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salazarslytherin · 4 years ago

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midnight rendezvous (b.w x y/n)

requested: yes! by @weasleyswizardwheezes1 [i love you arms your writing so uh anything w bill weasley. either smut, angst, fluff, etc. is fine, but could it be on the longer side. please and thank you, no pressure btw :)] send in your own request here

summary: where you and bill have a penchant for meeting in the night

part two here

🃛 masterlist

cw/tw: angst, smut AND fluff babes fem!reader, bill's kind of a dick for a part. sexual tension to the MAX doll. age difference (~6-7 years?) reader IS 18! jic anyone was worried. also i imply reader is short-ish? but in my mind bill is like 6’3-6’5 so he’s massive and like most people would be shorter than him

word count: 5.25k (so i heard u say ‘on the longer side’ and interpreted it as ‘i want a short novel’. hope this satisfies u doll, there'll be one or two?? more parts coming!!)

a/n: requested by @weasleyswizardwheezes1 . hope you like it! pls leave a comment, like or reblog to help boost if you did xx

☯︎ join tag list here

Being the best friend of the Weasley twins definitely had its perks. Spending summers at the Burrow, having a second family that was closer to you than your own, friendly banter that came along with the family.

However, there was an unexpected drawback that came with this.

A drawback by the name of Bill Weasley.

⚔︎

Although in the same year as the twins, you were a year older than Fred and George, meaning you had always felt a little more mature than the two pranksters.

Thus, you felt like you noticed things that the two of them never really noticed. Girls having crushes on them, boys being envious of them, the ways rumours would fly around about the three of you.

The main thing, however, that you felt the two of them didn't notice, was the way Bill treated you.

It wasn't that he'd always been like this. The first few years you'd known the man, he was very nice to you – familial and brotherly, much like the rest of the family had been to you.

However, sometime in fifth year, things changed.

⚔︎

You arrived at the Burrow with the twins for Christmas, ready to be welcomed by the family you'd come to call your own, but was left feeling hurt, weirdly hollow.

Every Weasley had welcomed you with open arms, except Bill. Harry, the only other non-Weasley around, was embraced heartily by the curse-breaker, but you were given a sharp nod, and nothing more.

Confused, you shook it off, moving to sit next to George, his arm wrapped around your waist as you snuggled into him. Fred landed on your other side, passing you a mug of hot cocoa as he landed a kiss on the top of your head, arm enveloping your shoulders with a tight squeeze.

Surrounded by the younger Weasleys as you watched Ginny, Ron and Harry play a game of Exploding Snap, you felt an intense gaze on you, looking up to see the four oldest Weasleys sat around the dining table, watching all of you.

You caught Bill's eyes, sending him a familiar smile, but was ignored as the man took a sip of his coffee, turning to look out the window instead.

Your hurt was short-lived as Fred leaned into whisper a soft quip into your ear, letting out a laugh, turning to relay the same quip to George.

The rest of the trip went similarly – every time you attempted to catch Bill's eye, to hold a proper conversation, he'd ignore you, or brush you off, pretending that he had something else to do.

The day all of you left the Burrow to go back to Hogwarts, Bill had even left the group before you could say goodbye to him, and you could only be left wondering, what did you do?

⚔︎

Now that you've graduated, you were relishing in the last summer you could spend in the Burrow as a teenager without the pressure of work hovering over you.

Determined to have the best time you possibly could with your 'family', your days were consumed by pranks with the twins, quidditch with the family, and helping Molly bake.

Yet, you still felt empty; a hole in the warm pit created by familial love, a hole marked with the name 'Bill Weasley'.

The cursebreaker was still actively avoiding you, for no known reason, and you stopped seeking out why a year ago. Instead, you sought to live your life with one less brother, one less family member to love.

Tossing and turning, you found yourself particularly restless one night. Not wanting to wake Fred, who was sleeping soundly in bed next to you, you got up, tiptoeing down to the kitchen to have a nice cool sip of water.

You'd taken to sleeping in the twins' room since the first holiday you were at the Burrow. Molly was against the idea at first of course, but was incapable of stopping the pranksters who managed to sneak you in night after night, insistent on having 'sleepovers' with you.

After the third night, Molly gave up, only giving you three a strict 'no funny business!' warning, before trudging back off to bed.

⚔︎

The dim lamplight from the kitchen illuminated just about enough for you to see your surroundings, having been around the Weasleys' long enough to know which boards to avoid so as to not have them creak and wake the family up.

However, what you hadn't taken into account was a body on the ground, hitting your foot into a blanketed torso, making you elicit a shriek, the unknown body on the ground letting out a muffled groan.

"What the fuck?"

You muttered a quick 'Lumos', pointing your wand at the person under the quilt, only for the fabric to be thrown aside, revealing a tousled Bill Weasley, sleep clouding his narrowed eyes as he massaged his abdominal with one hand, ruffling his hair with the other.

"Oh."

Realising that the man on the floor was, in fact, a Weasley, and not some thief who'd stolen into the house in the middle of the night, you dismissed the charm, lowering your wand and shifting awkwardly on your feet.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were there."

Throwing a curt apology at Bill, you moved off towards the kitchen, grabbing a mug from the cupboard above and wordlessly filling it up, intent on finishing your business as quickly as possible before heading back up to the twins.

"Pour me a cup?"

The deep voice startled you for a moment. At some point Bill had gotten up from his mound of pillows and now found himself stood behind you, his hand holding out a mug that had a 'B' painted on it, gesturing at the water jug you were holding.

Nodding curtly, you poured him his water, Bill thanking you before moving to lean against a counter, watching you from behind the rim of his mug.

"'m surprised you're down here."

Furrowing your brows, you looked up at the man in confusion.

"What'd you mean?"

He shrugged, downing the rest of his water before placing the mug down on the counter with a tad bit more strength than he needed. He stretched for a moment, arms pulled over his head to pull the sleep out of his eyes, shirt moving up with the movement to show off a slither of his toned stomach.

"You're always around the twins, never see you without 'em. Expected you to be, in their beds or something I don't know."

A protest spluttered from your throat, choking slightly on the water that you'd been drinking.

"I–what?"

The man lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side.

"Am I wrong? You've been in and out both their beds since you were firsties. I mean, it's not hard to guess what you're doing in there with 'em."

You huffed at the implications of Bill's words, putting your mug down with much of the same vigour as he had just now.

"First off, I'm an adult, and I can do what I please."

You were fuming, steam practically coming out your ears, and hearing the muttered 'clearly been an adult for a while' from Bill's lips didn't help.

"Second, even if I was sleeping with your brothers, which I am not, I don't understand why it'd be any of your business. It's not like we're friends or anything."

An odd, emotionless laugh came from Bill's lips, pushing off the counter to come stand over you. His tall stature forced you to stumble backwards, pressed against the wooden cabinets as he glared down at you.

"First off," Bill's deep voice was modulated up an octave, mocking your previous rebuttal.

"I am not saying your life is part of my concern. I'm concerned for my brothers."

A hand landed next to your head, pushing against the cabinet harshly.

"But second, you're practically a Weasley. It's my duty to look after you guys."

You laughed indignantly, looking away from the intense man to focus on his arm instead, as if studying the tattoos that covered his tanned frame.

"I'm sorry. It's your duty to look after me?"

You pushed him off of you, moving away with a huff, grabbing the two abandoned mugs to wash them with far too much tenacity, water splashing everywhere.

"Yes, that's what I said. I've known you since you were eleven – of course I have to watch over you. You're like family."

You rolled your eyes, giving up the facade of placidity as you left the mugs clattering in the sink, whipping around to face Bill.

"I'm like family? That's rich, William, truly rich."

Now it was your turn to advance towards the man, causing him to back up as your anger fueled you with energy, stomping dangerously close to his feet.

"If how you treat me is how you treat your family, I pity Molly for having you as a son."

Incoherent words left Bill's mouth in an attempt to argue further with you, but you didn't listen. Turning on your heel, you left the man in the kitchen, no longer concerning yourself with which steps to avoid as you stomped back to the twins' room, leaving Bill accompanied only by the dim light from the lamp, and the creaks coming from the floorboards.

⚔︎

After that infuriating night, it was no longer a 'hidden' fact that something was off between you and Bill.

While it had seemed that Bill used to be the one avidly avoiding you, the tables had quickly turned – you were now the prey ardently avoiding any encounters with your predator.

Any time Bill came into the room, you'd either leave, or place yourself as far away as humanly possible. During meals, you'd move yourself to sit next to Ginny, as opposed to in between the twins as you'd been sat for years, just so you no longer sat across from Bill. Even during quidditch, one of your favourite things to do with the whole family, you opted to sit out and stay in the twins' room or help Molly with the dishes, just to make sure you never had to interact with Bill.

Honestly, you weren't quite certain why the conversation with Bill had ticked you off so much. Maybe it was because he accused you of sleeping with your best friends, as if that was all you were good for. Maybe, it was because he had no right to insert himself in your life like that, to pretend like he cared about you in the first place.

It was clear he no longer wanted to be a part of your life when you were sixteen. You had no desire to welcome the curse-breaker back into your life now.

⚔︎

Three days after the midnight meeting with Bill, you found yourself restless again, unable to sleep.

George shifted slightly as you moved out of his bed, turning to cuddle with your now abandoned pillow as you slipped out of his grasp.

You decided to go for a quick midnight broom ride, hoping that the adrenaline rush and energy that you'd burn while flying would tire you out so you could finally fall asleep. A lot of the time you'd spent avoiding Bill turned into naps, which meant you were increasingly unable to fall asleep at night, disrupting your sleep schedule massively.

Cursing Bill under your breath, you creeped down the stairs, hoping that he wouldn't be down there again. You didn't want to have to deal with the eldest Weasley again.

Thanking your lucky stars, you landed on the final step, noting that the first floor was empty. Hoping that the door wouldn't creak when you opened it, you ran towards the small shed out back, grabbing a random broom from it and got ready to fly.

"Y/N?"

You were already mounted on the broom and ready to kick off as that dreaded baritone resounded from the door.

You should have known you weren't that lucky.

Yelling a quick "Nope!", you kicked off and flew out towards the countryside, only looking behind you to see Bill standing in his sleeping pants, hands gesturing out at you in exasperation.

"Now how's that for some good ol' avoidance?"

⚔︎

Though you'd initially planned on flying only for a little bit, seeing Bill at the door really put a damper on your plans, making you decide to fly to a nearby watering hole the Weasleys used to bring you to.

Illuminated by the moonlight, you descended upon the grassy area, smiling at the way the water rippled in the soft night breeze.

Tranquility was what the scene spelt.

In a moment motivated by something you'd come to dub as 'Weasley Whims', i.e the reason the twins had gotten the three of you in trouble constantly, you decided to strip down to your underwear to take a dip in the cool water, abandoning your clothes and wand on a mossy rock nearby.

Taking a running leap, you threw yourself into the water, feeling, for the first time in three days, free. A laugh rippled the waters as you broke through the surface, swimming back over to the edge, only for the laugh to be stolen away as you noticed a shadowed figure land next to your broom.

Bill Weasley was here to ruin your night, yet again.

You let out a strangled scream of frustration as the man alighted from his broom, feet and torso bared to the moonlight.

Clearly, he, like you, had not bothered to dress properly for the impromptu flight.

"Why are you following me."

Your question held no semblance of curiosity, only frustration as you demanded an answer from the man. His answer did not come, only moving towards the water to kneel in front of it, looking down at you.

"Why are you running away from me?"

Wisps of his ginger hair fell forward, covering bits of his handsome face as the rest was carelessly thrown up into a short ponytail, clearly done to prevent his hair from falling into his face during the flight, a precaution that you'd forgotten to take.

"I could ask you the same. Only, it must be a bit harder to hide from someone when they're already hiding from you in the first place, hmm?"

You turned away from the man, diving back down into the depths of the watering hole to kick yourself over to the other side, wanting to do nothing more than swim away from the ginger, or maybe, have him leave you alone and fly back to the burrow, alone.

But of course, fate never let you have your way.

You turned around only to see the man had sat himself down cross-legged, body illuminated by the moonlight as it highlighted the tattoos decorating his forearm, the several scars that littered his chest a sharp white juxtaposing his tanned skin.

"I never ran away from you."

Your head fell back as you tread the water lightly, looking up instead to admire the stars that embellished the night sky, recalling fondly the astronomy classes you'd taken in the past two years as you focused on constellation after constellation, intent on ignoring the man in front of you, hoping your disregard would drive him away.

"Y/N, I'm talking to you."

The words drew a monotone chuckle from you, your eyes snapping to meet Bill's.

"Well that's a first."

Bill moved to stand up, and your heart jumped for a moment. Maybe he would finally leave you alone.

But yet again, luck never did seem to favour Y/N Y/L/N.

Instead of moving further away as you'd thought he would, Bill moved closer, stepping into the shallow of the watering hole, the water soaking the bottom of his pants.

Your eyes darted at the ripple of his abs with every movement, swallowing as your eyes darted to look anywhere else you could. You were not about to find this man attractive.

You could see him coming towards you in your peripherals, and moved back to face him, his pecs the only part of his torso above the water.

"You haven't spoken to me for almost two years, and now you've just got so much to say to me, huh?

Bill looked down into the water, nibbling on his lip as he looked back into your eyes, almost sheepish as he tried to answer.

"I–"

"You know how much that hurt?"

You swam closer towards him, your feet finding ground as you stood next to him, your shoulders bared to the world as you were no longer submerged.

"You were like family to me for almost five years, and then one day. You just fucking stopped. Stopped talking to me. Stopped joking around with me. For a while, you didn't even look at me!"

Your hands came up out of the water, gesturing wildly as you basically screamed at the man, Bill flinching slightly as the water splashed into his face, looking back down at the water again.

Ashamed.

"D'you know how fucked up that was? I had no clue what happened, why one of the people I considered family, one of my favourite people in the world, just fucking despised me all of a sudden."

Bill looked up at you in surprise at your words.

"And you know the worst fucking part?"

Your voice suddenly fell to a hush, almost a whisper as a tear welled in your eye, prompting you to shut them as your head tilted down, urging your breath to slow down.

"The worst part, the worst part was that I thought it was my fault, that it was something I'd done to drive you away. I blamed myself for ages, didn't know what I said, didn't know why you hated me."

"Didn't know why you'd never like me back."

The last part was said in a true whisper, barely audible despite the silent night.

Yet Bill still heard it, and his breath hitched in his throat, eyes searching your face as a tear escaped you, rolling down your cheek.

Unable to restrain himself, Bill's hand darted forward out, cooled by the waters you two found yourself in, a blatant contrast to the warm tear as the pad of his thumb wiped it away.

You flinched away from Bill, feeling vulnerable for the first time that night, coming to the sudden realisation that you were clad only in your underwear, your unintended confession drawing heat to your cheeks as you moved away from the man.

"I, I was afraid."

Bill's own confession halted your movements, making you turn back around to look up at him, confused.

"I–, how do I say this. I was ashamed of myself."

It was now Bill's turn to feel vulnerable, his unease making him shift in the water, the water rippling around the two of you at his movements.

"That winter when you came back here, when you turned sixteen, I started seeing you as more than family. I– I found you attractive, and I felt disgusted with myself."

You huffed, disbelieving of the words you were hearing.

"I'm being serious Y/N. You just, grew up over those few months, and just came back different, somehow. I felt like a predator, I was twenty-three! You were still a kid, and I, I just didn't know what to do anymore."

"I wasn't a kid!"

"Of course you were! You were still in school, I'd been working for five years, I couldn't live with myself feeling like that. I didn't know what to do, so I just, distanced myself. Hoped that the feelings would go away eventually, then I'd just, go back to being normal."

Your eyes scanned the ginger's face, searching for a speck of a lie, a pinch of deception but only found uncertainty, attraction and lust dusting the man's face.

"But you never stopped..."

Your breath stopped for a moment as your eyes met.

"Are you being serious?"

His breath fanned your face as both of you instinctively moved closer towards each other, more of your body exposed to the world as you came further out of the water.

"As serious as I could be Y/N."

Your breath was taken away as Bill leaned in, ghosting his lips over yours, strands of ginger hair falling to tickle your face.

"Can I kiss you?"

A breathless whisper fell from Bill's lips, prompting you to nod in assent, the man falling to capture your lips before you even finished the move.

Sparks flew in that moment, the man's lips gliding over yours as he stole your breath away. You pulled apart after a second, before your lips fell back together again, insatiable in your desire to taste each other.

Bill's tongue teased you, mouth falling open for his teeth to graze at your lower lip, making you gasp such that your lips fell open in the same way, his hand moving to cup your jaw. Taking advantage of your momentary shock, the ginger slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny of you as you moaned into his lips, pressing your chest against his.

The water waded around you as Bill's left hand moved down your body, fitting snugly under your ass as he muttered a soft 'jump', which you obliged.

Your legs wrapped around the man's hips, Bill walking the two of you onto the soft grass, muttering a charm against your lips before placing you down.

Instead of feeling prickly blades of grass on your skin, a soft blanket had appeared, making you smile, pulling away from the man.

"Quite the romantic, Mr Weasley. Know how to treat a girl right don't you?"

A deep chuckle sounded from the man who hovered above you on his hands and knees, biting his lower lip at the sight of you.

"Only the best for my girl."

Your heart leapt at Bill’s words; were you his now?

Not wanting to dwell on it, to overthink this moment of passion, you pulled his lips back down onto yours.

His girl.

⚔︎

The moon hung high in the night sky as both your hands explored each other, frantic, as if it was your last day on Earth and you only had here and now to envelop yourselves in each other.

The pure animalistic need that pulsed through the two of you allowed no time for foreplay, fingers hooking into the soaking fabrics that clung to both of you.

“Can I?”

Bill fingered the waistband of your underwear, thumb brushing your hip bone with motions feather light, wildly disparate from the way his lips devoured yours hungrily.

One act designed to ruin you, the other almost afraid he’d break you.

“Yes, I need you.”

You deigned to show him just how much by hooking your own fingers into his waistband, soaked pajama pants pulled away to reveal his boxers, clinging to his muscular frame.

Bill responded by undressing you with much of the same vigour, moving to pull your underwear down to your ankles, his pants in very much the same state, gazing down at your soaked private with lust clouding his vision.

“Next time,” he breathed out onto your glistening lips, “I’ll make you cum with just my tongue.”

Your breath hitched at his words, no, his promise, of a next time as Bill made his way back up your body, peppering kisses on your exposed skin, his hard-on grinding against your leg as he moved up.

The cursebreaker’s deft hands unhooked your bra expertly, sucking in a breath as your pert nipples were revealed to him.

“Beautiful.” He mumbled, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

Bill moved to unclothe himself fully, before you stopped his movements, his hands already pulling at the waistband around his hips.

“May, may I?”

He nodded as you sat up, eyes glazed as he studied your body, memorising the way your breasts glistened in the moonlight. He would make it his mission to mark them, to show anyone who came near you that you were no one’s, but his.

You hooked your fingers into his boxers, pulling them down to his thighs at an almost agonising pace as every part of Bill was unveiled to you, standing proudly in the light.

“Are you... a virgin?”

The man above you asked as it dawned upon him. He was really about to have the girl he’d been craving for.

“No, I’m not.”

His jaw clenched at your admission, the thought of someone else’s hands on you ticking him off, before pushing it away.

It didn’t matter. You were with him now.

He nodded, coming back down to kiss you as one hand braced him by your head, the other reaching down to pump himself slowly.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, eyes falling closed as you immerse yourself in him.

Bill’s knee nudged your thighs apart, moving himself so he was lined up against you, hand brushing his cock up and down your lips, causing both of you to shudder.

His head dipped into you, your tight heat causing him to hiss, pausing for a moment to savour the feeling before pushing himself in fully, stopping only once he’d bottomed out.

“Are y’okay?”

You bit your lower lip as Bill moved away from you to scan your face for discomfort or pain. His girth, while not quite painful was definitely bordering on pain, your walls stretching as he filled you entirely.

“Yes, just, one second.”

Your hands gripped his neck, lacing your fingers through the tresses of his hair as you adjusted around him. As the pain receded, you nodded, a silent signal for the man to move.

He carefully pulled out of you, then pushed back in slowly, hands landing by your head to brace himself, testing the waters whilst both of you moaned at the feeling.

“Faster.”

Bill obliged, moving to thrust in and out of you at increasing speeds with each movement. His hips snapped against yours at a speed that could only be described as vicious, eliciting sounds that defiled the tranquil nature you were surrounded by.

You were breathless as the man thrusted in and out of you, his movements only capable of drawing pants and whimpers from your mouth, the activity rendering you a simpleton who knew only two words - ‘Bill’ and ‘please’.

Your climax soon drew close, a coil tightening with his every sound and every move, your body notifying the man above you by the clench of your walls around him, the motion drawing him closer to his own orgasm.

“Are you close baby?”

A nod was all you managed as you threw your head back, Bill’s tip brushing against your g-spot edging you even closer to your precipice.

One of Bill’s hands moved down your body, landing on the bundle of nerves above where the two of you met, rubbing figure eights onto you, making you let out a gasp of surprise as the older man helped you move closer to your orgasm.

His movements didn’t falter as your moans grew louder, seeming instead encouraged by the promise of your climax, your moans growing loud and unabashed.

Each pant of his name made the man groan in return, moving both his fingers and his hips so ferociously that your breasts bounced with each thrust, your back sure to be red and chafed in the morning from the friction against the blanket.

But you didn’t care - the only thoughts you were capable of manifesting was how good it felt to have Bill inside you, how this was the one thing you’d ever needed to feel full, how he never stopped in his stimulation, the way his mouth felt on your nipples - sucking on the skin of your breasts, a reminder that would last of this fleeting night.

