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phantomrose96 · 6 months ago

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Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)

Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this

...

Danny’s eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tucker’s head.

“God. Fucking…” Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” Danny asked, as if he hadn’t been watching Tucker’s game the whole time.

“You. You’re up. I died.”

Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.

“Oops,” Danny said.

“Not your best work.” And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. “Is it Vlad?”

“No. Well, yes,” Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tucker’s mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Danny’s chair. ��But at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.” Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. “It was just weird.”

“I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s definitely not the first time your dad’s gotten some math wrong,” Tucker said. “He blows up like three things a week doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he doesn’t care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.” Danny’s expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. “Vlad did, I mean.”

“Does any of the math actually work?” Sam offered from Tucker’s desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. “Like, it’s all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?”

“I think they follow some math. It’s not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, or—well the thermos DIDN’T work—until I made it work.”

The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.

“So I’m wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe they’re gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.”

“Well the order is backwards, for starters,” Sam said. “Thermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.”

“Sam’s right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?” Tucker loaded up the next level. “It was their portal, and their math, and it worked. There’s a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.”

Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ask Vlad. He’s got a portal.”

“Like Vlad’s gonna tell me.”

“Just promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. He’s easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.”

“It’s not your turn,” Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tucker’s wiggling grasp.

“I’ll let you do two in a row for your next turn.”

Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.

The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.

…

Danny hadn’t really meant to stay the night at Tucker’s place. They’d just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.

So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.

He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.

He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. “Don’t come home. Make up an excuse.”

“…Fuck,” Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.

He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Don’t come home, Don’t come home, Don’t come home.

They knew. He’d fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if they’d taken the “We accept you” angle.

Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?

Fuck.

Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasn’t actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.

Tucker’s ball of blankets rustled from the couch. “Mmph?” he asked, articulately.

“I have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,” Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. “I think they know.”

Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.

…

Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie style—open the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?

“—absolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.”

Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.

Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.

The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazz’s expression he did not notice until second—whites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadn’t won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.

He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.

Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion on their face. It wasn’t the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.

It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.

“Danny,” Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. “Things are…! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, I’ll finish clearing up—there’s a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so I’ve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to them—”

“Danny,” Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. “Danny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. I’m just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I won’t be mad. Whatever the answer is, I won’t be mad. I just want an honest answer.”

She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.

“Were you there when the portal turned on?” she asked.

“No, I wasn’t,” Danny answered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. “It just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? That’s what you two said.”

“That was our guess ,but we don’t really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.”

“Yeah. I mean the portal’s gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone that’s—gotta be huge EMF.” Danny’s focus bounced between his mother’s eyes. “Just a guess. I really don’t know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.”

Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and that’s when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.

“Have you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that don’t feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like it’s changed in a way you can’t explain?”

She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.

“Uh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it ‘puberty’ there.”

“Danny,” Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. “Did you die in the machine?”

A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.

“I’M alive!” Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. “Look at me. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only math that works,” Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. “If one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I don’t think it was Jazz.”

This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. ‘They can’t kill me I’m already dead,’ was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.

He’d buried that worry, already. They weren’t allowed to bring it back.

“Look… at me!” Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. “Look how super alive I am! I’m awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. I’ve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! I’m not a ghost-expert but ghosts don’t have that.”

This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never ‘one of them.’ That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.

He was not dead.

“If you died in the portal, your ghost wouldn’t have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then you’d be…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know what you’d be, but you wouldn’t be alive.”

“Dad,” Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. “What an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You don’t know that! Dad you’re tired, and just because you weren’t able to solve your math problem in one night doesn’t mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said I’d help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.”

Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Danny’s face.

Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this. This is weird. I’m gonna go to school now.”

“Danny, I promise they’re just—”

Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.

It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. He’d prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. He’d duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.

Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.

…

Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterday’s sweat now that he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.

No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.

“Vlad!” he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.

Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vlad’s laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.

Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.

The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasn’t touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.

Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.

His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.

“Vlad!” Danny called again.

Nothing.

He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.

His feet clacked. His breath puffed.

“Vlad!”

He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.

“Vlad. I swear to god Vlad.”

He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.

Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadn’t previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.

“Ah, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.” The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.

Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.

“Vlad.”

“So I’ve been hearing.”

“I need you to explain the portal.”

“Ah, I see you’ve spoken to your parents.” Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. “Last I heard they weren’t taking the news very well.”

“What news. What did you tell them?”

“Me? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but… We know how stubborn your parents can be.”

“What answer?”

“That you’re dead, Daniel.”

Shock washed like ice down Danny’s spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.

“Well, I suppose there’s still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if there’s any benefit to that at all.”

“I’m a halfa. We are halfas,” Danny said.

“A silly made up word by a silly child,” Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. “We are dead.”

“I’m not dead,” and Danny’s words were small, and they were childish.

“You are. I am. Embrace it. It’s nicer this way.” Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. “It’s very freeing. After you’ve died already what is there left to fear?”

“I’m alive.”

“You’re a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body don’t work anymore, but ghosts don’t work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.” Vlad’s smile brushed his lips again, warm. “It’s nice to share this with you. Isn’t it nice to share things with people?”

Danny’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. “I’m not dead,” he declared.

“Your wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. You’ll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but they’re trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. It’s what creates one. You’ll necrotize in places but it’s okay, because you’ll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if you’re too sentimental about the puppet you’re still inside.” Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. “Ghosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. You’ll eat and you’ll sleep but you’ll find you won’t perish if you don’t. It just won’t be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You won’t get another.”

“You’re psychotic. And you’re wrong.”

“I have all the math to prove it.” Vlad leered from over Danny’s shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Danny’s balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vlad’s face like the phases of the moon as he moved. “Did your parents explain that part to you properly?”

“No, because they didn’t get the math right.”

“Oh they’ve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.” The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vlad’s cape. “No amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.”

Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.

“You stepped in and you turned the portal on, that’s what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.” Vlad’s face hardened. “No. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? They’d pressed it from the outside. It didn’t work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now we’re here.”

Danny’s eyes bounced between Vlad’s. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.

“You’re messing with me. You’re wrong,” Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. “If the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? You’re admitting to murder and you think I won’t do anything about it?”

Anger flashed like a storm across Vlad’s face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. “The killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. I’ve brought no such harm onto anyone else.”

“Then how do you have this portal?”

“This portal? This portal that I’ve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jack’s broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?” Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. “My boy Daniel you’ve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. I’m jealous. You never even suffered.”

Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.

“Put out of your misery before it even started.” Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. “I should have been so lucky.”

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vlad’s best friend who he hated more every day. He wasn’t sure what he ever enjoyed about Jack’s bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton… And now, he hated how enraged it made him to watch Maddie’s eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.

But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. There’d come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jack’s little quirks, and they’d find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasn’t, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didn’t. And he’d be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.

The day didn’t come. It wouldn’t come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jack’s ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldn’t, it would show her. She’d understand.

Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times he’d caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vlad’s help. On his tests, he failed.

So Vlad was staring at Jack’s equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.

“I’m telling you Jack, it won’t work.”

“Bogus V-man it totally will!”

It wouldn’t. But Vlad wouldn’t fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.

He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didn’t hear the whir of the power source catch.

…

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. “Acne” was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.

Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit they’d told him, and Vlad hadn’t taken it well, and he’d perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.

He’d found the error in Jack’s math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.

When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because they’d cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.

He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Masters’ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.

It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.

His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didn’t bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.

His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.

He knew why Jack’s math was wrong.

A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.

And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldn’t it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?

And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.

He’d fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldn’t work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.

He’d stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.

Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.

Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.

He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldn’t let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didn’t get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.

Vlad would save himself.

A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?

Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.

He crouched, because the portal he’d constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.

And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jack’s grip.

Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.

Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.

He would die if he did nothing.

It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and… maybe… hopefully… drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.

And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.

Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.

And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.

…

The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.

“I’ve harmed no one, Daniel,” Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Danny’s face. “I opened the portal to save myself. You’re lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.” Vlad’s head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. “Although, you’ve maybe made the title whole for him.”

Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.

“Dad didn’t kill me,” he choked. “I did this to myself.”

“How lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. If you believed me, you’d have to accept you’re not wriggling out of this. There’s no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.” Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. “I suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didn’t save you from anything.” Vlad cocked his head. “Such tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.”

Danny shook his head. His heart beat—his human heart beat—all too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vlad’s doing. Vlad’s trap. Vlad’s prison he’d been forced to join.

"That's not true. I'm not like you."

“Of course not,” Vlad said, sweetly. “How sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.”

Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vlad’s words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.

And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the portal from which he’d made himself.

...

(inspiration post from @ciestess)

#sham sacrifice #danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #vlad masters #danny fenton #YELLS AND THROWS THIS AT YOU #ive been spinning around like a top on this idea #tw: suicidal ideation

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medlilove · 4 months ago

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(Edited to add headshots because tumblr hates detail) I've etched away at this is a lovely few weeks, so click for full res and all the little details, okay? It's my love letter to the journey I've found myself on

This is long-ish, so its under the cut (but worth reading...)

I had been thinking a lot recently about that double feature episode, you know the one? I half remembered it then, when they chased a bunch of alien spies so fast through the solar system they all got thrown back in time. Half the crew went on a little undercover adventure in Toronto in 2024. It was great because they got completely cut off from the Enterprise, so half of them, well mostly Uhura and Spock if I recall correctly, spent their time collecting as many radios as possible and worked on building their own communications. Uhura and Spock were basically taking turns constantly tweaking radios by the window with wires everywhere. Oh yeah, their base of operations was the whole top floor of a worn out old building looking over a big square. They ended up in the really arty/queer part of town full of art galleries and thrift stores.....??

