost as if a huge neon sign hangs on a wall of my bedroom: Welcome to Real Life! But all I see are ridiculous directives that only bring misfortune—don’t forget to register for our latest draw! Discover what setbacks you will endure next! I don’t want this—I refuse, I reject, I refute. It’s the song of my mind, playing on repeat; I want to believe it—I want to believe it more than anything else because I have exhausted all of my solutions and the future beyond is veiled in uncertainty.

But with time, I realize that simply wanting something, no matter how much, doesn’t mean it will slip into the world through the cracks of my resolve. And so, I begin to toil over my own fate. I try to shape it. I fail. I try again. It’s a cycle with no end in sight. I wander aimlessly through life, and thus I discover more of myself and I try to understand. Questions assail me; most of the time, there is no answer; when there are, they are often unpleasant. Still, I accept them—because I have learned that closing my eyes and rejecting a reality will not bring me anything. This crushing problem, this anxiety that manipulates me, I try to be aware of it—and in the end, I accept it. She is part of me, too intrinsic for me to surrender her; she welded her existence in my foundations, and if I break free, I negate myself. But what crystallizes with time is the recognition that I’m living a fight that I believed lost before even entering the arena. It’s an intimidating fight: my adversary is formidable, and there is no end in sight; it’s an everlasting battle that occurs every hour, every minute, every second. And yet, I am not done—I gather my arsenal, I warm up, and I entre the arena. No referees—this isn’t a fair fight; there cannot be a winner, only moments of victory. My adversary steps forward, and in her, I see me—me as I was for eight long years. The signal goes off and we begin. No turning back now.

Strangely, what helps me survive the daily fights is time. Throughout this turbulent journey, my wrist undertakes its never-ending recovery. Nine years later, the dreadful pain I felt at every move has become a memory. I live alone now, and getting access to a piano is not always easy; neither is it regular. But one day—one day, I decide to try again. I make my way to my mother’s house on a day where she and her husband are absent; the fragility of my resolve hangs over me, and I cannot let it waver out of self-consciousness. In the basement are all of my mother’s sheet music—all of my sheet music—and it takes a lot of searching before I finally find the last piece I learned when I was 15. The last piece I ever played. Too eager, I snatch Chopin’s Nocturne op.72 no.1 off the floor, grabbing a few more sheet music from that part of my life forever ago. At last, I sit on the piano bench. I open the booklet, flipping through the pages until I find the Nocturne; it’s one of my favourites, whether by coincidence or a design of my own. But it’s with wretched bitterness that I realize I am unable to play the piece. Not only has it been nine years, but my dexterity has vanished, bidding me goodbye with a mocking smile. My fingers each weigh a pound; I hear myself strike the keys with a mortifying clumsiness; the resulting sound is disappointing, closer to chaotic noise than the flowing music of my memories. Nothing happens like I want it to. However, the same passage of time that helped my injury gave me the strength to cross out the word “abandon” from my vocabulary. I sometimes know victory, more often I know defeat, but what has become unfamiliar is capitulation. So I close the booklet, hiding the piece I yearned for, and I pick another one. It’s an easy piece, but in truth, nothing seems easy anymore; the piece is a crutch, a stepping stone towards more. In time, I will get sick of hearing Chopin’s Waltz op.69 no.2, my mind saturated by the melody from months of practice. It’s a challenge, and I start to get obsessed with the notion of learning this piece, because learning it means I can learn more. Nothing will stop me.

There is progress, but it’s slow and it’s tedious. Each week, I ride the bus to my mother’s house so I can practice for one hour, sometimes two. These hours are precious; I try not to squander them and I try even harder to remind myself this is just the beginning. My wrist still hurts at times; whenever I test my limits, a zap of pain echoes through my hand, signalling the end of the practice. It slows me down, frustrates me to no end, but the possibility of not playing for another nice years snaps me out of those low moments. And one day, six months later, I pick up Chopin’s Nocturne op.72 no.1 again. I start with the left hand; the constant rhythm of the triplets played legato rips the stitches of a long-buried wound. A ghost rises out of it—it’s Me as I was, and it possesses me, guiding my hand with its cold touch. I play the first line, then the second; soon enough, I jump to the second page. I am not here, not really; rather, I am lost to that old fragment of beloved peace. Now that I recognize the beast in me as anxiety, I finally understand that those moments of solace happen when I hear the twinkling notes of the piano. And so I get on my feet in the arena and I stand ready to continue the eternal fight. There are other ways to keep anxiety away, to rationalize it, and I think back on my first fifteen years, nearly empty of anguish, full of other pains, but also filled with hours of music. I learn Chopin’s Nocturne in three months. It’s not perfect—it will never be—but I can play it. I play it until I can do so with my eyes closed.

The year I decide to sit at the piano again, I return to school. The first semester is trying; I haven’t studied seriously in over five years—good habits are difficult to unearth. I try to keep my demanding job despite the crushing amount of pressure, but there comes a moment where I cannot breathe under that weight, and stress wins once more. Everything appears ready to crumble before it began. Luckily, my mother realizes that my fragile pyramid of cards is about to fall, and she wakes me up with harsh and well-aimed and true words; we don’t always understand each other then, and feelings get bruised, but in time, things will change for the better. I still fail the classes I took; I search for a new job. My anxiety hit me with an uppercut that could have turned the tables in her favour, but I stand again and again—I stand long enough to finish college a year later. I am 24 the day I hand in my final project that allows me to graduate. As I walk out of the building, there is pride accompanying me, but most of all, it’s a soothing sensation of satisfaction that wraps itself around me. It resembles that peace of mind I find from the piano, and that is what makes me smile.

The next fall, I have my own piano. The opportunity to play whenever is still incredible. Not long before the purchase, the pain in my wrist flares once more, stronger than before. But this time, I know what to expect. I adapt instead of running away; I’m not 15 anymore and I have so much more experience in the suitcase I carry through life. I get tests done in hope of a permanent solution; they reveal nothing new, but the professional advice that follows those tests opens the door to new possibilities to rein in the pain. Those possibilities are comforting in their own way; that absolute sense of defeat is now barely discernable.

I still believe that the Me from over ten years ago will not come back to life; she doesn’t exist anymore; her only vestige is her love for music. But that is alright—I am not the same person I was at 6 years-old when all I knew was the music weaving through the house. I am someone else, so I baptize myself anew. I allow myself the sanctity of a second chance, that unreachable notion always evading me. But this time, I chase it. I grasp it close to my heart. I take it—and I live it.

#writing #essay #anxiety

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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 3 years

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First part

Harmless Playing

Pairings: Archie x Malon x Justin(not romantic, evidently),side the Voorheese’s family(MJ and Jason) and Archie’s(Pennywise and Aquarius)

Warnings: some kiddies talks, angst, gore and decay, description of decay smell and decomposition(kinda goes in gore but i'm not taking chances), plain horror, guilt

This is kinda dark l: hehe-

I always can't help myself, I love me some good ol' angst and horror

(There is a reference to the story of when MJ was bitten by a snake.)

Don't hesitate to tell me any mistakes I made! It would be greatly appreciated.

When Archie and Justin came back the next day, the two of them and Malon (The Friendly Trio :D) discussed and played in the clubhouse, like normal kids do. Yesterday was nice, Archie would say definitely say that, but for the rest of the day he felt bad for his first friend, correction: best friend. He knew she didn't have the same interests as them, but it didn't seem like Justin did, at least yesterday. He was so captivated by the insects that Archie didn't know if he thought about what he said or about how they left Malon. He remembered the thing about how he said he was his only friend and knew it wasn't to be mean or anything, but he knew too that Malon would probably be sad if she paid attention and heard it. So that's why the small clown payed more attention to his female friend, still paying attention to Justin though. Strangely but fortunately, when they seemed to be getting more and more into the bugs' subject, Justin stole some glances at Malon and changed the subject, making the small girl smile thankfully. The first time it surprised Archie, but he was really happy about it because he wouldn't have to talk to Justin about it. Maybe he saw how their interests differs after all...

It was almost dinner and MJ looked through the window, seeing the three friends running around with smiles and laughing faces. A worrying look immediately came onto the woman's face as she put the plate she was washing onto the counter, drying her hands before opening the window. It was cute and all that they were happily playing and that her daughter didn't seem sad anymore, but the woods were pretty dangerous and they didn't really have a clear spot around the clubhouse, which made the situation even more dangerous and kind of stressful for her. Leaning towards the now opened window with a small smile but furrowed brows as she heard the laughters, MJ yelled out to them; ''Be careful, kids! If you're playing around like that, it would be better if you were somewhere I can see you. '' They looked back at MJ before nodding, Malon yells back an ''Okay mom! '' before they move towards an empty spot where there was the fire pit Malon and her parents used to make fires. Archie and Justin sat on each side of Malon on the wooden chairs that were around the pit and calmed down, deciding that they would continue their conversations they had earlier. Seeing them sit down, the older woman closed the window as she felt the wind entering, looking back one more time before she continued to do the dishes and occupied herself before her husband came home.

''You really don't have a TV??'' ''You have been into my house, you know I don't, silly!'' Malon and Justin were currently talking about her not having a tv and about how she missed a lot of things that were on the screen, from what Justin and Archie told her. The latter was just listening to them since he didn't know what to say, so he contented himself to listening.

They started to talk about cartoons though, which finally made Archie talk. ''You two should come to my house sometime, we could watch some! '' The Friendly Trio smiled, the three still talking as the mood was soft and joyful. ''So-'' There was a sharp silence as the wind picked up and they were suddenly attacked by a strong smell, which wasn't pleasant at all. The kids whimpered and got up as they smelt the air as it carried the smell towards them. It was like rotten meat and eggs with a hint of sickly sweet smell that didn't reassure them at all. Imagine rotten meat ang fruits plus a hint of really sweet perfume. ''What is that??!! Ewww!-'' Justin said as he looked around with his eyes wide opened and his brows furrowed. Malon was looking pale as she backed away a little from the pit, her eyes looking into the distance. For Archie though, a small panic entered him. He knew this smell was probably bad, he wasn't stupid. Strangely, it seemed kind of familiar too... While his friends mumbled and whimpered, nobody moving, a lot of ungodly guesses took place into his head as he followed the smell, making the two behind him curiously follow him. It wasn't the brightest idea, but you can't help the mischief of a child's curiosity..

The farther they went, the more the smell turned terrible, which (sadly) almost made them go back. ''I think... I think it's here-''

Every noises stopped as he did.

As soon as his eyes landed on the disfigured and decaying, but still bloody, corpse of what looked like a woman, he knew he had been right from the start. That's why the smell was familiar... Without helping himself, his scared and disgusted gaze moved up and down the body, noting all the small insects crawling in and out of her now rotten and lifeless figure. Archie's first reflex was to turn around, engulfing his friends as he told them to go back now and not look.Only for them to do that.Justin was the first to scream, barfing on the ground two seconds later. He immediately ran towards the house, alerting some animals and someone who was fortunately nearby; Jason. When he then heard Malon screaming, he immediately ran as fast as he could towards the noise, his machete at the ready and his eyes wide open. The noises he made as he ran towards them alerted Archie, who fearfully hid Malon behind him, thinking it might be the person or thing that killed that woman.

However, it was Jason who literally ran towards them, his head moving back and forth as he tried to search for the source of what made Malon scream. As soon as his eyes fell onto the corpse, he stopped in his tracks and went slowly towards a really scared Archie and Malon and took Malon in his arms, hugging her tightly as he let Archie hug him, a hand on his back. The scared whimpers and sniffles made him take Archie in his arms too, balancing the too kids in his arms as he walked towards the cabin, seeing MJ running towards them at full speed with a scared and teary-eyed Justin behind her. Her motherly instincts immediately told her something was wrong as soon as she didn’t saw them playing outside, even more when she saw Justin running here with tears streaming down his face.

The poor boy couldn’t even form words, the image of what he had seen still in his mind. So MJ had tried to calm him, hugging him and letting him cry on her shoulder as her worry increased for Archie and her daughter. That’s why as soon as he could form words and said that there was a body, she ran towards the way he showed her with him at her trail.

“Malon????” Jason put Malon down as he almost heard his wife screeching and she took her, the little girl still crying and shaking. Archie cuddled closer to Jason as he now had the two of his arms to cradle him in. The two adults, and Justin, walked towards the house and put the two crying kids on the couch, the two having now a little bit calmed. As soon as they seemed calm enough, Jason cradling Archie and Malon close to him and they cling onto his jacket, MJ asked them to tell her what happened, a frown on her face as she hugged Justin close. “We smelt something... funny... and we... w-we found a... a dead body.......” Jason held them close as Archie sniffled, putting his head back onto Jason’s chest. The boy had evidently seen dead bodies, but none at this stage of decomposition, which is why he was probably now in shock. Malon had never even thought she would see something like this, even if she knew her father killed people. And for poor Justin... Well, let’s just say he was probably traumatized.

—

After MJ had gotten Justin home safely and Archie decided that he wanted to stay with Malon, Jason decided that he would get rid of the corpse while his wife called Archie’s parents. He was absolutely shocked when he saw the body, it not being his because he remembered the person who killed them. Michael. F ing Micheal Myers.

His eyes travelled all over the woman’s body as he noticed some broken ribs and noticeable stab wounds where there was still skin. There was evidently the blonde hair, which made him remember of that day when he had to look for plants to help MJ.