As Bill stimulated you with his cock, his fingers, his mouth, you couldn’t hold it in any longer - and you could tell Bill was reaching his breaking point as well - you let out a moan that would awaken the sleeping birds in the tree nearby, a scream of “Bill” that would leave the twins wondering why your voice was hoarse in the morning left you, legs trembling as you released around the man.

Yet he still never relented.

As you rode out your orgasm, your cunt throbbing, Bill never faltered in his actions, hips thrusting into you as he bit into your neck softly, intent on marking you for all to see as his cock twitched inside of you.

With a moan that you could only describe as sinful, yet angelic, a sound that would haunt your dreams and bless your nightmares, teeth grazing your sensitive skin, Bill came into you. Hot stripes of white liquid coating your walls while his thrusts slowed to a stop.

Getting up on trembling hands, Bill hovered above you, exiting you in a slow movement that had you whimpering at the sudden emptiness, your eyes still shut from your post-orgasmic bliss.

Lips pressed onto your forehead, as if Bill was savouring something he didn’t want to lose.

Something you didn’t want to lose either.

⚔︎

The flight back to the Burrow was silent, the two of you side by side as you flew through the wilderness of Ottery St. Catchpole.

When you landed, you looked out onto the nature around you, Bill landing almost immediately after you.

In the distance, you could see the sun readying to rise in the East, colours bleeding into the sky that had been pitch dark save for the spattered stars hours ago.

“Did you regret that?”

The man standing beside you asked after a moment of silence, not daring to meet your eyes as he appeared vulnerable, afraid, feigning an interest in the rising sun.

His muscular arm was what you were faced with as you turned towards him, his tall stature casting a shadow over you. You eyed the red marks you’d left on him, the little reminders scattered on his shoulders and back.

“No. Did you?”

The cursebreaker turned to face you, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched you, scanning your face for the umpteenth time that night.

“Of course not.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, drawing Bill’s gaze down towards them, a small smile telling you he was admiring the slowly darkening marks he’d left on you.

“Then why’d you assume I would’ve?”

He caught his lower lip between his teeth, gnawing on it absentmindedly as he shrugged.

“I dunno. Just assumed you wouldn’t have wanted that with an older man or somethin’, I s’just worried, s’all.”

You inhaled deeply, letting out a long sigh as you reached out towards the man, cupping a hand on either side of his chiseled jaw, making him look into your eyes.

“Bill, that was my decision to make. If I didn’t want to have sex with you, I wouldn’t’ve done it. It’s not your place to decide for me whether I wanted it.”

You leaned in to capture his lips in yours; this time deepening the kiss on your terms, slipping your tongue into his mouth and savouring his taste.

Cinnamon, with a hint of mint and tobacco.

You pulled away, tracing your lips to the sweet spot under his ear, sucking softly before turning to whisper in his ear.

“I wanted it, and I’ve wanted you for longer than you could have known.”

part two out now x

#mine #writing #request #bill weasley #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley angst #bill weasley smut #bill weasley fluff #harry potter fluff #harry potter imagine #harry potter angst #harry potter smut #bill weasley imagine #hp angst #hp imagine #hp fluff #hp smut

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bartistic · 4 years ago

Text

Bruce Goes To The Market!

knife tw, food cw, incredibly dumb self-indulgent concept cw, outsider (oc) pov

It is universally acknowledged that a cashier possessing free time, will be in want of an extra task to fill that free time. At least, that’s what James’ managers seemed to think. Privately, he agreed, as he found restocking the shelves to be a most agreeable pastime, one that could in fact suck up hours of his eight hour closing shift.

He was in the soda aisle, debating whether sparkling water belonged with seltzer or with the rest of the store brand items, when he noticed a broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a Gotham University sweatshirt, inspecting the selection of diet tonic water and looking utterly flummoxed. Customer in need of assistance!

“Hi, how are you doing tonight? You need help finding anything?” Mentally, James winced at the preppy-ness of his ‘customer service robot voice’ as his favorite coworker Stephie liked to call it. Luckily, he’d thrown his voice out enough screaming to Queen karaoke the night before that his voice stayed in the normal octaves rather than shooting into the stratosphere. The man straightened up and looked down towards James, who suddenly felt very short in all of his 5’9” glory. (Well, 5’8 3/4” but who’s counting.)

“Yes, actually. I’m new to the store, could you direct me to where the soap is?” Oh god. Of all the things it had to be the one item James swore was never in the same aisle twice.

“Of course!” He lied through his teeth. “Here, right this way.” Turning, he set off towards the general direction of where the soap tended to lie, with a variation of four different aisles. Luckily, the first aisle was correct, and he watched, intrigued, as the customer gave a thorough inspection to at least 14 different bars of soap. “Anything else I can help you with?” He added, as the man finally selected a bar and placed it in his basket. The man looked sheepish.

“This is actually the first time I’ve been in a grocery store. I’m not usually the one doing the shopping. My—the person I live with gave me a list, but I honestly don’t know where or even what half of these things are.” He held out a grocery list, scrawled in an elegant cursive. It was double-sided. James checked the front of the store, where the other cashier was engrossed in his phone while trying not to appear engrossed in his phone. It was an hour and a half until they closed, and he was pretty sure there was only one other customer in the store at most.

“Sure! Alright, so our first step should probably be to hit the deli, seeing as they have the longest wait times.” After walking the man through ordering Roast Beef, Prosciutto, Pastrami, Swiss, Havarti, Gouda, and Picante Provolone (what) they moved on to the canned goods. “We should probably grab a cart, I don’t think that basket’s going to be able to hold all of this.” Turning into the canned goods aisle, James sighed.

“Caution: Hazard Detected! Precaución, ¡Peligro Detectado!” The store’s resident useless robot assistant was stuck in place, screaming at a small bit of an onion peel that had fallen to the floor.

“Batsy, I swear to god.” James went over and kicked the peel under one of the shelves, pressing the button on the robot to reboot it.

“...Batsy?” The customer sounded somewhere between bemused and amused. Perhaps just ‘mused.

“Yeah, it’s our obtuse robot that only sees what’s right in front of it and makes a big fuss over literally nothing. It can’t even clean anything up, and the few moments there actually is a spill it just skids through it and makes it worse. Technically corporate calls it Patsy, short for Patrick, because we’re Patrick’s, you know? But since this is Gotham, we call it Batsy. Short for... Batrick. I’m not the one who came up with the name, that honor goes to my coworker Stephie. She’s, uh, not working tonight.” James internally began banging his head against the shelves. Why. Was. He. Like. This. “So, do you know what brand of chickpeas your... roommate wanted?”

/ / /

Finally, after another 45 minutes of shopping, they were ready to check out. James noticed the shift had changed while he was away. “Alright, so I can actually take you at this register over here, ‘cuz I’m still logged in and all.” He gulped as the customer began to load up onto the belt. This was... a lot of food. He’d scanned around a quarter when he officially ran out of room, turning to bagging instead. “Let’s get you another cart, actually, so we can load into that without squishing what you haven’t unpacked yet.” He moved to go grab one, but the customer was faster, jogging back with another cart before he could even finish bagging all the protein shakes. There were, admittedly, a lot of protein shakes.

Scanning the meat-substitutes, James scanned his own mind for an avenue of conversation. “So, you mentioned that it’s your son who’s the vegetarian. How old is he?”

“He’s 13. It’s not religious or health-wise or anything, he just really loves animals. Our house is practically a zoo on a good day, and that’s not even counting all his siblings.”

“Oh, how many kids do you have?” It had to be a fair amount for it to be ‘all’ his siblings. The customer opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again. He seemed to be thinking. Did he... not know how many kids he had??

“Legally I have... fffffour? Five? Yeah... that sounds right.” James tried to hide the bewildered expression in his own face, but he must not have been doing it well. “That makes me sound like such a bad father. No, I promise, I love them all, I just have quite a few of their friends living with us as well, and I’ve known those kids long enough to feel like they’re my kids too. Not to mention the whole difference between the ones I’ve adopted, the one who was my ward who I then retroactively adopted, the one I’m fostering, and the one who is legally an emancipated minor. And... the one who. Is no longer with us.” James blinked. That was indeed complicated.

“You must have a lot of love in your heart,” he settled on, finally.

“I just h— Oh, #%*$.” The blueberry container had burst open, all over the floor. James internally groaned.

“Oh no! Sorry about that, that’s the third one tonight. The packaging is just... not great. Do you want me to go get you another one?”

“No, I can get it. Thanks though.” The customer gingerly stepped through the minefield as James power walked to go get the clean up supplies. Six feet away, Batsy was screaming at a blueberry.

“Eat your heart out, Mister Miyagi,” he aimed a light roundhouse kick at the button to reboot the robot. Batsy got two feet before it encountered another world-ending-threat, danger level blueberry. James sighed and went to go clear that area first.

/ / /

Finally, almost everything was scanned. James was scanning the bread and rolls as the customer fit all the bags into the two carts, like an expert game of tetris. There were a few hiccups where James had had to explain that you probably shouldn’t bag Raid with milk, or that it was a good idea to double bag heavy items, or that you should wait until the end to put the eggs in (and there were a lot of eggs. Gaston-levels of eggs. Probably to be expected with that many kids in the house. Hah. eggs-pected.) But by the end they were working like a well-oiled machine. James bagged the last item, hit the button to total it, and watched as the customer realized he forgot his deli items.

“I’m just gonna— gonna run and go get those real quick. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you fill out the charity question real quick though? Th...thanks.” The customer was gone before James could question him on the fact that he’d used the custom amount option to apparently donate $1k to Gotham General’s children’s ward. It was... probably a mistake, but he’d wait around to check. He turned as he heard the beginnings of a commotion behind him, from the one other customer in the store. This guy’s whole aesthetic just screamed gross, from the white-boy dreads to the Blue Lives Matter gaiter mask. It looked as if he was having trouble at self-checkout. James was about to head over to help when his coworker passed him. He turned back to keep an eye on the clock. 10 minutes until closing. Please come back with the deli items soon. He heard an aggressive murmuring that sent chills up his spine, a distinct feeling of Not Right Bad. He turned back to where his coworker was engaged with helping the other customer. His coworker who was... very pale. Frightened. The customer whose hand glinted silver with... oh #%*$, that’s a knife. Not Good Very Bad... oh hell no, you are not hurting my coworker on my watch.

“HEY #%$&FACE, EAT BEANS!” As the aggressive customer turned to meet the container of garbanzo beans that was currently hurtling towards his face at the maximum speed a theatre-kid-who-never-did-sports could throw, the world seemed to throw down. Faintly, James could hear rational thoughts pounding at the door to his mind, begging to be let in. Thoughts like ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for attacking a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for cursing in front of a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for damaging the merchandise’ and ‘You can’t even throw a ball to save your life, there’s no way that’s going to hit him.’ Praying to Freddie Mercury, Elton John, and all other things holy, James watched as the beans sailed through the air and struck their target true— albeit a little lower than planned.”

Grossface automatically brought his hands down to protect his nethers, apparently forgetting that their was a knife in his hands. He let out a second agonized howl as he stabbed himself in the balls. Blindly, James groped around for more ammunition. Holding out a zucchini as threateningly as he could, he watched as the would-be aggressor ran out of the store as fast as he could with both hands clasping his junk. “Are you okay?” He asked his coworker, feeling his voice echo through the suddenly very-quiet-sounding store. She nodded mutely. He nodded back, then turned back to his register and oH shit there’s His Customer, holding the deli items.

“Nice shot.” Okay, this time he definitely sounded amused.

“I... am so sorry about the beans, I can get you a refund on those or I can go get you some more or—”

“No need, they definitely went to a good cause.” The customer grinned and held out the deli items. Faintly, James began to wrestle with the bag to get to the barcodes. Finally, everything was scanned, for good.

“Alright, will that be everything?” The clock read two minutes until closing.

“Yes, that should be everything. Again, thank you for all your help.” James watched as even with the membership points taken off, the total soared to over $750.

“Alright, your total is... $754.33, here’s some coupons and a survey slip. If you fill that out you get entered for a drawing to win a $500 gift card. Which... I don’t know that you’d need, but. Why not.” The customer reached into his wallet and counted out 5 $100 bills. Then he pulled out a black card. He paid off the total with the card, then handed the bills to James.

“Here you go, I wasn’t sure how much you tip cashiers.” James opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish.

“People don’t normally... tip cashiers...” and especially not HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS.

“Oh. Well, you were a good cashier. You deserve it. And here—” at this he pulled a crisp business card out of his wallet. “At Wayne Enterprises we could use quick-thinkers like you.” Pulling down his sunglasses, he gave a quick wink. James waved absentmindedly as BRUCE #%*$ING WAYNE walked out of the store. He looked down at the business card. Written upon it were the words: “Call here for an interview, mention Malone and they’ll know I sent you. Best of luck with the current job— BW”

James sat down. The clock was 10 minutes past closing before he remembered to look at it. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Oh my god I joked around to a billionaire. I cursed in front of a billionaire. I chucked a can of beans into a man’s nutsack in front of a billionaire.

But oddly enough, the only question that remained at the top of his mind was this:

This is because I have black hair and blue eyes, isn’t it.

#batfam #batman #bruce wayne #crack fic babey #my writing #written over the course of 2 hours following an 8 hour shift #shameless self-insert time

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pagingdoctorbedlam · 4 years ago

Text

And now, that cyberpunk AU I’ve been talking about the past few days...here’s the result from one of my potions for @quirkyseastone ‘s “Brew a Love Potion” event!

Characters: Kaku x Reader; cameos by Chopper, Franky, Kalifa (unnamed) and Rob Lucci (also unnamed).

Genre: Cyberpunk, Enemies to Lovers

TW/CW: Violence, guns and swords, cyborgs, partial memory loss

Word Count: ~4.2k words

...

You'd say it was fate, but really, it was no surprise that the Greatest Thief in Water 7 (that being you, of course) would attract the attention of assassins sooner or later.

The first time you met, you were running along rooftops in the world's first and only floating city, and you nearly ran into his sword. Not one of those laser-sabers or poseur chainsaw-blades, but an actual steel sword that tore your sleeve, would've torn your throat if you hadn't pivoted at the last minute.

"You'd best watch where you're going pal," the assassin said, his smile barely creeping past the high collar of his black uniform. His face was almost entirely hidden, save for large eyes and a long, square nose that jutted from his face like the barrel of a gun. "These rooftops get dangerous at night."

"I could say the same to you," was your response. And you shot him. Not the most romantic introduction ever, you admit, but he walked out of it fine. The bullet seemed to bounce off his torso. Bulletproof vest, you thought at first. You didn't get to consider beyond that because he swung a second blade and did a pretty good job of keeping you on your toes.

From this rooftop, you could see the whole city. Water 7, a marvel of engineering, floated over an ocean that seemed to glitter with starlight instead of all the neon signs. You could look across every district, including all the Docks that produced everything from marvelous flights of fancy to dangerous war machines. Down on the streets, market stalls offered every delight imaginable. Paradise for a thief. But sometimes, you needed a challenge, and a target to stick your ire to. You figured which one might've sent an assassin after you.

"Let me guess," you said between breaths and shots. "You're a government goon, aren't ya'? Mad I stole those weapon blueprints from your headquarters last week?"

The assassin had the gall to laugh. "You sure hit the nail on the head! We put a lot of work into acquiring those, and then you go on and walk right out with them. Got the whole place buzzing worse than a hornet's nest." Then he moved faster than any natural human you've ever met, and next thing you knew, the tip of his sword pressed up into your chin. "If you tell me who you sold those blueprints to, I can make a case for sparing your life. For being so darn cooperative and all."

You couldn't help but look into his wide, dark eyes. There was an earnestness in them you'd never seen in anyone else who'd tried to kill you. You also noticed the inner workings, that those weren't human eyes but cybernetic lenses. Ah. That made more sense.

"I didn't sell them. I was hired to snag and burn, and you know what? If I'd known what they were for before I got hired, I would've done the job for free. Did you know what those blueprints were for, or are you the kind of lackey they keep in the dark?"

The cyborg didn't answer right away. His blade lowered ever so slightly.

"I did. That's why we had to secure the blueprints, to make sure no one else makes use of them."

"That's what the previous owners tried to do. Now those blueprints have changed hands twice this month. You really think that if I hadn't destroyed them, some power-hungry idiot wouldn't have eventually grabbed hold of them and actually built the damn thing?" A war machine that could sink all of Water 7 toppling into the sea with a single shot. Nations would bow before it. Not something you'd want in anyone's hands, much less the government.

"Shame to hear you had such good reasons," The assassin said, an honest goodbye. "But orders are orders."

"Indeed they are." And it was time for you to make your escape. You angled your gun up and fired. The assassin was human enough to flinch when a bullet fired at his head, even though you only hit his baseball cap. You ran and flung yourself off the rooftop, using a grappling hook to swing over to the next skyscraper before you could see his reaction.

A small part of you wondered what the assassin's name was. The rest of you, more practical, decided to put that train of thought to rest at the station. No matter how charming an assassin might be, there was no point in wondering about someone who'd tried to kill you.

Next time you two ran into each other, you shot at him again from the opposite end of a mansion hallway.

"You must really hate my hat, huh?" He put his hands up and tried that bright smile on you once more. "Easy there, pal. I'm not here for you."

"Though I'm sure if you offed me as collateral, you'd get a pretty bonus on your paycheck, huh?"

"Depends. What're you after here?"

You debated telling him. Didn't want your goals used against you, but you really didn't have time to chase off an assassin while finishing your job. "Wapol killed my client's adopted father years ago, and hung onto some of the man's personal items as a trophy. I'm stealing them back."

"What a coincidence! I'm here for Mr. Wapol's head. Or at the very least, to threaten him to fall back in line. Someone's been selling supplies to foreign armies, and we'd rather he stop." The assassin slowly walked toward you, hands still up, until the two of you were only a few feet apart. He lowered one hand, offering it to shake. "Tell you what. I'd rather not fight you tonight and risk another hat. So say I deal with Wapol, you get in and grab what you need, and we both pretend we never saw each other. Deal?"

You glared at the offered hand. For all you knew, he could have all manner of weapons built into it. "I don't even know your name. Though I'm sure you know mine, what with being hired to kill me earlier."

"I do." Your name rolled off his tongue in a way that made your traitorous little heart flip in your chest. "And my name's Kaku. That better?"

You wondered if his skin was plastic, or flesh and blood. "You could have a gun built into your palm, or something."

Those camera-lens eyes widen. "You could tell...?"

"I deal with a lot of cyborgs. Some of them don't even try to kill me."

"Aha. Well, you may not believe me, but I try to stay honest, so I mean it when I say I have only one firearm built into me."

You smirked and shook his hand. "If that's a pickup line, you really need practice."

You learned two things that night before parting ways. One, that his hands were warm and calloused, and you felt a steady heartbeat under his skin that no robot could replicate. Two, he was human enough to blush and sputter at your innuendo, giving you enough time to run off into the depths of the mansion.

Wapol's death hit the news the next day. You'd half-expected the crime would be pinned on a break-in, and eventually on you. But no, the death was clean. Made to resemble a suicide. Nothing reported as missing, even the handful of extras you'd taken while Wapol had been distracted. You found yourself pleasantly surprised. Really, the night would've been perfect, if you could get that bastard's blushing face out of your head.

Over the next few months, you two kept ending up at the same places with different goals. The first times were coincidences. The rest were casually coordinated, notes left tucked into the windowsill of your cruddy apartment or texts from what you assumed were burner phones. Coordinates or articles about unique treasures. You once responded back "sounds like a date" and he responded with a flustered emoticon like a teenager from the early 2000's.

Either way, you two made a pretty good team, and no one had to know if he cleared out the security in your way or if you showed him a sneaky shortcut through a building. You finally saw his built-in firearm too; turns out, there was a reason his nose was so long.

And whenever these "accidental" meetings involved staking out the locale first, you'd make small talk. He'd ask about your plans for whatever treasure laid in wait. You decided not to ask him about his murder plans, instead opting for hobbies and whatever an assassin might do outside of work. Found out he liked vehicles of all sorts, especially ships, and that's part of how he'd ended up assigned to Water 7. You once admitted that you were born in Water 7, lived in the slums your whole life.

"I've never even seen a live animal, other than the birds that sometimes fly overhead. Sad, isn't it?"

Kaku perked up at that. "You know there's a zoo here, right? Most of the animals are electronic, but a few are the real deal. You can even feed some!"

"Yeah, but zoos are so expensive. Gotta' pay big bucks for authenticity, you know."

The conversation had drifted off after that. But the next time you got a text, the coordinates and timestamps also included a photo of two tickets.

The practical part of your brain warned you that this could be a trap. Surely, a trained assassin could find plenty of ways to murder someone in the emptier corners of the zoo, and then toss the body into a carnivore's mouth to be disposed of. Yet as was more common of late, you ignored your practical side and snuck off to the zoo like you were off for another big score.

You're sure the two of you stuck out. Sure, he was in more casual clothing (that still concealed most of his body), but the reflexes of a trained killer didn't reflect well in real life. Neither did a thief's. You both jumped at the wrong sounds and gave security a wide berth. There were nerves to you two that didn't settle on the shoulders of the easygoing crowd.

"We should hold hands," you whispered. He gave you a questioning look. "To blend in, right? No one thinks twice if a happy couple acts odd. Love makes people do weird things."

"So...pretend we're weird and in love, hmm?" He interlaced his warm, human fingers with yours. "Should I call you darling, then?"

"If you're that old fashioned, sure." The two of you laughed as if you hadn't tried to kill each other only a few months before.