Chapel and Chekov were sent out to those shops to find disguises for everyone. I loved the joke that Chekov was puzzled and slightly alarmed that Christine just knew everyone's clothes sizes and measurements with no explanation. Later on, they ended up getting separated from the rest of the group and getting held up by B story shenanigans, mostly getting lost and running into culture shocks. It was fun to see them having their own adventures and made for a pretty interesting combo. Spock and Uhura spent most of their time with the tech, accidentally listening to the times most popular music while changing frequencies. Jim and Sulu paired off to search for clues, and getting supplies and spent a lot of time talking to the locals setting up for a Pride parade. McCoy, feeling paranoid and irritable that he had practically no equipment, wandered around with Dr Alfred Nahdi, the Botanist, who kept picking random weeds and talking about how extraordinary the little dandelions were. Oh and together they stole a whole medical bag out of an ambulance?? It was pretty funny. Anyway, the main issue was they couldn’t risk leaving the area because all these alien spies had assimilated into the population and they had to track them all down and bring them back with them so as not to disrupt the timeline or something. They had to track down the aliens while making sure the aliens didn't pick up on who they were or that they were also out of place. They ended up being there for around two whole ass months, I think. The spies were spread out all over and there were about 30 of them, but it ended up being the Botanist, Alfred (Alfie) Nahdi who found the enemy base of operations by complete accident. Alfred, who had spent most of the time studying all the common flowers and weeds that were so ordinary at that time but were extinct in their time, figured out where the aliens' base of operations was because the big plant shop at the end of the square had a few succulents that could not have existed in 2024. It was a big "woah" moment. And there was this whole thing where he had to act like he hadn’t just figured it out because the florist, who was almost certainly a spy, was watching him and McCoy. But soon after, it all went to hell anyway when a fight broke out and Sulu was straight up shot with the aliens' weapon that had bullets made from alien metal. So then Bones had to perform old school surgery on him in their HQ, with only 2024 equipment. Jim, Spock, and Uhura were out fighting and ran into Chapel and Chekov and were able to finish them off, but it got really crazy because there was a Pride parade in the square at the same time so they had to make sure no one noticed them. While Bones was pulling bullets out of Sulu, with the botanist assisting him until Chapel (who had been sent by Jim) appeared and took over. McCoy said something like, “Christine, I’ve never been so glad to see you in my life,” and they sewed him up all old school. And it worked out! But Bones was a mess because he had to do messy surgery with none of his kit, and so much pressure, and more blood than he was used to... Chapel stayed with Sulu, and Bones and Nahdi went to sit on the fire escape stairwell and had a sweet scene of Bones just full of adrenaline, his hands couldn't stop shaking. They sat hand in hand for a while listening to all the people on the streets below. Then Spock, Jim, Uhura, and Chekov appeared at the stairwell and they all had a happy, albeit exhausted reunion. After a day of everyone recovering from all the excitement, Uhura and Spock used some extra tech they got from the aliens and finally made contact with poor Scotty who was up on the Enterprise losing the will to live. Anyway, their outfits were iconic tbh.

I invented this whole thing to draw Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy in a sweater. I lost control of the situation. I spent a lovely two weeks etching away at this with the support of my lovely ST server, I love you guys. This ones for you.

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter III

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

You work magic with your hands

The human body is able to withstand extreme damage.

"Medic!" Price's voice boomed across base, heavy footsteps following right after. The door slammed open before you could even get up, Gaz and Simon carrying a bloodied Soap. They set him down on the medical bed and you got up, rushing to them and examining the damage.

It's incredible, really, how the human body can withstand extreme conditions and stay resilient, such as a gunshot that had blood leaking out of Johnny's head like a faucet.

"Out. With me, Simon." You bark out orders and the men obey, Price patting your shoulder twice, the look in his eyes saying much more than words. Fix him.

"Apply pressure on the wound." Simon nods his head, quickly discarding his skull gloves as his bare hands apply pressure on Johnny's chest to limit the blood loss. You felt a weak pulse earlier, yet the sound of the EKG machine as soon as you hook him up served as reassurance. You immediately put on your gloves, not bothering to hook him up to an IV to avoid wasting time. His heartbeat is weak, but he's still here.

Your hands get to work immediately as Simon begins to treat the wound on Johnny's chest, a much simpler injury than the bullet in his head. You bring the light closer to his head, able to make out the familiar glint of the bullet encrusted in his brain.

Twelve hours. That's how long it took to complete surgery on Johnny to remove the bullet in his head and stabilize him. He's a lucky motherfucker; the base of his brain and spinal cord being completely untouched, allowing him to be part of the 10% of people who have survived a headshot.

Your knees give out right after you make sure Johnny is all covered up, exhaustion and stress along with the disappearing adrenaline finally catching up to you. Strong arms wrap around your torso to prevent you from falling— Simon, who refused to leave your office, staying awake those twelve hours in case his help was needed.

"With you, lass." He reminds you, helping you stand up and guiding you to your chair, crouching down to get a better look at you.

"Need a cuppa?" He asked gently, the back of his hand making contact with your forehead to check for your temperature.

"Fucking brits..." You grumble, tired eyes looking down at him, the way his gaze softens and the corners of his mouth tilt up into a small smile, a deep laugh escaping out of his lips for a second.

"Some coffee?" You nod your head, hands going under your glasses to gently rub your eyes as you struggle to stay awake. He gets up, hand on your shoulder squeezing softly to make you look up at him.

"I'll go tell that lot Johnny made it, think you can stay awake until they're here?" His words had hints of teasing despite the concern in his eyes, only turning away once you nodded your head. You got up from the chair, walking over to the medical bed and looking at Johnny's unconscious body. His heart beat was stable, at the very least.

"I miss you, Johnny." Your hand reaches out to hold his, squeezing softly before you bring it to your lips and plant a soft kiss on his knuckles, slowly putting his hand back on his stomach. As annoying as he can be, he feels like a younger brother, someone you'd lay down your own life for with no hesitation, though that secretly goes for the rest of the team.

You take a step back when you hear footsteps approaching, pretending to fix the new IV injected to him.

"Doc." Price greets, walking over to you and looking down at Johhny. Bruised and bloody, but alive.

"Knew I made the right choice with you." His heavy hand pats your shoulder, managing to offer you a smile despite all the stress he was in, not knowing whether or not one of his boys was going to make it.

"I'm honored, Captain." He could hear the appreciation under the layer of sarcasm.

"I don't know when he's going to wake up, but there wasn't any damage on the frontal lobe or top of the brain, so probably not gonna have brain damage either... not that it'd make much of a difference." You drift off, eyebrows furrowing slightly as you think back on the twelve hours that just passed, the deep chuckle escaping the captain turning your attention back to him.

"Good. Go rest, Gaz and I will take turns watching over him." You simply nod, turning away to leave and patting his arm gently as you walk past. A small smirk sets on your lips when you feel the muscle, quickly leaving the office and going to your quarters. You barely manage to remove the bloodstained white coat before you collapse in bed, any thoughts about what happened and the coffee Simon was making for you completely forgotten as you finally drift off to sleep.

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

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mingi-s-dimples · 3 months ago

Note

OH EM GEEEE I LOVE YOUR FICS SO SO MUCH (be prepared to see me often hihi) can I request:

hongjoong x wooyoung x reader ? Preferably smut :D maybe where reader keeps annoying wj and hj and they teach her a little lesson AHHHH I love them so so much:(((

Can I be 💭 anon? :]

game over - topaz

REQUEST BY: 💭

pairing: best friends!topaz x fem!reader

rating: 18+

genre: non idol au, smut (lil filth)

summary: you and your boy best friends were playing video games in the living room, but you might have teased them.. a bit too much to their liking.

WC: 2.2k

warnings: wooyoung is a fucking brat (everyone knows this), bratty!reader, woo is teaching reader a lesson for cheating in the game, joong joining in, 3some, creampie, oral (both m&f), handjob, blowjob, sucking off, cum (lots), overstim, squirting, nipple sucking, big dick!topaz, joong is a lil bit confused at first, teasing, unprotected (wrap up irl!), completely consensual!, unedited, I'm sure I forgot something. edit: lil bit of pet names and some degradation? (fucker, slut)

Author's Note: MUAHHAHA 👹👹 I loved writing this pfffff. Thank you SO much anon for requesting this, had so much fun with it. I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG I WAS SO BUSY WITH LIFE AND BACK TO SCHOOL THINGS 😭. I'll do better I promise. Topaz brainrot is EVERYTHING please send me more topaz requests. I hope I fulfilled your expectations, 💭! (send me an ask with your opinion HAHAHAH) love youuu (I am aware it's not necessarily Joong being annoyed by her cheating in the game but he joined in so he was equally annoyed HAHAHAH but he didn't show it -> this eas my view of Joong) -> I still don't feel like I put my whole power and creativity in but I promise y'all won't be disappointed with the kinktober requests 👹)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction & does not represent the members in any way.

The living room was filled with the sounds of explosions, rapid gunfire, and the excited shouts of my two boy best friends, Wooyoung and Hongjoong. We were all huddled on the couch, controllers in hand, locked in an intense battle in our favorite video game. The stakes were high, and I could feel their determination radiating off them as they tried to outmaneuver each other—and me.

But little did they know, I had a secret weapon. A sly smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I casually pressed a hidden button combination, activating a cheat code I’d discovered online. Instantly, my character leapt ahead in the game, dodging bullets and landing impossible headshots with ease.

"Hey, how are you so good all of a sudden?" Wooyoung complained, glancing over at me suspiciously. Hongjoong narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing something was off. I just shrugged, trying to hide my grin.

"Oh, you know," I replied nonchalantly, "Just skill."

They groaned in unison as I racked up another win, not letting on that I was secretly cheating. Winning felt great, but the real fun was seeing their frustrated faces every time they lost to me. I couldn't help but laugh as Wooyoung threw his hands up in exasperation and he muttered something about "beginner's luck."

If only they knew the truth—that their unbeatable friend wasn’t quite as fair as they thought. You absolutely loved teasing them, the frustrated looks on their faces were amusing you so bad. But in a moment of focusing on your game, you did a thoughtless move, Wooyoung seeing your hand nibbling at the controller.