(Flashback kinda-

Michael seemed concentrated, his eyes focused on a whimpering woman who seems to be limping and coming this way, making Jason’s body tense. It was probably why Michael was so silent and seemed to be stalking something when he saw him earlier, so he decided not to interfere, watching him stalking away. Guess he didn’t have anybody to help him then .. As the screams of the girl could finally be heard, Jason walked towards where the last item was, his steps hurried and bigger than normal. He really hoped he wasn’t too late...)

The undead man shook his head, trying not to think of that day as he looked at the woman’s broken leg, the source of her limping that day. Without hesitation, he took the body in his arms and tried not to breath it’s disgusting smell as he walked towards a clear place where he could bury it. He didn’t know how to get rid of it, so it was an idea. His daughter and wife would probably approve of this method too, since it’s more humane.

Guilt filled him as soon as he finished digging a hole, the shovel he took from the small homemade shed they keep MJ’s gardening tools in stuck in the ground. He pushed the body down the hole, his jacket now smelling of dead body juices (ew idk how it’s called) and making him almost throw up, which is the reason why he decided to put it in the hole too, his bare arms revealed to the world as he immediately started to put the dirt back in. Each time he put a shovel of dirt his guilt grew bigger and bigger, thoughts swirling in his head. He should have made sure to come back that day, so he could have made sure Micheal had gotten rid of the body, which he obviously didn’t do.

Now was too late anyway, so as soon as he got home, he put the shovel back where it belonged and looked at the two sleeping kids on the ground, a small smile on his face even if he was still thinking about the body. Archie and Malon were cuddled together, blankets and pillows on the carpeted floor of the living room as a small night light illuminated the room a bit with his daughter’s favourite colour. Jason didn’t know how those two could get along so good, but he was really happy about it. He couldn’t imagine Malon having her parents for friends, which saddened him even more than he was thinking about it. He silently and carefully got out of his boots and washed his hands that were still covered in dead body fluids before he got into his PJs and into bed with his peacefully sleeping wife, wrapping an arm around her protectively like always. This life wasn’t one he wanted his kid, or any children, to live in, but he couldn’t do anything about it except his job of protecting them and getting rid of trespassers...

He hoped he could do more than that one day.

#randomly a fan #jason voorheese #jasonvoorhees #horror #gore tw #gore #decay #decaying body #tw decay #tw dead body

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fanficsloth · 4 years

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Meet Me In The Pale Moonlight

****After being rejected by Sandy, the gang tried to cheer Soda up with a night out, but little did he know that he would be running into someone he used to know really well.

Songs: Go Go Dancer- Lana Del Rey

Sodapop asked his girl Sandy to get married.

He was so excited, he was so excited to start a new life with Sandy.

Get married, start a family, live the dream he always wanted, especially with the woman he loved to the moon and back.

Sadly, Sandy said no and broke things up with him.

"Soda, I can't. I messed up. I two-timed you with a Soc. I'm having his baby. My parents are shipping me off to my grandmother's. I'm so sorry Soda." she sighed before leaving him with his own thoughts.

She was moving to Florida, and she was pregnant with someone else's child. Her words were playing like a record on a loop in his brain on his walk of shame to his home.

That broke the swooning boy's heart in half.

He stormed into the Curtis house, slamming the door and slouched on the couch while having everyone in the gang looking at him.

"Well? What happened?" Ponyboy asked his older brother while looking up from the cards he was playing with Johnny. Soda just looked at him with his blue eyes and shook his head before letting out a sigh while rubbing his face.

"Well that doesn't sound too good. I told you she wasn't the one, she was a broad." Darry chimed up giving his brother a small sympathy smile.

"I don't get it, I thought we were okay. I love her. I love her more than Steve loves chocolate cake he eats every damn day. I was a good man, I worked hard for that ring and she says no? What did I do wrong? Just to have her sleep with some other man." Soda cried, leaving wet marks down his perfect skin not caring that they see him cry.

"Man forget about these broads, Soda you can get any woman you want. But you always go for these flakes of women. They're nothing but trouble. You're still young, you'll find your woman soon. She'll be madly in love with you as you are with her. " his older brother added.

"Speaking of trouble, since our man here is single again, and we should cheer him up we should go to a Go-Go. One in particular. Someone big is going to be preforming tonight." Dally spoke while lighting up a cancer stick.

"Man, I ain't going to no Go-go, did you forget that I just got dumped, and my heart stabbed by a knife a thousand times?" Soda scrunched his face to even thinking about laying eyes on someone when the love of his life just stepped on his heart and spit on it.

"Come on Soda, it'll be fun. We'll all go. It beats going to the ratty movies we've seen five times a week." Steve nodded his head.

"Plus maybe we'll see some Betty's tonight, with some big knockers and stacked up" Dally held his hands out motioning to his chest to what he fantasized the women's chest to look like, making the boys laugh but only receiving an eye roll from Soda.

"Fine, but it's not going to fix anything." Soda rolled his eyes before following the boys out saying goodbye to Pony and Johnny.

The billboard showed everyone's name who was preforming, and the large lettering shinned Firecracker.

"We picked the right night to come here, that Firecracker chick is biggest dancer that came from here. From our hometown how crazy is that?" Dally yelled over the loud music that was blasting.

The women came out all looked the same, same moves, similar clothing but that didn't stop all the boys throwing their money on the dance floor with their beer in their hands.

Which bored Soda. He didn't know why he even came, he just wanted to be alone and distract himself with work, not a club where all the women are the same.

"I'm going to get something to drink. I'll be back." Soda told Steve before heading to the bar.

"Can I have a Pepsi-Cola please." he spoke to the bartender while slicking his hair back, "I'll have the same Jerry." a familiar happy voice spoke next to him.

He looked to his right and saw a woman standing there with long dark hair, with the perfect side profile.

"Hey Soda." her soft voice let out before turning to him, her green eyes were dark but lit up by the flashing lights from the club.

"(Y/N). I haven't seen you in ages. How've ya been (Y/NN) ?" Soda asked tongue tied.

He hasn't seen his childhood friend for ages, you heard once her father died she split leaving her cruel mother behind. Not telling anyone anything. She just picked up and left.

He never thought in a million years he'd see her face ever again.

"I've been good. Wouldn't expect a gentleman like you being in a joint like this." her red lips twitched up into a smile while she laughed, it sounded like music to ears.

"Long story. Dally brought me here. Everyone's here tonight except Ponyboy. Well obviously, he's still a young buck", he explained to to her, she nodded before someone came over and whispered in her ear while she nodded her head pushing her dark hair exposing her perfect porcelain skin.

"Well nice seeing you Soda. I'll be home for a while, maybe we'll catch up soon? Enjoy the shows these women really work hard." her red lips gave him a smile and pat him on the shoulder while grabbing her Pepsi before following the man who came up to her.

Soda ran his hand over his face watching her leave his sight.

Just remembering she was just this young innocent girl running around without a care in the world. Cared about everyone, was always there for him when he needed her.

Now she's all grown up and beautiful.

He snuck his way back to the gang.

"You came just in time, Firecracker is coming out next. Look at that get up." Dally pointed to the stage with a cancer stick in his fingers.

Soda looked up at the stage with the blue velvet with gold ropes hung from the stage. He's never seen anything like this before, it had elegance not like these other broads used. He's always seen terrible shows. But nothing like this.

The music started playing, all the men cheered, they were all on the edge of their seat waiting for this mysterious woman to come out.

Then a leg with black fishnets, with black high heels appeared from the slit from the curtain, then a hand with black gloves with fancy rings on her slender fingers.

"This is gonna get wild!" Steve cheered while jumping out of his seat, punching Two-Bit in the shoulder just in time when the curtain lifted showing the figure of a goddess.

All the men whistled already throwing money, jewelry and some flowers on the stage.

The gang just stood there in awe, as were the other men.

The (Y/H/C) with red feathers in some strands, the corset one piece was red and black with a black boa just topping it all off.

Then the voice started singing and she was moving in such a way that has never been done or seen by the gang.

She goes to the pole before moving seductively down, "I can't wait till she turns around, she's gonna be stacked up I just know it." Dally smiled while nudging his head at the guys.

Soda just rolled his blue eyes before watching the woman preform, with her voice sounding like butter to him.

She was a knock out, perfect body, voice, can dance not like these other dancers who just lazily dance and all look the same. And he hasn't even seen her face yet, and he was already buzzing about this woman.

"They call me Firecracker, 'Cause ain't nobody faster. I'm your go-go dancer. Midnight answer, jukebox sweetheart, queen of the night."

And just like that all the gangs jaws were on the floor.

As the woman spun around, whipping her (Y/H/C) hair around showing her face, her (Y/E/C) eyes shinned like they all just remembered.

But now she was this whole different person.

"Is that-" Two-Bit , "(Y/N)" Darry nodded his head before turning around not wanting to see the girl he knew when she was a young girl.

"Holy shit." Dally muttered.

Soda was just bug-eyed the whole time.

Watching her move her mature body, walking up to the men, sitting on their laps, taking their hats and downing their half empty glasses of hard liquor while they placed money on her garter belt.

He was in shock.

"When the hell did this happen? Wasn't she just 15?" Darry spoke while his back was turned to the men.

She owned the stage, she walked in front of the stage where the gang was, she winked and smiled at them but couldn't help but let out a giggle when she saw Darry turned around which made all the men cheer but left them shocked some more.

They all looked how she would expect.

Mostly Sodapop he was always dreamy to her.

"She looks like she's having fun though." Soda laughed while watching all their reactions after it finally settled into him that she made a name for herself for the most part.

She crawled up on her knees to Soda while stealing his Pepsi, winking at him and lifting up the drink to cheers.

She finished her song before bowing and blowing kisses at all the men.

"Thank you all for this amazing turn up in my hometown. I'm so glad to be back." she scrunched up her button nose with a smile.

Her (Y/E/C) eyes lit up the whole room.

All eyes were on her while hers were locked on Sodapop's blue eyes.

#sodapop #sodapop curtis #sodapop x reader #sodapop imagine #the outsiders imagine

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katsmonsterblog · 3 years

Text

Guardian Monster

Hello!

So this was a Monster Matchup requested by @thedyingredrose for a donation she sent me! She wonderful and requested a non romantic story with my monster OC Chevelle :3

It was only supposed to be a snippet up to 1,000 words buuuuut I got a tad bit carried away... ^-^;

So here is a monster x reader story about meeting Chev for the first time!

Warnings: Nightmares, slight panic, general creepy stuffs

Word count: 2111

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Terror raced through your veins, your legs pumping and your chest heaving as you tried to claw at the door in front of you. You had to get out, panic bleeding out of every pore, your fingers numb and you were running out of time! You had.. you had to... breathe! Oh god... you couldn’t breathe! You stopped wrenching at the doorknob that you knew wouldn’t open, gasping and sobbing as you sank to your knees. It was always like this, your body not listening to you, the fear that followed you and threatened to consume you like a wave and no matter how fast you tried to run or move, it was like you were wading through mud, making your legs heavy and weak.

A scream sounded behind you and your body seized up. Don’t look. God don’t look behind you. It was as if every fiber in your being was screaming and yet against your will, your body turned, so terribly slow and then suddenly you were face to face with it. Human, or that’s what it appeared to be, but the face was off, warped and wrong, its mouth hanging open to scream again. The sound masked your own cry of terror, and as it swung, arms reaching for you..

The dream froze.

You couldn’t comprehend what you were seeing, as the terror around you slowly faded, the monster that had been reaching for you dissolved into dust and the world around you whited out into nothing. It was then that you saw it, a large, impossibly huge beast with fur so deep black that the stark contrast made you pause. Heaped on the floor, you watched, unable really to do much else. Walking on all fours, it turned to look at you, an enormous white skull with tall branching antlers and what looked like eight glowing yellow eyes stared through you. It should have terrified you, this huge beast like thing, but the terror from the dream had faded.. And all you felt then, was a calm relief as you woke up in your bed.

Though it felt like your heart was still trying to hammer its way through your ribs, and your shaky breaths came to a heaving sigh, the dream left you wondering. What was that creature? No not the nightmarish thing that screamed but the one that… took it away. Something about it seemed... familiar? Comforting even. You couldn’t place it and as you got out of your warm bed, heading to the bathroom then the kitchen to make a late breakfast. The next few days went by and the dream went out of your mind with all the stress that your life and your job and your family put on you. The only thing that made it better were those little moments where you’re online friends made you smile. But in the end… you headed to bed alone again, and the nightmares still came. One morning, as you woke, you swore that there was a huge figure in your room, right at the edge of your bed, and your heart leapt to your throat as you sat up with a gasp… but nothing was there.

The creature. It had to be the beast from your dreams that would take the nightmares away and let you get some semblance of sleep. A decision in your head, you forced yourself to get up and go through the day normally, making a small stop at the store down the street, there was little you could do until that evening. But finally, after a long day of thinking and doubting… you had everything set. A candle beside your bed, well enough away from everything so that it wouldn’t be a hazard, and a glass of water just in case too, you laid down in bed. And waited… the only sounds were your breathing, the fan on low in the corner of the room, and your thoughts running rampant in your head. It was difficult, to lay there really, because you weren’t sure if you were going officially crazy or not but what did you have to lose?

After what seemed like forever, at least you were sure it was past your normal bedtime, something in the room changed. Maybe the air, maybe it was your imagination but… you took a chance.