It was strange, seeing animals and being unsure which ones were full of blood and muscles instead of gears and electricity. For someone partially artificial himself, Kaku had a good eye for such things, and pointed each one out. There was a spark in the eyes of living, breathing animals and, an unpredictability to their actions that made them stand out no matter how lifelike their companions seemed.

"What about you?" you asked on a park bench. He'd treated the two of you to popsicles on that warm day, and you watched the giraffes as you talked. "Like, I know you've got a couple cybernetic enhancements, but this..." You shook his hand, still in your own. "This is real."

Kaku glanced around to make sure no one else was watching the two of you instead of the animals. He tore his fingers from yours and for the briefest moment tugged down the collar of his jacket. The letters CP-9 were emblazoned on the side of his neck with laser precision.

"Typical tragic orphan story. Family got into a terrible accident when I was a kid, parents passed, and I was broken up literally and figuratively. Government swooped in and rebuilt me, raised me with a bunch of other orphans to be secret agents. And here we are."

"So...your job is repayment because they saved you?"

"Pretty much. Rebuilding my face alone cost a pretty penny, to say nothing about the rest of me or the years of training. I'm saddled for life." He winked and added, "But I still squirrel away a little bit for myself. Like for this. Being around animals calms my nerves when things get too much. Especially the giraffes. Beauties, aren't they?"

You turned your attention back to the exhibit. They were strange and gangly things, that sort of weird that humans couldn't make up on their own. But they were kinda' cute, galloping around like that. (And if their dark eyes and long lashes reminded you of a certain someone sitting next to you, no one had to know.)

You pointed at one. "That one on the left's been licking the fence for like, fifteen minutes now. Robot?"

"Real. Stranger than fiction, I guess."

He ended up telling you about the giraffes, as if animal facts could bury the bits of backstory the two of you had revealed to each other. He accidentally got popsicle juice on his nose, and flushed the brightest red when you brushed it off. Sometime after that, you took his hand in yours again. You didn't want to part ways when you returned to the gate.

You didn't see him for another month after that.

Funny, how quickly another person could become a staple of your life, and how you came to miss those infrequent texts and adrenaline-fueled meetups. Every job you went on left you peering into shadows as if he'd emerge in his assassin blacks with a smile sharp as his swords. But Kaku was never there.

Despite yourself, you started seeking him out. Texted back every number he'd messaged you from, hoping one burner phone might still be active. Snuck into the zoo and lurked around the giraffe exhibit, hoping he'd show. You even broke into a couple government facilities without any goals beyond finding him. And you knew it was stupid, knew it was dangerous, you barely knew this man and every vulnerability he'd shown you could be part of an elaborate ruse to trap you...but you wanted to believe in him. That whatever had sprouted between you two was as real as your heartbeats syncing when you held hands.

You realized you'd hit paydirt when a new assassin came after you. Even if she hadn't tried to kick your head clean off your neck, you would've recognized her as one of Kaku's coworkers with her black uniform and the tattoo creeping out from under her jacket.

"Things must've gone sour if I've been reassigned," you said. Tried to keep it light as you had with Kaku, even as your mind spun with implications.

"This is entirely your fault, you know." Oh goody, this assassin had a spiked whip, and she got one end wrapped around your foot. "If you hadn't compromised my coworker, if you'd rolled over and died like you should've, we wouldn't be here."

Ah. You'd half-expected that. "Your bosses found out about the date." Your ruse had worked too well. But what else could it have been construed as? You'd even thought of it as a date yourself once he'd disappeared and you'd realized that more than any treasure, you wanted to go back there with him, wanted to go everywhere with him.

"They knew well before that. Did you really think they'd give him camera eyes without reviewing the footage?" The whip tightened around your ankle. "They let it slide for a time because you were useful, and they thought he could still capture you. And he did, but not in the way anyone wanted."

"Where is he?" You tried, and failed, to not sound desperate.

"It's already too late. They decided he was too human, and now he's being rebuilt. There isn't..." and here, she faltered. Out of fear for her coworker or of such a fate befalling herself, you're not sure. "There isn't anything left of the Kaku you knew. So please, don't go after him. And die while you're at it."

The fight with her was more brutal by far than any of the brawls you'd had with Kaku. She actually scored a few hits on you, and once you finally gave her the slip and made it to one of your hideaways, your ribs and legs ached something fierce. You patched yourself up, and you began to plan.

You'd never stolen a human before. You hoped there was still one left to steal.

Breaking into a secret government laboratory was easier than expected. You built a crew, called in every favor you could, reviewed blueprints until you swore the building's layout had been tattooed on the back of your eyelids. The night of the heist, another crew of saboteurs known for their bombastic fights distracted the security guards, making it seem like they were the true culprits out for revenge.

You alone went underground. In stolen laboratory gear, you entered the cybernetics facility. Your breath fled from your lungs, and it wasn't from the shock of sharp antiseptic clinging to the air.

In a glass pillar full of fluids and wires, Kaku floated. Even from a distance, he looked more plastic and metal, like someone had crafted a lifesize doll replica of him. The monitors showcased diagnostics on a metal skeleton and the integration of circuitry in organs. You touched the cold glass, but he didn't respond.

You got to work. Following instructions you'd reviewed every waking hour, you hacked into the system and initiated the extraction procedure. You already had a gurney for transport, and a prepped lie that you'd be transporting the body of a failed cybernetics integration to be disposed of. The fluids behind the glass slowly drained, wires disconnecting. You held your breath.

Then you crumpled as a bullet hit your side.

You hissed, feeling your side for blood even though you had armor under your disguise. And looked up to see a black uniform, an assassin pointing at you, bullet shaped like a sharp fingernail loading into place.

You gasped, "Don't do this. I'm trying to save him."

"Far as we're concerned, you're stealing classified government property. He's one of our most expensive assets. Second to me, of course." The assassin wore a predator's smile, and the heels of his shoes clicked ominously on the floor as he strode toward you. "It'd be so easy to end this here. It wouldn't be the first time I've made a mess of the lab."

"Yet here you are, chatterbox. I get the feeling you don't want to kill me."

"How bold. As it happens, I like to play with my prey. But so did Kaku, and he got so wrapped up in the chase that he forgot what to do when he caught you."

"Stop talking about him in past tense like he's dead."

The assassin shrugged. "Isn't he? Not in body, but in spirit. They tore out most of his brain and replaced it with machinery. The process wipes most of one's personality and emotion. There isn't a person in there anymore."

"Then I'll find him again and bring him back. That's what a good thief does." The glass opened up, and Kaku nearly fell out. You stepped forward to grab him. First contact jolted your body; you didn't feel a heartbeat anymore. And when you angled him onto the gurney, his body felt cold and smooth. You glared up at your unwelcome guest, who'd watched the event in silence. "Now, are you going to finish the job, or get out of the way?"

"Unlike a certain someone, I'm not in the business of keeping fools alive."

The assassin's fingers sharpened into claws as he closed the distance between you. He swiped at you with those claws, and you barely dodged the first one while pulling the gurney back with you. Whatever happened, you couldn't let Kaku get hurt in this state. But to your surprise, when the next claw swung, you heard a gunshot that you didn't fire. And whoever fired it knew where this cyborg assassin was still flesh; he fell to his knees, surprised at his own blood.

Smoke rose from the gun built into Kaku's nose as he sat up. Camera eyes opened and refocused with faint clicking noises. For a long, quiet moment, he scanned the room. But then they settled on you.

"Darling."

Your heart flipped in your chest again. "You remember me?"

"Of course. They did their best to wipe everything else, but I couldn't let them take you." He paused, unused to his new body, and the resulting smile looked more like a grimace. But he still said, "I love you."

"I love you too. And I'm going to get you out of here." You grabbed Kaku around the shoulders with one arm and grabbed your gun with another, now that you knew where to shoot your foe. You said to the other assassin, "Well? You were wrong about him."

"Was I?" The assassin lurched back to his feet, one hand over the bullet wound just above his clavicle. "Kaku, how much did you give up in order to keep the memory of one thief you failed to kill?" No answer. "Do you even remember who I am?"

"I made my choice," was all Kaku said. "Now let us go."

The assassin turned away before you could see if there was any hurt had broken across his cold face. "Killing you like this won't be any fun. Once you can be a challenge to me again, I'll come back for you. But for now? See if you can run." His heels clicked against the floor as he walked away. "I'll clear your path out of the facility. You're on your own after that."

Time stretched long as the other assassin left the room. You held tight to Kaku. When you held his hand, it was so smooth that he didn't even have fingerprints anymore. But he still intertwined his fingers in yours and squeezed.

"I'm still me," he whispered. "Even if I don't have a real heart or anything else left."

You forced yourself to shrug and smile. "Just means you're a little closer to some of the giraffes at the zoo." That earned you a quizzical look. "Uhmm...you know, because some of them were robots too?" Still blank. "...Did you even forget about giraffes so you could remember me?"

"Suppose I must have."

You resolved to take him back to the zoo once he'd recovered, bring him back a little of that wonder he'd showed you. But first, time for your masterful escape.

The following weeks were long and painful.

Soon as you broke out and got to one of your safehouses, you called in two last favors. One from Franky, cyborg engineer who'd hired you to retrieve and destroy the blueprints for that war machine that started this whole debacle. The other from Doctor Chopper, who'd been so grateful to have his mentor's things returned. The two of them came in and worked on your assassin-turned-lover tirelessly, fixing up what little flesh remained and making sure all the cybernetics were in-check. There was plenty of work to do, as you'd stolen Kaku before his procedures had been complete, and rewiring muscles and nerves turned out to be a long, painful process.

And while you'd rescued Kaku before they could completely erase his humanity, there were still gaping holes in his knowledge, and his smile didn't reach his eyes nearly as often. There was much you had to fill him in on. You spent many nights just talking to distract him from his painful recovery. You held his hand and tried to pretend he still had a heartbeat.

But now? Now you're back at your dingy old apartment, limbs entangled on the couch, staring out the window at the skyscrapers above.

"I think that one will be my next target," you say, pointing up at a gilded skyscraper that seems to pierce the clouds. "Heard the owner there hoards gold. Actual gold! Can you believe it? We'd be rich."

"Sounds like a challenge, though." Kaku's free hand twirls a dull blade between fingers, trying to familiarize himself with his new body. He's admitted a couple times to phantom limb syndrome, like his flesh and blood is just beyond reach. "Sure you'll be able to handle it, darling?"

"It'll be no problem for the Greatest Thief in Water 7. Stealing a bunch of gold will be a cakewalk, seeing as I already grabbed the greatest treasure this city had." You get a quizzical stare in response. "That'd be you, partner."

"Partner," Kaku echoes. This smile lights up his whole face. "I like the sound of that. So, what's the first step in your plan?"

You hum in thought and look deep into his eyes.

"I do believe our first step should be a visit to the zoo. We've got a lot to catch up on, after all."

#seas brew a love potion challenge #opfanfic #kaku x reader #one piece kaku #cyberpunk au #enemies to lovers #bedlam writes #cp9

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achliegh · 4 years ago

Text

Golden

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 3:

Swim

What Hurts The Most

I Want Crazy

A month passed, Logan was alone. Finn hasn’t spoken to him since they left New Orleans, He texted an apology to Leo but it says it wasn’t even read, he has been avoiding certain people on the team because he knows they would interrogate him. The only thing that gave him any sort of relief from this crippling loneliness, he would watch the videos from the bonfire of Leo and Finn over and over and OVER! It had gotten to the point where that was the only way he could sleep.

He could only fall asleep to Finn’s laugh and Leo’s terrible yet sweet singing.

Adele had been paying attention to Logan, at first she would get annoyed and tell Logan to put on headphones or ask him to go to his room to watch them because he was falling asleep on the couch with his phone loudly playing the same.. Tiktok maybe? Adele didn’t know but she did get annoyed.

She stopped being annoyed when she found out what the videos actually were. One night she was downstairs watching her own show on the kids tv because her parents were catching up on the news upstairs. She didn’t want to turn the tv up too loud because the rest of the kids were asleep and she didn’t want to wake them. She could hear the music coming from Logan's room and she was not in the mood to listen to the same thing over and over again.

She walks over to his door and goes to knock but the door was open, she didn’t want to intrude but she was curious, so she poked her head in. She smiles a little, Logan is curled up on top of his covers, in sweats and a really big Saints t-shirt that she has never seen before. He was lying on his side, looking like he fell asleep while watching those videos again.

She walks over as quietly as she can to click the phone off and she sees the video. It’s one where Logan is being spun around while being held by a tall blonde guy. Logan was glowing. He was so happy. Adele continued to watch, Logan was set down by the man and he wrapped his arms around Logan's neck and bounced to the beat. It was really cute… but there was another video that she heard more often, now that she was here she might as well snoop. She swiped to the left and the familiar sound of that man's sloppy singing punctured her ears. There was someone else in this video… Finn.

Adele always noticed the tension around Logan and Finn, pretty much everyone did, but this just confirmed in her mind that they were, something together. Finn was sitting on the tailgate of a truck and the man from earlier was singing a song about loving country boys. Which made her cringe. But Finn hugged the man's face to his own and they were cheek to cheek as they looked at the camera and the man sang to it. Finn also looks happier than she has ever seen.

Adele Leaves the room with the videos playing, obviously Logan needs them. She went to bed that night putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Logan was known for pushing people away, would he do that to her if she asks about the man?

The next morning Logan came upstairs for breakfast in a different shirt but the same pants, she took mental note of that. Logan was always the last one at the kitchen table in the morning because he's a slow eater, so she waited until everyone else was gone to ask.

“What are those videos you always watch?” She starts innocent, watching all those crime shows has trained her for this. Logan froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. The milk drips back into the bowl. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow, snapping Logan out of his mini panic.

“They are just… friends.” Logan looks like he doesn't even believe himself and Adele stays quiet as if waiting for him to continue. “Just people I miss.”

“Why don’t you talk to them?” Logan sets the spoon in the bowl and signs running his hands through his sleep hair. He looks to make sure Celeste and Dumo don’t see him resting his elbows on the table, resting his face in his hands.

“It’s not that simple Adele. I messed up.”

“Did you say sorry?”

“To one, but they didn’t even read it…”

“The other?” Silence fell between them, she sipped her fruit juice as she waited for Logan to answer.

“They are avoiding me… I see them everyday but it feels like I’m a ghost.” He looks up to an unimpressed preteen and sighs, he shouldn’t be venting to her. It does give him the motivation to want to talk to Finn though. They sit in silence for a few moments longer, a small thanks and Adele going to wash their dishes as Logan goes to shower.

Finn wasn’t expecting a knock on the door, he was just cleaning the apartment with music out of the Bluetooth speaker. Luckily, the knock came when he had paused the music to change the song. Before starting the music again he opens the door, a fluttery feeling in his stomach makes him have a sour taste in his mouth.

Logan.

Logan just being beautiful, his eyes were that sweet pea green that melts Finn's heart, his hair was damp but soft from a shower. He looks up at him and he looks scared, and small. Not something Finn is used to. Instead of letting Logan in right away like he normally would, Finn leans against the door frame, arms crossing over his bare chest. Not saying anything.

Logan about lost his nerve to be here, Finn had that stupid black headband on keeping his hair out of his face. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his creamy skin scattered in freckles at Logan itched to touch. His shorts hung low on his hips and he tried not to stare. Keeping his eyes glued to the copper ones staring him down. He swallows his nerves.

“Can we talk?” His voice was small, slightly shaky, Finn knew he couldn’t resist. Moving to gesture into the apartment. Logan walks in, taking his shoes off and leaving them by the door. He stands around awkwardly while Finn sits on the couch. “Finn, I'm sorry! I-I don’t know why I said those things to-... to him.”

“You can’t even say his name Logan.” Finn spoke calmly but it wasn’t because he felt that way, it was because he was tired of this. Tired of fighting. “I would believe you if you could say his name and not have his look of guilt in your eyes that you couldn’t give him! Leo didn’t deserve that! Even if you didn’t want to be with him, you ruined it for BOTH of us! I would have liked to stay with him, I would have liked to have a relationship with him but I’m- I’m so stuck on you! I’m stuck on you so I can’t go against you, I can’t leave you behind because it will kill me!” He lost his calm and stood up walking into the kitchen to his phone. “I don’t even want to have this conversation because I know you don’t feel how I feel… and I don't blame you for not feeling what I do but can’t you let me go.” Logan followed him into the kitchen and stands there shocked at what Finn had said.

“Stuck on me… You don’t think I'm stuck on you? Finn! I am just as stuck on you! Why do you think I always come back to YOU!” ( Swim) Finn rolls his eyes and picks a song before walking off back towards the living room. Logan grabs him and traps him against the wall, a hand on either side of his torso, his forehead to his bare chest.

Cool hair against warm skin.

“Please just listen to me!” Logan looks Finn in the eyes as the green becomes clouded with tears that he refused to let fall, angry with himself he finally lets everything out. “I feel terrible, I texted Leo and got no reply. I've been giving you space, even when I wanted you, when I wanted to touch you, when I wanted you to hold me. I wanted… Leo too. I’ve been watching the videos from the bonfire to sleep, I’ve been sleeping in the shirt from Leo that I found in my bag… it smells like him. God I fucking miss you so much. You’re right in front of me but… Something keeps stopping me. It's like a barrier that I can't break through unless I’m with you. Why do you let me come back to you…”

Finn feels himself being pulled into Logan's gravity, cupping his cheek he feels Logan’s hands move to his waist and grip like if he lets go Finn will disappear.

“I love you! That's why…” Right before their lips touch a smile forms on the other.

“I love you too.” Their lips crash together, Logan pulls Finn’s body so close to his own that there is no space for Jesus. The kisses are passionate, Finn’s hands wind into Logan’s hairs gripping tightly not letting him pull away until they can’t breath. Finn bites Logan’s bottom lip, suddenly Finn’s anger comes flooding back, everything shitty Logan had ever said to him, and what he said to Leo repeated in his mind. Grabbing Logan's wrists he flips them on the wall, pinning Logan's hands beside his head, and shoving his thigh between Logan's and pressing into him, drawing a surprised whine from the shorter man who is flexing his hands.

Aggressively kissing, nipping and sucking on Logan's lips and neck made him an absolute mess, eventually Finn pulls away and shoves Logan toward his bedroom. Logan walks backwards still facing Finn as he takes off his shirt and drops his gym shorts. His legs hit the bed and he falls backwards onto the soft duvet. Finn reaches him for him and tugs his underwear off of Logan, reaching for the lube on the bedside table. He leans down and nips at Logan’s jaw.

“Hands and knees.” Logan moves quickly after Finn moves away to take his own shorts off but forgetting about his headband, putting some lube on his fingers Finn moves behind Logan and reaches down to begin to prep him, but feels him already stretched. Finn gives Logan a confused look for a second when he catches Logan looking back. A shy smirk forms on his face.

“Shower, I was hopeful.” Finn lets out a breath and uses the lube on his hand to slick himself up and slide into Logan in one solid thrust. Pushing Logan’s back so his chest was to the bed, moving his hand to his wildly curling hair and pushing Logan’s face into the bed as he starts thrusting into Logan, hard but shallow just barely grazing Logan’s sweet spot.

Logan was always quiet loud when they fucked but he got much louder when he was being manhandled and praised. Finn was whispering sweet praises that contradicted his aggressive thrusts.

Lo felt like he was going insane, he felt his insides start to coil as he was getting pounded into the mattress. Gripping the sheets he feels Finn shift and start drilling into his sweet spot and Logan can’t help but scream in pleasure, tears pricking his eyes, the hand gripping his hair tightens and pushes his face further into the mattress. Minutes later Logan breaks harder than he has for a long time, Finn following not long after.

Finn holds Logan close as he pulls out, laying on their sides he feels Logan squirming, pushing his ass back into Finn. He smiles and kisses the top of his head, running a soothing hand up and down his side as his other hand is on Logan’s pounding heart. Logan’s hands gripping his.

“Closer.” His voice is raspy and small but Finn doesn’t hesitate to completely wrap his arms around Logan and hold him tightly, helping his brain come back online. They Lay like that for a while, Finn was busy thinking about getting them cleaned up and maybe even asking a very important question. He barely caught Logan’s soft tired voice.

“I love you” Logan wiggles in Finn’s arms to face him and kisses his nose. Logan looked sweet with the red side of his face on full display and the dried tear streaks and puffy lips just made Finn’s heart skip a beat. Logan's smile suddenly fades away and he cups Finn’s neck. “Can we… be together like a couple?”

“I was going to ask you.” The smile that grows on his face makes his cheeks hurt. He starts peppering his BOYFRIENDS face in kisses and revealing in his sleepy laugh that is rarely heard.

He was on top of the world.

Leo’s back was resting against the large Weeping Willow that provides shade over the pond behind the barn. He’s been spending a lot of time here. It is one of the only places Leo can talk to his dad, because the tree is him. He always got this feeling that on the other side of the trunk sat Wyatt, listening to Leo’s problems and giving advice. Really it was just Leo but… he can hope right. Ever since the boys left he has come to sit out here and think about everything he did wrong to cause them to leave like that.

He rested his head back on the trunk as the music from his headphones made him feel worse, What Hurts The Most by Rascal Flatts was just not the happiest. It really hit too close to home, but that's how his life seems to be going right now. Clayton and Ashley had broken up after she got him arrested when SHE threw a lamp at his head. Clay now sports a scar from the center of his forehead across his left eye to the top of his cheek.

Speaking of the idiot, Clay sits down next to him and rests his head on Leo’s shoulder.

“How's the face? Still ugly?” Leo smiles a little when Clay smacks his stomach.