"You fucker" he shouted. "ARE YOU CHEATING!?"

"NO! WHY WOULD I CHEAT." you said, trying to excuse yourself.

"Woo, it's not the first time I've seen her. Though, I kept it to myself, it was really fun to see her win" Hongjoong said, almost unbothered by the situation.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!" Woo said, frustrated. "Goddamn, you fucked all my stats with your cheating. STOP IT!"

"You'd have to make me, tho."

oh.

"What did you just say, y/n?" Joong exhaled, surprised at your words.

"Exactly what you heard. Do you want me to repeat? Y'all would need to make me stop cheating. Whatever it takes, I'm pretty unbothered, tho"

Wooyoung threw his controller on the coffee table and approached you. He pushed you on the sofa, scanning you from head to toe. He sat on the sofa, his right knee between your legs.

"Say it again."

"No"

"Say. It. Again."

"Make me stop cheating at your little stupid game, you fucker."

"Now that's what I wanted to hear."

Hongjoong came behind Woo and he pushed him away from you. Both you and the younger looked at him confused, but you both suddenly realised the two of you know something he doesn't.

"What!? It's not like I haven't fucked her already."

fuck.

"Joong, you better decide now if you wanna join or look. It's up to you."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN Y'ALL FUCKED!?" the older man shouted, worried about the situation at first.

"Like I just said, it's not the first time. Now, go away if you don't wanna join. Though, this little slut might actually like the two of us at the same time. I need to teach her a lesson" Wooyoung said, spreading your legs apart with his knee, pressing on your thigh.

But Hongjoong didn't back off. In fact, he came closer, looking contently at what Wooyoung was doing. Now.. you've never been completely honest with Joong. You and Wooyoung have been fucking for a while whenever you teased him one time too much in a day, and he always fucked you dumb as a punishment. Though.. was it really a punishment?

You were looking at the two men approaching you. Wooyoung was already working on your clothes. He started by slowly taking off your shirt, leaving you in only your bra. He then tugged a bit at your shorts, giving Hongjoong a nod to come closer. The younger moved away from you for a moment, letting Joong take the lead and he took off the shorts, revealing the wet spot on your panties.

"What a slut. Already? Were you perhaps getting wet only at the thought of me fucking you if you teased me, hm? Is that right? Come here you little fucker" Wooyoung said and pulled you closer, one hand under your ass and one on your waist. He lifted you and went to his bedroom, where he dropped you off on the bed. The sheets got wrinkly and as you backed off to the headboard, Hongjoong took of his shirt. He was.. hot. Hot as fuck. Whenever you saw him without a shirt, or going to take a shower in only his briefs something in you made you want to crawl on the walls. But seeing him like that.. undressing for you, riled you up in a way only Wooyoung had ever did.

"Now.. what should I do with you, mm?" the younger said, approaching you. He pushed your hands above the headboard, holding them in place with one of his hands. His other hand went down on your body, and while he started planting soft, sloppy kisses, his hand reached your inner thigh, finding it's way to your dripping core. His kisses trailed from your neck and to your collarbones, where he left dark, purple marks. Then as his fingers started slowly rubbing on your folds, he stood up and sat between your legs, looking back at Hongjoong who was, waiting for a sign from Woo. That was the sign.

He undressed himself almost completely, being left in his briefs, from which a huge bulge could be seen. His cock was straining against the fabric, threatening to spring out at any moment.

"Now... baby. Who do you want first?" Woo scoffed.

"Both"

"Ohh, so you wanted this to happen, hm?" the younger said as he spread your legs out once again for the night and gave you soft kisses on your thighs, then within one move of his hand you were left bare in front of him, dripping on the linen. "What was going through that little mind of yours? Did you want both of us fucking you?"

"Y-yes" you mumbled, shivers being sent up your spine as he was now fingers deep in you, hitting all your sweet spots. You were squirming under him, his body pressed onto yours, but it didn't last long. He went down on you, licked his fingers and started eating you out. His tongue riled you up so bad, you started gripping the sheets to not squirm under him too much. He hated that, cause he couldn't eat you out how he wanted. He loved tasting every inch of you, feeling up your insides and sucking on your clit. Everything he did made you eventually move, to which he bit your inner thigh for a short second and held you down even more forcefully.

Hongjoong was also helping himself in the background, you were watching him contently between all your whimpers and moans. He was lazily stroking his length, waiting for an opportunity to jump in. Though, you didn't let him wait too long as you nodded to him.

"Come here, don't stand b-by yourself" your breath hitching from all that was happening between your legs. You murmured, "Let me h-help you" and as he was close enough to you, your hand started pumping him. The view he had was marvelous, you were being eaten out by Woo and he was stroked by your little hand, but little did he know it was about to get better. He let out some soft whimpers and as you pumped him two more times, you pulled him closer by his thigh and took his dick in your mouth. His cock was girthy, he was stretching your mouth good. At first, you slowly sucked on his tip, licking up his length from the base to the shaft. He didn't even know where to put his hands, in the end he rested one on your head, slowly guiding you to suck him properly. You gave the tip soft kisses then went all out and took his dick up your throat, slowly choking on it. You could hear him hold his moans back, but as your own moans were muffled by his dick deep down your throat, he could feel them revrebrate through his body. You could see how he was close to finishing, but you couldn't properly focus on him at the given moment.

"You taste so good, babe" Wooyoung whispered, and as his finger went to your clit and started rubbing it, you let out a loud moan, at which Hongjoong came undone in your mouth, surprising you. You slurped everything up and sucked him off for a short second to gather all the cum dripping from his tip and you swallowed, looking him in the eyes.

Wooyoung looked up to see why you were moving so much, to which he was greeted by the sight of you now sloppily kissing Joong, the position you were in not being the best. He saw the cum stains on your hand.

"Haha, it didn't take him that long to finish. Aren't you such a little slut, hm?" Wooyoung said and as he pumped his fingers inside of you a few more times and rubbed your clit, you creamed on his fingers beautifully, to which he sucked your juices off his hand once again.

"Now.."

"Joong.. please come here. Baby, what do you think about being fucked by both, hm?" Wooyoun said as he lifted and put you on his now bare dick, his back leaned on the headboard. "Tell me. What do you say?"

"P-please, Woo... Joong. I want b-both of you"

"Good girl. You didn't have a choice, anyways."

As he lined his length to your dripping cunt, Hongjoong also climbed on the bed and got a hold of your leg, pulling himself close to you.

"Babe.. remember this"

Wooyoung said and he started rubbing his tip on your folds.

"You'll always be..."

He pushed only his tip in.

"My lovely fucktoy."

And he bottomed out.

To which Hongjoong followed his movements, he pushed himself right in, gripping on your waist as he started wildly thrusting into you. You could feel that he wanted to do this for a while, the way he was fucking you was riling you on the walls. Wooyoung's dick was filling you up so good, girthy and.. the huge length hitting your cervix almost every time he bottomed down.

"F-fuck, you feel so good" the older one said.

"R-right? Look at her, fucked by both of us. She needs to be taught a lesson, right? What did I tell you about cheating, mm?" Wooyoung said and started nibbling and sucking on your nipples. "Hm? what did I say?"

"Y-you said that I-i should not- ngh, do it"

"And why did you do it?"

"I-i love when you fuck m-me like this. Like there's no tomorrow" you said and engaged in a steamy kiss with him, your ass slapping on both men's cocks, taking them up so good. The only sounds you could hear in the whole room was Hongjoong groaning and your own muffled moans as you were filled by two dicks at once.

"B-babe. That's so good. Keep it going, I'm close" Woooyoung whined, and as he pushed himself into your aching cunt a couple more times, he came in you, filling you up with his load.

"Yes, that's good. Take it all up" to which he continued with "I'm not done yet." and he started wildily fucking you again with his once again hard cock.

Hongjoong was also close, his thrusts became sloppier and they didn't have any rythm. He pumped himself into you a couple more times and bottomed down, gave you some soft kisses, trailing your spine and came in you, staying like that for a minute.

Wooyoung didn't show any signs of stopping. You could feel your tummy getting thighter and your clit aching harder.

"N-no, ngh, please, a bit slower" you mumbled.

"No? I didn't have enough fun yet" the younger one whispered and he pounded heavily into you and make you squirt all over him and the linen.

"See, that's what I'm talking about."

"Holy fuck" Joong murmured.

"See, Joong? She's just not the innocent girl you've known until now. Did you see just how good she took you?"

"Y-yes" he said, a little bit shy.

"The fuck are you turning your head around for? Ah, you're shy... for what? You just saw her squirt all over me, haha" the younger one scoffed.

"Don't worry. You'll see her like this many more times, you'll get used to it. Right, baby?" Wooyoung said, lifting you and hugging you thightly.

"Y-yes" you murmured, still dizzy from all that happened a moment ago.

"Good girl. Joong, let's get her washed up."

"Up for a 2nd round?" you said confidently.

"Thought you'd never ask" Hongjoong said, making the two of you laugh.

Networks:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz

#ateez fanfic #blossomnet #illusionnet #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #fanfic #smut fic #ateez #ateez smut #smut #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x y/n

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roosterforme · 11 months ago

Text

The Intern Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Five minutes into an interview with you, and Bradley knew he was in trouble. You were attractive, funny and smart, and now the summer was stretching out before him like an obstacle course he would have to navigate carefully. At least a visit from an old friend should be enough to help him work through his frustrations.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut and masturbation (eventually 18+)

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

When Bradley got to the Avio headquarters the following morning, he rode the elevator up to his office. He'd already eaten breakfast, gone for a long run and taken a shower, and he was still one of the first ones here. Except for Judy. He smiled when her desk came into view as he turned toward his office door. She was sweet, and it scared him a little bit how much she reminded him of his mom. She was a widow with one son in college, and Bradley would be lost without her.