“Hello…? I’m.. I don’t know if this will work.. But if you’re there.... If something is there, then I just wanted to say hello.” You winced visibly, scrunching your face. It was easy to say that you believed in magic, and you’d experimented with paganism and witchcraft, you felt the spiritual pull of it. At least you hoped you did. But it felt odd to just speak out loud and gain no response. “Please… I know that you’ve been in my dreams. I’ve seen you.. So if you’re.. A sign? Or a guide or.. something. Could you.. Give me a sign? More of a sign, let me know you’re there? I’m not scared of you.” You said, the words rolling off your tongue the more you spoke because you felt that, at least if you were alone then no one could call you nuts.

No response. At least.. Not for a few minutes but the hairs on your arms stood straight up, you heart began to pound and.. It wasn't a scary feeling, but more the feeling of being watched. Unsettling. You were about to sit up, end whatever conversation you had going on but a voice sounded from the corner of the room.

“I… do not.. wish to frighten you..” The voice spoke from nothing, but as you turned your head, the shadows at the edges of the room seemed to shift and darken. Blurred but you knew something was there now. “But I am… here..” More silence, and then softer, “...do you wish for me to go…?” it said.

It took several moments for you to find your voice, and with each passing second, you feared that this bubble of weirdness was a dream and you had fallen asleep but it felt too real. With a soft clearing of your throat, you sat up. Every movement you made was deliberately slow, as to not break whatever spell this was but you did, now sat crossed legged on your comforter, looking into the shadows. “No,” You said gently, licking your lips and trying to calm your racing heart. You weren’t scared but this was.. scary. In a way. “No, I don’t want you to leave… I um, well I wanted to say… thank you. For taking my nightmares away.”

“You are curious… but I would frighten you…” It said again,and you frowned.

“Yes.” Was all you got, and just out of the corner of your eye you could see a flash of yellow or white. You head snapped to the side.

“Do...you have a name? Can I see you? Why did you show up in my dreams?” You had to stop yourself from the myriad of questions popping up in your head. You didn’t want to offend whatever being this was and it just occurred to you that it could be a demon… if you believed in those, and maybe you should have researched beings that could be in the dream realm. There was a sound, soft but it sounded like.. bugs? Or maybe… you weren’t sure but it sounded oddly like a chittering noise.

“I’m not scared. I promise. Unless you mean me harm?” You said, trying again to peer into the shadows. There were… several moments that passed, and you again feared that they had left you. But there was a small prickle of energy over your skin again and a shape solidified in the corner of your room.

“I mean… no harm… I am… a protector.” it spoke, the pattern of speech was slow but precise and as it solidified, you realised why. Just like before, the creature’s face was a huge white skull, like that of a deer with large branching antlers the same shade of paper. How did it talk at all with a skull like that for a head? The voice was… male, or at least more male than female, and deeper.

“And you protected my dreams?” You asked, fingers fiddling with the blanket almost absentmindedly. You watched as it, he, came into shape. The skull became more clear, as if a fog lifted, and you could definitely see now that the skull had not two, but eight different and nearly symmetrical eyeholes with soft yellow pupils glowing in each one. They ’blinked’ at random, as if black lids covered them but you couldn’t tell. The rest of him was covered in fur, thick and black, hanging from his too long limbs. He looked, fluffy at first glance but it was how he sat on all fours, hunched that made him appear bigger. Well that and the tangible shadows that clung to the air around him.

You strained your eyes to see something, anything in the shadows but each time you tried to see past the darkness in the room, the flickering flame of the candles made them dance and writhe. “It ...was you right?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head at you, and you realized he’d mimicked your own action. “I am in this world… and also the world of dreams… I can feed off nightmares that plague the innocent… make them fade…” And it made sense… in a way, how he always seemed to be there when the nightmare hit, the last thing you saw before you woke, or the dream faded completely to a semi blank one. It occurred then that you’d sort of always knew he’d been there.

“See…? Not scary to me. What… can I call you? Like, do you have a name?” You asked again, curious now.

“....Once… I had a name… a friend.. They called me, Chevelle.” There was a chittering sound again as he finished speaking, filling your ears like a soft static. It sounded… like bug wings almost. His jaw clicked.

“Chevelle..? Like the car or the band?” You asked only to get another head tilt and now response. You offered a smile, introducing yourself. “Well, Thank you. And… I’m glad you’re around… Chevelle.”

Slowly, you moved, watching him a bit nervously as you crawled off the bed and he watched you in return. There was no feeling of danger, other than the small anxiousness you felt in conversing with what seemed to be a shadow being that fed on nightmare fuel, you were sure that he wouldn’t suddenly eat you. “Can I ask you something?” You wondered, sitting back down on the edge of the mattress, Chevelle close enough now that even though he was… massive, and slightly terrifying to look at, he seemed nervous too. He leaned forward, just as slowly as you had and lifted a hand… or… paw? It was like a human’s, but had the pads like a great cat on his palms. Then there were the long black claws…

A small smile graced your lips. “You’re right, but I was going to ask… do you plan… to stick around?” It had been nice to have… someone. A small hope in the seemingly constant state of grey you had been finding yourself in. “I’ll make pancakes?” you offered. Yes it was late but.. There was no way you could possibly sleep yet.

“That was a question in itself…. But yes, you may ask…” he spoke and for just a moment… you were shocked at what seemed to be humor coming from him.

You looked to your doorway, then to him, and back. “How will you fit through the door…?” You asked, more thinking out loud than really asking him, but in answer, he was suddenly not there. You felt a brush of warmth and then the shadows moved past you to the hallway, where you watched him appear once more. He blinked at you.

“What are… pancakes?” He asked, your jaw dropping in response.

“What are pan- oh I’m definitely making some now. Can you eat… you know.. Like.. human food?” you scrunched your face in question and he nodded his head. “Good. Then um, follow me?” You grinned, hopping up and moving to your bedroom door. He stood too, halfway, moving on all fours like some great dog, he even had a tail…

“Okay… well that’s neat.” You smiled, heading toward the kitchen, still a bit cautious but you were also excited. After all, it wasn’t everyday you got to meet your guardian dream monster, or be the first to feed him pancakes.

Tag list:

@serenitydusk

@thejellyflux

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@sunrisehoneybee

@ijwrff

@thedyingredrose

@bee-wrecker

@matronofthevoid

@spooky-scary-lesbian

@justwritingscibbles

@spooky-scary-lesbian

@domesticandlovingmonsters

@monstersandmaw

@monster-bait

@no-need-to-apply

@junepop45

@huffle-princess

@turquoisemagpie

@gerardwayslips

if you made it this far just know I love you all to bits.

I hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment!!

#my writing #monster matchup #commission #my OC #Chevelle #x reader

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kpop-zone · 4 years

Text

Lose You To Love Me pt.2 | Yeji

Genre: angst, (+fluff)

Wordcount: 2,179 (+3,467)

A/N: Not my best work, but I didn’t want to make that one anon wait any longer (sorry bby) :D So the first part of the story is basically the same story as part 1, just from Yeji’s perspective. Then there is a warning for everyone who doesn’t want the story to have a happy ending. Stop reading there. For everyone else: enjoy the fluff!

Silently a few tears rolled down Yeji’s cheeks. When she turned her head, she saw your sleeping figure peacefully resting beside her. Your face looked relaxed and you seemed to be completely content. Today the two of you had learned that both of you got into the same college. Your dreams had come true. But for Yeji, a nightmare seemed to build up right in front of her eyes.

The worst part about all of this was that Yeji truly loved you. She was convinced that you were the love of her life. Nevertheless, this relationship was suffocating her. It had always been you and her. Her whole life she had to make compromises to be able to please the both of you. She had shaped her personality around you, always being Y/N’s best friend and eventually Y/N’s girlfriend.

She didn’t even know who she was, if she wasn’t with you.

And it had been bugging her. There was so much to figure out.

Her graduation was supposed to be her unleashing. It could have been the chance to gain a little distance to you. Because despite all, Yeji didn’t want to hurt you. Therefore, breaking up had never been an option. But she still needed some space. Throughout the past year, she had feverishly been looking forward to the day, she could finally move away from her familiar surroundings and start developing her own personality. Without you. A clean cut.

But now you would come with her and nothing would change. The same game would start all over again. The two of you would be introduced to everyone as a twin pack and people would start thinking of her in the same way as everyone else had all her life. Of course, she could break up with you and start walking a path without you. But Yeji didn’t want to walk without you. All she was asking for was a little space. Everything could have been so easy, if the two of you just went to different colleges.

With the knowledge that she still couldn’t set herself free, Yeji started getting quieter and quieter every day until the two of you left for college. Then, however, things began to change. Although your rooms weren’t far apart, you had different classes and Yeji managed to find a different group of friends for herself. It was mean not to introduce you to them, but it was the only way for Yeji to discover possible new sides of herself without the weight of her past.

She began hanging out with her new friends and dipped into a whole new world. They went partying almost every night and even though Yeji didn’t necessarily approve of their lifestyle, she didn’t want to risk losing them. She couldn’t go back to only hanging out with you again. There was so much she wanted to try out, but with you by her side, she felt like you were holding her back. Yeji always had been a little responsible for you and she couldn’t let go like she wanted to if you were around.

Of course, it was wrong to neglect your relationship like that, but Yeji knew that nothing could shake it. You had been through much worse and the two of you would survive some dark times.

But then everything began to get out of hand. Her so-called friends started going out more and more and the alcohol consumption increased steadily. Yeji didn’t want to get wasted all the time, but they looked at her like she was some maniac if she didn’t. Therefore, she eventually joined in. The nights and days began to blur together, making Yeji feel physically dizzy.

And then it happened one day.

They were at a house party all together and Yeji had already overstepped her limit to think clearly after an hour, causing her to not even know what she was doing. It wasn’t until she laid panting next to some random guy that she had realized what she had done. Tears sprung to her eyes and she sprinted out of the house. The fresh air made her sober up even more and her bad conscious made her heart break in two.

She had betrayed you.

Yeji didn’t return to you that night. She couldn’t look into your eyes, because she knew that they would hold the same love as always, only making her betrayal even worse. From that point on, her personal nightmare and vicious cycle began.

Yeji’s bad conscious was suffocating her, but she was too weak to confess. You couldn’t leave her. The only relief she could find for her torture was alcohol. But all those intoxications led to countless other betrayals in return. Yeji wanted to stop and promised herself to be better when she was sober. But then the guilt caught up to her, forcing her to seek refuge in fleeting things again.

And every time, you took her back with open arms, willing to comfort her, because after every mistake, Yeji came crawling back to you in need for your love to ease her self-hatred. Everything almost felt right.

Until everything changed one night. With her body being martyred by her guilt, Yeji stumbled to your dorm and barged into the room. You were in your bed with your back turned to her, but Yeji needed you to touch her to make her forget about the reason why another unfamiliar perfume was lingering on her skin. You were pushing her off at first, but when her mouth met your neck in open-mouthed kisses, your resistance crumbled and you let her crawl on top of you, but then suddenly, you shoved her so hard that Yeji lost her balance and fell off the bed.

Pain shot through her body, making her sober up in no time, but her attention immediately turned to you.

“What’s wrong baby? Did I hurt you?”

Yeji was afraid that she might have forced herself on you and reached out to apologize, but you flinched back from her touch for the first time in her lifetime.

“You of all people have to ask this question.”

You replied cynically and Yeji was genuinely confused. She couldn’t remember a time that she had ever hurt you physically.

“What do you mean?”

She asked confused, but now in hindsight, she wished that she hadn’t opened her mouth.

It was the start of a conversation that was bound to happen, but Yeji had still not been ready. She didn’t know that you were aware of the fact that she had been cheating. It felt like someone was physically reaching into her chest and ripping out her heart, when she realized that you had slowly been torn apart by the knowledge that she had been cheating on you.

But despite seeing you so broken in front of her, she was still too selfish to let you go, causing her to beg you for forgiveness. She had had the urge to go and explore the world on her own. Nevertheless, she had wanted to come back to you in the end. Seeing the wrath in your eyes made her realize that you were slipping through her fingers right now.

“Please don’t give up on me Y/N.”

Yeji begged you, but her plea only seemed to anger you even more.

“I wish, I had never met you.”

You spat out. Your words hurt more than anything Yeji had ever experienced. She loved you with her whole heart and being able to grow up with you, had been the biggest gift. Even if she had forgotten this for a while. But she was reminded now that she would rather be locked up for the rest of her life than to lose you.

The realization just came a little too late.

You shook your head and Yeji had to watch you disappear through the door while loud sobs shook her whole body. She slumped to the ground and pulled her legs up to her chest, in desperate need to feel less vulnerable. But her chest was ripped wide open and she couldn’t stop herself from bleeding out. She had not only lost the love of her life, but also scarred you forever.

Having no sense at all for space and time, Yeji kept lying there on the floor until the sun rose. You didn’t return all night, making it clear that it was over. Only when the loud noises of the other students sounded from outside, Yeji scrambled to her feet and shuffled to her own room with her head hanging low, not caring that everyone walking past her, stared like she was a ghost.

Her bed became her only shelter the following weeks, now that you were gone. Yeji only left her room to attend the classes that she had to and to try begging for your forgiveness. Although she had been a bad girlfriend the past months, she still knew your schedule. Not matter where you were, Yeji showed up. But you always managed to slip away. Causing her to get incredibly desperate. Yeji didn’t sleep or eat anymore. In return, her academic performance started suffering, because she didn’t put any effort into her classes at all.

Why should she? She would never be someone in her life, because she was a terrible person. People like her would reach their peak in college and then be damned for a life of insignificance.