“Itchy, the stitches being taken out are nice but now I look like a pirate.” He sits up. “Have you found your phone yet?” Clay knows Leo’s phone is still on the floor of his truck but Leo claims he can’t find it because he doesn’t want to be reminded of the boys. Clayton was actually stealing Finn’s number from the phone so that he can give him a call and give him a piece of his mind.

“Nope! And I refuse to look for it… Why do I miss them so much? I knew them for a week and it's been months since they left! I feel pathetic.” Leo sighs annoyed and unplugged his earphones from his iPod and shoves them in his pocket. “I feel stupid, they are in my head all the time and I don’t even know their middle names, or favorite colors, or favorite foods. I know nothing about them but I want to…” he pulls some grass out of the ground and is glaring down at his lap.

“Do you want to see them again? Like go to a game?” Clay has mentioned this a couple of times and Leo never gives a solid answer, but this time he did.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

A few weeks later they were stepping off the plane in Gryffindor, they had a couple of hours before the game and decided to take their bags to the air bnb. They only had back packs because they were staying for two days before going back home. Might as well make a whole trip out of this.

When they got there, there were a couple of boxes on the table as requested, anything can be done with money. Clayton got to opening the boxes, pulling out two jerseys, two pairs of sweatpants, two hats, two pairs of socks and two pairs of bright white new Adidas shoes. Leo’s clothes were bigger than Clays so it was easy to separate them. They brought their own plain sweatshirts, Leo’s is Black and Claytons is white.

They googled what people wear to hockey games and that's what they got.

Leo was getting nervous, he brushed his teeth twice after a shot of vodka, he started pacing until Clay made him stop and take a nap before they left. Once they were in the arena and found their spots behind the Lions goalie a couple rows up. Leo had his hat on forwards worried that someone would recognize him he had his glasses on as well. They were thin wired and square but he hoped it was enough.

He felt like superman.

The team came out for warm up and Leo couldn’t take his eyes off Logan, skating with a brutal beauty that took his breath away, practicing hitting the puck around. Leo knows no hockey terms so this will be interesting. Suddenly a blur skated next to Logan and skated around him as they talked. Finn, lean and gorgeous.

Leo was fucked.

“I need a drink.”

“Nope! No alcohol you have to process these feelings you dumbass.” Clayton was watching someone skate around with a look that Leo knows. He wanted someone.

“Who is it?” Looking down to the rink Leo tries to follow Claytons eyes and find out who he wants. “43?! You mean the jersey you got!” Leo can’t help but crack up at Clay's red cheeks, already feeling more relaxed now that he wasn’t the only one with his eyes on someone.

The game started and they were… lost. They couldn’t keep up with the puck and they didn’t understand the shift changes. The goalie was on FIRE though! He was so good, and Finn was so fucking fast. Logan scored two goals in the first half and Leo couldn’t help but stand with the crowd and cheer.

“You know, you could probably put a dildo on the ice and it would move the same as the disc, wait it's called a puck! The puck.” Leo smiles as Clay and a couple people around them laughed. A few other jokes were cracked before something stops the game.

A fight? They are allowed to fight!? Maybe Leo should watch hockey.

It was Logan in a fight, Leo watched completely entranced. Logan was pure anger and passion, he threw his gloves off and punched a man with long almost white hair. Leo took a drink of water to get the cotton out of his mouth. Logan gets punched back right in the face, but he jumps on the man and hits him again before Finn and number 12 pull him off. Logan's eyes were bright with adrenaline, but Leo only knew that… because Logan spotted him, when Logan blinked Leo sat back down hoping the crowd standing would hide him. His face was bright red and he forgot how to breathe for a moment.

43 was on the ice so Clayton wasn’t paying attention to him, Leo didn’t know if he could handle getting made fun of right now. His heart was beating out of his chest.

He had to talk to them.

After the game, they won by the way, Clayton and Leo were walking out of the rink to the hall when someone grabbed their arms. Looking at the hands on their arms they looked at who they were attached to.

James Potter.

“Nope, this way.” He drags them towards the locker room doors. “Wait here.” He spoke in that way dads do that just to make you listen so Clay and Leo stayed there. The team that lost started walking by and someone grabbed Leo’s ass and spit a racist word at Clayton, confusing the hell out of both of them. Leo noticed the hair and the bandage on his nose and knew that was the guy Logan beat up. He was gone before they could retaliate.

“Okay, I get that you have a temper but if getting into a fight every game necessary! The bruise on your cheek just healed Logan!” Finn was complaining as he examined Logan's face by cupping his chin and moving his head around. The entire team felt the shift when Finn and Logan officially became an item but something was still missing. Especially when country music came on, they would pine and gush about Leo and it drove everyone crazy. Logan was just letting Finn look at him while his own face had the sappiest look on it.

James came back in the room and ushered everyone into the showers because he had a victory surprise. They hoped it wasn’t clowns this time after Kuny almost punched one. Everyone did as they were told and went to shower.

Once they got the signal, Clayton and Leo came into the locker room. Leo was forcefully sat down in a stall with the number 10 on it and Clayton was left to watch by the door. He was getting nervous.

Finn and Logan were hand in hand when they turned the corner twenty minutes later. Finn stopped in his tracks when he saw Leo, in a jersey with a black hoodie on under it, black sweats, red socks, black backwards hat, and not cowboy boots. Logan runs into his back and sighs, looking around Finn to see what stopped him. He drops Finn’s hand and starts walking towards Leo.

“Leo?!” The blonde stands and Logan launches himself into his arms and Leo catches him with no problem. He pulls away a little and cups his face. “Is this real? Are you real?” He pats Leo’s face a bunch and makes Leo laugh.

“Yes, I’m real.” He smiles and sets Logan down, turning towards Finn who still hasn’t moved. He nervously opens his arms to Finn and that gets him to move. Finn walks forward into Leo’s arms and wraps his arms around his waist tightly. Leo hugs him just as tight, pulling away a little and catching Finn’s lips with his own. It was sweet and relaxed.

Once they pull away Logan grabs his face and gives him a kiss as well that was fiery and needy, very Logan. They pull away and smile sickly sweet at each other, hearing a cheer around the locker room they notice everyone else has entered and is whooping for them.

“Nice jersey” Sirius pats Leo on the back and laughs.

That's when Finn and Logan realize Leo is wearing Sirius’ jersey.

“LEO! What the hell!”

“You expect me to choose! This one was the most popular so I got it.” He crosses his arms like a stubborn child and looks around for Clayton to see him trying to flirt with 43 but he's so oblivious that he doesn’t notice. He smiles and looks back at h-the boys. The boys, yeah. “Clay and I are going to wait outside for y’all. Okay?” He gives them each a short hot kiss and starts to walk away from Clay to the door.

Finn and Logan are still standing there in a daze after he leaves, then the fact that they can take him to Finn’s and do as they please! They share a look and then rush to get dressed as a few of the guys laugh at them.

“Huh, he doesn’t look as hick as I thought he would.” Dumo casually spoke as he pulled his sweats on.

“That was your Leo! No wonder you guys have been stuck on him! Fucking makes me question my own sexuality!” Kasey butted in.

Talker was suspiciously quiet.

They were suddenly at a bar. Clayton was chatting with a couple of girls and their boyfriends just being friendly, every once in a while he would send an annoyed glance to Logan. Who had glued himself to Leo, Finn wasn’t any better. Leo was in the middle of ordering a drink when the Bartender slipped her number under his drink and winked before tossing her hair and walking away.

“Are we not obvious enough?” Finn looks at Logan as Leo laughs while taking a drink. “Maybe we should make it reeeaaallly obvious that you’re taken. Hmm?” Finn slips his hand under Leo’s sweatshirt on his back and feels Logan’s hand there too. Glad they were on the same page.

Leo said goodbye to Clayton, promising that if anything went wrong that he would call. Clay made him promise to carry his phone around during this trip. Clayton gave one last dirty look to Logan and nodded Leo off. Leo skipped back over smiling wide. They get a taxi to Finn's. Leo is in the taxi first sitting normal, smiling at the taxi driver. Finn and Logan topple in, Finn’s head lands in Leo’s lap and Logan is on top of him and leans back to slam the door closed. Laughing a little Logan feels his stomach do a hot twist as he sees the other two making out, he bites his lip after telling the taxi driver the address.

He scoots up Finn’s body and leans to suck a bruise onto Leo’s neck, pulling a groan from the blonde, causing the other two to smirk. Leo pulls away from Finn, Logan swoops in and kisses Finn while Leo catches his breath. They pull up to the apartment and stumble into the elevator. Leo presses Logan into the wall and kisses him, shoving his tongue in his mouth. Logan grips his sweatshirt, feeling Finn press against Leo’s back sandwiching him between them. Finn starts to add a couple of love bites of his own to Leo.

The elevator opens and there is a woman in the door, Leo pulls away and laughs at the face she makes, the other two laugh as well, dragging Leo out towards the apartment door. Once inside they take a moment to arrange the furniture into how Leo wants. Aka turning the living room into a bed.

“Okay what's the plan for tonight!” Logan is sitting on the sofa, Finn and Leo are on the ground facing him. All butt-ass naked.

“I have an idea!” Leo smiles and gets on his knees between Logan's legs. “How about I suck you off and Finn fucks me?” The innocent smile that Leo flashes Logan should be illegal.

“As if I’m gonna say no to that.” Logan looks back at Finn over Leo and sees him mapping out all of Leo’s ink. Finn’s got a thing for ink. “Finn definitely won’t either.”

Finn preps Leo as he rests his head on Logan's thigh, until he's ready.

“Logan, Finn, there is kinda something I really really want you to do… Finn,” He turns around to look at him. “I want you to causally scratch me, bruise my hips with how hard you hold me… you know, be rough.” Turning back to Logan and wrapping his arms under his thighs, placing them over his shoulders, and gripping his hips. “I want you to push my head down, and don’t be afraid to pull my hair.” he winks at Lo and doesn’t even pause to take him fully down his throat.

“Fuck!” Logan grips his hair tightly and arches his back, toes curling as Leo begins to suck. Finn swallows and grips Leo’s hips as he slides in nice and easy. Logan see’s Leo’s eyebrows furrow and loosens his grip on his hair. Leo grabs his hand and puts it on the back of his head, adding pressure. Logan gets the idea and pushes him down, Leo’s moans around Logan as Finn starts to move at a steady pace. Leo keeps pleasuring Logan and moves one of his hands to grab Finn’s hip to pull him in harder.

Finn grips his hips harder and starts to go to town, pounding into Leo hard and deep, Logan was getting close to finishing and Finn could tell just by looking at him. His eyes were glassy, the grip on Leo’s hair was unforgiving, his face and chest were flushed red, every once in a while his eyes would roll back in his head and lose his voice. Moaning loud enough they will probably Finn will probably get another noise complaint from his neighbor who hates him.

Leo was feeling great, the pain was sending shocks of pleasure down his spine, the fact that Logan gets so close and then he stops sucking to bring him back from the edge. Finn has fingerprinted himself to Leo’s waist and Leo is so so close.

Suddenly Logan breaks, Leo smiles and swallows, having Logan ride out his orgasm. Leo keeps going. Finn hits Leo’s prostate dead on and both their orgasms take them by surprise. Finn pulls out and Leo pulls away wiping his mouth on his arm. After a clean up and a new blanket. They all lay together with stupid smiles on their face. Leo fell asleep being pressed between… the boys. Logan in front of him. Finn behind him. Absolutely covered in hickey's, so everyone knew Leo was taken.

The next morning was bright. Logan woke first, which was weird because Leo is almost always up before them. He’s not complaining. The sun is shining just perfectly from the large windows in the living room. The light was hitting Leo’s back making him glow. A large tattoo on his back caught Logan's attention. Logan climbed on Leo and sat on his back straddling him. He started tracing the lines. It was large, the only large one Logan could see right now. In the center of his back was a small shield with wings coming out of it, Logan had never seen that before, it was surrounded by flowers. Some he recognized, the marigolds he knew because his Maman told him they were spirit guides, he also recognized the honey suckle from when Leo took them out to the lake.

Leo was covered in tattoos like a sketchbook. Lots of weird quotes and little animals. There was a sloth in a teacup above his elbow. A couple of frogs with mushrooms around them on his biceps. The words “Cowgirls don’t cry” on his forearm. Logan climbed off Leo and glancing down at his body he noticed some interesting ones.

On his left upper booty cheek there was a micro tattoo of a croc… like the shoe, on his right upper booty cheek there was another croc… but the animal. Blinking a couple times he looks a little lower and notices a skeleton hand that looks like it five-starred Leo's ass and he can’t help but burst out laughing. Waking the other two up he was still laughing.

“What?” Leo blinks sleepily at him and drags him over by his waist to snuggle him. Finn yawns and stretches, sniffling sitting up.

“Why are we laughing? Is Leo funny or something?” Finn drapes himself over Leo’s side and smiles at Logan.

“He has the best tattoos. The skeleton hand is what got me.” Logan smiles and kisses Leo's forehead and then Finn’s. “What is the one on your back?” Leo hums in acknowledgement.

“It’s the airforce pilot wings for my dad and then a bunch of my mom's favorite flowers. Marigolds, which is the nickname she calls me, honeysuckle, bluebells, golden trumpet flowers and daffodils. It’s her favorite tattoo of mine besides my bologna one.” He smiles at them, and his stomach makes sure they know it exists by grumbling. “Alright, let's make some breakfast!” He stands up and grabs his sweatpants tugging them on and makes his way to the kitchen. “Wow, either you really like to clean or you don’t cook.”

“I don’t cook, I have no idea how too.” Finn and Logan follow him into the kitchen in their boxers.

“If you don’t cook then who buys all the ingredients?”

“My mom made me.” Leo narrows his eyes at the bag of flour before he realizes he doesn't have his glasses on. Annoyed, he goes and grabs them from the coffee table and begins making pancakes. He asks Finn to turn on some music and I Want Crazy by Hunter Hayes comes on. It’s a cringey song but fits them perfectly.

“Will you cook some bacon?” Logan is rummaging around in the fridge and just happens to find some turkey bacon, checking the date he sees it's still good.

“Nope!” Leo flips a pancake while humming and looks at the other two.

“Why not?” Finn pouts a little.

“Because I’m vegetarian and I don’t want to.”

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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scoopsahoy · 5 years ago

Text

behind closed doors — steve harrington x reader

❋ request ⋰ anonymous asked —

hi! so i hope you don't mind but i'm lazy haha so i was wondering if you've written anything where reader and steve are trying to resist the urge to have sex but give in anyway and have rlly passionate and heated sex

ぺ word count ⋰ 2.2k

✰ tw ⋰ none :)

❍ cw ⋰ swearing, sex + fingering, multiple orgasms, top!reader

៚ a/n ⋰ my first fic on this blog! make sure you check out my old masterlist for more stuff :)

✐ masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

You walked up the stairs of your house, Steve close behind. You’d both just gotten off work at FamilyVideo, and his parents were out of town, so you invited him to stay over for a couple of nights.

Even though they weren’t there, your parents were fine with it, as you and Steve had known each other from working together at Scoops Ahoy. You’d been working together for over a year, but you’d never stayed at each other’s houses alone. Usually, you were joined by Robin or Dustin and the rest of the party.

Admittedly, you were nervous. You two had obvious chemistry, which aforementioned Robin and the kids made fun of you for constantly. And when you guys worked alone or he would drive you home, you never talked about it. It was an elephant in the room, for sure, but it never came up.

But tonight, you and Steve would be sleeping in your bed alone. No distractions, nobody else to keep your mind off of it, nothing. Just you and the boy you had sexual tension with.

It didn’t really sink in until Steve closed the door.

Out of habit, you walked over to your record player, putting on The Police’s album Synchronicity. You turned down the volume and turned to see Steve kicking off his shoes.

“I’m gonna go change,” you said, grabbing some clothes from a pile on your desk. “You can change in here if you want.”

“Okay.”

You walked to the bathroom and shut the door, changing into a tank top and a pair of shorts. You took your bra off and pulled your hair down, running your fingers through it to make it presentable.

When you came back to your room, Steve was pulling on a t-shirt. His back looked so smooth and soft, and he had moles and freckles that combined to make his skin look like a galaxy of brown stars.

You cleared your throat and looked at the floor as you walked to your laundry basket and tossing your uniform into it.

“Thanks for letting me stay here,” he said as his voice got closer to you.

“Oh, yeah. It’s no problem.” You looked over your shoulder to see him slowly stepping toward you.

When he was less than a foot away, a shiver ran through your body. He chuckled.

“You good?”

You turned to look at him.

“Yeah. Just uh... cold.”

“Oh, here.” He reached over and gripped your hands. “Wow. You weren’t kidding.”

You let out an awkward chuckle as he squeezed your hands gently. He looked at you and you pulled your hands away, slowly walking past him and to your dresser to take off your jewelry.

You could feel the tension shoot up as he looked at you again.

“How’s Dustin?” you asked.

“He’s good. He’s been talking to Suzie a lot.”

“He really likes her, huh?”

“Mm-hm.”

He walked over to you again, stepping in front of you. You looked up at him and raised your eyebrows.

“We should talk about the elephant in the room,” he said.

“Okay.”

“I know the kids like to tease us and everything.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

You walked away from him again, stepping to the other side of the room. “Is it maybe because they’re right?”

“Right about what?”

“That we like each other.”

You smirked. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve only been in one relationship before.”

He stepped over to you, getting within a couple of inches. You took a deep breath and bit your lip as he softly cupped your face.

“Do you like me?”

Without giving you a chance to answer, he leaned down and kissed you. You kissed back, having wanted to kiss him forever. You placed your hand on his wrist, the other hand going to his waist.

When the kiss broke, you smiled. “So much it hurts.” You pulled away and walked back over to your record player, changing the vinyl to All Out Of Love by Air Supply. “I got a new one yesterday.”

You put down the needle and started bobbing your head. You felt his hand pull your hair off your shoulder, and his lips connected to your neck. You threw your head back a bit, closing your eyes and letting out a deep breath.

You spun around and connected your foreheads, breathing in sync with him. “We should watch a movie tonight,” you said.

“I’ve probably seen all of the ones you’d suggest,” he whispered.

“I got some new ones.”

“Probably seen them.”

You chuckled. “Okay.” You kissed him again and he lifted you onto your desk. You wrapped your legs around his thighs, your arms on his shoulders. You felt his hands slip under your shirt, gripping your ribs.

“We could go for a swim,” he said between kisses.

“My pool’s filthy. We could play a game. Monopoly?”

“I’d beat you at Monopoly.” You both chuckled. You pulled him in for another kiss, running your hands down his back.

“Monopoly’s not my favorite game anyway,” you said as he moved his lips back to your neck. After a few seconds, he pulled away.

You looked at him, seeing how puffy his lips were.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“How I’m glad I took the job at Scoops Ahoy because I never would’ve met you if I didn’t. And how I don’t wanna screw this up.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Yeah. I mean... You’re right.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”

You pushed yourself back onto your feet and slid out from between him and the desk, walking to the foot of your bed.

“I mean, we haven’t even gone on a date yet. Maybe we should just take things slow. We shouldn’t rush things. That’s how you ruin friendships.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay. Take things slow. We can go on a date. We don’t have to rush this.”

“Exactly.”

“I mean, we don’t wanna do what every kid our age does and jumps into it, right?”

You nodded. “Right. I mean, we should be setting an example.”

“Yeah.”

“And trying to prove our parents wrong about all us wanting to do is have sex.”

“Exactly.”

“I mean, how much better is this? Being responsible and mature. Controlling ourselves and being adults.”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Then we agree.”

“We agree.”

“Good.”

You stood there staring at each other for a moment.

“Fuck it,” you said after a moment, walking over and kissing him passionately. He picked you up and tossed you onto your bed, quickly getting on top of you. You felt him grind into you, making you softly moan.

You reached down and pulled his shirt off, tossing it on the floor. He reached down and pulled your shorts off, and they landed on his shirt. In less than a minute, you were both completely stripped.

He pulled away a second later, looking you in the eye.

“What?” you asked.

“Do you want this?”

You smiled. The idea of him stopping mid makeout session to ask you if you wanted to have sex made you happy. It was so obvious that yes, you wanted it, but he didn’t care. He needed to know that you were one-hundred percent okay with this.

“Yes. I want this.”

He returned the smile. “Do you have condoms?”

“In the nightstand.”

When he had the condom on, he kissed you again, his right hand traveling down to grip your thigh.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I’m ready.”

He connected your lips as he slipped into you, making you moan into his mouth. You gripped his shoulders tightly, throwing your head back. He continued thrusting, picking up speed almost instantly.

Your toes curled tightly, your nails digging into his skin.

“Shit,” you whispered. He was bigger than your ex-boyfriend, who was the only person you’d ever had sex with. That was so long ago, that Steve being inside of you was almost a foreign feeling.

Steve continued to kiss you. He made it a point to make it feel good for you too and to let you know he wasn’t just in this for the sex. He wanted you to know he liked you, not just your body.

His hands were exploring your body, landing on your chest. As he pounded into you, he squeezed your breasts, causing you to let out a loud moan when his thumb grazed your nipple.

His lips attacked your face and neck, leaving red bruises everywhere they touched. When his stomach brushed against your clit, you cried out louder than you intended. His hand shot up to your mouth, looking you in the eye.

“Don’t get your parents to walk in.”

“They’re not here,” you said into his palm.

He smiled as he took his hand away from his mouth.

“Then make as much noise as possible.”

You nodded as he picked the pace back up. You threw your head back and felt his lips on your neck again.

“Holy shit, Steve,” you moaned almost pornographically. You heard the headboard of your bed hitting the wall, probably leaving marks in the paint.

You swiftly flipped him over, placing your hands on his chest for stability. His hands gripped your thighs, guiding you along.