"Morning," she said, handing him his mail as he walked past without her even looking up at him. "You have a very busy day, and I already turned on your coffee maker."

He really needed to give her another raise. "Thanks, Judy. Hey, what time is that interview I have?" he asked, flipping through the stack of envelopes in his hand.

Now she looked up from her computer and met his eyes. "Nine o'clock. And it's Ted's daughter."

"I know," he replied with a small smile.

"Do you really think she would be a good fit? You'll be working on the yacht for weeks, and all she has is a graduate degree and a daddy with a bankroll." She handed him your résumé with a concerned look.

He shrugged as he skimmed the page again. "She has some related work experience. She volunteered to run the finances for a handful of Philadelphia based charities every year. Her references include the Philadelphia deputy mayor. But you're right, she's pretty green. I'll take this with me," he said as he held the résumé up and headed for his door. "Let me know when she arrives."

"Will do," Judy muttered.

Bradley made himself another cup of coffee before he settled into his seat. His office had a fantastic view of the Pacific Ocean in the distance along with the Naval base at North Island where he'd spent several years working. Sometimes he missed it, other times he didn't. Flying was in his blood, but after five air-to-air kills, it seemed like he'd given up enough of his soul to the Navy. Now he was helping oversee the design of software components that would help keep aviators safer in the air.

He turned his gaze from the view outside back to your resume. Your name at the top made him smile, and the more he read about you, the more he liked. None of the other people begging him for a job in his department had the same level of academic chops or philanthropic endeavors you did. And he couldn't imagine you begging for a single damn thing, ever. He tapped his keyboard, wondering what your LinkedIn profile looked like.

Well. Your photo was gorgeous. It was professional looking without a doubt, but he knew better now that the way your smile tilted a little higher on one side meant you were about to deliver a line that would make him laugh. He wondered if you'd had the photographer smiling nonstop, too.

Bradley paused with his fingers on his keyboard, but he couldn't help it. He typed your full name into the search bar and sorted it by images. There were more headshots of you from academic articles and a few newspapers, but when he scrolled he almost spit his coffee out. There was one of you wearing that same bikini you had on yesterday. When he clicked it for more, it took him to your private instagram page.

He stared at that tiny thumbnail before he closed his eyes. Really, the way you looked wasn't why he asked you to come here today, and he'd spent a good portion of last evening trying to focus on anything other than how it felt to have your body pressed against his while he held you.

"Fuck," he grunted. He really needed to get laid. He made another mental note next to the one about Judy's raise. He would call one of his friends with benefits and get that taken care of, because if you agreed to join him for a couple months on the company yacht, he'd probably see that bikini again and again. And there was no way he could touch Ted's daughter. Not like that. Even if he wanted to.

And that thought brought him back to the main reason you would be here in the next few minutes. What kind of information could he get out of you? Bradley noticed that the profit and loss sheets from several departments didn't seem to add up. That had been the case for two quarters in a row. When he mentioned it to one of the harried looking accountants one floor down, he told Bradley they wouldn't have time to run an unnecessary audit before next quarter started.

Someone in this company was doing something shady, and Bradley wanted to know who it was and why. He'd gone over those numbers for days, double checking his math. He knew he wasn't crazy, but he didn't know who he could safely take this information to, especially when the specs on the software they were creating was considered top secret.

"Your interview is here," Judy's voice suddenly announced through his intercom.

Bradley quickly closed out of the photo of you in a bathing suit that was still on his screen and slammed his laptop shut. "Send her in."

A few seconds later, Judy was holding the door open for you, and you thanked her as you strolled in like you owned the company. Your hair was styled in some sort of clip, and you were wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. Bradley shook his head; it was rich that you called him out for his proclivity for Armani when yours was probably worth three times as much. His gaze drifted down your legs. Your black and white heels were the kinds of things he would love to have thrown over his shoulders in bed, and the bit of white silk peeking out above your jacket buttons reminded him of your skimpy pajamas.

Inviting you here was a terrible idea.

You smirked as you ran your right index finger along the charm from Tiffany's that hung from your necklace, and then you reached out to shake his hand over his desk. "Mr. Bradshaw. So lovely to see you again today." Your voice was playful, and Bradley gestured for you to take a seat while he tried his best to gather his thoughts.

"I was a little afraid you'd show up in your bathing suit," he said, and you nodded as you crossed your legs and set your leather portfolio on your lap.

"I can certainly understand the cause for that concern," you replied, not missing a beat. "However, I promise you'll see nothing but Armani suits from here on out if I end up coming to the office every day. Now what would you have me do for you all summer? Fetch your coffee? Give you the abridged version of the Wall Street Journal? Sit in on pointless meetings in the conference room across the hallway?"

"That's just it," he said, tilting his head to the side and taking in your neutral expression. He hardly knew what to do with the fact that you made him feel warm and slightly uncomfortable when you were being sassy. "We wouldn't be here at all. And actually, you could wear your bathing suit and swim half the time for all I cared."

Your eyes lit up immediately as you leaned closer to his desk. "This sounds like a trap, but please, carry on. Tell me more."

He chuckled as he moved a little closer to you as well. "I'm being tasked with taking a few weeks to a couple months on the company yacht in the Mediterranean. I have the technical knowledge as well as the access to arrange meetings with members of Avio's European sales team to close some deals. This is all top secret information, but since you've got the right connections, I'll go ahead and tell you that the US government has given us the greenlight to sell our software to a select list of countries."

You licked your lips, and Bradley could barely focus as you said, "So you'll be the one calling all the shots. And you need to have access to some of these countries to schedule meetings and dinners and cocktail parties. You'll be working from the yacht in much the same capacity you are currently working from your office, still expected to head the research department here. But you'll have the added workload of trying to answer questions and sell the software in Europe? Did I miss anything?"

Bradley's eyes went a little wide as he chuckled. "No. Not really."

You were smiling now. "This sounds like half work and half sorority party, and let me tell you, I am more than capable of making both of those things go as smoothly for you as possible."

"Yeah," he said, his voice a little raspy now. "But you'll have to put up with me. And some of these clients have been known to be a little difficult in... a variety of different ways." Bradley's mind drifted to last summer when he'd been on the yacht for a week as well as the summer before that. The wealthier a man becomes, the more he seems to think he could have whatever he wants, and Bradley had seen some wild shit. "But I'll do my best to keep you comfortable and safe. The workload will be intense, to say the least. But it'll all be happening on a one hundred and thirty foot superyacht."

You eyed him carefully. "This sounds like it was custom made for me, so you either want me or you don't, Mr. Bradshaw."

Bradley smiled, and his gaze followed your hand as you touched that pretty charm again. "Oh... I want you plenty. Something tells me yachts and Mediterranean vacations are something you simply grew up with. I'm just trying to sell myself now."

The way you laughed reminded him once again of that night in December when you asked him if he wanted to share a bottle of wine with you. "You're very persuasive, Mr. Bradshaw. I can practically smell the sunblock and taste the pasta from here." You bit your lip and considered him, and it felt to Bradley like you could see every flaw and indiscretion inside of him. "Where did you go to school anyway? Yale? Brown? No wait... you look like a Princeton boy to me."

He shook his head as he pointed to his college diploma on the wall. "I went to a state school."

You gasped, and your eyes went wide as you muttered, "Jesus," while you read it. "Political science? At the University of Virginia? Oh... you should be lying to people. I mean, at least say you went to Dartmouth."

Bradley tried and failed to hold in his laughter, because you truly looked scandalized by this turn of events. "Aww, come on, Ivy League. It's not so bad."

You sputtered with laughter, too. "Did you just call me Ivy League?"

"I sure did," he told you, still laughing. "It's about ten times nicer than what I was going to say."

Your soft gasp as your eyes positively lit up made Bradley's heart beat a little faster. "Well, what were you going to say?" you asked before biting your lip.

Shit. You were trouble, and you knew it. "Never mind. My lips are sealed. Can't say that to Ted's daughter."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "You're no fun right now, but I'm sure as soon as I get you loosened up in some Armani swim trunks on the yacht, you'll be an absolute pleasure for me to deal with."

The way Bradley's cock was twitching should have been warning enough. He was about to get in over his head. But all he could say was, "Does that mean you want the internship?"

Your smile tilted up a little higher on the one side. "Oh, absolutely." Then you stood before him looking like the cat who got the cream, and Bradley had to hope for the best as he stood as well. He could mark this as the first time he'd ever become slightly aroused during an interview, a sign that he desperately needed to get laid.

He shook your hand and said, "We leave in a few days. Judy will help you get your visas in order. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect, Mr. Bradshaw."

The way you here still holding his hand and calling him Mr. Bradshaw left his voice barely louder than a rasp. "Judy and I will be in touch."

You turned and shot him a smile over your shoulder as you headed for his office door, and Bradley dropped back down in his chair. He'd call Callie about getting together to hook up before he left for Europe, but he had another more important call to make first. He cleared his throat as he opened his contacts and then put his phone on speaker. He was greeted with a familiar voice filled with laughter.

"Rooster! When are you going to get that yacht warmed up for me?"

Bradley just shook his head and said, "Hangman. You're not going to believe who my summer intern is."

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

You were floating on a raft in the pool wearing your second favorite bathing suit when you were greeted by the sound of your father's voice. "I sincerely hope you know what you're doing by wasting your time right now."

"Daddy," you greeted with a smile. "My day was a complete and utter success."

He checked his watch as he said, "Please, elaborate."

You had the trump card, but you knew all too well what it would be like if you didn't. Instead of lecturing you like you could tell he wanted to, he smiled when you said, "I have a job."

"Where?"

"Avio."

He nodded in appreciation as he said, "I am actually impressed right now. You managed to secure an internship at the company I've spent decades with, and you did so without me knowing anything about it. Which department?"