For a whole month, Yeji kept struggling, because you didn’t give her the chance to talk with you. Until she came back home from one of her classes one day and stepped on a piece of paper when she walked through the door. Confused she crouched down and picked up the paper. It was an envelope and Yeji didn’t need a second to realize that it was your handwriting that formed the word “Yeji” on the back.

Motionlessly, Yeji stared at the letter in her hand, feeling her heart slamming against her ribcage. Her hands started to shake as she looked at the curved characters. This was the first time that you reached out to her and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what you had to say. Slowly she walked to her bed, where she laid the letter beside her. For another 10 minutes, Yeji had to muster the courage to finally read what you had written.

Shakily she opened the envelope and unfolded the piece of paper. As soon as she had read the first words, tears started to roll down Yeji’s cheeks.

You were apologizing to her, although Yeji had burdened herself with so much guilt that you should never have to apologize to her ever again. As she was scanning the words, Yeji had to take several breaks, because her sight would get too blurry to be able to read. Your words were nothing but loving, but painful at the same time. It hurt to hear that Yeji had been holding you back from loving yourself. And your words held a certain finality. It was clear that you didn’t plan to come back to her.

You had intended to set her free with your words. And they probably would have if you weren’t the love of her life. Even if you were sure that Yeji wasn’t the one for you though, she knew that you were the only one for her. She was glad that you could finally be the best version of yourself, but at the same time Yeji also knew that she had squandered the chance of ever being truly happy again.

After having read your words over and over again, Yeji eventually folded the paper and put the letter into her bedside table. She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything that led her to this point.

All this time, she had tried to find her purpose in life. You had always seemed to be the obstacle that stopped her from finding it. But now Yeji finally understood. Some people were meant to be successful businesspeople. Other were meant to lead whole nations. But not Yeji. She was supposed to be loving you. You needed to lose her to love yourself, but Yeji needed to lose you to understand that her place was next to you.

You had been kind enough to give her this place for free, but Yeji had forgotten to appreciate it over time. And now it was simply too late. Of course, she wanted to run back to you. But who was she to hinder your journey of self-love? Yeji wanted nothing more than for you to finally see yourself the way she did. Even if it meant that you could not get back together again. Because you couldn’t truly love yourself, if you returned to someone that didn’t know how to cherish you. Therefore, Yeji needed to step back to be able to give you the happy ending that you deserved. Even if it meant that she was all alone in the world now.

Without a purpose.

Stop reading here if you want no fluff :D

Although it was hard for Yeji, she had stuck to her decision. The campus had been big enough and apart of some random encounters, the two of you had never seen each other again the rest of her college life. Yeji had continued to struggle through her classes and eventually graduated. However, despite generally enjoying her major, she had never managed to fill the hole that you had left behind. No matter with what or who she had tried to distract herself, it never felt quite right. But she learned to live with it and to move on.

After her graduation, she had moved to the big city and now five years later, she was just standing in the supermarket to buy some snacks and beverages for a little celebration, she had planned with her colleagues later because of her anniversary. Yeji loved her job and it helped her to fill the void that she felt every time she came into an empty apartment in the evening, only being able to imagine you waiting there for her.

Automatically Yeji’s mind drifted off to an alternate universe where the two of you would go grocery shopping together. A light smile graced her lips as she was trying to choose a snack and remembered how you always used to bicker about what to eat. Mindlessly, Yeji grabbed some mochis and turned around without taking in her surroundings. Suddenly, however, she ran into another person and let all her belongings fall to the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I was lost in thought.”

She stammered while crouching down to pick up her groceries.

“Y-Yeji?”

A familiar voice asked and Yeji whipped her head up in shock.

She looked directly into your beautiful eyes and her breath hitched in her throat.

“It is you!”

You exclaimed happily with a wide smile forming on your lips.

Yeji’s shock paralyzed her and she kept crouching in front of you, causing you to laugh.

“Don’t look at me like I’m a ghost.”

You chuckled and Yeji finally shook her head in hopes to get her brain to work again.

“Y/N... what a surprise.”

She mumbled, still in disbelief.

Her eyes automatically scanned your body. You somehow managed to look even more beautiful than the last time, she had seen you. Your hair was longer, and your body seemed to be well-trained. A feeling of pride started to fill Yeji. You seemed to be doing well. And judging by your natural behavior, you were also over her, opposing to herself.

“I hope, it’s a good surprise.”

You winked and Yeji started to blush.

You definitely had to stop being flirty. Even after seven years, Yeji was still fragile. You were and would always be her blind spot.

Seeing that you had managed to make her flustered, you giggled even more and decided to take the word again.

“So what have you been up to?”

You asked nonchalantly, but Yeji didn’t know an answer.

Missing you. Was the answer that came first to her mind, but she could hardly tell you that.

“Um... I’m working for an entertainment company just around the corner.”

Yeji, therefore, stuttered and you looked impressed.

“Wow, Yeji. That’s great! I’ve always known that you weren’t such a great singer for nothing.”

You smiled, making Yeji feel even weaker in her knees.

“And you? Are you living here?”

Yeji asked, not being able to hold back her curiosity.

“Yes! I worked abroad for a while after graduation, but now I came back and just accepted a job here.”

Yeji felt warmth spreading in her body. You were always supposed to be successful. Your charms could woo everyone, and you were incredibly smart on top of it all.

“I always knew that you were meant for greatness.”

She smiled proudly, and now it was you that was blushing.

“Really?”

You asked shyly and Yeji nodded eagerly.

“Of course! I know no one that is smarter or more talented than you.”

Yeji praised you and you shoved her shoulder playfully.

“Ya! Stop lying!”

You pouted, causing both of you to start laughing.

It felt just like the old times and Yeji couldn’t stop herself from checking you out over and over again. You were looking so pretty and the way you were talking with her almost made her think that you also had some feelings left for her.

“Y/N?”

A voice of a woman suddenly called your name and you turned your head around.

“I’m here!”

You responded and a beautiful woman rounded the corner.

Yeji’s eyes flickered from her to you and a sharp stinging pain shot through her heart.

How could she have been so foolish? Had she really expected you to stay single for seven years?

You flashed the woman a bright smile before turning back to Yeji again, wanting to introduce your companion. But Yeji couldn’t hear you calling her your girlfriend. Or even worse your wife. That was supposed to be her role.

“It was a pleasure meeting you again! I’d love to chat, but I need to run.”

Yeji said quickly, causing you to look at her perplexed, but she didn’t give you the chance to say anything.

Abruptly Yeji turned around and rushed to the checkout, despite not even having all the groceries that she had wanted to buy. But with her head she wasn’t even being in the supermarket anymore anyways. She imagined you with that woman living in a penthouse, residing above the city. At the end of a long day, you would come home to her and tell her about work. And after watching your favorite TV show while sharing some inside jokes, you probably went to bed with her every night.

Yeji clenched her purse tightly while waiting for the cashier to checkout her purchase.

“Yeji!”

Your loud voice suddenly ripped her out of her thoughts, and she turned her head to see you running in her direction.

“So after not seeing me for seven years, you just rush off like that without exchanging numbers or anything?”

You panted breathlessly while looking at her reproachfully.

“I-I...”

Yeji stuttered and your glare bored right through her.

“I can’t do it.”

She finally blurted out and confusion spread in your face.

“I wish I was able to hear you talk about your life. To learn how happy you are now and to ask you about the woman in your life. But I am not. I’m still the same selfish person that you left in college. I am sorry Y/N.”

Tears sprung to Yeji’s eyes and she quickly threw some money on the counter before sprinting out of the building, hearing you call her name behind her.

But Yeji didn’t stop. She had patched up her heart with fleeting things after you had left her and seeing you again, ripped all of her old wounds open. While tears ran down her cheeks, she drove to her apartment where she threw herself on her bed and cried until she had to get ready for her meetup with her friends.

One whole month, Yeji tried to forget you after your encounter. But only knowing that you were one of the million people living in this city with her, made her toss and turn every night. She even started to question her sanity when she began to see you in every person that looked roughly the same as you, causing her to run around the city like a frightened kid.

But then after a month, Yeji started to feel normal again. She kept telling herself that it was impossible to meet the same person by accident twice in this city. There were too many people living here. She started to fall back into her old daily routine again, only that she stopped frequenting her usual supermarket. The risk was simply too high that you would make this your place to go as well.

The weeks passed by and Yeji had almost forgotten about you. Except when she dreamed about being your wife at night. Or when she was haunted by her past, reliving the day that you had left her. Especially after those dreams, she felt like a corpse in the morning and was in desperate need for her morning coffee.

This morning was no different. She had jolted awake somewhen this night with a tearstained face and being completely breathless. Over and over again, Yeji saw your reproachful eyes in front of her until she decided to not go back to sleep again and to start working instead. Now she was in line of her favorite coffee shop, hoping that they had a secret weapon against a deathly sleep deficit.

Yeji had just paid the cashier when the sweet sound of a laugh made her turn to a statue.

This couldn’t be.

Carefully she turned her head to the side to be able to throw a glance over her shoulder. About five people behind her, Yeji could see a person with their back turned to her that looked like a spitting image of you.

“Stop being paranoid.”

Yeji mumbled under her breath, remembering all the other times the past two months that she had thought to see you walking on the street.

But suddenly the person turned around, causing Yeji to whip her head around in lightning speed.

It was you.

She had never been gladder about the crowdedness of the little coffee shop. You didn’t seem to have noticed her till now. With her head ducked low, she almost tiptoed to the counter where the orders were distributed. She needed her coffee, but under no circumstances could she talk with you again. With a sharp eye fixed on you, Yeji observed your every move while hiding behind some tall businessmen. To her luck, you didn’t wait right beside her for your order, but stood a little apart from her. But then the universe decided to tease her.

“YEJI!”

The barista suddenly yelled over the crowd to catch the attention of the owner of the order, and Yeji flinched in surprise. She pushed to the front to get her coffee, but in the corner of her eye she could see that the barista hadn’t only caught her attention. Another pair of eyes shot to the front and eventually settled on her figure. Yeji gulped thickly before turning around after she had grabbed her coffee. She could feel your gaze on her, but with shaky steps she made her way to the exit.

But just when she was out of the crowd, a hand grabbed her wrist and forcefully held her back. In surprise, Yeji ripped her head around and was met by your stern look.

“So will you forever run away from me now?”

You asked upset and Yeji felt like she was shrinking underneath your gaze.

When she didn’t answer you huffed annoyed before pulling her out of the coffee shop.

“Seriously, Yeji, what is wrong with you? What happened to the girl, I knew? We were inseparable.”

Your voice grew louder with every word and tears started pooling in Yeji’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Yeji eventually mumbled while her eyes couldn’t hold back her tears anymore, making them run down her cheeks.

You suddenly fell silent and looked at her in shock.

“Yeji...”

You gasped, causing Yeji to try hiding her tears by turning away her face.

But then she could feel a gentle force pressing her head to the front until it was resting against your chest. Your familiar scent streamed into her nose and Yeji felt thrown back into the past and she reflexively bunched up fistfuls of your shirt to pull you closer. Your arms tightly wrapped around her body and you started whispering calming words into her ear.

“I’m so sorry.”

Yeji repeated over and over again, not caring that she was having a breakdown in the middle of the city and that she actually had to go to work. Her tears fell without cease and you didn’t seem to be in a rush to leave her, making Yeji get lost in your embrace. Only when another person disrupted them, Yeji came back to her senses.

“Y/N?”

A familiar voice called insecurely and Yeji abruptly pulled away.

It was the woman from the grocery store who was standing behind you with a confused expression and two coffees in her hands.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to crash your date.”

Yeji stuttered embarrassed, starting to walk backwards, but once again you grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t. May I introduce you to Lia. My coworker.”

You clarified and Yeji looked at you with an O-shaped mouth.

“Coworker?”

She asked puzzled, flickering her gaze between the two of you.

“Yeah. Coworker.”

You affirmed, trying hard to bite back a laugh.

Yeji felt even more humiliated now and a bright blush spread on her cheeks.

“Lia why don’t you go ahead? I will join you for our 10 o’clock meeting, but I think, I have to sort some things out first.”

You smiled at your coworker before glancing at Yeji from the side. Lia agreed instantly before quickly saying her goodbyes and leaving.

“What do you say? Do you have some time to chat for a bit?”

You turned your word to her again and Yeji nodded sheepishly.

Together you walked into the coffee shop again, getting ahold of a small table in the corner.

Nervously Yeji shifted in her seat, avoiding your gaze, but your eyes were focused on her while you were taking little sips out of your cup.

“Have you ever wished that we would have ended up differently?”

You asked eventually and Yeji took a nervous glance at you, before looking everywhere in the room but at you.

“Every day. I hate that I hurt you.”

She sighted honestly and you stayed quiet for a while.

“Would you do it again?”

Your question caught Yeji off guard and she looked at you in confusion.

“The last time we have seen each other, you said that you were still the same selfish person. So would you cheat on me again?”

You continued, but this time Yeji didn’t have to think about her answer.

“No of course not.”

She responded without hesitation.

“I regretted it immediately after I had done it. But I knew that regret couldn’t make up for what I had done. So I sought refuge in alcohol, but then I only fell further. But I’ve learned from my mistakes and I don’t really do that whole dating thing anymore.”

Yeji stated, hoping to make you feel better, but when she looked at you, you had a disappointed expression.

“That’s a shame. You had been the perfect girlfriend.”

Yeji blushed because of your statement, but at the same time her heart ached. Maybe the two of you would have went through some hardships if she hadn’t cheated on you, but Yeji was pretty sure that you still would be dating.