You’d never been on top before. You hadn’t had sex that much before Steve, so you didn’t really have any experience in general. So being on top was a foreign feeling to you.

Having someone pinned under you between your legs as you bounced up and down on them was different than how you thought the night would go, but you were happy it ended up this way.

“Fuck,” you moaned to yourself as you closed your eyes and felt Steve’s hands traveling up your body to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them. “Steve, I’m close,” you whined.

He flipped you back over and slammed into you, making you gasp and moan loudly. Swears escaped your mouth left and right, echoing throughout your room.

You were so close to the edge that it hurt. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your eyes clamped shut, and your toes curled tightly.

When you came, you were sure you deafened him. You were louder than you meant to be, and he kissed you to muffled your voice.

You were in a state of euphoria, the only thing you could focus on being him slamming into you and your high. It was, by far, one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever had, and your entire body trembled in pleasure.

Your heels dug into his hips, somehow pushing him further into you, which heightened your orgasm.

As you cried out, you felt a tear roll down your left temple and into your hair.

As soon as he saw it, he stopped thrusting and wiped your face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You sniffled. “Yeah. That was just really intense.”

“Was it too much? I can stop if you need-”

You shook your head and reached up to cup his face. “I don’t want you to stop. I’m okay. Seriously.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely.” You pulled him in for another kiss and he began moving again, and you were moaning again.

You flipped him over again, getting your balance before you started moving. His lands landed in the same place as before, squeezing your thighs.

You ground into him while he was inside of you, rotating your hips slowly. He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan, throwing his head back a bit. His fingers pressing into your skin, and his legs were bent to support you.

“Y/N,” he moaned softly, which was enough to make another orgasm build in you. “I’m getting close...”

“Fuck, me too.”

You were bouncing on him as fast as you could, trying to get both of you there at the same time.

“Y/N, holy shit, I’m so close.”

He reached down and started fingering you, making you gasp loudly. Your legs almost gave out, and you threw your head back, your orgasm taking you by surprise.

You cursed his name as he came in the condom, making you feel warm. You both let out relieved moans as you did your best to let both of you get the most out of it.

When you slowed down after a few more seconds, you breathed heavily in unison with him before opening your eyes to see him looking up at you.

“I didn’t realize how beautiful you look from this angle,” he panted.

You smiled before slowly pulling him out of you and collapsing next to him.

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “That was by far the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He pulled you in close and kissed your forehead. “Ditto.”

“I’ve never been on top before.”

He looked at you. “Really?” You nodded. “You’re a natural at it.”

You chuckled. “Thanks?”

“Why don’t we go out sometime? Maybe get some dinner or go to a movie or something.”

You looked at him. “Really? You want to?”

“Absolutely.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

He stayed over that night, holding you tightly as you slept.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington x reader fanfiction #steve harrington x reader imagine #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut

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nhi-theuserof-this · 4 years ago

Text

I read this one Ao3 fanfiction and now I want to write for it so here I am.. I’ve made a graphic version of this oneshot available through the link provided at the bottom of the post

https://nhi-theuserof-this.tumblr.com/post/638464363892785152/twcw-vague-violence-threats-of-character-death <<teaser post

Come get your food people that like that chat is cannon

TW/CW: mentions of blood, gore, broken body parts, cursing, depictions of unnatural body movements, (all kept vague as possible)

Onto the story!

—

The festival was the first.. ...known.. occasion of that thing.

Nobody wanted to think that Technoblade and the thing were the same, if they were in fact the same being, well, nobody wanted to think about that.

It was in the middle of Schlatt screaming at Technoblade that it appeared. Technoblade was gripping his head tightly and shaking it at nothing in particular. “Are you even listening?” Schlatt had shouted at him. It snapped an invisible string as Technoblade slouched and stood still, eyes fluttering closed as he passed out while standing.

The crowd went silent and so did everyone on the stage. Techno That thing, it opened Technoblades eyes to show they had turned fully blue, a light blue that could pass as white in the right lighting. It jerked Technoblade into an upright position as his body swayed as if being pulled into multiple directions at once before settling on taking a step towards Tubbo.

Jschlatt had thought Technoblade was doing as told and shouted encouragement as he never saw Technoblades eyes. It jerked Technoblades hands onto the crossbow at his side taking it up in both its hands, fumbling to put a rocket inside. Technoblades mouth fell open as multiple whispers fell out of at a million miles a minute, a loud one, that spoke above the volumes of all the other voices, “We’re sorry Tubbo” It said, voice similar to the sound that came from nails sliding along a chalkboard. “Let’s make this as colorful and painless as possible.”

It pointed the crossbow currently named ‘Subscribe to Technoblade’ in between Tubbo’s eyes, finger hovering over the trigger as Technoblades mouth was pressed into a thin line that was pulled into a grin as the rocket released, enchantments morphing the rocket into three that went into seperate directions, exploding into many colors as Technoblade was moved to reload and shoot once again, this time resulting in the death of everyone on the stage aside from himself.

His body turned around with stiff movements, face being morphed into a grin as the weapon in his hands had more rockets available for use. Jshlatt had died twice, somehow, and almost every participant of the festival had died as well that day.

He was back to normal at some point after he got back to Pogtopia. Sitting still as a stone beside his potato farm, staring at his reflection as if it wasn’t his own. Tommy had angrily stomped up to Technoblade when they got back. Shouting about killing Tubbo, betraying him, something else. It became distorted and turned to white noise quickly as Wilbur dragged the two towards a pit he made, encouragingly pushing the two towards the enterance.

Somewhere in between those events, Technoblade lost control of his movements, but still consious and aware of what was happening.

Tommy had learnt not to shout at Technoblade for hours on end without pause after what happened.

The server learned to be wary of Technoblade at all times if they weren’t already.

Sometimes Technoblade could spend a week without a single one of the voices speaking, other times though.. ...it was a blessing just to have them speak slowly.

It was through the voices screaming at him to run, that he learned that everyone had them. It was just that he was the only one that could actually hear them. Technoblade had seen no evidence of Phil even being invited to the server, but the voices screamed about him in the minutes that led up to him joining the server.

As everyone spoke over Technoblade as he attempted to make his first speach, chat had taken his body momentarily and created the base of the two withers. As Technoblade turned back, most of the people that could see him flinched, chat leaving his eyes tinted blue.

The events of that day had left some people thoroughly traumatized, the reason? Surprisingly not because of Technoblade alone. Technoblade never took note of that though, opting to hang out with Phil for a short while, teetering between telling him about the voices or keeping it to himself for now. He chose the later.

The butchers had invaded Philzas home in search of Technoblade. This was something he had learnt through both the voices and the butchers. The voices liked when he cracked jokes so Technoblade rated his kidnapping a two, it made the voices laugh.

Technoblade was scared they’d hurt something or someone close to him like Phil, so he shut up and played along after Carl got held hostage, hoping he’d get a chance to free himself and take Carl home. The voices suddenly started screaming, causing Technoblade to flinch in a visible manner. Nobody knew what he flinched at besides himself, but that didn’t matter right now as someone tried busting him out. Technoblade didn’t know who, he was busy taking a totem of undying into his hands, shakily hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

Quackity was pissed at what was happening, so much in fact, he disregarded the entire trial as he yanked the lever activating the mechanism that’d drop an anvil onto him in order to crush his skull. As Technoblade took in a sharp breath as the anvil came in contact with his body, the totem exploded into a burst of green and white particles, making him phase through the object without a hitch.

What wasn’t supposed to happen though, was the voices suddenly forcing him into unconsciousness as his body stumbled forwards through the cage before becoming physical once again. The thing, everyone had collectively thought as it suddenly made a mad dash in an attempt to look for something.

Everyone started screaming and running. Technoblade got out and that wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t even supposed to live, as a matter of fact.

“You’re on the fucking hitlist Technoblade!” Quackity screamed in rage.

The thing turned around, mouth falling open as hundreds of different voices came out at once. Quackity stepped back, the voices too much to register, him barely picking some of them up.

‘QUACKITY WHAT’ ‘BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD’ ‘CARL’ ‘Lead in pile!’ ‘Kill!!’

The voices suddenly went dull as Technoblades body went slack, before getting into a fighting stance unusual for him. ‘It’s u s Qua.kity, ch-At.’

Quackity raised his axe before Technoblades body launched forwards before raising Technoblades pickaxe. ‘We have a pickaxe,’ it grinned, ‘and we’ll put it through your teeth.’

Quackity hadn’t realized how horrible the thing was until now, until the body of Technoblade loomed above him, scratch that- the body of chat, that stood over him with a manic grin, bringing the pickaxe down into his face, killing him with that final blow.

Quackity was slain by Technoblade

Graphic edition

https://nhi-theuserof-this.tumblr.com/post/638464376231395328/twcw-depictions-of-blood-gore-broken-body

#chat possession au #I know people don’t like violence especially when it’s graphic but I’m really proud of the graphic edition #not sure if I’m supposed to though #yknow #because its graphic #but try to read it if possible #dream smp #mcyt #mcytau #tommyinnit #technoblade #quackity #techno’s chat #technoblades chat #nhiwrotehere

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lofitowns · 4 years ago

Text

cleanse me

“ YOU ARE GOOD AND PURE AND EVERYTHING I AM NOT “

pairing. dabi touya todoroki x gn! reader

wc. 1.9k

summary. in which he is death and destruction and you are life and prosperity

tw/cw. blood, wounds

an. i’m really sorry if his characterization is off! i’ve never written for dabi before! also sorry if this isn’t my best,, i had an idea but i’m not sure if it translated well haha

sometimes he wonders why you let him touch you

You first met by accident. It was dark in the city; you could barely see around the corner. You knew you shouldn’t have been out that late. You knew you should have stayed over at your friend’s, especially with all the villains roaming around.

Your limited sight made you miss the man rounding the corner. His shoulders were hunched, and his breathing ragged. You didn’t acknowledge him until he fell in front of you. His body laid across the pavement. You gasped in surprise, kneeling to see what was wrong.

Maybe it was stupid, but you didn’t want to leave him there. Even though you instantly recognized the purple scars and glistening staples, you weren’t scared.

Your apartment wasn’t far, but you were glad it was dark. Anyone would think it was strange to see someone lugging an unconscious body along with them.

You grunted as you attempted to open your door, hoping none of your neighbors would hear your struggle. The last thing you needed right now was someone seeing you bring a villain into your apartment.

Once you finally got it opened, you dragged him into your bedroom and dropped him on your bed. You figured it would be easier to clean your bedsheet than your couch cushions.

You surveyed the damage. His shirt was torn, and you could see blood seeping out of the gashes. You attempted to peel it away from his skin, which in itself was a struggle. When you finally got it off, you wet a cloth to try and clean him up.

There was a multitude of cuts littering the man’s torso and arms; it made you wince. You ran the cloth over his skin, avoiding the staples since you didn’t know how sensitive those areas were.

Why were you doing this? There was nothing for you to gain. You chewed your bottom lip in concentration as the rag soaked up his blood. When he was finally cleaned off, you grabbed some bandaids and wrap to try and stop the bleeding for the time being. There were a few deep gashes, but with no medical experience, you wouldn’t be much help for those.

When you moved him in an attempt to wrap the bandages around his waist, he began to stir. Your breathing stilled for a moment as you stood in waiting. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and they were the most beautiful shade of turquoise.

He blinked a few times before turning his gaze to you. Your lips were parted, and your eyes were blown wide. A deep rumble rose from his chest, falling out of his lips as a chuckle.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you were able to come up with an answer, “Fixing you up.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

He looked down at the white bandages, then back up at you, then back at the bandages. You sent him a weak smile, but he shook his head.

“You did it wrong.”

“Oh! Sorry, I just wanted to help...”

His face scrunched up as he sat up fully, hands gripping your bedspread. You reached out a hand to help him, but he pushed you away.

“Get me a needle and thread.”

You sprang up, hoping that there was some in your first aid kit.

As luck would have it, there was.

You quickly brought it back to him, seeing that he had taken the majority of his bandages off. When he saw you, he snatched the items out of your hands and began to work on himself.

You sat on the end of your bed and watched him. His fingers worked skillfully as he sewed his skin together. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were twitching. It was painful to watch. You were sure he had done this many times before.

Even knowing what he had done, you felt sorry for him. You didn’t know anything about his backstory. There were so many things that could have happened to him that lead him to this life. You weren’t here to judge him; you simply saw someone in need and helped them. You wouldn’t have to see him at any point after this anyway.

that night you scrubbed his hands clean twice, and he still saw blood stuck deep in his pores

But things weren’t that easy. He began showing up at your window at least once a week with blood collecting on his shirt.

In that time, you had become better at stitching him up. He showed you and gave you instructions the second time he came over, even though you tried to push him out. He would never say it, but he was grateful that he didn’t have to do it himself anymore.

This night was no different. You had taken to keeping your living room light on and window unlocked just in case he needed in.

It still confused you as to why you continued. He wasn’t giving you anything in return. Maybe it was because you enjoyed his company. But maybe you were just scared.

You heard the sliding of the window and the creaking of your floorboards. That was your cue to gather supplies and put a towel on the bed.

After setting your phone down on your bedside table, you made your way into your bathroom. After grabbing the small box and a washcloth, you turned to make your way back the way you came.

But you couldn’t. Dabi’s tall figure stood in the doorway, looking down at you. He whispered your name as you took in his form, checking for where he was bleeding.

You noticed a few tears in his clothes, but what caught your attention was his hands. They were drenched in red. Your eyes widened as you stared at them.

It didn’t take you long to decide what to do. You reached for his arm and brought him into your bathroom. He moved to sit on the toilet seat, eyes glazed over and staring into nothingness. You ran the tab, holding the washcloth underneath it for a few seconds.

You slowly cupped his right hand, averting your eyes from them to gaze at his face. He stared back at you, watching intently as you began to scrub the red away. The fabric would stain; there was no way it wouldn’t.

It took you more than one washcloth before you could see his skin again. And even after that, he asked you to do it again. His palms were tinted pink and you didn’t know if it was because of the roughness of the cloth or from the blood.

Dabi couldn’t turn his attention away from you kneeling in front of him. All your attention was focused on helping and cleaning him up. It confused him, almost made him mad. Were just stupid?

He knew you weren’t.

The man didn’t know why he still came here. It seemed routine now, he would get into a fight, and he would find himself sitting in your apartment. Your soft gaze would fall over him. Why were you so gentle with him? You were so kind. He didn’t deserve any of this.

But that’s why he kept coming back.

You made him stand up so you could inspect the rest of his body closer. In the time that you had known him, he never let you get too close. Sometimes he would talk your ear off, while other nights he would be completely silent. You could never tell what was really going on inside of his head, but you assumed that was how he liked it.

his battle-worn tongue doesn’t say the truth anymore; that he is ruined

The next time he crawled through your window, there was no blood in sight.

You had already headed to the bathroom to grab your supplies while his feet took him to your bedroom. He stared at your bed. Your sheets were bunched up, and he assumed you had been sleeping prior to his intrusion.

“Dabi?” His name left your lips as you stood in the doorframe.

His attention was pulled to you, the light from behind you giving you an ethereal glow. You really were his angel.

“Hey, babe.”

You shook your head at the pet name, “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not. I... I just wanted to see you.”

Your jaw clenched, averting your gaze from him to the box in your hands. His personality had always been flirty, but he had never gone out of his way to see you. He only came over when he had something to gain.

“Dabi...”

His long strides brought him over to you in seconds flat. He raised a hand and tentatively hovered it over your cheek. You shouldn’t even be in the same room as someone like him, let alone let him touch you. But when your eyes turned up to look into his, he knew he was a goner.

It happened gradually, increasing every time he stepped foot into your bedroom. The atmosphere fits you well, he thought. The fondness he felt made his chest constrict, and the breath was knocked out of his lungs. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He was a villain for god’s sake.

You felt similarly. There was no doubt he was good looking, even with all his scratches and scars. Your stomach would twist into knots whenever you thought about him. It was always on your mind that one day he would stop coming, be it that he didn’t need you anymore or he lost his life. You never took yourself as someone that would fall for a villain.

After a few moments, you reached up and pressed your hand to his raised on, finally setting it on your skin. He moved forward, the gap between your faces growing smaller. His breath fanned across your face, and you couldn’t take it any longer.

You rushed forward, pressing your lips to his. They were chapped, and his palms were rough, but it didn’t make it bad. You reached up and cupped his cheeks in return, trying to keep him as close as you could. His hands moved down to rest on your waist.

The kiss was shorter than you had expected. He pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, a small but intimate act. The man kept his eyes closed, fearing that if he opened them, you would be gone, and he would be alone again.

He wanted to thank you for letting him crash into your life, but he knew he didn’t deserve you. You were everything he wasn’t. But you were allowing him to hold you with his stained hands and wrecked body. You were letting him touch you.

No words were spoken as you took his hand and led him over to your bed. You crawled under the covers and lifted the other side, signally for him to join you. Dabi watched your moves intently, fighting an internal battle. Should he mess up your life even more than he already had?

But you wanted this. You wanted him. And while he didn’t understand why, he wasn’t going to leave you hanging. He slipped his shoes off and dropped himself onto your sheets. They felt soft against his skin; he didn’t know the last time he had felt so content.

He turned his body towards you and saw that you were already facing him. You opened your arms, and he fell into them. He rested his head in the crook of your neck and breathed your scent in deeply.

It took him a few moments to hold you back, but when he did, he pulled your flush against him. The pair of you melted into the embrace, the natural heat of his body warming you.

Dabi knew he was never meant to have good things, but maybe this could be the exception.

and he wonders why you let him, the butcher, touch you, the sun.

thank you for reading :) have a good day!

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falling-feuilles · 4 years ago

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Chapter 7

CW/TW: General Grief

The drawing room was quiet, far too quiet to be celebrating the birth of a child.

Little Nikolay slept, swaddled in his blanket. Marya and Bourienne fussed quietly over him, remarking over his tiny hands, his little nose; anything and everything they could.

"Il est tres précieux! He will grow into a 'andsome young man, I am sure of it."

While the two of them chattered on, Andrei and Y/N were much less involved.

Andrei, while clearly enamored with his son, loved him in a more silent, personal way. He was never one to flaunt his affections. Whether that was due to his father, or simply his own nature, one couldn't be sure. But do not think that he resented his son. If anything, Lise had created such a sense in Andrei that he resolved to devote himself to raising his son, rather than giving his life as cannon fodder for some foolish war.

Andrei moved forward to take the child; his child, holding the small babe gently in his arms.

Y/N, on the other hand, could barely look at the child. She hadn't held him, in fact, she'd refused when asked.

She knew it wasn't his fault; he was a child, these things happened, Lise had already been at risk and she'd known exactly what it was she had been risking.

He looked so much like her. Too much for Y/N to bear. The curve of his petite nose, the cleft of his tiny chin, even his eyes. She had seen them open for a mere moment, it couldn't have been longer than a second, and yet, she couldn't bear it. The same soft, silky blue as his mother. As Andrei quietly soothed the now fussy child, Y/N's mind began to drift back to the week prior...

The very world seemed to mourn with the small procession; rain fell in torrents, turning the once-brittle earth into a thick, miserable muck. Armed with umbrellas, the attendees surrounded the twin caskets. The priest began to speak, prattling on about the tragedy that had befallen the family. First Lise in childbirth, then her father upon hearing the news. His heart finally gave out. This left Princess Y/N Zhudova as the sole heir to a considerable fortune.

Y/N stood nearest the caskets, arm hooked into Andrei's. Despite the Priest's speech, people continued to talk, muttering to each other. Y/N heard it all.

These things happen... poor thing was too young... it's a shame... I can't believe he left everything to his bastard...

With those words, the funeral, instead of honoring the dead, became about her. She was inheriting the entirety of the Zhudov estate. After observing the expected mourning period, she would have find a husband of similar, if not higher, rank.

Already, she heard fathers and mothers telling their sons of the prospects such an influential woman would give them. All this power, this influence, were her's to wield. And wield them she would.

Y/N had left as soon as she could, desperate to get away from that tainted place. After saying her goodbyes, making them as brief as she possibly could, she'd all but fled the Bolkonsky Estate.

With the funeral and Nikolay's baptism out of the way, Y/N returned to the Zhudov household, not as a daughter, but as a matriarch.

Upon arriving to the house, she was greeted by the housekeeper, a woman she'd known her entire life.

"Madame, welcome back."

"Thank you Yelena, I hope you've assembled the staff inside?" Y/N pulled her gloves off, adjusting her inky black traveling coat. Yelena nodded, thin lips pressed into a sad smile.

"Yes, Madame, they're in the foyer."

"Perfect, thank you." “Before you go inside, I have some concerns.”

“Oh?” Y/N stopped, allowing Yelena to lead her away from the driver. Her tight, lined face screwed up in an expression of concern and paranoia.

“Yes Madame… I fear that some of the staff may have complaints about you being the head of the household now. I’ve heard talk that some—I don’t know who—” she interjected before Y/N could ask, “Are being paid by young gentlemen’s families who wish for you to marry their sons. To my understanding, they each intend to ruin your reputation as a means to force you into a marriage with their sons to secure your fortune.”

“I see…” Y/N was silent for a minute; one could almost hear the gears in her head, turning as seamlessly as the gears of her father’s precious pocket watch.

“... Madame, what-?”

“Yelena,” she turned back towards the matronly woman, eyes sharpened like the edge of an officer’s saber.

“Y-yes Madame?”

“I have a plan, but I will need your help in carrying it out, can I trust you?” Yelena, caught off guard, nodded vigorously. Y/N had known her since she was a little girl, ever since she’d moved to live with her father. “Good.”

Y/N strode inside, scanning the small crowd of household staff, made up of about twenty individuals, each waiting.