"Research and development," you replied smoothly.

His eyes went wider. "With Bradley Bradshaw?"

Your tummy swooped, and you sucked in a breath at the mere mention of his name. Spending weeks working with him and entertaining guests with him was going to be... well, something. "Yes. With Bradley Bradshaw."

"Sweetheart," your father said. "He had a career in the Navy."

"Yes. He was an aviator," you recalled from his Avio bio.

"That means he's not going to put up with any nonsense. You don't make him repeat himself, and you don't give him attitude. I'll know immediately if he's displeased with you, I'm sure."

Bradley didn't seem stuffy. He'd already encouraged you to pack your bathing suits. Hell, you were determined to get him to join you in some fun. "Well maybe not immediately as he and I will be on the Avio yacht in the Mediterranean."

Your father stared at you, speechless. Finally he said, "I really don't know how you managed to get exactly what you wanted, but I applaud you, Sweetheart. Well done. I know it sounds fun, but you'll be kept very busy. I hope you know what you're in for."

When he finally wandered back inside after you promised to join him for dinner, you soaked up the last few rays of the dying sunlight. Then you made a mental list of everything you needed to spend the next few days packing as you brushed up on your French and Italian. "J'adore mon travail. Amo il mio lavoro. I love my job."

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

Bradley was still chuckling as he got off the phone with Ted a few days later. Your father tried to warn him that you could be a bit of a handful. Like Bradley wasn't fully aware of that fact. As if he hadn't known since December. He could practically hear your disdain for his alma mater and your delight in international travel from his condo.

He was stacking his suits up in his extra bedroom along with several pairs of shoes, and he shook his head as he looked down at his swim trunks in his hands. They actually were all Armani, and you'd have a field day when you realized it. Or perhaps skinny dipping would become a thing?

Fuck. He needed to stop thinking about you like that. Callie Bassett was on her way over, so that should help alleviate some of this tension. He'd been friends with Halo for over a decade, and she had slowly and naturally turned into a friend with benefits over time. She was still in the Navy, and she was discreet. It was easier than having a girlfriend. It was all he had time for.

As he organized his suits, he remembered you told him he looked like a Princeton boy. He could just picture you with a parade of preppy assholes following you around, and he wondered if you ever slummed it with anyone like him before. It made him want to pack some of his casual clothes including his Virgina baseball cap and his worn out golf shorts. So he did.

Then his doorbell buzzed, and he went to let Callie in. He needed this taken care of right now. She smelled good, and she looked cute. She always did. And she wore something a little skimpy just for him. The kiss on his cheek in greeting quickly turned to her lips brushing his as she said, "I haven't seen you in weeks."

"Been busy," he replied, taking her by the hand and heading for his bedroom. "And I'm leaving for Portugal on Saturday."

"How long?" she asked, pouting a little bit as Bradley reached for the hem of her dress and eased it up and over her head in one fluid motion.

"Couple months," he whispered, taking in her soft, naked body with his gaze.

"Months?" she whined as he wrapped his hands around her waist and smirked at her.

"Don't even act like we are anything close to exclusive, Cal. Now... how do you want it?"

She licked her lips and looked up at him with those familiar dark eyes just as his phone rang in his pocket. He didn't hesitate or check the number; he never did. "Bradshaw."

"Hey, State School. I have a few questions for you."

Bradley froze with your voice in his ear and Callie's fingers on his zipper. He grunted softly as she eased it down and touched him. He just knew if he closed his eyes and listened to your voice, he'd probably finish in her hand within two minutes.

"Ivy League," he rasped, taking a step back away from Halo who was now standing before him completely naked and rolling her eyes.

"Are you busy?" you asked, and Bradley looked Halo in the eyes without remorse as he answered you.

"No. I'm not busy. I can talk." He held up one finger and zipped himself up as he left his bedroom in favor of his office. "As long as you tell me how you got this number."

You laughed as he sank down into his desk chair. "You think it's exclusive or something? Judy gave it to me. And it's probably listed on the company website."

Brat. He narrowed his eyes, adding a note to his mental list to make sure it was not listed on the company website. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, I'm packing and hoping for a little input from you."

"On Thursday night at nine?" he asked. "And don't you have a butler to help you with that?"

"Like you have anything else going on?"

Bradley thought about Callie waiting in his bedroom, but instead of ushering this call along, he asked, "What did you pack so far?"

You sighed. "Sixteen bathing suits, piles of lingerie, and sunglasses. And I'm only kind of kidding."

Fighting the urge to ask for more details, he said, "Unfortunately I can't let you wear any of that in front of potential clients. So throw in some suits and dresses."

"Some suits and dresses? You'll need to be a little bit more specific, Sir."

Sir.

That one word was echoing through his mind along with your bratty tone, and he had to take a deep breath. "Why don't you bring the suit you wore when I interviewed you? That looked good. And so did the dress you wore to your father's holiday party. The dark green one."

There was a pause before you said, "You remember what I wore to the party?"

"Yeah," he grunted, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. "It looked nice. Pack some cocktail dresses, too."

"How many should I pack?"

"How many do you have?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Bradley laughed. "I'm sure you know better than I do what you should wear."

You scoffed. "You're acting like you've never spent a summer on the Avio yacht before."

"I haven't," he replied easily. "Just a few days here and there. I'm sure I'll be learning things from you."

"Then you'll be learning from the best."

He bit back a groan as he said, "That's what I'm counting on. That's why I hired you."

"I won't let you down," you promised, and Bradley believed you. "I'll see you at the airport on Saturday morning. Don't forget your swim trunks."

You ended the call before he could say another word, and now he was convinced you had called him simply because you could. If he was frustrated before, it was nothing compared to the way he felt now. Spending weeks on end with Ted's daughter was supposed to help him get to the bottom of the messy business with Avio, not cause other issues to arise.

He unzipped his pants, intent on touching himself, before jolting to his feet. "Shit," he muttered as he left his office and went back to his bedroom. "Cal?" he called out. "Sorry. It was a work call." But he was completely alone. He laughed as his phone vibrated in his hand with a text from her.

Have a great time in Europe. Don't bother calling me when you get back.

Bradley was sure he'd hear about this from his old friend Natasha when Callie bitched about him at work. But it didn't really matter. After she had a few weeks to cool off, she'd come back when he needed her again. For now, he'd take matters into his own hands and hope that would be enough.

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

Your father insisted upon seeing you off on Saturday morning which gave Bradley a few minutes alone with him. He was listening to Ted as he watched you struggle with your seven pieces of Dior luggage on the tarmac next to the chartered airplane.

"Bradley, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into," your father told him with a laugh. "She's tenacious though. And whip smart. Make sure you challenge her, because she will certainly challenge you."

Now Bradley laughed as he shook Ted's hand. "I'll do my best."

"If she gets to be too much, just leave her in one of the marinas with her passport."

He would never do that to you. He doubted it would ever come to that. In fact, he was already impressed by the way you took care of things for yourself. Sure, you looked like you belonged in an ad for designer gym clothes with your leggings and soft hoodie zipped over your sports bra. But you were also taking your luggage from the back of the black Mercedes-Benz G-Class yourself.

"I can assure you that she and I will be just fine, Sir."

"What have I told you about calling me Ted?" Bradley received a friendly cuff on the shoulder before shaking his hand and turning toward you.

He picked up the last two pieces of your luggage at the same time and carried them to the cargo hold while you trailed after him. "I don't need help," you told him as he stowed them away. Then you added, "You look weird out of your Armani."

"I look weird?" he asked with a laugh as he glanced down at his chinos and Oxford shirt.

"A good kind of weird. Like when you wore that Fair Isle sweater last year."

Bradley examined your pretty face, and you didn't look away. He remembered the dress you wore to Ted's holiday party, and you remembered his sweater. Right now he was wishing he'd joined you for that bottle of French wine that night, something he'd remedy on the yacht. A flood of bad decisions just waiting to happen filled his mind as he said, "Go say goodbye to your father. It's almost time to go."

"Yes, Sir," you told him with your chin held high and a smirk gracing your lips. Bradley stood at the bottom of the stairs while you flung your arms around Ted and kissed him on the cheek. Then you came strolling his way once again, and he followed you closely up the stairs as you turned back and softly said, "I'm all yours."

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

Ivy League spells trouble for Bradley, but at least he knows it. And he didn't get an ounce of relief before getting on that plane. What could possibly go wrong? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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ldrfanatic · 5 months ago

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r2 mattheo riddle

the truth from my red lips

mattheo riddle x gryff!potter!reader

r2 - “you and me would be a BIG conversation”

taylor swift lyric prompts

slytherin boys works

“y/n!” you turned at the sound of your name. colin creevy, a second year, was running up to you with the two issues of the daily prophet. on the first was a picture of your cousin, harry potter, bloodied and stunned following his win at the triwizard tournament. the front of the second sported another stunned headshot of him at his trial for underage magic in the presence of a muggle. (dudley, the disgusting boy on your the other side of the family).

with the new school year it was all anyone could talk about. well that, and that he and dumbledore had both gone mad spouting “nonsense” that voldemort had returned. especially since the lovely minister of magic cornelius fudge was vehemently denying it.

the boy brandished the papers in front of you once more.

“can you have harry sign these?”

suddenly, you were reminded of why you’d never ever wish to be as famous as harry. sure people recognized your last name here and there, but most people hadn’t even known that james potter had a brother, let alone that that brother had children. your father cut all ties with the rest of the family after an unfortunate fallout with your grandfather.

it wasn’t until you came to hogwarts and were sorted into the same house that you and harry got the chance to connect. now that your parents had passed, you lived with your mothers best friend. she was the closest thing that you had to family until you found harry.

in any case, with no prior mention of you, potter was a common enough surname that no one outside of your friends suspected that you were related.

that was until rita skeeter at the bloody prophet decided to do some digging and out you in her mission to completely expose the boy who lived during last years tournament.

before you could respond, a deep voice sounded behind you. “bugger off!”

the boy shrugged, undeterred, and took off in the direction of a familiar head of curls down the hall. you said a silent prayer for hermione. you turned around with the intention of thanking your savior but the words died in your throat when you took note of who it was.

brown eyes met yours and a smile broke out over a scarred face.