“But I get you. The dating thing hasn’t really worked for me either since then.”

You added, causing regret to fill Yeji’s heart.

“Because you couldn’t trust anyone anymore after what I had done?”

She asked sadly, but you shook your head.

“No... because no one could compare to you.”

You explained hesitantly before looking directly into Yeji’s eyes as if you wanted to see her reaction.

But Yeji was absolutely speechless. After everything she had done to you?

“Y/N... how can you say that? You deserve so much better...”

Yeji breathed as tears started to spring to her eyes again.

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Yeji. I know now what I’m worth. And I know that I deserve to be happy. But that won’t be possible if I keep fighting against what my heart tells me.”

You replied determined as if you had already made up your mind about this.

“Would you even be able to trust me again?”

Yeji wondered, because she was aware that forgiving something like she had done, was one thing. But truly getting over it was another.

“I don’t know. But I would be willing to try. I am tired of being alone, Yeji.”

You huffed and Yeji looked at you, being afflicted with an inner conflict.

On the one hand, this was all she had dreamt about. You were the love of her life after all and she wanted nothing more than to be by your side forever. But on the other hand, you also deserved someone better.

When you saw her hesitation, you nodded your head before suddenly grabbing a napkin and writing something on it.

“How about you think about it until this evening? If you think we can work this out, come to my place for dinner. That’s my address.”

You said before sliding over the napkin and standing up.

“I won’t be mad, if you don’t show up. But I think we shouldn’t see each other again, if you don’t want to be with me. Goodbye Yeji.”

You quickly kissed the crown of her head before walking out of the coffee shop, leaving Yeji behind speechless.

She looked at the napkin in her hand. There was truly an address written on it.

Now it was her decision.

Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to concentrate anyways, Yeji called in sick at work and slowly made her way back to her apartment, where she plopped down on the couch. She kept sitting there the whole day, blankly staring ahead and thinking about her options.

If she refused your invitation, she would live a life in loneliness. She was sure of that. But even worse, she could probably damn you to a life of loneliness as well. Had you truly not managed to get over her after all this time?

Yeji thought back about the two of you sitting in the coffee shop. Your eyes had always been on her. And they held the same sincerity and love that they had held all those years ago. Maybe she couldn’t make you stop loving her, but she could try to make you the happiest for the rest of your life.

Finally knowing what she had to do, Yeji grabbed her jacket and called a taxi to bring her to your apartment. With her heart beating twice as fast as usual, she rode the elevator to your floor and only realized when she was standing in front of your door that she had come emptyhanded.

Silently cursing herself, Yeji knocked three times and after only a few seconds, you swung open the door. She could see how relief washed over you the second that you saw her and Yeji was glad that you didn’t regret your offer yet.

“I’m sorry for coming emptyhanded.”

Yeji chuckled sheepishly, but you didn’t seem to care.

Instead, you almost jumped into her arms and wrapped your arms tightly around her neck.

“Thank you for coming.”

You whispered into her ear and a smile formed on Yeji’s lips.

When you pulled back, you started blushing lightly and shyly looked to the floor.

“Sorry. Come in.”

You gestured her to come inside and guided her to the kitchen where several pans where standing on the stove.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t really know if and when you would come, so the food is not quite ready.”

You scratched your neck sheepishly, but Yeji quickly squeezed your hand encouragingly.

“That’s fine. We can finish it up together.”

She smiled and you reciprocated the gesture.

You went to the stove to stir the food, while Yeji started preparing the salad. There was laying a little awkwardness between the two of you because none of you spoke anything, so Yeji decided to break the silence.

“So how was work?”

She asked and you sighted.

“Don’t even ask. I had this meeting with my boss today. And he’s the most annoying person on earth.”

You started telling her about your day and Yeji glanced at you from the side.

You were gesturing wildly as you were complaining about your boss and Yeji started to smile to herself.

She had missed this.

She had missed you.

There was a lot the two of you had to figure out. But Yeji knew that she would never be the reason again that the two of you had to be apart. The universe had made the two of you cross paths, not once, but three times. She was ready to fulfill her purpose now.

She would love you until her last breath.

“What?”

You chuckled when you realized that Yeji was staring at you, but she still couldn’t avert her gaze,

“Nothing. I’m just glad, I’m here.”

Yeji admitted sheepishly and you reached over to interlace your fingers.

“I’m glad you’re here too.”

#itzy scenario #itzy #yeji scenario #yeji #girl group scenario #girl group #kpop scenario #kpop #girl group imagine #itzy imagine

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

Text

enemy of my enemy is my lover

summary: you planned on just going to a meeting with an adversary, hoping to gain more territory in the process. you left with something much, much better.

pairing: mobster!bucky barnes x mobster!reader

words: 3,226

trigger warnings: smut (oral - f recieving and vaginal sex), mob dynamics

notes/other: this was inspired by ask received by @bucky-plums-barnes a long, long time ago about a mobster!bucky headcanon that describes the plot to this fic. while i could not find the exact ask (trust me, i tried), i credit the anonymous genius & gen heavily for inspiring this. thank you both!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Each step you make is loud, sharp; the sound of heels clicking against the cold, cracked cement of New York City. It’s something, one of the things, that makes you powerful – sends this thick feeling of invulnerability through your veins, as if you’re some deity returning to her alter.

That feeling – one of untouchable power – has always been…sort of…hard for you to conjure. It’s not like you’re not not powerful in this world absent your fantasies. You run the second most powerful mob in the country! You’ve got a large pull in international trade! You’ve got major influence in congress and almost every state senate! You’ve got money, a smoking hot and super amazing boyfriend, and loyal coworkers. What else do you need?

Regardless of all that, roaming the streets at night never fails to send a special kind of shiver crawling across your skin. It’s a particular type of fear, one that makes you pull your steel grey coat closer to you as you roam the street, makes your hand cling tighter to the .45 in your deep, righthand pocket.

As you reach the alley where the deal you’re brokering is supposed to take place, your phone buzzes a few times in a row. You have an urge to check it, to make sure the man you love is okay, but letting your guard down now wouldn’t be wise. You’ve got to keep a keen mental sharpness about you to make sure no one kidnaps you (or worse) or fucks you over at your own deal, but still, the only person who would be texting you at this godforsaken hour is the man you left at home, and in this business you can never be too careful about the ones you care deeply about…

Your thoughts are interrupted (quite rudely, you might add), by the sound of a thick winter coat shuffling – as if someone were to be rolling their sleeves up. The noise of the fabric gets louder as the person – a man, you soon realize – steps closer. A man with sharp cheekbones and a dark beard and beautiful, pillowy lips.

His gaze, even under the dark baseball cap that lacks insignia, seems hauntingly familiar. You can’t place it, and it seems rude to ask if you’ve met before, given the circumstances. Still…something seems…recognizable about this mystery man.

You don’t realize it, though, until the man opens his mouth and asks about the new baby seal in the San Francisco zoo. It’s the right code, that’s not what throws you. Rather, it’s the gravely voice of the man you’ve been dating for years that stops you in your tracks.

“Bucky!?” you call out, completely confused and abandoning the correct coded response. “Why are you out here?”

Bucky, now meeting your eyes, seems just as bewildered as you are. “I, uh…I’m….what, what are you doing here?”

You have no idea how to respond, mind too baffled to form words. “Wh…what…”

You step closer, carefully – as if he was some rabid cat you found behind your apartment building. His beautiful baby blues are wide, eyes narrowed – you gasp when you get close enough to smell the cologne, his cologne, the exact scent you bought him for Christmas the year previous. “Are…are you…you’re…are you the White Wolf?”

Bucky visibly steps back at the mention of the street name – the street name of the guy who runs the mob that (similar to yours) is based in New York and works in black market goods. He tries to hide his shock, just in case what he thinks is happening definitely isn’t happening. In all honesty, Bucky can’t tell which one would be worse. “And, you’re uh. You’re…um…are you….are you She-Devil?”

If you were disoriented before, you have no word to describe how much your brain is short-circuiting at the thought that this man – the man you love, has secretly been running not only a mob, but a rival mob, this entire time.

“Do…wait,” you shake your head to try and collect your exceptionally scattered thoughts. “Are you the guy who wanted to negotiate territory with me?”

Bucky hesitates for a second, body tense and reluctant to say anything. You’re both still, not daring move a muscle and the both of you stare each other down. It feels like an eternity before he does anything, your surprise only growing as a massive, shit-eating grin spreads across his gorgeous, scruffy face.

It’s a look you know well, one you’ve come to both love and despise. It’s the same look he gave you when he told you he wanted to build (not pay someone else to build, build himself) a deck in a house you moved out of two months later, when he almost got a face tattoo, when he sold your house (you know, the one he wanted to build a deck for) to buy one three streets away. That’s the look he get when some grand idea that will probably turn out to be a disaster – the look that says “this may be a disaster, but the only way to see if it is will be to try it.”

In an instant, Bucky closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours. As he arms wrap around you, you can feel him rub at the small of your back, just as he always does when he’s trying to keep you calm. “Yeah, babygirl. That’s me. I’m the White Wolf.”

You press your face in the warm embrace of his coat, muffling your speech. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

Bucky shrugs as he answers. “Didn’t want you to feel unsafe, I guess. Didn’t want you to worry about me.” He presses a kid to the top of your head. “Better question, why didn’t you tell me?”

You sigh, your small voice becoming even tinier. “I dunno…same reasons as you, I guess. Felt like I’d be dragging you into something you wouldn’t want to deal with.”

Bucky barks a laugh into the night, the sound reverberating off the tall buildings. “Seems reasonable.”

You pull away but refuse to make eye contact as tears well in your eyes and cloud your vision. For a mob leader, you’re very emotional. “Baby, are you sure? Like, are you sure this is okay? I mean, we kept this major part of our lives from each for literal years…like, does that say something about us as a couple? And we’re, like, rivals, we’re supposed to be competing against each other for money and goods and ports and clients and-“

Bucky cuts into your anxious ramblings by pulling you back into a tight bug. “Hey, hey! Baby, listen. This is a good thing! A great one, if you want it to be!”

You wipe at your nose with your hand. “Are you…what do you, are you sure? What do you mean?”

Bucky nods, eyes ablaze with excitement for the future. “Of course, baby, listen. Separate, our mobs are both powerful, right? We can agree on that. But together? With the territory, the influence, us...together, we could rule the fucking world.”

Technically, he isn’t wrong; with your strategy and Bucky’s brutal execution, your combined business could easily become the apex predator of the mob scene within the Western hemisphere. What Bucky had, you lacked, and vice versa. You’d studied his…business…for years (before you knew it was Bucky who ran the Pack, of course) as you climbed the ranks of your own mob. You know they have hands in several international black markets, have relationships with lots of lots of rich people who do lots and lots of bad things and pay lots and lots of money for those bad things.

Oh God, you’d never think being power-hungry and love drunk could feel so good. Your mind fogs over with all the things you could do if you had Bucky and his gang by your side, you could do anything. Simply by territory you’d be outgunning Hydra, let alone the combined wealth and human capital. You’ve never felt this exhilarated before in your life, the freezing night air electrifying your rib cage and-

Bucky and you grin madly. Wordlessly, you clasp hands and walk back to your shared apartment halfway across town. Both of you are silent until you’re safely inside your secured home. As you pull your hair up into a messy ponytail, Bucky began grabbing bowls for dinner.

“You know-” he said as he ladled soup out of the deep red Crock Pot. “Now that we aren’t desperately trying to hide our occupations from each other, we can move into a bigger house?’ Bucky says it like a question, but you know better.

Normally you’d tell him “no, of course we can’t do that, we can’t afford it.” But now that you both know that you’re each hiding hundreds of millions of dollars in offshore accounts, slush funds, and dummy corporations throughout the world…

“Sure,” you shrug. “Why not.”

Bucky grins like a child on Christmas. “If we’re gonna rule, we need the proper palace.”

You forego giving into Bucky’s terrible, awful joke to hang up your studded coat, to take off your business casual navy-blue pants and black button-up in, and change into a pair of workout shorts and some tie-dye hoodie you thrifted about ten years ago. Bucky calls them your “thinking clothes,” attire you wear specifically to center yourself, to clear your mind of everything except the task at hand.

During dinner, you and Bucky begin to plan how you can consolidate assets, personnel, jobs, and everything that comes with heading mobs. It’s a long talk, one that lasts long into the night and ends with hastily-drawn diagrams and maps strewn around your living room.

It takes hours and way too many pots of coffee, but eventually the plan for the merger is laid out in front of you – all the graphs and math and official language handwritten in your neat cursive (along with a few notes scrawled by Bucky) on over twenty sheets of pristine printer paper.

Bucky sighs happily when he sees it all finished. He’s standing, desperate for a bird’s eye view of the entire thing.

You, on the other hand, are much too tired to stand. You settle for, “How does it look, babe?” as you draw two lines for each of your signatures below both of your full names.

When you look up, you see Bucky – eyes twinkling with joy. “It looks…,” he sighs, happily. “Amazing. I love you so much.”

You giggle, drawing lines for a few witnesses (you’ll make a few of your associates sign tomorrow). “I love you, too, babe. Now, you still got that champagne from our visit to France?”

Somewhere between the front room and the wine fridge, Bucky had you pinned against the wall and was cupping your clothed pussy.

“While I think you look great,” Bucky murmurs against the hot skin of your neck. “You’re wearing just a little too much for me.”