"Good day, everyone. As I'm sure you're aware, I will be taking over for my father in heading the affairs of the household. As you know, there is a lot of work to be done. However," Y/N continued, "As unorthodox as it may be, I would like you all to take the rest of the week off. You'll return on Monday. If you have any questions, feel free to give them to Yelena, who can inform me if she sees fit."

There was silence for a few moments, then quiet whispers between the staff. Then, they began to disperse, talking amongst themselves. As they left, a few sent strange, questioning looks towards the new matriarch.

Y/N beckoned Yelena to follow her, leading her into her father's... her study. Y/N shut and locked the door behind her.

"I'm going to ask you to do one small thing for me."

"Yes, Madame, anything you need." Y/N paused for a second, before continuing.

"When the staff inevitably ask you why I've done this, I want you to give each of them a different reason. I need to see who is loyal to our household; to me. I don't care what it is as long as it can be easily disproved; give me a list of names with the lies so I can keep track. In a week's time, we shall know who I can trust. Once you've given them each their stories, you are free to go as well."

"I... yes, ma- I mean, yes Lady Y/N... I will do as you say."

Yelena left, muttering under her breath. Once the door shut behind the retreating woman, Y/N sank in her chair, shaking violently. The tears began to prick at her eyes, exacerbated by the sharp, unrelenting pounding of her head.

How am I to do this? My god, I’ve barely taken the mantle and already people conspire against me…

She had hardly allowed herself the time to mourn at the Bolkonsky estate. With everyone bustling around, there hadn’t been the time for it. Not just Lise, but father as well. Her only remaining family had been destroyed in a matter of days. She still had the child, of course. Lise’s child. Her nephew; the one she could hardly bear to look at. Y/N nearly broke down there and then, but she managed to contain herself. Just until they leave, you can make it til then became her mantra, whispered ever increasingly under her breath. Before she knew it, the long case clock struck twelve, shocking her out of her obsessive reverie.

Looking up, she noticed a small piece of parchment, lined with Yelena's meticulous script. She must've placed it there while Y/N was less than mentally present.

Skimming through the list, she noted a few familiar names; Alexandra, the young girl whose mother had been suffering from consumption. She was lucky enough to survive, but the disease had ravaged her body beyond repair. Anna, the maid whose sister had been ill and on her last weeks of her life, had passed some months prior while Y/N had been away. She recognized most of the names, able to link them with faces she'd seen around the house.

Standing from her chair, she walked out into the hallway, moving to her room. It was only when she felt warm rivulets of water travel down her neck did she become aware of the tears streaming down her face. Wiping them from her face, trying desperately to regain her vision, Y/N entered her room, all but ripping the heavy dress and stays from her skin. Now, dressed in just her chemise and stockings, her knees gave out. She fell. Hard. Knees smacking against the wooden floor. She was certain she'd bruised them, but she didn't care.

A wretched, choked scream escaped her lips, releasing all the grief she'd hidden for the past week. By the time she'd ran out of breath, her vision was spotty, her throat raw and painfully, desperately dry. It was on her fifth attempt to stand that she finally made it back on her feet, leaning heavily against the back of a nearby chair. Her breath came in great, gasping heaves, but she couldn't get enough. It was becoming harder and harder to see, her eyes wouldn't stay open.

She heard rapid footsteps, but she was sure all the staff had left. They were getting louder, more frantic with each second. Soon after, she heard her name. The door burst open, revealing the familiar figure of a young man, panting with exertion. Y/N, doubled over and leaning on the chair, couldn't make out his face.

"Y/N? Y/N, what-" he rushed forward, catching her before she could fold to the floor again. "Are you hurt?"

No response.

"N/N please..." Finally, she looked up.

"P... Pierre..."

"Yes, that's good..." Pierre looked around; what should he do? She was clearly distressed and, at the rate she was breathing, she'd pass out, "Listen, N/N, please, you have to breathe, please..."

Her hand wound into the fabric of his coat, fingers trembling violently. "I.. I-I can't, I can't-" she gulped, gasping for breath.

"Alright, that's alright, you just need to try, please just-" Y/N's knees buckled again, slumping her against Pierre's chest.

He lowered her to the ground, leaning her back against the edge of the bed-frame. He placed his hands on her face, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"N/N breathe, you're alright, everything is going to be fine..."

Pierre wrapped his arms around her, feeling her hands grasp tightly at his back. Violent, heaving sobs shook her entire body.

Neither of them were sure how long they'd sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, but, when they finally parted, it felt far too short. Y/N's face was splotched with red, tear-stained; she looked exhausted. Judging by the dark circles beneath her eyes, she hadn't slept in days.

"I... thank you, Pierre..."

"Y-yes, of course. I... I'm so sorry, N/N, about Lise, about your father... I'm so, so sorry..."

She smiled softly, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"As am I..."

#pierre #pierre bezukhov #BBC War and Peace #war and peace 2016 #war and peace #xreader

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maybe-your-left · 5 years ago

Text

A Case In Need: Am I Understood?

As always here is a link to my Masterlist with all my works. I just started a new Solo Triplets fic!

Slight TW/CW: lots of swearing, some implied consent at the end. Violent overtones throughout.

You haven't slept this soundly in a long time, usually you have to take some sleeping pills before lulling off to sleep but not tonight. Sunlight filtered in through your bedroom windows and you blinked your eyes open to rid the call back to your pillow. Behind you, there was a deep growling noise, followed by a hot breath on the back of your neck. Ren must’ve been sleeping with his mouth shut, you mused, wiggling your arm out you reached out for the clock on your bedside table.

9 AM it read.

“Mother fucker,” you yelled and threw Ren off with all your might. Successfully elbowing him in the face while untangling your limbs.

“Jesus,” Ren cried out and applied pressure to his nose, “Why’d you fucking do that?”

“We slept in,” you called from the closet.

Ren whined in response, you heard the mattress creak while he threw his legs over the side followed by footsteps into the bathroom. He appeared while you were buttoning up a maroon blouse, keeping one hand on his nose. He stared at you with wide blinking eyes that were still fighting sleep.

“Come on, we’re an hour late-”

“What are you talking about (Y/N),” he grumbled before turning to his sink and inspecting his bruised skin.

“My alarm didn’t go off this morning, we’re both late for work,” you pushed by him so you could reach for your toothbrush. Trying to get ready as fast as possible, throwing your hair up in an updo and smudging on your lipstick. Ren just glared at you while wiggling his nose, probably trying to get blood flow back after the hit he took. Hip bumping him to the side so you could spit out your toothpaste, he finally moved and went to the closet. Re-emerging seconds later with black slacks, buttoning up a dress shirt that was the same maroon as yours.

“Oh you wanna be matching today?” you giggled while hopping out of the bathroom, searching for your phone.

“Would it be wrong if I did?” he yelled back from the sink.

Snorting back in response you made it down the hallway. Taking the stairs two at a time, pretty risky to do in heels, and finally making it to the kitchen.

The Keurig was heating up with your coffee when Ren made it downstairs. Fixing the sleeves of his blazer jacket, seeming to look for his shoes he threw off yesterday night. You took a moment to appreciate the scene in front of you, silent domestic bliss between the two of you. This is how it would be if you and Ren were a… you shook your head at the thought. He was still very married, you couldn’t allow yourself to get used to the closeness. Clearing your throat you reached for a mug, “I forgot to tell you I’ve been working on the case file you gave me last week, found something interesting but we can talk about it when I get to the office.”

“When you get to the office,” he mumbled while grabbing some cereal from your pantry, “Aren’t you riding with me?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you work for me,” a spoonful of cereal, “you sleep with me,” another chew, “you fuck me, you’re mine Angel I don’t know why you keep forgetting.” He ended with slurping milk from the bowl before standing up and placing it in the sink. “Let’s go.”

He walked past you, grabbing his coat along with your purse which had your car keys inside them. Stopping at the front doorway he yelled for you, “Are you going to make me wait or should I have Ushar drag you to the car?”

-----

The drive to work was short and silent, except for the radio which was playing on some random talk radio bullshit. The man was droning on and on about stock prices and the unemployment rates, you felt yourself falling asleep because of how bored you were. Even the guy talking sounded like he was one sentence away from falling into a coma.

You groaned, “Can we listen to some music, please?”

“Hmm,” Ren smirked at you. You reached for the buttons to change it yourself but he was quicker than you, smacking your hand away. “Now now Angel, it’s my car. We are to listen to what I want.”

“Oh my god…” you whined, trying to get him to release your hand from his death grip.

“Someone’s being a brat today,” he slammed on his brakes, almost mowing over a pedestrian he was clearly not watching for. You would’ve slammed into the dashboard if it hadn't been for your seatbelt and Rens giant arm that was now outstretched in front of you.

You pushed his arm away while he sped off again, “Maybe I wouldn’t be a brat if you didn’t try to kill me with your reckless driving.”

“Hmm.”

He slammed again, this time he didn’t shoot out his arm to protect you, leaving your head to whip forward and smack the dashboard. “Oh come on!” you cried, applying pressure to your forehead. You were so sure he had split it open, you fumbled with the mirror above you, examining the bump that was now forming. Luckily there was no open wound but it still didn’t make up for the fact that you had a screaming headache. “You fucking did that on purpose,” you smacked him in the chest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smirked again, “I would never do anything to hurt you, my dear.”

“Just shut up,” you snapped, “And can we change the radio station this guy's voice is giving me a bigger headache.”

“As you wish.” He reached forward and pressed another preset, making sure to give you a glare as he sat back.

“Thank you,” you huffed, closing your eyes and waiting for the music to start playing, or at least another boring old man to start talking.

Slowly the music started, you furrowed your eyebrows trying to concentrate on it instead of the pounding in your ears. As it was getting louder you could pick out some noises, a saxophone, for one thing, was present. Followed by some other deep instruments, you blinked a couple of times trying to understand what was going on.

“Ah, I love this song,” Ren said before turning the volume up another few notches.

“What the fuck is this-”

“You don’t like jazz, Angel?” he smiled at you, it wasn’t a warm smile. More like a taunt for you to complain again, setting a trap for you to fall into. He waited, staring at you while you slowly began rubbing your temples, the music was far worse than the NPR radio, each sound was so disorganized and trying to desperately outdo the other instrument he might as well have slammed you in the dashboard again.

Fuck this was going to be a long day.

-----

“We have a meeting today with a client,” Ren said as he seated himself behind his desk, “It’ll be at the prison, however, so maybe sure you stay by me.”

“Sounds good boss.”

You were rifling through your bags trying to find the case file on the client, Armitage Hux was the name, you had read somewhere that he was a known criminal with a record to show for it. Thrown in and out of jails so many times he probably had his own personalized cell. Most of his charges were small: theft, forgery, robbery, lots of organized crime work. Nothing you weren’t used to seeing, but this time he was charged with something much worse.

During your research you noticed that Hux was always found ‘innocent’ of these crimes, usually, the bail was paid off quickly and whoever was representing him had him out of court within a few hours. It was strange for this type of crime, what was also strange was the lack of information on those cases. It was almost like someone was erasing any information about his past the moment he was set free.

Ren cleared his throat, “I must go see Palpatine before we set off.”

“Oh, okay, let me grab my things and we can go,” you started repacking your bag.

“That won’t be necessary,” he stated, getting up from his chair and walking towards you, “It’s a private matter. Meet me down at the car in 15 minutes Angel.” And with that he kissed you on the forehead and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

“Whatever weirdo,” you muttered, this would be the first meeting you weren’t brought in with him. He usually had you take notes or something while he spoke with colleagues. But he seemed to be on edge when he rushed out. You shrugged and got up, now would be a good time to look around his office. Since you started working here you hadn’t gotten much downtime between reading, writing, and fucking.

Walking around his desk you scanned the stacks of papers. Lots were in order, alphabetical, and by date. He seemed to run a tight ship with his workload. Along with stacks of papers, there were two frames on the left side of his desk, behind his desktop. You grabbed them to get a closer look.

One was an old black and white photo, containing a young man who was very tall and skinny, flanked on both sides with an older man and woman. It looked like it was the young man’s graduation picture, he had tassels and stoles around his neck, achievements of hard academic work, the woman was beaming next to him, holding a bouquet of some sort. The older man was handsome, a little rougher than the woman, but he had the same smirk on his face that you’ve seen Ren have.

“Must be his parents…” you whispered, setting the picture back down. You had never heard about his family, but it wasn’t like the two of you had ever spoken about personal things.

The second picture was in color. It showed the same man, slightly longer black hair and less of a smile, standing outside the First Order office building. He was shaking hands with a man you didn’t recognize, he certainly wasn’t the man from the first photograph. No, this man was very different, his face although smiling had no happiness. Rigid and stiff even as the photo was being taken, and behind him was Palpatine.

Humming, you set the picture back down and glanced around the room some more. To the left of the desk were bookshelves. Filled with texts about the ever-changing laws throughout the nation, and even some about national security. Most of them were covered with dust, but you noticed a very boring pattern of non-fiction work throughout. It figures, you thought, Ren probably reads these for fun when he’s not out dictating my life.

Looking down at your watch you saw you had about five minutes left before having to hoof it downstairs so you took that time to scan the walls for any other information. Your eyes settled on two diplomas framed by a very large fake plant.

University of Oxford

Faculty of Law

Kylo Ren

“Of course he went to Oxford… pretentious ass,” you looked down to the second one.

Harvard University

J.D. Law School

Ben Solo

You stared at it for a few seconds. Rereading it over and over, looking back and forth between the two papers. Ben Solo? Who the fuck was that? Did they print his name wrong? There’s no way, it’s a Harvard degree. Also if they had he would’ve definitely raised hell over it. Maybe it was just a leftover decoration from a previous lawyer… the frame was a little dustier than the top one. Seemed like maybe that could be it-

Your phone started buzzing in your pocket. Shaking your head you fished it out and answered, “Hello this is (Y/N)-”

“Where the fuck are you? I told you to meet me in the car in 15 minutes?”

Ren. Of course, it was, “Sorry I was uh… going to the bathroom. Coming down now.”

He hung up after that, clearly, he was in a bad mood. Maybe something in his meeting didn’t go well. Maybe Rey’s dad confronted him about the two of you… not like there was any way for him to know about it. Unless there were cameras in the office that the two of you didn’t know about.

You shook that thought out of your mind and stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage. Ren was parked directly in front waiting for you. You swung the door open and climbed in while he slammed his foot on the gas, peeling out onto the road.

“When I tell you to be somewhere I expect you to listen to me,” Ren spat at you. Not taking the time to look at you while he weaved through traffic.

“Sorry, I just lost track of time, don’t know what the big deal is,” you huffed.

Ren snorted, “The big deal is you have to listen to me. You’re mine. I expected that lesson I taught you yesterday to stick inside your head for longer than 24 hours.”

“Oh, you mean when you almost drown me?”

“Precisely Angel,” He purred at you, placing a hand on your knee, “You belong to me. I control where you go,” a squeeze, “What you do,” his hand slid upwards and squeezed again, “Even when you breathe.” gripping the inside of your thigh, digging his nails into you, “Am I understood?”

You swallowed, “Yes Mr. Ren.”

“Excellent, now we are meeting with a client. I expect you to stay quiet throughout and take notes diligently. We’ve worked with him before so it should be brief.”

“We have?” you questioned, “Nothing in my research showed that he’s worked with the First Order before…”

“Whatever the case, you will not speak while we meet with him. You are not there to counsel him, only to take notes about the conversation I have with him or any mannerisms he portrays during.” Ren looked over at you, he clearly needed you to listen to him. His usual auburn eyes were dark and cold, commanding you to stay in your place. You nodded and Ren patted your leg and the two of you drove in silence the rest of the way.

——

You and Ren had walked in after parking. Every officer and guard seemed to know Ren personally, never checking his ID or anything, just waving him through. You were awestruck, the facility you were at was no laughing matter. It was a maximum security prison. Only for the worst of the worst criminals, crime bosses, murderers, rapists, serial killers, you name it and they were there. You scooted a little closer to Ren, hopefully to shield yourself from the fear rippling through you.

“Scared Angel?” he chuckled, looking over his shoulder. “There’s nothing to fear. No one will touch you while I’m here.”

“Okay,” you squeaked out.

The guards led the two of you down a series of hallways before opening a steel door. Behind was a man, chained to a desk in the middle of the room. He was pale, not a shiner pale like Ren but more sickly. He had bright red hair atop his head, that was at one point styled but it seemed like he had been through the ringer. He had cold eyes, staring directly at you, not once looking at Ren. “Glad to see you’re finally here,” he spoke from behind a cigarette.

“Apologies about our tardiness,” Ren spat, “Some pieces haven’t found their place yet.”

He moved in front of the ginger, pulling out a chair and ushering you to sit before he did. “Thank you,” you whispered, trying to keep the gingers eye contact away from yours.

“Whose this little fox you’ve brought Ren,” he cooed at you, leaning forward on the table, “She’s different than the last one.”

“That’s enough Hux,” he spat, “Let’s get down to business.”

You reached into your bag and handed Ren the case file. Grabbing out your pad and pen, you were ready for their conversation.

“What’s your name little pet?” Hux blew smoke towards you.

You coughed and shot a look at Ren, he was staring at Hux. His jaw clenched tight, his hands threatening to rip the file in half.

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunted, “ Or are you not allowed to speak?”

“Hux,” Ren boomed.

“(Y/N). It’s (Y/N),” you spit out, staring down at your pad and pen.

“(Y/N)... what a lovely name,” Hux cooed. The way he said your name felt like a threat. You knew immediately that you weren’t supposed to do that, Ren had told you not to speak.

“If you’re not going to talk about your charges then my assistant and I will be leaving.”

“Assistant, is that what you’re calling it now?” Hux laughed, taking another drag off the cigarette. “That’s a fancy way to say whore.”

Ren lunges at Hux, knocking you to the floor in the process. Pinning him to the wall and repeatedly slamming him by his shoulders. You sat there with wide eyes, usually guards would burst in at the sign of commotion but the room was quiet. The only sounds were Hux and Ren's heavy breathing, both daring the other to make a move.

“Kylo… we should go,” you squeaked out again.

“Kyloooo you’re scaring your whore,” Hux smiled at him. Ren growled and shoved him one last time before turning to you.

“Get up.” he barked.

You scrambled to your feet, grabbing the papers that were thrown around. Ren's hand found purchase in your hair, gripping on and ushering you out of the room.

Behind you Hux yelled, “I’m sure Snoke will be happy to hear about this!” and the door slammed shut.

——

Ren said nothing.

Not even when he shoved you into the car, buckled you into the seat and sped off. He was obviously not heading back to the office. His grip on the wheel was so tight it looked like he was going to snap it.

“Where are we-“

“I told you not to speak.”

“I’m sorry I just-“

He pulled in front of a hotel, “No I don’t think you understand Angel. I told you not to speak, and you disobeyed me.”

The valet knocked on his window, tearing Rens stare from you. He stepped out and handed the keys to the young man. Rounding the car he ripped open your door and pulled you out by your wrist.

You didn’t struggle, you were so confused as to where you were going. Why did he bring you to a hotel? Was he going to forgive you for earlier? What had Hux meant about you being a whore?

Once inside the elevator, he let go of you and sighed. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he cracked his neck left and right. “I think it’s time you understood who you belong to.”

You stared at him, eyebrows furrowed with concern, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is,” the doors opened and he walked out, “You’ll either listen to me tonight, or you’ll be severely hurt.”

You gulped, was he going to beat you? Was this it? You had always felt safe with him but something about the meeting earlier had left him… unhinged. He opened the door and shoved you in.

The suite was huge, full kitchen and living room. Large king bed, and a huge bathroom.

“Strip for me.”

“What?”

“Strip for me or I’ll do it for you,” he threatened.

Swallowing again you slowly took off your clothes, all the way down to your heels. Attempting to cover yourself from his predatory gaze. He walked over to you and held your face. “Do you trust me Angel?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

He gave you a soft kiss, delicately tracing your lips with his own. “Sit down on the couch.”

You followed his instructions, eager to see where this was going. Ren disappeared into the bathroom, re-emerging with items in his hands. “Now, I’m going to put these on you, and you’re not going to struggle, do you understand?” You nodded. “If you struggle this is going to hurt you more, tell me you understand.”

“Yes Mr. Ren.”

“Good,” he cooed. He pushed you back against the sofa, and tied a blindfold over your eyes. You giggled, excited about where this was headed.

Suddenly Ren was behind the sofa, grabbing your left wrist and attaching something around it. He repeated it with the other one. “Try to move Angel.”

You tried to pull your arms back over the couch, but found that they were chained to something. “What’s going on Ren-“

He then attached chains to both your ankles. Leaving you spread eagle across the couch. Unable to move, unable to see his intentions. A knock at the door, Ren sighed, “Their here early.”

“Who's here? What’s going on?”

“One more thing before I forget,” he hummed. He pinched your jaw, forcing it open and shoved a gag in your mouth. Strapping it around your skull. You trashed and cried out, but they came out as moans because you were unable to speak.

“It’ll all be over soon.” Ren whispered and then opened the door.

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads @morby @onlykyloscenes @direnightshade @clumsycopy @candycanes19 @kirah36 @desiraypark @princss-bucky

#adam driver #kylo ren #kylo trash #kylo x reader #modern kylo ren #Clyde logan #flip zimmerman #charlie barber #phillip altman

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yeeiguess · 4 years ago

Text

Okay. I need your help. So, I have an idea for a fanfic. It’s been in my notes for like a year at that point but the thing is, I don’t have a plot.

So I’m going to put what I wrote under the « read more », and if anyone has any idea on how I could use that idea in a fic please tell me ?