“riddle.”

“potter.”

unlike yours, mattheo’s voice held no malice. you recognized the playful glint in his eyes.

mattheo riddle had been chasing after you since third year. you’d think that the boy would have let up by now considering your cousin and his father were sworn enemies.

still, you were probably one a few people to take note the way that mattheo flinched when his father was mentioned. and in a rare moment of softness, he’d even shared with you that he’d run away from home to live with theodore after his father lashed out at him once, causing the scar that stretched from the center of his forehead to his jaw.

it wasn’t exactly surprising to you that tom riddle wasn’t father of the year.

yet mattheo had proved to be a pretty good guard dog. you felt yourself snort at the pun, completely intended given the boys animagus. all things considered, he’d saved you from bloodsucking fame-fuckers more than once. so, pushing your feelings aside, you offered him a smile. you weren’t ashamed to say it was probably the first time you’d ever smiled at him.

“thanks.”

you stuck around long enough to see your theory proven correct as shock started to take over mattheo’s face. the boy stared at you, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water for a couple of minutes.

you turned on your heel and waved over your shoulder at him, wishing you could watch his awe forever but having to make your way to potions.

what you’d apparently failed to realize is that this year, the gryffindors had potions with the slytherins. you’d found your spot next to hermione and whispered to her while you waited for class to begin.

a familiar mop of curls waltzed into the room. mattheo had a rather smug look on his face that was admittedly unnerving. he approached snape at his desk and whispered indistinctly to him. suddenly, snape stood from his desk.

“potter!”

harry stood from his seat and stared expectantly, no doubt wondering what he’d done this time.

“not you…”

snape’s words caused your heart to jump into your throat. fuck. a large hand swept in your direction, confirming your fears. he fixed you with an intense stare and then motioned to the empty seat next to a grinning mattheo.

you bit back a groan, knowing the indignation would do little but land you in detention. hermione flashed you a pitied look as you gathered your books.

once you’d plopped yourself down next to mattheo, he grabbed the leg of your stool under the table and slid your chair closer to his until his knee touched yours and the smell of his cologne wafted in the air. evil prick aside, he smelled rather nice.

“today we’re brewing the invigoration draught. I doubt that any of you will do it successfully…”

snape’s gravelly tone continued in the background while you tried desperately to focus on anything besides mattheo’s cologne. finally, he seemed content on his berating of the students and released you to gather your ingredients.

you flipped the book open to page 16, brow furrowed. you had every intention of passing your o.w.l.s this year. yet, if mattheo’s current behavior was any indication, it was going to be a stupid long year for you.

out of the corner of your eye, you caught mattheo staring at you. his chin rested on his palm, elbow on the table. you turned to him with the intent of deterring him, but he matched your stare with a sharp grin. trying to ignore the flipping in your stomach, you scratched down the list on a piece of parchment and made for the ingredient cupboard.

ailhosty leaves… dried billywig stings… peppermint… stewed mandrake… infusion of wormwood… honeywater…vervain infusion… scurvy grass…

as you looked at the ingredients in your hand, you were certain you’d forgotten something. the longer you stared, however, the more your memory seemed to fail you.

a shadow was cast in front of you. you felt the feel of a broad chest against your bad and the now familiar scent of mattheo filled your senses. a large hand reached up, grasping a jar from the top shelf. he held the jar out to you, chest still pressed against you and voice deep but oddly soft as he spoke.

“lovage leaves.”

earlier confidence now evaporated, you slipped out of his embrace and scurried back to your seat where you began to mix the first ingredients of the potion.

mattheo’s cockiness had now also disappeared and he was staring at you with a notably intense look on his face.

“you’re staring, riddle.”

“go out with me, y/n.”

you tried not to show how much the use of your first name affected you. it took you a moment to answer, and part of you had to silently applaud mattheo’s patience.

“you and me would be a big conversation.”

“so? let them talk. they’ll see what happens. when have I ever not protected you?”

you shot an annoyed look at him.

“what like I owe you?”

“no! that’s not what I— y/n look at me.”

mattheo’s hand wrapped around your wrist which was currently stirring a budding invigoration draught.

“that’s not at all what I meant. you don’t owe me anything. I just meant that I’ve never done anything to hurt you and I’ve never let anyone else hurt you either.” he took a breath and continued. “seriously. you hold me to this earth, you hold me down and I’ll protect you with my life.”

it was hard for you to care about what people thought by this point. after so many years of cat and mouse, you were the only person who knew mattheo like you did.

“one date, mattheo riddle. one.”

—

< mattheo taglist >

comment to be added!

06.14.2024

#slytherin boys #slytherin #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #benjamin wadsworth

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gg-neptune · 4 months ago

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I saw you were taking request 👀 could you write something fluffy when Severus takes care of his partner after a really rough day and she is at loose end and like what’s the purpose of my life after this wild day ?

Hiiiiiii!!! Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you like this, I think it turned out pretty good. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy <33

Severus Snape x Reader

Today it seemed like it was just drug on and on and on. You were the Charms professor at Hogwarts after Professor Flitwick had retired. You don’t know what had gotten into your students today, but they were just awful. In your first class, a boy somehow managed to set another student's book on fire. Apparently they had issues with each other because the student whose book was now ashes started attempting to hex the other. Luckily for you, it was a first year, so he didn’t manage to do any damage.

You got the two off each other, and after administering detentions, you just decided to cancel class as they were now too rowdy to try to teach. You spent that extra time getting the ashes off the desk and scrubbing off the remains from the desk. Your second class did not get much better.

This was a group of seventh years. You were going to go over Ascendio with them as you noticed they seemed to be lacking in the area. However, one student thought it would be a good idea to cast it indoors and shot himself straight into the roof. Of course you then had to send him to Madame Pomfrey, who scolded you for allowing him to do such a thing. You had told them as a class not to cast it indoors, but he didn't listen. It was not your fault; he was a blithering idiot.

You began to wonder what the point of teaching these kids was. It seemed as though everything you told them not to do they did exactly that. Only one class left after lunch.

You had brought in a sandwich for lunch. Just a simple sandwich, however, Peeves apparently sensed your bad day and decided to add on to it. As you were carrying it into the staff room, he just so happened to creep up behind you, making you jump and causing your sandwich to end up on the ground. He thought this was the most funny thing that could ever happen, apparently, as he flew away, cackling loudly. Grumbling, you picked up the remains of it and just headed back to your classroom, chunking it in the trashcan in the process.

“One more class," you thought to yourself. It could not get much worse, could it?

This was a group of third years this time. They were a good class most of the time, but they would just not shut up today. Apparently there was a fight a few moments before that they were still blabbering about. It took you slamming a book down and scolding them loudly, which honestly made you feel terrible as they were your favorite class most of the time. You continued with your lesson just trying to push through, and then when it was finally over, you did not miss the rude remarks they made about you as they left for the day.

You shut and locked the door as soon as the last student left for the day. You collapse in your chair and immediately feel a burning in your sinuses. Tears began to prick your eyes as the day caught up to you. You put your head down on your desk as a few tears rolled down your cheeks, quietly letting the turmoil of the day out.

You were not sure how long you were there, but it could not have been long before you heard knocking at your door. Thinking it was a student, you stayed quiet and did not move, not wanting to talk to them right now.

Then you hear an incantation and the click of a lock before your door opens. Still thinking it was a student you headshot up ready to scold whoever it was who decided to let themselves into your classroom. Until it registered in your head, it was just Severus.

“Thanks for letting yourself in,” you say, feigning annoyance. You glare at him before putting your head back down on your desk.

“You didn’t show up at my classroom at your normal time. And you didn’t answer your door. What else was I supposed to do?” His voice immediately sends a shiver down your spine. He sounds grumpy as always, but he most likely wasn’t actually mad at anything. You hear the sound of footsteps approaching you until they stop right beside you.

“Care to tell me why you are crying,” he questions.

“Bad day. Idiot students. Peeves,” you grumble, still not lifting your head. A moment of silence passes over you before he lifts you up and sits in your chair, placing you in his lap.

He stares at you for a moment before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He holds you in place with one arm while the other holds your face as he kisses you.

"Well, no need to be upset over it now. Days over,” he replies, tugging you further toward him. You rest your head on his shoulder. While you know this is true, you still are frustrated about how the day went.

"Yeah, I know, but still,” you say, nuzzling your face into him, “it’s like they don’t even listen. I mean, what’s the point of doing anything and trying to teach them if they don’t even bother to try, you know?” You vent your frustration to him, and he listens intently, nodding along as you speak.

"Well, I imagine the reason you keep going is for the few that do listen and the paycheck,” he answers, looking at you with a slight frown on his face.

"Honestly, what’s the point of keeping on going if they just don’t even care?” Tears start to fill up your eyes again as frustration begins to build. “I wanted to be a teacher forever to share my knowledge, and just they don’t even care enough to shut up and listen to me for an hour and a half.” All your emotions seem to come forward the more you talk as your voice gets higher and tears begin to fall. When Severus sees them, he quickly hushes you and wipes your tears with his thumb.

“Shush, there is no reason to cry over dunderheads like them. I promise you they are just caught up in being teenagers; that’s what they do,” he comforts as he begins to rock you back and forth in your chair. He presses your face into his shoulder so you cannot speak any more so as to not make yourself more upset than you already are.

“You have more worth than just your job anyway, love. You have a good personality, and in my humble opinion,” he says, lowering his voice a bit as he puts his lips closer to your ear, “you are insanely beautiful. So don’t let a bunch of idiot teenagers and idiot poltergeist question your life worth. Honestly, you're smarter than this.” He pulls you back, realizing shoving your face into him might not be a great idea as you could suffocate. He gives you a gentle smile, and you try to give one back. You have no tears to whip away as his robes have wiped them all dry.