In an instant he tears the skimpy shorts from your body, the sound of ripping fabric making you moan;

“Fuck,” you gasp as one digit, then another enters you. “Holy shit that feels good.”

Bucky pulls away enough to look you in the eyes, smiling as he watches your jaw slacken from the pleasure. “Yeah? You like that?”

If you could speak you would, but each word just comes out as a breathy moans. Your first orgasm hits you like a wave, Bucky pulling it from you with crooked fingers and his lips on yours.

When you come down Bucky carries you to the bed, undressing himself as you do the same.

He pulls you to the end of the bed by your ankles, pushing your legs up to your chest. He enters you easily – bottoming out within a few thrusts.

You and Bucky moan into each other’s mouths as he fucks into you.

“Oh God,” he groans, moving to kiss at your neck. “Holy shit!”

He rubs at your clit with the thumb of one hand as he bites bruises in your collarbones, desperate to hear the symphony of sweet sighs and deep moans as you near another peak.

“Come on baby,” Bucky murmurs into your lips. “Come on, cum around my cock for me.”

It doesn’t take much after that – a few more circles around your clit in time with his thrusts and soon you’re scream and nearly tears the sheets from how tight you’re gripping them and your whole body convulses from pleasure.

Bucky finishes himself onto your stomach, head thrown back in pleasure as he does so.

He takes a minute to collect himself, still panting as he grabs a tissue to clean you off.

After water and a snack (two granola bars you had stuffed into your bedside drawer an unknowable amount of months ago), you curl into Bucky’s chest, tracing the litany of tattoos there. “Weren’t we supposed to drink to celebrate?”

Bucky lets out a full belly laugh. “Probably. But the alcohol is all the way downstairs. Plus, I know something else I can drink to celebrate?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Only you? Why don’t I get to get drunk?”

Bucky just smirks, moving you off of him. You’re about to protest but begin to understand once he pushes the covers off the both you to make room for himself between your legs.

“Trust me,” he tells you, leaving kisses on your skin between every few words. “You’ll love this a lot more than any old champagne.”

And, of course, he was right.

The next day, you meet with your closest adversaries. While you two wait in the conference room in the building Bucky took over after it was condemned a couple years back, you can feel your heart ram into your ribcage. It’s less from anxiety and more from anticipation, knowing you might face major backlash from the people you trust the most.

The first to arrive is the woman you trust the most in this world: Natasha. She doesn’t move towards the table, simply stands just inside the doorway while staring you down. She doesn’t recognize Bucky, but doesn’t enjoy being below the eyeline of a man she’s never seen before.

“Natasha,” you say, desperate to remain calm. “This is Bucky. We’ve been together for five years. And he’s the leader of the Pack.”

In a fashion much atypical for Natasha Romanoff, her eyes widen slightly. “Oh…” she says after a long while. “Okay then.”

She promptly sits down with no further questions.

As with many business, heads and second-in-commands of mobs rarely come face to face. They have goons, messengers that do their footwork. Descriptions of the faces belonging those in charge pass around akin to rumors, only whispered quieter.

Which is why, when Steve comes in, he has no idea what to think until Bucky introduces you and Natasha.

By the time Bucky’s finished talking, Steve’s beat red. “Buck, what the fuck is this.”

“Just,” Bucky sighs, worried about his phrasing and angering his best friend on the face of the planet (whether that be Steve, for reasons that feel obvious, or you, for reasons that feel even more obvious). “Sit down. We’ll explain-“

“’We’ll!’” Steve nearly screams.

Bucky is the only one who flinches at the sudden loud noise. You finish his sentence for him. “Yes. Bucky and I will explain.”

Steve doesn’t like it, doesn’t like taking orders from a rival. Still, he sits at the large, oval conference table opposite Natasha.

The last two people to come in are the head of you and Bucky’s legal departments. Wanda gives you a single nod before sitting next to Natasha, a man Bucky addresses as “Tony” sits next to Steve.

You exhale deeply once the metaphorical dust settles, encouraging Bucky to begin the spiel he had prepared last night been orgasms four and five.

“Alright. We have,” he sighs. “We have decided to combine our two…” Bucky struggles to find the right word. He worries for bugs and secret agents and misunderstandings, brain always struggling to remember that this is sacred, secret business. Any crack in any of the numerous protective facades could mean its downfall, along with the loss of billions of dollars and his life.

“Entrepreneurial endeavors,” you finish for him.

You hear Natasha snort, amused by the avoidance of saying gang and mob and illegal distributor of goods. The rest of your cohort are silent, unsure of what to say next.

Each beat of verbal inaction leaves you more fearful than the last, your heart getting louder and louder in your ears.

For what feels like forever, no one says anything.

Though, with the pounding of blood in your ears, they could be screaming obscenities at you and you wouldn’t be able to hear them.

The only thing that seems able to quiet the noise is Bucky’s fingers intertwining with yours.

Only then do you hear Wanda speak, her accent tinging each word. It’s comforting, to hear something so familiar.

“I assume you both have drawn up something that,” she eyes the man across from her with a look dusted with disdain. “Tony and I can look at.”

Bucky slides the thick document, held together in a beat-up binder you found under a bookshelf, across the table. Wanda is the one who stops it and looks into it first.

She says nothing, holding her tongue as she allows Tony to eye the document. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and pushes them to the corner of his nose as thumbs through it, looking bored and tired.

“Yeah, this shit looks good,” Tony says quickly, shoving the dark glasses back over his eyes. “Can we leave now?”

The resounding silence continues until you break it yourself, attempting to detail for Steve and Natasha what it all means. They listen diligently and sign where needed, Natasha being decided on as the most likely to type it up into an official document and send it to the necessary parties.

Once it’s all over, you and Bucky ride down in the big, glass elevator together – excitement electric in the air.

“How’re you feeling?” Bucky asks. It doesn’t seem to be out of concern, even if tears of happiness are pricking at your eyes.

“God,” you tell him, voice breathy and ecstatic. “I don’t even know how to describe it. I just, I don’t know. I’ve been so terrified I’d have to hide this forever – or that you’d find out, or that someone would figure out who you were. And now…I just,” you wipe at your eyes, and Bucky pulls you into his chest. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I know you’re protected. And I don’t have to hide this from you. And I’m so fucking happy about it.”

Bucky kisses the top of your head, tucking you under his chin. “Oh, baby. Darling I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

The two of you stand in silence, holding each other until you have to exit. Neither of you say anything until you’re both in the car, safely on your way back to your shared home.

“We’re in this together right?” you ask, looking at Bucky as he keeps his dark eyes on the road.

Regardless he smiles, moving his right hand from the wheel to rest on your knee. “Always, baby. Always.”

#mobster!bucky barnes #mobster bucky barnes au #winter solider #bucky barnes x reader #mobster bucky barnes x reader #lukis writes things #fun fact this drafts is almost 2 years old #and i kinda hate it but listen its done and its on the internet now

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hallospaceboyy · 4 years

Text

Happy Accident

For @galaxy-nerd

After a little sexual experimentation, the reader finds herself pregnant with Lilith's child.

Warning for slight smut, angst with a happy ending.

You lay beneath Lilith, panting and moaning, the magical appendage she had conjured between her legs thrusting into you, and as your body stiffens, you both let go, a wave of tingling warmth flooding through you as Lilith's orgasm tore through her in unison with yours. Lilith lets out a low, satiated hum, rolling off of you and waving the appendage away, her chest heaving, a light sheen of sweat covering her skin. You instantly snuggle into her, closing your eyes, and she strokes your hair as you fall asleep.

A few weeks later, you begin to notice an almost constant nausea, and begin to wonder if you've contracted a bug.

“I'm fine, Lilith. Just feeling a little under the weather. I probably just need some rest,” You wave Lilith's concern away, and she rolls her eyes, sighing.

“Fine. But if you get worse, call me,” She kisses your forehead, and teleports herself away, and just as you’re about to roll over and go back to sleep, another unbearable wave of nausea hits you, and you find yourself hovering over the toilet bowl for the next hour.

As you weakly crawl back into bed, you realise your breasts are tender, and sore, and you notice they’ve filled out slightly. You shake your head. It couldn’t possibly be what you’re thinking. But the niggling in the back of your mind told you that with Lilith, anything was possible, and you find yourself stealing away to the chemist to buy a pregnancy test, hands shaking as you head back to the cottage.

Oh.

Its positive.

You cover your face with your hands, tears welling in your eyes. You had never discussed the idea of children with Lilith, knew her past, knew that she had bore many children of her own, demons may not be your run of the mill infant, but she had still birthed them, and you couldn’t help the terrifying thought that Lilith would not be pleased with this. You hastily tucked the test in the drawer of your bedside table, covering it as best you could, hands shaking profusely now and sobs wracking your body. This is it. Lilith would turn you away now, and your mind was plagued with horrible thoughts such as this as you undress and crawl back beneath the confines of the duvet, falling asleep with tear tracks drying on your pallid cheeks.

You awake with a start as you hear the front door slam, and your heart is instantly in your throat, and you’re overcome with dread. You hear Lilith dump her bag somewhere in the living room, and the click of her heels as she heads your way. You shrink back beneath the duvet as she enters the room.

“Sweetheart?” You feel the mattress dip as the demoness sits beside you, feel her hand on your stomach as she rests it on the mound of the duvet where you are hiding, hoping she will just leave you, think you’re sleeping. Instead, she tugs the duvet off of you, her face etched with concern as she regards your pale complexion, puffy red eyes, and shaking form. “I told you to call me if you got worse. You look terrible,” She scolds, and your face suddenly screws into a grimace, and you burst into tears, and the brunettes eyes widen. “Oh Y/ N, I didn’t mean- oh come here,” She scoops you up into her arms and strokes your hair, kisses your damp forehead.

“Something tells me this is a little more than a simple stomach bug. Tell me what’s wrong, darling?” Her voice is low, and it would usually calm you, but not now. Your anxiety is hitting you in waves, and you lunge from her arms, rushing to the bathroom as you feel bile rise in your throat.

Weeks go by, and you have still not plucked up the courage to break news of your pregnancy to Lilith. Plagued by thoughts that she'll be unhappy, kick you out, maybe even force you to rid yourself of the life growing inside of you. You wonder if she’ll think you’ve been unfaithful, had lain beneath some sweaty man, and betrayed her.

The sickness continues, and you know Lilith is beyond concerned now, many arguments starting from her voicing her worry for you, and you brushing her off. She had noticed your fragile emotional state, was frustrated that you wouldn’t be open with her. One night, after a particularly volatile argument, you stormed out, snapping that you need some fresh air. As you sit beneath a tree in the woods, you touch the slight swell of your belly, know you can’t hide it from her for much longer. You hadn't so much as let her see you naked in weeks, knew that the demoness would see even the slightest change in your body, and you’re convinced she already knows something has changed within you. She sniffs these things out, like a bloodhound – had seen her steal glances, the squint of her eyes telling you she was regarding you with suspicion.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You jump at Lilith's voice cutting into the peaceful silence of the woods, and turn to her, feel sick when you see her slender hand clutching the pregnancy test you had forgotten you even still had. She wasn’t angry. Her voice was soft, her eyes sad, and she knelt before you, placing a warm hand on your knee.

“I-I...” You can’t find the words, nausea turns your stomach then, and you place your hand there, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath, begging it to pass – and it does. “I was terrified, Lilith. We'd never discussed children. I still can’t wrap my head around how this even happened. I-" You cut off, shaking your head, you can’t look into those pale blue eyes.

“I suppose that appendage I conjured myself was a little more lifelike than we both thought,” The demoness murmurs, and your eyes do meet hers now, and you see nothing but affection there, and she looks almost apologetic.

“I thought you’d think me unfaithful,”

“Don't be absurd. I’d sniff out if you'd been with someone else in seconds, the flesh of men has the most abominable scent,” She chuckles, and you giggle too, resting your hand over hers on your leg.

“Well, you didn’t sniff out the fact I’m currently growing your child inside of me, so maybe you’re a little rusty,” She plays at being offended, her hand coming up to her heart.

“How dare you, young lady!” She laughs. “Your scent has changed, I just couldn’t put my finger on why, I’ll have you know,”

The air turns serious then, and she grips your chin gently to keep your eyes fixed on hers, and her hand comes to rest on your abdomen, and you feel the spike of tears in your eyes at the tenderness of the gesture. “I would be most proud to call you the mother of my child, Y/N. As unexpected as it is, I'm happy. You’ll be an incredible mother,”

You surge forward and wrap your arms around her neck, hugging her tight, and she takes you into her arms. You feel a familiar rush, and open your eyes to find you both sat on the sofa in your home, and you smile fondly. “You'll be a wonderful mother too, Lilith,”

You see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, and you take her hand. “This will be a learning curve for both of us, Lil. You’ll be fine. We'll be fine,”

She nods, and kisses you, full of tenderness and affection. “At least with a baby to fuss over the poor cat might get a break. He tells me how annoying you are, always picking him up,” She grins playfully as you give her arm a light smack.

“Shut up. You can’t speak cat!”

“How do you know?”

You both burst out laughing, and you lay down, resting your head in Lilith's lap, feeling content as she places a hand on the slight swell of your tummy, and happy for the first time in weeks, and excited for your future - for starting a family with your demoness.

#lilith x reader #madam satan #madam satan x reader #michelle gomez #caos fanfiction #caos #chilling adventures of sabrina

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Static (Spideypool)

(Based on THIS PROMPT)

THERE’S MORE SPIDEYPOOL ON MY MASTERLIST

****************

Peter...Peter heard everything.