It’s for bnha, cantered around Denki, no ships with canon characters. Talks about reincarnation, past lives etc.

CW/TW for mention of death, fatal illness, war

I’ve had a lot of bad lives.

Lots of lives that ended in pain and sorrow, whew I was alone or sick or sad. Lots of lives where I hurt more than I soothed, where I made bad decisions and bad choices.

I’ve had a lot of good lives, too. Where things weren’t so bad, where I had lovers and friends and a job that felt right, and the education I wanted to have. Lives where I could hold my lovers hand in the streets without fearing for my life, life where red hair wasn’t a death sentence anymore. Better lives, better than the last.

None of them compare to this one. I’ve always known about my past lives- the memories are engraved in my mind, never leaving me. I know things I learnt lifetimes ago, I feel things I’ve felt a hundred time.

This time, I decided to live. Really. To forget the other lives I lived, to stop being stuck with past lovers and past friends, to go forward.

It’s not always easy. Sometimes I wake up and the words out of my mouth are in a language I shouldn’t know, and sometimes an action throws me back to a time where a similar thing happened. A sunset on a beach and I’m a pirate, short light hair and there’s a hand in mine.

I’ve fought a lot. I’ve been in a lot of battles, through the years. All different. But I’ve learnt to fight, and sometimes in hero training it all comes back and I can taste iron on my tongue and tears on my face, from the people I lost.

Sometimes I can’t sleep, the memory of parents and children and friends too strong, to recent to forget. There’s always pain, no matter how long ago it was. I draw them a lot. Everyone I can remember. Childhood friends, captains, managers, therapists, every face that come to mind. I know I won’t forget them, of course, I’ve never forgotten anyone important. Still, I draw them. There’s so many people- pages and pages and pages filled with faces and names.

This time around isn’t easy. The first years are okay, normal even. High school starts, and I get in and it’s awesome. Then there’s the LOV and the villains. I fight like I learnt, I worry for others and promise myself that I won’t die now, not so early. I’ve died young too many times already. It doesn’t matter; my past doesn’t matter. The future does. I work for that.

The first time I see Eri and I try to talk to her, she seems uncomfortable. We’re in the common room of the dorm and she’s sitting in front of me, on the opposite couch. She keeps sending me looks and I don’t know what to do with that. Is my hair weird ? No, I brushed it. I check in my phone to make sure I don’t have anything on my face. I don’t.

Mina seems to notice, and she asks the girl.

“Eri, sweetie, why do you keep looking at him ? Is there a problem ?”

I send my friend a silent thanks.

Eri blushes and squirms in her place, embarrassed. She looks at me.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Do I make you uncomfortable ?”

“Uhm, my quirk is- is- it wants to touch you...”

Oh.

“What’s your quirk ?”

“It reverses time.”

I get up so fast the people next to me flinch.

“Ah, okay, sorry. I’ll go.”

I’m almost at the door when her voice pearks up again.

« I’m sorry ! It’s never happened before. »

I smile, and I know it looks forced. It is.

« Don’t worry about this. I’m the one who’s sorry. »

I leave the room as fast I can.

From what I know, no one remember their past lives.

I have no idea what could happen if she used her quirk on me. And I don’t want to find out.

That night, I don’t sleep. I spend hours tossing and turning in my bed, names I knew on my lips, the phantom touch of people I loved on my skin. I go through every drawing, the oldest, most clumsy ones, to the latest. I cry for them, for my kids, my parents, my friends, my lovers. When the sun rise outside, I’m laying on the floor, chest heavy with pain and notebooks scattered all over.

Days pass, and I’m in the common room. It’s dark already. Night fell a few hours ago, and the dorms are silent. I’m drawing again, a soldier I was friend with during a war. I remember the fear and the pain, wondering if we’d ever come home, games played between fires, and the day I lost him.

I’m so focused on what I’m doing, the shape of his face (god, we were so young), that I don’t hear the footsteps behind me.

« Who is it ? »

I jump so hard that I throw my pencil on the other side of the room. Notebook clutched to my chest, I allow myself a few deep breathes before I turn around to the intruder.

And then some sort of plot idea I tried to put together :

(And suddenly, with a gush of wind and the song of a bell, she’s here. She’s here, exactly like I remember her. She’s wearing one of her favourite dresses, and her dark hair curls on her back like I remember it. She looks around, confused and scared and I can feel myself move.

« Denki ! Stay here, we don’t know who she is ! »

« I know her. »

I don’t hear their surprised exclamations. I walk slowly toward her. She turns to look at me and says something in a language I haven’t spoken in a long time.

« What is this ? Who are you ? »

« It’s okay, Allita. It’s me, Jean. »

« What ? How do you know my name- you’re not Jean ! »

« I am. It’s me. »

I stand in front of her. She looks at me, searching in my eyes. She’s a bit taller than me this time. We got married when we were very young, and I know she’s older now. I extend my hands slowly toward her like we used to, and she takes them with hesitation. When our skin finally touch, though, I see her understand.

« It’s really you. »

« It’s me. »

« But I remember you.. I remember you dying, Jean. I cleaned your grave yesterday again. »

« Something happened here. We are… in the future. Most people can do magic- it’s not a witch thing, love, don’t be afraid. »

« Magic ? Jean, that’s so dangerous ! »

« I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you, this time, I’ll stay here. »

« Are the children with you ? »

I can still remember their faces and the way they laughed, carefree and happy.

« No, they’re not here. I haven’t seen them in a really, really long time. »

She looks confused for a second before her face scrunched up in pain.

« How far are you... we, from... from our time ? »

I squeeze her hands, glup my saliva.

« We’re far. I’m sorry. We’ll get you back, alright ? You’ll be home soon. »

« I... Jean, I can’t... »

« It’s gonna be okay, Love. »

I caress her cheek and she closes her eyes. She cries, falls in my arms and murmurs a name that once belonged to me. )

#bnha fanfic #mha fanfiction #writer problem #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #Kaminari Denki #kaminari denki angst

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justkindaoverhereobsessing · 5 years ago

Text

you stumble, you soar (2/3)

What if Tony and Ziva had just a little more time in Paris during Jet Lag? Part one can be read here and the song from the last scene of this part can be found here.

_____________________

CW/TW: non-graphic mentions of torture

This chapter is a love letter to the capital of France and to the push-and-pull of conflicting fluff and angst that we all love so much about Tiva! Again, super happy birthday to @why-did-you-just-lie-to-mcgee and huge thanks to @indestinatus for plotting this with me!

_____________________

“Paris is a place in which we can forget ourselves, reinvent, expunge the dead weight of our past.”

— Michael Simkin

_____________________

The bed they’re sharing is a large one, and though they went to sleep on opposite sides of it, the rising sun in the morning finds them curled together.

As always, Ziva wakes first; she realizes immediately that something feels… off. She takes quick stock of her body and realizes that her head is pillowed on Tony’s chest; his arms are slung snugly around her back, and their legs are tangled together. She can feel his heartbeat under her cheek, slow and strong, and she finds herself rather unwilling to leave this spot of unexpected comfort. There’s no reason it should be, but it feels… nice.

She realizes quite suddenly that this is the first time she’s been held by someone—truly held, at peace and content—since her time in Somalia.

The thought makes her feel a little sick, horrible memories cheapening the moment, and she pulls away hastily, trying to be gentle and avoid waking Tony. Luckily, he’s a fairly heavy sleeper, and she succeeds.

By the time Tony opens his eyes, Ziva is dressed and ready for the day, and he seems none the wiser about the way they spent the night. “Are you going to sleep all day, or would you like to see Paris?” Ziva teases.

“Leave me alone, woman, I was having a great dream. I was dreaming about this lady…” Ziva turns away so he won’t see her expression. She thinks it’s entirely possible that his dream stemmed from the scent of her hair or the feel of her skin as she slept against him.

“Hurry and get ready. We have things to do,” she says instead of acknowledging what he said.

_____________________

Ziva has a definite plan in mind for the bulk of the day, but Tony almost immediately steers her away from where she’s leading him. “What are you doing?” she demands, surprised enough that she follows him for a moment automatically before realizing what she’s doing and stopping.

“We’re in Paris, Ziva. We can’t just walk everywhere. That would be absurd!”

“We were going to ride on the Metro,” she corrects him, an eyebrow raised quizzically, “but why do I imagine you have a different idea?”

He certainly does.

Twenty minutes later, they’re climbing on the Vespa that Tony insisted on renting. “Are you certain that you know how to drive a scooter?” Ziva asks with a small amount of trepidation. She has little time to die in a Tony-induced accident today.

“Of course! It can’t be that hard!”

“That does not reassure me. You understand, yes, that the rules of the road are different here than in Washington?”

“I’m not stupid, Ziva.” Tony turns around to frown at her, but his eyes are alight with hidden laughter. “And honestly, are you really going to talk to me about road safety? How many times have I almost died with you behind the wheel?”

“I am an excellent driver!” Ziva insists indignantly, but she’s speaking to the back of his head because he’s already turned back around. “It is the other drivers who—AHHH!” She interrupts herself with a yell because Tony has—with zero warning—revved the engine and sent them speeding out onto the road.

“I thought you said you knew how to drive this thing!” Ziva yells over the sudden wind in her ears and Tony’s triumphant, wordless shout.

“I do!”

He definitely does not.

_____________________

Their first stop is one of Ziva’s favorite Parisian cafes, Café de Flore in the Latin Quarter. As they are seated and start to look over the menu, Ziva briefly explains the restaurant’s history. “This is a place that many tourists love, but that is for good reason. It is one of Paris’ oldest cafes, and it has been frequented by some of the greatest creative minds of the twentieth century. Ernest Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, Robert Desnos, Raymond Queneau… the list goes on.”

“And now we’re here.” Tony glances around; the morning light shining through the panes of glass bounces off the crisps white shirts of waiters as they bustle past. He’s never felt so French; the atmosphere of the cafe demands the feeling.

“Yes, we are.”

“What’s good here?” Tony wants to know, his eyes excitedly scanning the simple black-and-white text of the menu.

“You must try the hot chocolate, if nothing else. I know your sweet mouth will appreciate it.”

“Sweet tooth.”

“Yes, that.”

“Alright, I will.”

What follows is a delicious culinary adventure through several types of pastries, all split between them until they can’t eat another bite. They sit in sated silence for a few minutes after they finish their food and hot chocolate, bellies full and happy as they stare contentedly at crumbs dusting the green table top. “Damn. Parisians really know how to do pastries, don’t they?” Tony says eventually, a vaguely dreamy expression on his face.

“They certainly do,” Ziva agrees completely. “We have more things to see, however. Shall we?”

“We shall.” Tony rises to his feet with a light groan, patting his stomach to emphasize its fullness before offering Ziva his hand in a surprisingly chivalrous move.

Ziva accepts, her heart skipping one tiny beat. (She reminds herself once again that he is her work partner, not a romantic interest—they’ve nearly been down this road enough times that she knows better than to imagine otherwise.)

_____________________

After another mildly terrifying Vespa ride, Tony and Ziva burn off all the calories they just consumed by climbing to the top of the Arc de Triomphe. There, slightly out of breath, they get a birds’ eye view of the timeless city and all its charms.

Observing the yellow-white walls of buildings that have seen centuries of history, neatly arranged down streets and boulevards lined with the fresh green of trees blooming for spring, Tony thinks quite suddenly that there’s no one he would rather share this with. He glances at Ziva—she’s looking away from him, down at the traffic circle that’s too far below to hear its chaos. Her profile is as beautiful as the city he’s falling in love with, and it occurs to him that he came very close to losing her not even half a year ago.

He’s never been so glad for something not happening, and he’d go back to that desert and risk death or worse dozens of times more if it meant he could relive this moment with her again and again, here among the birds and the buttery sunlight and the city that stretches on forever.

He slides his hand into hers. Though she doesn’t look at him or acknowledge the move, she threads her fingers through his.

Eventually, Ziva lifts her other hand to point. “The Eiffel Tower is that way, as you can see. I thought we would go there next. It is about two kilometers away.”

“No.”

Now, she does look at him. “No? Tony, a trip to Paris is not complete without visiting its most famous landmark.”

“I know.” He doesn’t say more, though, and after a moment, Ziva dismisses whatever he isn’t saying with a shrug.

“Alright. To the Musée d’Orsay, then?”

“To the Musée d’Orsay.”

_____________________

They spend close to two hours meandering through the d’Orsay, both particularly enjoying the Monet collection. There’s something undeniably romantic about whispering to one another as they observe pastel water and floral scenes, feeling lost in the paintings and the history and the almost intangible sensation of being at home in this magnificent place.

The whole time, they’re hand in hand, and neither mentions it.

Then they have lunch at Le Galliera. Tony makes Ziva giggle almost helplessly as he tries his damnedest to order for them both in terrible French; the waiter is less than impressed, but Tony more or less gets his point across.

Considering this is still technically a work trip, they shouldn’t order a bottle of wine and then another one, but they do. A meal with wine is the greatest Parisian inevitability; it turns out to be one of the best meals either has had in ages.

Following lunch, they go to the last stop that Ziva has planned for the day, the Louvre.

Tony finds himself far more impressed with the delicate architecture of the Louvre than with its most famous inhabitant—the surprisingly small Mona Lisa—but he finds that he immensely enjoys other parts of the museum.

There are tourists everywhere, milling about the more well-known exhibits, and it’s a good thing that Ziva dedicated their whole afternoon to exploring… it’s an enormous building with too many exhibits to keep track of. At first, Ziva aims to show Tony the can’t-miss art pieces: the Winged Victory of Samothrace, the Venus de Milo, Liberty Leading the People… but then their tour becomes aimless.

Much like their visit to the Musee d’Orsay, they find themselves just walking, enjoying the art and one another’s company.

Then they stumble across the room that turns out to be Tony’s favorite of all: the Napoleon exhibit.

Here, there are no tourists. They’re alone with the art and the history, free to speak as loudly or quietly as they would like, or to not speak at all; the space feels almost like a church, old and sanctified and echoey and welcoming. Like a church, it brings on the urge for confession.

Tony coughs suddenly, twenty minutes into their Napoleon exploration, and the noise makes Ziva startle... something Tony has rarely if ever seen her do.

He hasn’t spent this much time with her since Somalia, though.

“Are you alright?” he asks, uncharacteristically gentle.

“Yes, of course I am.” Ziva turns to him in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re jumpy. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“You would be, too, if you spent every moment waiting for your nightmares to reappear,” she answers, her honesty surprising both of them.

“Are you talking about—”

“What do you think I am talking about, Tony?”

That stops him short. He’s often wondered what exactly happened to her in Africa, because she has never told him. He hates himself for wondering so much, though, for fearfully imagining, but he can’t suppress the gut feeling that she needs to get at least some of it out before she loses herself to the memories… as much as he doesn’t want to hear it.

“What happened over there, Ziva?”

“You do not want to know, and I do not want to say.”

“That’s not true,” he argues softly, following her as she stalks away from him, deeper into the museum. “I think you want to talk about it. I think you need to.”

“And when did you complete your psychology degree?” Ziva snaps, looking determinedly away from him; at least she has stopped walking.

“I don’t know psychology, you’re right, but I know you.”

“Do you?” Ziva demands, turning suddenly to face him with fire in her eyes. “Do you know me? Does anyone? Can you possibly know what is left of me, Tony? Because I do not even know myself anymore!”

That breaks Tony’s heart, and he swallows. “Yes. If there’s one goddamn thing I’m sure of, it’s that I know you, even if you aren’t so sure.”

“Think what you would like! You have never stopped forming your own opinions anyway, whether you had any information at all or not! Stop trying to get me to—”

“I’m just trying to look out for you! That’s all! I know you went through hell, alright? I know that! I’m not demanding all the details, and I’m not asking out of morbid curiosity or whatever! I’m trying to keep you from collapsing in on yourself, Ziva!”

“Stop. Pushing.” Her voice is at once quiet and deadly serious.

Not sure if it’s the right thing to do, Tony does stop.

_____________________

They reach an unspoken truce as they finish touring the museum, but neither is paying much attention to the exhibits anymore. Too worn out from both their active day and their suppressed emotions to search out a distant dinner spot, they decide to simply dine at one of the on-site restaurants, Le Café Marly.

They’re both subdued throughout the meal, and it seems to Tony that Ziva is constantly on the verge of saying something. Every time she looks like she’s about to speak, however, she bites her tongue and goes back to her plate.

Eventually, Tony cautiously decides to prompt her one more time—he doesn’t want his head bitten off, but he can’t let her stew like this without giving it another try. “Something on your mind?” he asks lightly.

“I…”

“Something about Somalia?” he hazards.

This time, rather than getting angry, Ziva just looks… tired. Sad. Maybe a little broken. “Yes.”

“Something you need to get off your chest?”

“I… I can’t, I...” The grief that wasn’t strong enough to break through her anger earlier comes suddenly now, and Ziva ducks her head, staring at the fingers of her twisting and worrying hands in her lap as tears start to gather in her eyes. “I am fine,” she insists, though Tony hasn’t said anything, “and you should not have asked me in public.”

“Oh, Ziva… I’m so sorry.” Tony sounds exhausted, too, and pained. He’s not apologizing for asking, Ziva’s sure. He’s hurting for her and what she went through, she knows, and though she loves him for it, it doesn’t make her own pain any easier.

She’s just going to have to feel this. She has been, little by little, but somehow it hurts more now, thinking of talking about it with someone who would go to the ends of the earth for her.

He lets her sit for a moment, tears falling silently to her lap from a curiously expressionless face, until he can’t take it anymore. Then he reaches over and takes her hand. “Do you want to talk about it? Because you don’t have to, but… no offense, Ziva, but I don’t think you would have entertained this conversation at all if you didn’t.”

“No,” she snaps, hating how congested her voice sounds, but then she relents. “I do not know. Maybe.”

“Then let’s maybe get out of here.” Without looking at him, Ziva can hear the small smile in his voice.

He may be an ass, and he may be obnoxious, but he may also be the best friend she’s ever had.

He signals for the waiter to bring their bill, and before long, they’re headed out into the cool spring air. Ziva heads for Tony’s stupid rented Vespa, assuming they’re heading back to their hotel, but he doesn’t follow her. She looks back questionably, glad her tears have dried up for now, but he’s standing back, shaking his head. “It’s our only real night in Paris,” he reminds her. “Let’s go see the sights.”

“What have we been doing all day, if not seeing the sights?” Ziva wants to know. “Tony, I am tired.”

Tony tilts his head to one side. “Come on, I know my badass ninja assassin partner has at least a little more in her, doesn’t she? Humor me, Ziva.”

He looks so earnest that she’s tricked into nodding yes, intrigued as always by the occasional vulnerable side of him that sometimes makes its way out. “Alright—for a little while,” she amends.

“That’s the spirit! Come on, David. Let’s go see the City of Lights by night.”

She can’t help but laugh when he drapes an arm ever-so-lightly around her shoulders. “You are in quite a mood tonight,” she observes, walking willingly toward wherever he’s headed.

“Yeah, well, somebody has to be, right?” he replies pragmatically, squeezing her shoulders.

For some inexplicable reason, the gesture warms her in a way her coat does not.

“Where are you dragging me?” She suspects she already knows, but him leading the way—and walking, no less, the Vespa still parked on a curb near the restaurant—is an unexpected change of pace.

“Really, Ziva, if you have to ask, you’re not half as smart as I give you credit for. Where does any first time tourist in Paris go? Where did we not go already?”

“The Eiffel Tower?” Ziva surmises.

“The one and only,” Tony agrees.

“It is not the only one,” Ziva counters, just to be argumentative. She loves verbally sparring with him, even if she won’t admit it, and the familiarity of the bickering is soothing.

“Where are there others?”

“Do not tell me you have never been to Las Vegas.”

“I have, but—oh. You mean the tiny one.”

Ziva laughs; it’s a little stilted, but it’s genuine. Tony now seems content to let her decide when or if she wants to talk about more serious things, and she appreciates it. “It is not quite as impressive, but the design is the same, I suppose.”

“Well, you may not be easy to please, but I thought it was cool. Anyway, this is why I didn’t want to see the Tower earlier. I hear it lights up at night and that’s got to be the best way to see it, right?”

“Right,” she agrees.

They fall into companionable silence, focusing on the long walk at hand. The sun has long since set, and the energy of the city has subtly changed in a way that few other cities ever do. They become anonymous, just another two Parisians strolling toward Saturday night plans, nameless and faceless among the city lights and the beautiful spring evening.

It’s comforting.

Before Ziva is even aware of what she’s doing, she starts to talk. To his credit, Tony doesn’t say a single word; he just holds onto her and lets her talk.

There’s little emotion in Ziva’s voice as she describes being tortured. It’s factual, like someone reading from a textbook; she has removed herself from her memories to the best of her ability. There’s more feeling, however, as she speaks of losing hope, hope she barely had in the first place. She tells him about wanting to give up, about not being allowed to, about wishing for death and receiving rescue instead.

She talks until the Tower is in sight, and when she’s done, she falls silent.

Tony’s only response is to drop the longest, most heartfelt kiss to the top of her head. Ziva’s glad; somehow, any response he could have uttered out loud would have felt… cheap.

Inexplicably, some of the horrible weight on her tired soul disappears.

_____________________

They stay silent when they reach the Tower; even Ziva, who has seen this sight many times, is struck dumb by the lights as they sparkle across the entire magnificent structure. She feels small, insignificant, like her problems are small and insignificant, too.

The thought brings tears back to her eyes, and she’s just about to voice the idea when Tony nudges her. “Listen,” he murmurs.

She stops and does so, focusing in on a sound that her analytical mind had already tuned out as unimportant. It’s the sound of a violin and a piano mixing sweetly together. Ten meters away, two street performers stand alone and ignored, softly playing Chopin’s Nocturne in C Sharp Minor.