“I know it’s just… difficult. Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, you know,” you grumble out as you begin to play with the ends of his hair. You pinch some between your fingers and act as if you're dusting off his face, causing him to chuckle.

"Yes, but you’ll have good days too. And you’ll have a good night too, unless you keep on dusting my face, “he says, partly joking. He squints his eyes at you as you continue to do so, giggling as he moves his head away, trying to get you to stop.

Finally, you relent and settle for just resting your hand against the side of his face and leaning against him, acting as if he is your personal body pillow (which he is). You gently stroke his cheekbone with your thumb as he looks down at your dark eyes filled with adoration.

You stay like this for a while until you begin to get a tad drowsy, and of course Severus notices. He never wants to wake you while you are sleeping, so he is quick to try to rouse you from your spot on his lap. “I know you're comfy, but I am not sleeping in a desk chair. Get up.”

“What if I don’t?” You are not particularly happy about having to get up, not wanting to lose your comfy spot.

“We are not sleeping in a desk chair,” he pushes you up off him and forces you to your feet, following right behind you. He grabs your hand and begins to lead you out of the classroom to his chambers for a long night of cuddles.

#severus snape #pro snape #pro severus #professor snape #pro severus snape #snape #snape fandom #snape fluff #snape x reader #snape x reader fluff #snape love #snape cute #overprotective snape #severus snape headcanons #severus snape x reader #severus

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monstrifex-art · 1 year ago

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Howls in the Heights

Art and story by me, for the TF anthology Shifts from the Shelves.

Story:

Smoke hung in the air like an unanswered question. Between the blotchy wallpaper and the liquor-stained floorboards, the poker room couldn’t accurately be described as “nice.” But Donovan owed me a favor, so for the time being this space in the back of his bar was mine. The faint music of a jazz combo leaked under the door, distant and a little sad. I stretched, twine running through my fingers as I looped it around the tack pinning a balding man’s mug-shot to the wall.

“That one’s kind of handsome,” Rita mused from behind me.

I scoffed and shot a glance over my shoulder. Rita stood close enough that I could smell her perfume. She was watching me map my thoughts on the wall with casual amusement, her dark eyes skimming lightly over the collection of newspaper clippings and photographs.

“Maybe he was. But he’s not looking so good anymore.” I uncapped a pen and drew a large red X over his face. “Handyman Wharton was a real piece of work. But no one deserves to die like that. These murders… in all my years of investigating, I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Mmm, sounds to me like he had it coming,” she breathed as she leaned her chin on my shoulder. Rita was beautiful in a way that made it hard to think straight. She had wavy hair that fell like a black curtain on one side of her face, eyelids and lips done up in a matching smoky coal. Tonight she wore a cocktail dress that poured smoothly down her curves. The thin fabric left very little to the imagination.

Rita and I had crossed paths in a couple chance encounters over the last couple weeks. She had a habit of turning up just as things were getting interesting, and making just about everything a little more complicated. For some reason she seemed to take a shine to me. We’d started spending nights together, and she proved as enthusiastic between the sheets as she was on the dance floor. Maybe more so.

“I’m getting close,” I murmured softly. “All these bodies—there’s a pattern here. Crime barons, crooked cops… someone is making a power play for this city’s underworld. Whoever they are, they can’t hide from the truth.”

Rita slid off my back and glided over to the card table where she’d left her lighter. She sat, one leg crossed over the other, and took a long drag from the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder.

“I like watching you think, Detective. It’s like watching an old car struggle up a steep road.”

“This car still has some miles left in it,” I chuckled. “See here—Wharton was a regular at the Glass Eye. You remember, where we met at the craps table. And here, if my sources are right, Wharton was smuggling ammo for the Pinstripe gang. They’re based out of Turnstile, where you took me to see that boxing match. Hell, if I didn’t know any better Rita I’d say…”

Something cold ran down my spine. Old instincts flared to life, telling me I’d just stumbled into something big. My eyes flitted from headline to headshot, arcs of twine adding up in an intricate equation. My thoughts clicked like a typewriter, checking hunch against evidence, step-by-step. It was impossible but… the data points aligned. How could…

“Ahhh… starting to put the pieces together, are we, darling?” Rita’s voice found me from far away, as if I was at the bottom of a well. I turned to face her, limbs numb.

“You…”

She smiled, white teeth flashing in the smoky gloom. “Of course it was me, dear. It was all me. All along.”

“But… the bodies. They were torn apart. How did you…”

She laughed in that pitying little way she did when she knew something I didn’t. The melodic sound of it almost made me want to laugh with her.

“Mhmhmm aww, you still look so confused! Don’t worry sweet thing, this one is above your pay grade.” She stood with a little flourish, like a magician’s assistant. “Here. Perhaps a demonstration will make you understand.”

A part of my mind, not sure which, suddenly sounded alarm bells. An instinct to run pumped through me, made my heart beat fast and my perception sharpen. Rita was just standing there, but some awareness deep in my hindbrain was screaming danger. Predator. Flee.

I gritted my teeth. Not yet. Not when I was so close to the answer.

A shiver ran across Rita’s pale skin, starting at her back and working out to her limbs. I could see her hair stand on end. She stretched, luxuriating in the movement. Her lips parted, and a long sigh streamed from her throat like a release of pressurized air. “Hahhhh… You’re about to see who I really am, dearest.”

A quiet snapping noise, then another. Dozens of meaty clicks inside her like the sound of dislocating joints. Rita pitched forward, bending double in a violent motion that knocked the card table behind her slamming to the floor. She gasped, lurching upright with an ecstatic grin on her face. Her eyes! They had changed, darker around the edges and brighter in the middle. Her pupils reflected light like burning headlights. I couldn’t look away.

“All the rest, it’s an… affectation. Like a favorite dress that I wear around town.”

Her elbow-length gloves were starting to tear. I could see dark fur through the rips, black claws cutting neatly through the satin fingertips. She groaned, and I could hear the timbre of her voice roughening. Something cracked in her legs. Her feet shifted, pushing her taller inch by inch as they extended into long sinewy paws.

Her dress clung tightly to her curves as her frame broadened. The cloth strained, her collar line deepening as the flesh of her shoulders and chest rippled with new bulk. I could see her nipples pressing through the black cloth, erect with sensation.

She gestured to the dress, to her glittering necklace and sheer stockings. “This, all these pretty things. It used to be me… Gruuhh.” Her voice faltered as an involuntary growl rattled through her. She smiled sweetly, regaining her composure. “But not anymore.”

The fabric gave with a loud tearing noise as a large tail, black and shaggy, thrust out behind her. She took a few balancing steps forward, then reached up to brush the hair out of her face with one clawed hand. Her breathing was coming deep and heavy now, hot fog mingling with smoke in curls around her smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling. I do love our little song-and-dances. Being the stunning vision on your arm is a treat! But the real me can’t dazzle a cocktail party in quite the same way.”

She grimaced, and I could see her teeth lengthening into interlocking fangs. Fur crept down her face, pressing in at the edges of her cheeks and trailing down her nose.

She blinked and stared deep into me with those burning eyes. “I clean up pretty nice, wouldn’t you say? I certainly had you fooled!” She cackled with a wild abandon that approached madness.

Her shaking laughter choked off into gasps as she convulsed with another surge of growth. The wet sounds of her bones rearranging were almost drowned out by the noise of her widening hips and shoulders finally tearing her dress to ribbons. I could just see her face masked in shadow, distorting and stretching as her mouth extended into a snout full of pointed lupine teeth. Rivulets of saliva dripped from her black lips.

I stumbled away instinctively, felt the pins of my map wall dig into my back. Stray clues drifted to the floor like leaves. I could feel my cheeks burning hot as I tried to look away, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from her nakedness as it was torn free before me.

Between gasping breaths, she laughed violently. “YOUR FACE!” she snarled, muzzle curling into a feral grin. “You weren’t this SHY when we MADE LOVE LAST NIGHT!”

She was right, of course. I had seen every inch of her in our evenings together. But there was something about seeing her this way—it was rawer, deeper, more intimate and carnal. I was enraptured with a fascination that had never possessed me during our previous dalliances. I couldn’t understand it. I was hopelessly lost in the rhythm of her shifting flesh. Why? The scene before me was horrific, so why was I feeling this way?

“You’re… I just… I…” I stammered, struggling to put words in order.

“You still WANT me, DON’T YOU?” She was shouting now. “I can smell your desire… What is it you always say? YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH, DETECTIVE!”

That was it. I was more attracted to her now than I ever had been before. What was wrong with me? Why did my heart feel like it was about to pound its way out of my chest? I shut my eyes, turning away with a strangled cry.

“I don’t understand! Please… I can’t, I don’t…”

“LOOK AT ME, DARLING.”

I blinked toward her, seeing only blurred glimpses. I saw the fur bristling from muscle-laden thighs, the tattered sweat-soaked remnants of her dress stretched over her rippling abdominals. God, parts of her were still so human. She wasn’t an animal or a person - she was something monstrous in-between. She was a terrifying beast, but she was still recognizably… her.

“LOOK AT ME!” she roared, and the room shook. I cried out, and opened my eyes to behold her entirely.

She was beautiful.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

I stepped toward her, and fell into her arms as she embraced me. We fell together to a gasping heap on the floor. We began anew, pressing ourselves into one another with bestial fervor.

The case would have to go on a little while longer.