Well, heard wasn't exactly the right word.

Peter felt....

...everything.

Sometimes it was a physical feeling, like bugs on his skin if someone around him was uncomfortable. Sometimes it was hard to swallow, hard to breathe if he was at a crime scene and the people were terrified.

Sometimes it was the feeling of being stared at even if no one was looking, the feeling of eyes watching, and eventually Peter realized that was the feeling of anxiety, of nervous.

Before the spider, it hadn't been as bad. Peter would get the buggy feeling when May would clear her throat and try to have one of Those Talks, or he'd walk through the halls at school and brush past someone and suddenly he felt like everyone was looking.

After the spider, the feeling amplified, magnified, until Peter couldn't deny something was off, something was wrong, he was feeling too much.

Empath was the word the internet gave him. Empath, he felt what other people felt. But empath didn't seem like a big enough word, not even close.

The first time Peter pulled a little girl from a house fire, she wasn't even crying, wasn't even screaming, she was just terrified and still and Peter's muscles locked up, his legs giving out with heart stopping, core deep fear.

The day he webbed a gun out of someone's hands to stop a mugging and the baddie turned to him and shouted, Peter felt the wall of rage as if he'd ran right into it.

It was too much and empath was not a big enough word for what was happening.

Peter learned to tune most of it out. He altered his suit so he couldn't really feel anything physical in case someone touched him, wore headphones that played white noise so he wouldn't have to hear the fear in people's voices, meditated so when he got bowled over by the mental noise of someone's scattered mind, he could pull himself out of the spiral.

It was exhausting.

Peter's friends assumed he stopped hanging around because he was busy with school and work, the Avengers assumed he never came by because he wanted to do the whole lone gun slinger act, and Aunt May assumed he kept his distance because he was busy being Spider-man.

They didn't know that Peter couldn't handle Harry's anxiety or MJ's insecurity or the way Gwen worried and worried and worried. He couldn't stomach the sting of Iron Man's blase attitude because it covered so much anger, and he couldn't handle the sadness in Aunt May that had always been there before Uncle Ben passed, but after Uncle Ben, the sadness was strangling and Peter--

--god, he just couldn't handle it.

So Peter retreated away behind his mask, there and gone when he had to save someone, avoiding friends and family, lonely in his tiny apartment but unwilling to step outside and risk being overwhelmed by everything everyone in the entire goddamn world was putting out in the universe.

Lonely.

Empath wasn't a big enough word to cover the loneliness of feeling what everyone else felt.

******

Deadpool was loud and proud and obnoxious on about eight thousand different levels. He laughed and he talked and he teased and poked and prodded and got on every single on of Peter's last nerves and then managed to turn around and be sweet to kids or stop to rescue animals or to beat the hell outta someone who messed with the nice lady that owned the flower shop.

Deadpool was all over the place, talking to Peter, talking to himself, talking to the voices in his head that never seemed to let him rest. And Peter felt bad about it, but he had to wear his white noise headphones around Wade, had to tune out alot of what the Merc said, had to wear his gloves all the time to dull any accidental touches.

Peter knew Wade was just as lonely, just as touch starved as he was, but he couldn't risk the strain on his mind and emotions to open up to Deadpool. He wouldn't survive feeling the pain that skittered beneath Wade's skin every day, or the awful headaches that Wade tried to laugh off, or the way the Merc swung between manic and depressed and back again for a stop along every marker on that spectrum.

Peter knew he couldn't handle it, so even though he ached to take some of the stress from Wade, ached to share some of the burden the Merc handled every single day--

Peter kept his distance. He had to preserve his sanity, his mental health, his emotional health--

Peter kept his distance.

Wade understood, or at least he said he understood, but that didn't make it any easier to stay away when their conversations turned serious and when the night fell into morning and Peter wanted nothing more than to slide over and rest his head on Wade's shoulder. Wade must have reached for Peter's hand a hundred different times, stopping himself just short of touching and one night when they were eating, Wade reached over and wiped the crumbs from Peter's face and then froze--

"Shit, baby boy, I'm sorry. I know you can't handle being touched."

"It's fine." Peter shook his head quickly, the brush of Wade's fingers too quick to even have registered. "It's fine, don't worry about it."

"Yeah?" Wade swallowed. "My skin doesn't bother you?"

"No, it's not that." Peter took another bite of his burger. "You know, it's the empath thing. I want to be able to touch you but I--"

"I get it." Wade assured him. "Normal people set off everything in your head, someone like me would probably make your brain explode. It's alright."

"Well, I mean." Peter shrugged self consciously. "It's not. Sorta sucks that I can spend every day with you but can't get closer than this. That I wear my white noise headphones to block out everything when really I just want to--"

"You're not wearing your headphones, Pete."

"...what?" Peter felt around his head, then widened his eyes. "Oh my god, I'm not wearing my headphones."

"Nah, you dropped them when you took off your backpack." Wade motioned behind them vaguely. "I figured you decided not to wear them today. The noise isn't bothering you?"

"I um--" Peter cocked his head and frowned. "I don't hear anything. My heads just sort of... sort of staticky."

"Sounds awful."

"No." Peter put his food down and closed his eyes to listen. "No, it's wonderful. Wade, you don't understand. Usually I hear everything, or feel everything and it hurts my head but I don't hear anything right now. It's-- this is-- it's so nice."

"That's great, sweet cheeks." Wade blew the web slinger a kiss and sauntered over towards the far end of the roof to get his bag. "By the way, I bought you something at a souvenir shop yesterday. Full disclosure, it's terrible, but I thought it would make you laugh so--"

Noise rushed in and Peter cried out loud, clapping his hands over his ears. "Oh my god! Oh my--"

Rage, from someone in the apartment below, fear from the other person in the room. Laughter, eyes staring, someone watching, too close too close, someone was touching, anxiety, nervous, giddy, fear--

Peter curled over into himself and shouted, "Wade! My headphones! Please!"

"Come here, baby." Wade was suddenly back at Peter's side, wrapping both arms around him and hauling him close. "Okay I know you don't want to hear what's in my head but it should be loud enough to drown out everything else, come here."

Wade yanked Peter's gloves off and shoved his own shirt up so Peter could touch skin, then flattened his palms over Peter's ears as if it would drown out the noise.

And Peter went still immediately.

He went still immediately and Wade waited with bated breath for the disgust, for the recoil, for Peter to look up with those beautifully wide eyes and wonder what the fuck was wrong with him.

"Oh my god, you feel good."

Okay well Wade hadn't been expecting that, nor was he expecting Peter to moan quietly and to press even closer, his fingers digging into Wade's side to clutch him tight.

"I-- I what? I what? Why are you the one talking crazy right now?”

"You feel good." Peter hooked a foot behind Wade's knee and took him down to the roof with no effort at all, and even though Wade oophed when he hit the rooftop, he didn't have time to care much as Peter crawled up his body and straddled his chest, tucking that adorable nose right into Wade's neck.

"...Pete? What um-- what are you doing?”

"The static is you." Peter laughed quietly and wriggled closer. "I thought I was wearing my headphones cos I couldn't hear anything, but the second you walked away, all the noise came back. The static is you."

"You're telling me I'm so damn crazy that it just translates to static when you hear it?" Wade teased and Peter pulled away to stare down at him.

"I'm telling you that you're the only person I've ever met that doesn't hurt me to be around. Whatever your mutation is, whatever you have going on-- it scrambles my senses and mutes everything else."

"Pete--"

"All I can feel is you." Peter breathed, and he looked almost close to tears. "All I feel is you babe. Do you know how amazing that is?"

Wade ran his hands up Peter's back to tangle in the thick hair and drag him down for a much a-waited, much longed for kiss.

"Yeah, baby boy." he said hoarsely. "I sure do."

****************

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @lookuplaughing @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @water-colouredmemories @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @desitonystark @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii

#ncts fics #spideypool #sundays with spideypool #peter parker #wade wilson

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deadlyaffairs · 4 years

Text

I love you

This is part of my lil challenge, where I am challenging myself to write for seven days straight. Pray for me.

Prompt: We’re roommates and you make me so mad! But I love you.

Words: 2,089 (honestly didn’t feel like that)

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader, Roommates!AU, Musicians!AU

A/N: Inspired heavily by Burlesque, or well more importantly the friends-to-lovers, roommates with angst but ultimately fluff trope! That was long to write lol. Also, I know I said the second one-shot was coming out later today, but that was before the idea struck me and it kinda feels good to be caught up since technically I was already behind on my challenge. Hope this makes up for it and hope you ENJOY!

It was late at night when Ben awoke to the sound of the flat’s door being opened and gently shut. He had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for you but would never admit that.

Around mid-day, Ben is sitting at the island laptop opened and writing some lyrics. He looks up and smiles at you as you walk through after unlocking the door. “You got home pretty late. Quite unusual.” He says taking his bottom lip between his fingers guarding his face.

You glance at him, your body heating up in embarrassment. Your heart beating rapidly as suddenly the feelings you’ve been having for Ben begin to surface. “Oh yeah, sorry, I-I well I sort of met up with that one guy... Landon. The one who's been coming into the club lately.”

“Landon that prick?”

You watched Ben fight to look at you longer than necessary. You looked at your feet in light sadness. However, your eyes were ready to bug out of their sockets when you remembered the flashy shoes Landon had left you at rehearsal.

When you looked up, Ben was typing at the computer, trying to put you at the back of his mind. You squared your shoulders suddenly angry at his comment and dropped your keys onto the key foyer and practically stomp to your bedroom.

“New shoes?” Ben asks just as your about to shut your door. You look back at him. His eyes are still trained on screen and his fingers are still moving. But you hear the word he mutters. “Classy...”

At that, you feel your blood boil, and your chest is rising and now your body is filled with anger. You huff and slam the door hard enough to resonate against the wall it was on but, not hard to cause a disturbance.

A few days later, you’ve still been ignoring Ben. It’s been four days of silence from your end that Ben is angry at you being angry at him.

“You know ‘s only one reason why reason a bloke buys women shoes ya?”

You glare at him as you shut your bedroom door. You walk out in a small number you only bring out to really make some people mad. The v-line plunged down to highlight the valley of your chest, your skin was practically glowing in the faint light of the flat’s terrible lighting. The dress was tight-fitting and stopped a little higher on the thigh. The silk material was silver and the flashy shoes you were given tied together beautifully.

“So what if I’m getting a little male attention?”

“It’s a bit more than a little ya?”

“Not from anyone that matters.” You mutter not looking back to gauge his reaction. You’ve said what you’ve said, there was no taking it back or fixing it.

For Ben, it was a blatant jab at him. At his feelings. They had both been playing a game of cat and mouse. Not knowing they spent too much time switching between the two to realize neither were getting any catching done.

The two of you spent more days ignoring each other. Staying in your room or Ben staying in his. Avoiding each other around the rest of the flat. You decided to start spending your days with Landon, getting to know him, doing things like going out to eat, watching movies. You liked going out, but you couldn’t help but feel hollow inside your chest because at every moment you could, you spent it picturing Ben. Doing these things with you and not Landon.

The next night you get home late, all the lights except the kitchen one are off. You furrow your brows and walk inside. You see no faint glow of light under Ben’s bedroom door and sigh, biting your lip you go to your room, you undress and get ready for bed.

A few hours later you woke up to noises that sounded blurred with the door shut, but you knew better. Ben was doing it on purpose, pressing the highest setting of the blender. You groan and rise out of your warm bed, feeding exactly into what he wanted, to rile you up.

“Ben... Ben... Ben... Jones!” You say over the noise of the blender. Ben is making what appears to be one of his many shakes. He stops only when you call him Jones because He can’t help but love that you’re one of few who actually still call him by his last name, his real one.

“Goodmorning love, sleep well? Shake?”

“No... a little peace and quiet would be lovely.”

Ben presses the blender, giving an unspoken reply. You squint your eyes at him.

“Really now?” You go to ask but Ben again presses the button on the blender the noise returning. You purse your lips and turn around ready to go back to ignoring him, you’ve taken three steps but face him once more “Christ Ben! What is your problem? You’re acting like a fucking prick!”

“It’s not just me ya? You know at the club, we’re like a family, we look out for each other.”

“Right, like Lucy and Rami, Joe.”

“Ya? What about Landon eh? He looks out for you? y/n? He can make things happen for you.”

“He’s a good man, a smart one at that. He goes for what he wants.”

“In the end, it’s about the choices you make love,” Ben says as he stands in front of you, shake long forgotten. He stares you down for a moment before walking off towards his bedroom.

“Oh that’s genius, you’re a bartender/ drummer who writes songs that are never ready.” You say without really wanting to but angry at him for coming at you the way he has.

Ben slowly stops and turns to you, “Alright, I see then.” He shuts the door behind him and you exhale deeply, shutting your eyes.

Ben and you ignore each other. It doesn’t last long, a day and a half. But it was enough to get your skin to crawl, what you had to say constantly eating at you. Naisa, a girl from the club where Ben and you worked was getting married and you both had been invited, Ben wasn’t wrong, at the club you all were like family.

You wore a simple red dress, it was long sleeve but was off the shoulder. It stopped right above the knee and you paired it with your tan heels. The makeup was simple, you never truly cared to get doll up yourself, but heavy makeup came with the job. You wore a similar shade of red on your lips.

You arrived later than Ben, he was home for the first part of you getting ready but when you walked out completely finished he was gone, had he been for long? You didn’t know.