Now that she’s paying attention to it, Ziva’s a little mesmerized, and she’s startled slightly when Tony takes her hand again. “Let’s dance,” he says, the little smile on his face so hopeful that she can’t say no.

Tony uses her hand to draw her closer and rests his other hand on her waist, sighing slightly when her second hand lands on his shoulder. Neither says another word, but they start to rotate and move side to side to the haunting melody; their eyes are locked together, and Tony thinks it might be the most intimate moment he’s ever shared with anyone.

He doesn’t mind at all.

As the song progresses, their bodies get closer and closer together, and the brightness of the Tour’s display illuminates their faces like candlelight. Somehow, Ziva finds her eyes fluttering shut and her head leaning down to rest on Tony’s shoulder. Maybe it’s an illusion, and maybe the pain will come back tomorrow, but here, and now… she feels at once light of soul and cherished of heart.

The last note of the song dies slowly away into the night air, but Tony and Ziva don’t notice, continuing to sway.

#ncis fanfiction #ncis #tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #cynthia writes stuff too #here's part 2 tiz!#happy birthday!#here's some angst and some fluff #the smut will be in part 3 #also as requested please observe that there's a piano XD #anyway i tried my hardest to include all of your favorite places that you told me ages ago!#i love youuuuu happy happy happy birthday!#thanks again sof!

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

Note

dude, the cw is literally trash. that’s just an objective fact. and who cares if the cw ditched posey? i’m actually happy he is not involved in some shitty cw show or in some equally shitty annual cw crossover event tbh. i am just mad they dragged tom welling into that cheap crap ‘cause tom deserves better

LOL don’t mind my friendly neighborhood TW stalker. They don’t really do “objectivity.”

And yeah, like, personally I would’ve been down to see Posey’s take on playing a vampire and I have a soft spot for the original Lost Boys movie, but tbh I’m not a Rob Thomas fan and so was never gonna be that invested in that anyway. And hey, no longer being committed to that project feasibly means he might be available to audition for the part of Kyle Rayner if his solo show continues to pick up steam....gosh, its almost like there’s something to that thing I frequently say on here....to not read too much into actors being signed to projects or cut loose from projects, because it happens for a variety of reasons and there’s been plenty of occasions when actors got booted from one project because of whatever reason, only to land a much better project they wouldn’t have been available for if the previous one had gone through.

Like, I’ve mentioned before that I was in a pilot years ago for CBS, that they were hoping would be the launchpoint of an entire new franchise, similar to what CSI had been for them, since that franchise was winding down at the time. They went all out on the pilot, spent 5 million on it, the name cast was Gina Torres, Teri Polo, Eddie Cibrian, Matt King, Cole Hauser....like, a pretty good lineup, all things considered. The pilot being picked up for series was as close to a sure thing as people in this town are generally ever willing to bet on, that’s how good the buzz everyone was hearing from the studio was.....and then at the last second, CBS just switched gears entirely and passed on it without so much as an explanation (at least as far as I was ever given). We went from having massive studio support to being in the rear view mirror, in the span of a single day and ptttthb, that was it for Washington Field. Nothing ever came of that project, and the whole cast was released to go on and do whatever else we landed.

Anyone who wanted to make a thing of that project’s failure and try and read implications into any one of the cast from the studio passing on the project, after being vocally in support of it just a week prior....like, they could certainly do that, with let’s say Gina Torres for example. Course, they’d be pretty dumb to try and read those implications or make those assertions, because if Washington Field HAD been picked up, it would have debuted in the 2010 television season, and taken up so much of her time, she would have had very little availability for other projects on the side. There’s a reason you rarely see the stars of CBS shows moonlighting on other shows or films during the run of their CBS show, and it has very little to do with their pay and lack of interest in taking on other projects - its more because CBS works the fuck out of their franchises and the stars of their bigger shows tend to have very little time left over for anything else.

And meanwhile, by not being locked into Washington Field in 2010 and potentially beyond, Gina was available to be cast in Suits as Jessica Pearson, that same year....a role spanning years and multiple seasons, and that she’s received critical acclaim for and led to her eventually starring and executive producing her own spinoff, Pearson....while at the same time, being a cable series with a much shorter and more flexible season, left her free to do other projects on the side, including a number of very well known roles on a number of very well known primetime and HBO shows, like Revenge, Westworld, Hannibal and more. Not to mention done a few movies over the past years as well.

And she didn’t even have to end up playing a Fed to get all that acclaim and work! (LOL Washington Field was about an FBI task force).

So like....it just doesn’t work to try and assume things about actors based on whether they get passed on for a role, or their series gets passed on, or there’s scheduling conflicts or behind the scenes drama, or whatever you hear. Base your opinions on their talent and their careers on what YOU actually SEE onscreen. Nobody in the general public is in the room with the people making the decisions, hearing WHY they make those decisions, and its a good rule of thumb not to put too much stock in any claim to know why this actor or that actor got passed over for a role, or why this or that series didn’t get greenlit.

WE, the actors ourselves, or the people involved in the projects, cast and crew alike....very rarely even know WHY they make the decisions they make....but I can tell you, based on the reasoning I’ve heard or been given for some of the more inexplicable decisions I’ve been privy to....some of those reasonings are dumb and subjective as heeeeeeeell, lol.

Because like...that’s studio execs in a nutshell, lol. Hollywood egos are NOTORIOUS for screwing up otherwise sound business decisions, because a lot of these suits have money to burn....and the money being burnt usually isn’t even theirs!

I mean, just personally, there was one role that I thought I was PERFECT for, thought I absolutely nailed my audition, callbacks, screentests....and at pretty much the last possible stage, one of the producers that had been pretty enthusiastic about my performances throughout the whole process just seemed to reverse his mood towards me on a dime, I was told they were gonna go another way, no more explanation than that given, and they went back to auditions again. I had NO clue where I’d gone wrong or how I’d screwed it up that late in the game, where my performance or take on the character had fallen apart and led to them losing confidence in me......until two or three years later, I wound up in front of the same casting director on an unrelated project, and the subject came up at one point and she offhandedly told me not to beat myself up over it, cuz there was nothing I could’ve done differently.

Turns out, between one of my last screen tests and being told they were going to go in another direction, that producer that had been pushing for me all along found out that his wife was having an affair, and the guy she was having the affair with looked JUST enough like me that in the immediate aftermath of him finding this out, that producer didn’t want me anywhere near the project just because being in the same room as someone who looked like me (or that other guy, basically) got him so heated. In fact, according to the casting director, much later, the producer supposedly mentioned that they’d made a mistake with that role and should have gone with me all along.

ahlhfalksfhklagshlkahalhfl

So......studios are dumb, and staffed by dumb people, and this is Known and Proven, so like.....studio-based decisions should never be taken as proof of ANYTHING regarding an actor’s talent or career, or the viability of any given project.

#oops i did it again #i played with your ask #got lost in my brain #oh baby baby #oops youd think id....mumble mumble #when Im sent these...mumble mumble #I'm not #that #good at this #(damn I was so close to being on to something there)

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bigskydreaming · 6 years ago

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thoughts on the cw the lost boys recastings?

Not really? LOL I mean I had to google lost boys recasting because I’ve gotten a couple asks about it this week but this was the first one that mentioned recasting, and I had had no idea why all of a sudden ppl were asking about it again, so...*shrugs*

So I guess the CW didn’t like the pilot that was shot and they released all the cast from their contracts except for two of the lesser known names. I mean sure, I’m kinda bummed that we won’t get Posey playing a vampire in a campy CW show that’ll likely be at least as terrible as TW if not worse, lolol, but that’s literally about as high as my expectations ever went? I’m sure he’ll land something else soon enough.

I know people are always looking to make a big deal about this sort of thing, and so anyone’s free to believe me or not or assume I’m biased because of what a huge Posey stan I obviously am, but tbh....its really not that big a deal. This sort of thing happens all the time, its just nobody outside the industry really pays attention except when its involving a specific project or show they’re interested in, or an actor, so it seems less common from that perspective than it actually is, but like...honestly, this kinda thing happens at least once a pilot season, if not more.

Like literally all that happened, far as I can tell, is the CW passed on the pilot. That’s it. That happens allllllll the time, with something like 70% of the pilots shot every pilot season never seeing the light of day. That’s actually a conservative estimate.

The only thing that’s different from the rest of that 70% here, that puts this in the ‘usually only happens once or twice a pilot season,’ is that the CW didn’t scrap the whole project, and are looking to recast. Usually when that happens, its for one of two reasons: its a passion project for someone hide up on the food chain like one of the executive bigwigs, or else their option on the IP is about to expire and they either are afraid they won’t be able to re-up on it because someone else is looking to horn in, or they don’t want to waste their investment in the project so far but still don’t want to commit for yet another year with nothing to show for it either.

We’re talking about Lost Boys here, so my guess is it could be either, or even more likely, a combination of both. It’s a cult classic with a sizable following and big footprint in the vampire genre. I’m sure there are always people looking to snatch the option for it up the second it becomes available again. The CW’s had this project in development hell for a number of years from what I can see, ever since Rob Thomas first wanted to do something with it for them, and that means the option’s been tied up for years and this is the first time they’ve even gone all the way to pilot with it.

So if they still can’t make it to air with a new pilot and pass on that too, they’ll have to go back to whoever holds the IP rights for the movie and try and re-up again for another year (idk who that is, could be Schumacher, could be the studio that produced the movie, it depends). And if they’ve already had the option tied up for this many years, I guarantee the second word got out that the CW had passed on their pilot, people started making calls and making sure the source option holder knew they were interested, should the option become available again. Which means the holder of the original IP rights now has additional leverage to make the CW pay a higher price to re-up, or else they’ll take their option elsewhere, to the many others who are interested.

And trust me, the CW doesn’t want that. Because then they’ll have to decide if they want to let it go, despite all the money sunk into it over the years already.....or if they want to hang on to it, pay even more than usual to re-up, in addition to the money they dropped this year on one, possibly even two pilots. I’m sure at least some of the people in the decision-making chain at the CW are fans of the original movie, given the nature of most of the shows the CW greenlights, so its pretty much a given that some of them really WANT to see something come out of this option, but sooner or later every studio has to cut their losses and walk away, and I suspect from not just them going back to the drawing board, but going back this late in the year, that there’s a degree of urgency to this that you don’t see most years, meaning they’re probably on the brink of having to make that call. If they pass on this second pilot, whenever they reshoot, I wouldn’t be surprised if they then go ahead and let their option expire next year.

As for everyone but two actors being recast.......okay, so look, this is part of where the whole ‘there are reasons I don’t really ‘stan’ for actors the way most people on social media do’ thing I’m always going on about, lol. Yeah a large part of that has to do with having worked with so many actors the shine has worn off and I’m very aware they’re just people no different from anyone you work with, and you’d find it very odd to stan for a random coworker of yours, I’d imagine. But another part of it is just.....my perspective on the industry and actors is from a very different angle from most peoples’, so a lot of the times I’m just kinda....bwuh, at the things people make a big deal out of, if that makes sense?

Like I mean, as I said, this is literally the first I heard about the show being recast, I haven’t been keeping up with any news or gossip about it at all, but I know, I just KNOW that there are people reading a lot into this, either in support of Posey or looking to make digs at him for....what to my POV....very likely has absolutely fuck all to do with the cast at all?

LMAO. Like I just mean, in my perspective, it wouldn’t even occur to me to assume the actors all gave shitty performances or were a let down and that’s why they’re all being recast, at least, were it not for years on social media making me aware that is a common assumption.

Like...nope, that’s really not a thing that happens, like, it literally just doesn’t. Again, people can believe me or not, but I promise, I PROMISE, there has been no pilot in the history of ever, where almost the entire cast was recast because every single one of them phoned in a shitty performance. Nope. Look, no matter HOW long you’ve worked in the industry, pilots are NOT easy to come by. Pilot season is hands down THE most competitive time of the year for any actor, on pretty much any level. Unless we’re talking actors who don’t even have to be cast because their involvement is the only reason a project is happening, that sorta thing.....NO ACTOR EVER TAKES A PILOT CASTING FOR GRANTED. Like, if an actor honestly just didn’t even care all that much whether a pilot gets picked up? Then why the fuck would they even bother going on auditions for that pilot, or why not just sit out that pilot season? It’s a bunch of hassle they don’t need as well as possibly getting locked into a longterm contract for a project they don’t really care about....lol just no, that’s not a thing. Actors don’t do pilots unless they WANT that pilot to be picked up, and for them to have a contracted role. Full stop.

So when you keep that in mind....honestly, what are the chances that in a full cast of professional actors, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM couldn’t manage to give a compelling performance, while bringing their A-game, except for the two cast members with the least on their resumes?

The chances are zip, because on the occasions an entire cast or almost an entire cast gets replaced for a reshoot, it has absolutely zero to do with any of the performances, and everything to do with the direction taken with the premise, like, the basic pitch they chose to go with for the characters.

Because again....its about Hollywood’s favorite magic word: leverage.

Nah, if one actor gets replaced after a pilot, before reshoots or even just between shooting the pilot and the show starting shooting on the rest of the season? Then it might be about the performance there, the studio just didn’t like that actor in the role and wanted to recast. Or it might be about the actor having had competing commitments that meant they turned out not to be available longterm after all, or there was a ceiling to how long they’d actually be available, or maybe they had enough other commitments that technically made them available but were still a hassle for the studio to work around and they just didn’t want to bother.

OR, in some cases....an actor gets recast before the show goes to air, because the studio couldn’t negotiate an agreement with the actor for their contract, that satisfied both parties.

Because that’s the angle most people forget to consider in this specific type of situation: actors sign on for a pilot, when they get cast. Their contracts have nothing to do with a full season at that point, because there’s nothing to even negotiate there, until a pilot is actually greenlit. Because until that point, nobody even knows for sure if they’re going to get a full season pick up, a half a season pick up, if the studio is just going to order eight episodes at first and then see how the ratings are before picking up five more episodes on the back end, etc.

So AFTER a pilot gets greenlit, the casts’ representation goes back to the table with the studio and hammer out their longterm contracts for the actual season.

And when a cast has to shoot not one pilot but two, before they even reach the negotiation stage for a full season pickup....they come to the table with a HELL of a lot of leverage. Because they know exactly how badly the studio needs THIS particular show to work out at this point, after that much of an investment. They know that the studio used up pretty much any buffer time they had, in order to get a whole second pilot shot, and they literally can’t AFFORD to have too many of their main cast walk at this point, if they don’t agree to their terms.

So when a studio recasts almost an entire cast before going back to reshoots, its because they’re trying to hedge their bets as much as possible and nip that negotiating power in the bud with a full recast with brand new actors who are brought in with the understanding that ‘we know we don’t have a lot of time to get this done and don’t want to waste our investment on this flopping, and YOU know that and we KNOW you know that, but if you want this part at all, you’re not going to make that a thing when it comes to full season contracts, do we have an agreement there.’

And you can’t make that kind of agreement halfway through things with a cast you’ve already made any kind of commitment to, not and expect them to be on board without any kind of concessions made.

So yeah, that’s why my guess is who knows what kind of performances the cast gave, it very likely had nothing to do with the recastings. Best bet is the studio just wasn’t happy with how the pitch they went with for this initial pilot looked when realized on screen, or maybe they were torn between two pitches initially anyway and now they feel the other might be a better bet.....and they couldn’t afford to stick with a cast that already had this much negotiating power this late in the game, so they released everyone from their contracts except for two of the ones who had relatively little negotiating power to begin with, and weren’t likely to give the studio too much of a problem over full season contracts.

Besides, if the new pilot does make it to air, by the time the new cast negotiates their full season contracts, the studio can sit down with these two and say its not that big a deal to recast one or two more at this point, all things considered, so.....again, do you want this role or not.

Ahhh, good old Hollywood. Where the bullshit in question is never exactly the bullshit most people assume it is, but make no mistake - its bullshit all the same. LOLOL.

Ugh, if only I weren’t a masochist who didn’t love being a THEEEEEEEESPIAN so much. Ah well.

But seriously guys, the thing you have to remember always, is there are never any guarantees, ever, at any stage, so its always a mistake to assume that a late stage decision or change has anything to do with quality, when there are a million other bullshit factors studios tend to consider before they even get around to giving a shit about what they think of the quality.

Like, an example....six or seven years ago, I don’t remember exactly...maybe it was eight, even? The year Jay Leno’s scandals were all over the news and NBC pulled his contract and all the late night talk shows moved around and swapped hosts.

Anyway, doing that meant that all of a sudden, NBC had an entire slate of open slots they needed to fill in the ten o’clock hour of their season lineups. Monday through Friday, when they usually would have a brand new hour of Leno programming for viewers from 10-11, all of a sudden, they had NOTHING. It was pretty damn unprecedented and nobody knew for sure how things were going to play out....just that it was November, and NBC was scrambling to pick and staff and cast as many pilots as they could in as short a time frame as they could, to cover the gap.

In the end, they had about half a dozen to maybe ten pilots at most, all filming at breakneck speed throughout December, right before the holidays, with the studio hoping to make a decision on them over hiatus and start shooting again over sweeps for a late midseason premiere to them.

So us poor dumb bastards who got cast and shoved through contracts, fittings, filming and all that good stuff in one of the most whirlwind and exhausting start-to-finish shoots any of us had ever experienced in the industry, were like, okay we KNOW better than to assume anything’s a sure thing, but like....this is PRETTY CLOSE to a sure thing, right? RIGHT?

Ugh, what dumbasses.

LOL and me I was one of the worst, because I wasn’t SAYING it out loud where anyone could hear it, but like, I was SURE this was going to be my big break. Because see, I wasn’t cast just on any old last minute pilot. No, I landed a bit-part-with-possibilities-of-recurring on a pilot starring David Tennant, like, fresh off his role on Doctor Who and very much in demand. It had a fair number of other names going for it...Jane Curtin, Cleo King who’d just gotten a big boost in popularity from The Hangover releasing over the summer, Abigail Spencer from Timeless although back then she was mostly just known for her work on Mad Men, etc. Like, this production was so rushed it never even got to the point of having an actual title, it was called something like “Rex Is Not Your Lawyer" on all our official contracts and stuff lol. We shot it over two weeks in December and wrapped filming the day before Christmas. And then we waited to hear about a decision, pretty fucking confident we were about to get a midseason pickup, because like....literally what else did the studio even HAVE?

Well. Nothing. We were right on that front, at least. They had nothing else to put on air besides the pilots they’d hastily pulled together and shot.....but in the end, after ALL of that, and after all that expense, and drama, and rushing and whatnot....the higher ups decided eh...you know what? We’re not really feeling any of these, hey, let’s just air re-runs of the Leno show in his old ten o’clock spot, that’ll be good enough.

....*headdesk*

LOL and the best thing was they didn’t even bother to tell ANY of the casts their decision until like, a month after making it. I mean we’d pretty much figured out from watching the clock that for whatever reason, it just wasn’t going to happen, but despite being a nobody, I was weirdly one of the very first in the cast to know for sure we weren’t getting picked up, because one of my friends who works in costume design was working on a different show on the lot where we’d shot Rex, and called me at like 6 am one day to say ‘oh shit, they’re packing up your sets, wtf,’ and that was basically as good as confirmation, lmao, ugh.

Though tbh, for me personally, that one doesn’t sting nearly as much as Washington Field, which was....I wanna say one or two pilot seasons before that? It was my first year in town, going out on auditions for pilot season as a fully paid up and registered SAG actor, the CSI franchise was winding down and CBS was looking to replace it with a brand new franchise, and Washington Field was the procedural they were hoping to use as a launching point for that new franchise. Some FBI procedural, like lbr, I would have never ever watched it myself and probably hated every script with a passion lol. I remember first time I got the full script for the pilot, like, it was pretty much right before we were all set to fly out to where we were shooting on location, so a bunch of my acting friends were over for a last minute party kinda thing, THOROUGHLY enjoying a drinking game they’d made out of the script, called something like “Get a shot every time Kalen’s character is a MASSIVE TOOL of the Establishment!” LOL like lbr, it wouldn’t have been my favorite role to break into the biz with haha. But the cast was pretty cool and we had a blast - GINA TORRES, ugh, still so bummed there, Teri Polo, Cole Hauser which is ironic given this is an ask about Lost Boys, lol, oh and Eddie Cibrian but he was super cranky the whole time b/c like his affair with LeeAnn Rimes had just become public knowledge lolol whooooops - anyway.

I was pretty sure that was a sure thing too, because CBS was pushing the hellllll out of that pilot, talking up all these big plans they had for it, it was something like a $5 million pilot, we had helicopters, shut down a whole freeway for filming one day, the works. Big big production. I didn’t even have representation at the time, I was booking my own auditions and literally only got called in for that one because the casting director had remembered me from some indie I did, weirdly enough, and looked me up on a whim. But like, yeah, I only found out we’d been passed over on that one when I ran into one of the other cast on the street like the week before pick-ups and she was like “oh honey no, didn’t you hear? They passed on our pilot, we’re all released from contract.” ....lol, that was not a super fun way to find out.

Oh well, ANYWAY, point is, nobody ever knows anything even when they think they know and also studios are stupid and dumb and make stupid dumb decisions all the time so never ever assume a studio’s decision has anything to do with anything other than being stupid and dumb and also, I am DEFINITELY not biased, okay, maybe I am a little bit but my bias has actually absolutely zero to do with Posey and everything to do with being Jilted one too many times by studios who are both stupid and dumb, and thus clearly not to be trusted. Harrumph.

....I think there’s an answer to your question in there. Somewhere. Idk, I think I got lost too.

#Anonymous

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