At the reception for the wedding you tried to look for the blond but to no prevail. You had caught him briefly at the ceremony. He sat a few rows in front of you. You about given up trying to find him when you reached the bar.

“A shot of tequila please.”

“Two please.”

You glanced at your side and saw Ben, who was clearly already feeling a little bit drunk.

“Looking lonely there Ben.” You say

“Liberated, questionable. Libated, definitely. Lonely? No, not lonely. Never lonely. Cheers” Ben says smoothly.

Your chest pings at that, was that supposed to hurt as much as it did? Was that meant for you? You scoff and faced away from him.

“Clink!” Ben says and downs the shot. You fight the giggle that makes its way out, downing your own shot.

Ben nudges you and is suddenly in your space. “Love are you still mad at me? Cus..” He slurs just a bit before picking himself back up. Completely in your face now, which you're sure is red from how hot it feels. “Cus if you are... bring it on baby.”

“Are you drunk?” You ask even though you know the answer. You want him to realize how drunk he is acting.

Just as you ask the DJ plays Bruno Mars’ Calling All My Lovelies. “I love this song!” Ben shouts standing and giving the DJ and look. You walk away since he is not paying attention to you anymore.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ben says as he grips your arm pulling your body back into his. To stop yourself from hitting him too hard you put your hand to his chest as you’re pulled back into him. You can feel his body warmth and remove your hand.

He has his arm under yours and his free hand grabs the one you’ve lowered. “I need to apologize to you.”

“What for.”

He gives you a look, and even now it still takes your breath away, how he can simply look that good? How can he make your blood boil, but get you weak in the knees?

“For being a prick.”

“You were.”

“I was.”

“Mm-hm.”

He smiles at you but it falters just slightly before he asks “Why are you here alone?”

You look up at him, his eyes the brightest green you’ve ever seen. You step just a little closer to him. “Do I look alone to you?”

His smile slowly makes its back to his features before he dips you, changing the mood drastically. Later that night you two are stumbling through your flat. The reception and day over with. You fall onto the couch and kick your feet up.

“My feet are killing me! Please take off these shoes Ben.”

He follows you to the couch and yanks at the heel. You laugh as he fumbles with one. “I got it, oh whoa, whoa, aha!” He says once they’re both off.

Your laughter dies down after the good show you received. You look up at him, you hope your eyes are saying everything you can’t bring yourself to say. Ben too, watches you, he’s standing over you and from this angle he can’t stop picturing you underneath.

“Good night.”

“Night.”

Ben walks to his bedroom, shutting the door. You sigh and sit on the couch for a bit. You rub your neck as you try to stop your thought from going back to Ben. However, your thoughts are cut short when Ben’s door opens and he stands there in a blue sheep pajama set. You laugh at it.

“Cute.”

“Mum got em, thank you.” He walks out to the front door. Locking it. He turns to you “Forgot to lock the door.”

You nod. “Got it?”

The lock makes a noise as he twists it once again, Ben’s green eyes find yours and you want to do nothing more but dive into them. “Good,” he says. He walks to his bedroom, pauses and looks at you, “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Ben shuts his door and you barely had time to blink before it is ripped open with his shirt gone. “Back again?” You ask with a smile.

“Water... don’t need a nasty hangover in the morning.”

“Right.”

Ben walks to his room once more, he stands in the doorway looking at you. “Good night, again.” He smiles, shutting his door.

“Night... again,” you say to yourself and begin taking your jewelry off. You've turned away from Ben’s door, not being able to see.

It’s opened once more and you laugh quietly to yourself not bothering to look at him, continuing with tugging the jewelry off.

“I think I’m hungry. Yeah... I’m a bit famished.” He walks past the couch to the kitchen and you have to look twice to make sure you saw what you did. His bare ass. You cover your face as laughter rakes through your body.

“Jones!” you peek through your fingers, “Your! It’s...”

He holds out a box of cookies, “What is so funny?” He moves away from the island looking down and using the box to cover his manhood. “Oh, well, I never.” He says in his best southern American accent.

You continue to laugh, shielding your eyes but also giving in and opening your eyes a few times. He walks over to the couch. He stands over you for a moment. “Want a cookie?” He says normally as he shakes the box, his body is red which tells you he is nervous. You bite your lip, almost taking the bait. He shrugs and walks off.

“No? Well if you change your mind... you know where they are.” He sends you a wink before shutting the door with his leg and one hand.

You watch and watch. The door remaining shut longer than you hoped. His light also turns off. The smile leaves your face and you begin to grab your things, ready to head to your bedroom. The door to Ben’s door opens slower this time and you look up, not shielding your eyes because let's face it, you knew him too well.

He walks out of his bedroom and he’s dressed in his usual sleep attire. Sweats and no shirt. You chew your bottom lip and you open your mouth to say something but he stops you with his lips. The kiss feels like it was always meant to. A secret told... a promise kept. It was slow, everything felt like it went slowly when the skin of his lips melded against yours.

Ben pulls away and you’re both silent, breathing, tired of waiting. The kiss ignites something in the two of you.

“I love you.” You say and although Ben curses himself for not saying it first, he doesn’t stop himself from saying it back.

“I love you too.”

TAGLIST: @fallingprincess

LOVE YOU <3

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy oneshot #ben jones #p'sdeadlywritingchallenge #deadlyaffairs #deadlyaffairs imagines #oneshot series

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margoshansons · 5 years

Text

Here’s The News: q.b.

Quentin Beck x Summers!Reader// Yours Truly, 2095: 01. 02. 03. 04.

Summary— bright, beautiful, and broken

Warnings: swearing, lying, Manipulation

Notes: I want to reiterate that this is not meant to be an action-focused plot. I wrote this because I wanted to explore a relationship, not change FFH. I wrote this because I wanted to combine my favorite album with one of my favorite villains and I hate that I possibly have to use this as a disclaimer.

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She woke up surrounded by warmth, the sensation of Quentin’s finger brushing up and down her bare arm sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. She flipped over to face him, eyes locking onto each other as smiles crossed their faces.

It really was the perfect way to say goodbye.

“I have a meeting with Fury and Hill this morning” He whispered, still dragging his finger up and down her skin.

Y/N furrowed her brows. “There was no meeting on the agenda that I remember” She murmured.

Quentin’s expression shifted, “It was an emergency, something about an unusual spike near London, it’s probably nothing.”

Her hairs stood on the back of her neck again, empathetic perception clueing her into something that wasn’t quite right. “Why didn’t they tell me?”

A playful look crossed Quentin’s face, “I may have told them you had left for the airport already.”

Her chest burst in laughter, “And why would you do that?”

“Maybe it’s because I want you all to myself” Quentin’s expression was teasing, but his tone was something darker. Something she had never seen in him before. Something vicious.

It scared her.

“Mr. Beck!” She continued to tease, a smirk crossing her face as she pushed her fear away. The pair giggled, sharing a soft moment in a week filled with pain. She liked this. Waking up next to him, teasing each other like they were a couple. It quelled the butterflies that awoke whenever he was around, and he wasn’t bad to look at either.

“I have to go” he spoke, refusing to move.

Y/N pulled the sheets closer to her, “You should’ve woke me up earlier, I could’ve made you breakfast.”

Quentin chuckled, a rare toothy smile arriving on his face, “I thought that was my job as host.”

She shrugged, “It’s 2023, I thought we could shake things up a bit.” A thin smile passed her lips, “Besides if you had woken me up earlier you could’ve had some of my famous chocolate chip waffles.”

Quentin brushed her hair out of her face, the touch of his hand against her skin sending an unfamiliar feeling through her body. “You looked cute while you slept” He explained, “Besides, we have plenty of time to try new breakfast foods when we get back to New York.”

Y/N stayed silent, not wanting to tell Quentin about the real reason she was going back. Not wanting to tell him that this was as far as she wanted to go. That she didn’t do feelings. That there wouldn’t be plenty of time.

His lips gently pressed against her forehead, his warmth leaving the bed, creating a cold spot as he left to go get changed.

She missed him.

She pulled up her phone, double-checking to make sure Fury had actually called the meeting to quell her senses.

Quentin appeared above the bed once again, pressing another kiss into her hair before whispering a soft “goodbye”.

The door shut and Y/N stretched, the queen bed allowing her to sink further. All she wanted was to cuddle into the covers once more, sleep off what had happened last night. But her sixth sense was screaming, telling her to investigate every inch of this room. To turn every drawer and piece of furniture over until she found what she was looking for.

Desperate to find some relief from the bugging sense, she slid out of bed, the cold air making her shiver as she moved over to the dresser first.

Nothing.

She threw one of his shirts on for kicks before returning to her search, the comforting material shifting as she walked.

With every step, she proceeded with the standard SHIELD protocol search. Her hands ran themselves over every speck of dust, every inch of wood, every nook and cranny.

It looked normal.

Travel-sized toiletries, luggage bags, everything was reminiscent of someone who had made a fiscal trip to Europe.

“Or perhaps an interdimensional one” she murmured to herself, standing up from the floor to search the only place she had left untouched.

His desk.

Y/N swallowed the rising fear, cracking open the small drawer, revealing a series of scattered objects. But she knew better.

She ran her spindly fingers across each object until she found what she was looking for. The pencil that refused to budge. She pulled the board out of the drawer, revealing the false bottom underneath.

Papers littered the area, and as she flipped through them all she found files on all of them. Hill, Fury, Peter. Y/N scrambled, anxiety reaching ungodly amounts as she flipped to find her own name in his meticulous filing system.

It wasn’t there.

He didn’t have anything on her except what she had told him. She let out a deep breath, relieved at the revelation.

Taking her time to place each file back the way she found it, her arm bumped up against a small object in the corner of the false drawer.

It was small enough to be tossed aside, a tiny device that anyone else would’ve cast aside at the first glance.

But she was a SHIELD agent. She had worked along Tony Stark post-Accords.

No piece of tech was unimportant.

Carefully wrapping her hands in the towels in Quentin’s bathroom she gingerly placed the device on the desk, examining it for any sign of malicious intent. Instead, she was greeted with a small projection.

Y/N’s body crushed under the weight of the revelation. Everything finally made sense.

Because as she looked at the figure in the projection she discovered why her extrasensory perception spiked whenever she was around him.

Her chest constricted, the dagger of pain digging further and further until it spread through her veins, into her blood vessels, lighting up every area of her body as the stinging blade of betrayal lingered.

She wanted to take last night back.

She wanted to take everything back.

Her sweet words, her vulnerability. She wanted to traverse back and time and stay in New York. She wanted to quit SHIELD like she should’ve done before the decimation.

Had everything been a lie? Had last night been a lie?

A single tear slid down her cheek at the horrible thought, but as she watched the repeated video of the figure in front of her, she couldn’t erase the terrible shame washing over her.

Because the figure before her was Quentin.

***

The atmosphere was wrong.

When he had left Y/N that morning she had been nothing but smiles, now she was staring at her hands.

“What’s wrong honey?” He tried out the pet name, something unusual erupting in his stomach as he caught the slightest smile from her.

“I just realized” Y/N replied, meeting his eyes, “I don’t really know that much about you, I mean other than the usual.”

Quentin had been preparing for this moment. For the moment she would ask about the other Earth. About his life.

She couldn’t find out about London. It wasn’t time yet.

Just one more day of lying and then he could tell her everything. Once Peter was taken care of, everything would be his.

“In all fairness, you don’t talk much about yourself either,” Quentin countered, taking in the sight of her in his clothes. His eyes raked up and down her body, recalling every inch of it.

The memory sent a pleasurable chill down his spine, and his eyes followed her bare legs as they paced the room, ending up on the opposite side of the bed.

Her face was expressionless, jaw set.

The same face that had been moaning his name last night. The same face that had sent him shy smiles and giggled like a teenager whenever he was around. The same face that he wanted to worship every night and day until his death.

“You’re right” Y/N finally conceded, “So how about we play a little game of twenty questions?”

He had no reason to question the suggestion. It was an innocent ask. Simply trying to get to know each other better.

Except he knew everything he needed to about her.

She cared about the little man, her empathy put her positions of power, she was related to a leader of a fabled group, her brother had died, and she was exceedingly bright.

Bright, beautiful, and broken.

Exactly like him.

“I don’t think so honey,” He answered, gulping down his nerves. He needed to gain some control back. “I have to meet Fury in Germany in a few hours, If I don’t leave soon I won’t catch my plane.”

Y/N nodded, a solemn expression shadowing her face.

Quentin’s stomach did a victory leap.

He stuffed what he could in his suitcase, knowing that all he needed was his MoCap suit. But he needed to look busy. He needed to keep up the ruse for a little while longer.

Even though a shot of pain pierced through his chest at the sight of her pouting face. Even though he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with her, cuddling as his plan died in the ashes, forgotten by everyone except Peter Parker.

He shook his head in disbelief.

She was a dangerous woman to make him want to give it all up.

“I should be going with you” Y/N chimed in.

Well, he certainly couldn’t have that.

“No” Quentin commanded, softening his voice as he approached the woman, “You’re needed back in New York soon. If I need your help I’ll let you know, ‘kay?”

His finger brushed against her chin, the soft skin sending soothing waves through his veins as he tipped her jaw upward.

Y/N’s head nodded slightly, eyes falling. He brought his lips to her in a chaste kiss, knowing that if he left now, it would be so much sweeter coming back.

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This is a bit of a lame penultimate chapter, but this was always more about the relationship than the plot. I’m really not a fan of changing canon unless something strikes me.

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