#art #monster #Rita #werewolf #transformation #story

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la-petite-lapin · 6 months ago

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Keeping Secrets | John Price x female!reader

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John Price x afab!Reader Word Count: 2.3k Content Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, mentions of injury, cannon typical violence, swearing, age gap (reader is in her twenties, John is in his forties), suggestive content, oral (F receiving), PIV (protected (stay safe, kids)), brief mention of Price JRs, no use of Y/N

The Captain and the Sergeant start keeping secrets from the rest of the taskforce

It wasn't like it was in the movies or the books. There were no longing glances across crowded rooms; no deep, personal conversations late at night. There was no warning.

The first indication that anything had changed between the two of you was in a dimly lit safehouse. A job had gone wrong - horribly, irreparably wrong - and Soap had been medevac-ed out to the nearest army hospital. The rest of you would have to wait until morning; would have to make it through the night when a countless number of enemy operatives could still be hunting you, then hike to the nearest evac point before sunrise.

Ghost was pacing the worn wooden floors, and you were sure he'd wear through them at some point. You knew better than to make a joke about it - knew better than most the deep bond that he and Johnny shared. To mock it would be to die a brutal death by Ghost's hand in the night.

Gaz was coping with it in the best way he knew how: checking in with everyone, yourself - as the newest member of the taskforce - included, mother-hening his way around the three-room cabin in the middle of rural woodlands.

It wasn't until he'd finally convinced Ghost to sit down and take a breath, that Captain Price finally approached you. Heavily, he lowered himself down to sit beside you on the shabby old sofa, not saying a word at first as you stared ahead at nothing.

Johnny had been standing right next to you when it all went to shit. Him diving in front of you like a lunatic was probably the only reason that you were there with them. The shot to his shoulder would have been a direct headshot on you.

It was hard not to feel bitter or dazed about that.

"It's not your fault, Sarge," John said, his voice markedly softer than usual. He typically made it a point to avoid babying you in any way - knew that you hated being treated differently to the boys - but you could make an exception for him just the once. "Soap chose to block that bullet. Saved your life an' all. Cheer up, yeah? He's alright and you'll see 'im soon enough."

You turned to face him, offering him a small, weak shadow of a smile. "I know. It just sucks."

John frowned, seeing through the thin veil of fake cheeriness. Quieter, he added, "It's alright to be shaken by this, too. First near-death is always scary. It stays with you in a way the ones after don't." There was a pause - a long, tentative pause - as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his parted knees, dark eyes finding yours and holding them. "If- if you don't want to be alone tonight, you don't have to be."

Laid out in the open like that, the offer seemed so damn tempting.

Your mind raced through all of the shit that could go down if you took him up on it - if you were found out. You could be removed from the taskforce, stripped of the sergeant rank that you'd fought so hard to attain. John could be reprimanded for sleeping with an officer under his orders. But, if no one knew... what was the harm?

With a soft, sweet smile - a genuine one this time - you tilted your head, leaning slightly into his space on the sofa. "Yeah. I think I'd like some company, Captain."

Hours later, after Ghost had fallen asleep on the floor of the living room and Gaz had been assigned first watch, Price led you into the smaller second room of the safehouse - the bedroom - under the guise of checking your wounds. In reality, the minor scrapes to his arm and leg had already been dressed, not requiring any further attention. If anything, the cut to Gaz's forearm was of a higher severity.

John grinned as he shut the door with a soft thud, sliding the flimsy, rusted deadbolt across to lock it. You were thankful for the added security; the increased reassurance that the boys wouldn't be able to just wander in and catch you in the act.

The bedroom was poorer lit than the main room, making it harder to see. The moon illuminated the outline of the Captain's broad, muscular frame as he removed his beanie and tactical vest before turning his attention to his belt. You took a seat on the edge of the bed, thighs clenching in an attempt to relieve some of the aching tension in your core.

He took his time stripping down to his white t-shirt and boxer briefs, the material straining with the impressive tent in the front. "Like what you see?" he grumbled cockily, noticing your attention.

You let out something akin to a whine. He looked so good - so unbelievably good after the day from Hell you'd just had. There was also something else that made it undeniably more thrilling; the risk of getting found out. The taboo of it all.

You couldn't deny that you'd found Price attractive before that deployment. You'd spent every day for the past two years around him, living, eating, and working alongside him and the boys. It had also been a fact of life that he had a following - a constant, ever-present gaggle of new, female recruits cornering him in the hallways and vying for his attention. But he never took any of them to bed, preferring to spend his nights in the barracks alone.

At first, you'd thought that he had a wife or a partner off-base, but a conversation on your last stakeout together led you to the truth; he just wasn't interested in the barrack bunnies. He wasn't interested in sleeping with someone just for the sake of it - just because they wanted to get a piece of taskforce 141's infamous Captain.

"I think I might need to see some more to decide," you purr teasingly, lifting a hand to beckon him closer to the bed.

He stepped forward slowly, hands rising to rest on his tapered hips. He was built like a bear; broad, built, and covered in a fine layer of downy body hair.

You licked your lips, eyes tracking every single minute movement.

"I think I need to see something from your first, princess," John teased. "It's only fair."

Eyes never leaving his, you made quick work of stripping out of your own tac vest and pants, chucking them over the edge of the mattress and into a heap on the floor. You even went one step further; shucking off your t-shirt. With a small smirk, you leaned back, clad only in your flimsy underwear and sports bra.

John's eyes were practically bulging out of his head.

"Like what you see, Captain?" you purred, words a light-hearted mockery of his own self-assured crowing.

"If I'd have known," John grumbled as he took another slow, measured step towards the bed, "that this is what you looked like under all that gear, Sergeant, we'd have done this a long time ago."

A grin formed on your lips, ego expanding ten sizes as John prowled across to close the rest of the distance. His irises were all but swallowed up by his pupils, blown with lust.

Shuffling back on the mattress, you eased back as John came to a stop, kneeling between your parted legs. With a lover's gentle reverence, he pressed a kiss to each of your knees in turn before turning his attention to the scrap of damp cotton protecting your modesty.

"May I?" he asked softly, fingers hovering over the waistband at the side, thumb smoothing a path along the ridge of your hipbone.

Breathily, you gave your consent. "Yes. Please, John-"

With practiced ease, he lifted your hips up and off of the bed, guiding your underwear down your bare legs then chucking them to join the rest of the clothes littering the floor. His hands skimmed back up, callouses feather-light against the skin of your calves before rising to knead your plush thighs when he reached them once again. He seemed to be mapping out your body; ghosting over the sensitive parts repeatedly, lingering where he'd deduced you liked to be touched.

The man was a fast learner. An eager one, for sure.

When he'd finished kneading at the soft skin there, he pushed your thighs apart, holding them down to the mattress and exposing the moisture glistening at their apex. Licking his lips, he bowed his head slightly, lowering his body down to the bed.

"John?" you asked, confused as to where he was going and why he still had his briefs on. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, princess?" he mumbled against your inner thigh, dark eyes lifting to meet yours. "Didn't think to bring any rubbers with me, and I don't fancy having any little Prices running around any time soon." A spark of mischief glittered within his gaze as he nuzzled his bristly moustache against a particularly sensitive spot. Your shiver seemed to only embolden him further. "Which means tonight's all about you."

You arched your back off of the bed, trying to push his face closer to where you desperately needed it. "Can you hurry up then?" you whined, getting impatient.

John chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

And, with that, he bowed his head and made good on his promise.

"John!" you yelled, thighs burning with the strain as you bounced up and down on his cock. "John- fuck!"

A whole three months had passed since the first night you'd spent together in the safehouse. The morning after, you'd fully expected him to put an immediate stop to it the moment you were all rescued. Instead, he'd held your hand in the Heli - tucked between both of your bodies, hidden from sight - and promised that you'd talk about what this is later.

Nights since had been split between your room in the barracks and his. Mornings, too, upon occasion. Every spare moment the two of you got alone was accompanied by the feeling of his large, warm hands on you. By his constant, protective presence in your life.

It was a miracle that no one had noticed the new pull between the two of you. How you seemed to orbit one another.

And then there was the sex. The constant fucking.

"Keep it down, princess," he grumbled, breathless and sweating, beneath you. He didn't look too bothered though - too blissed out to properly care or consider the consequences of someone overhearing.

Clinging to some semblance of intelligent thought, you bit down on your wrist in an attempt to muffle the sounds leaving your mouth, drawn out by the captain and his fat cock. It was quickly becoming one of your favourite parts of him, second only to his beautiful, expressive laugh. It was no secret to you that he was well-endowed. Well-endowed and skilled at utilising it.

"Stop that," he grumbled gruffly, raising a hand to gently remove your wrist from between your teeth. He quickly replaced it with his own hand, guiding the soft part of his palm between his thumb and index finger into your mouth. Anything to prevent you from accidentally injuring yourself. "Keep riding, love. I'm getting close."

A part of your brain purred at that. Love.

It was a pet name that he used sparingly. Perhaps because he saw the flash of panic in your eyes almost every previous time he'd used it.

But now...

You tipped yourself back, hands finding purchase on his tensed, thick thighs to deepen the angle. Freeing his hand from your clenched jaw, you whimpered, "I'm... John, I'm so close."

"Me too, sweetheart," he mumbled, speeding up the pace of his thrusts. He punctuated the sentence with a snap of his hips. "Me too."

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he tugged you down into his chest and rolled, rising up onto his knees as he set you on your back. Pressing a trail of soft, tender kisses to your face and neck, he picked up the pace; drilling deliciously deep.

You whined, squeezing your legs around his waist and clawing at his back with your fingernails.

With a low growl, John lost it. Turning frantic as he barrelled towards his rapidly approaching end, he pushed you towards your own orgasm - practically bullying it out of you.

You came with a sharp scream, turning your head in a fraught attempt to smother the sound in the pillow. It smelled of Price - rugged, masculine aftershave and a hint of tobacco smoke.

He himself came moments later, gasping as his release swept over him. Covering your body like the world's best weighted blanket, he slumped down on top of you.

Still buried deep inside the paradise at the apex of your thighs, he pressed a sloppy, lazy kiss to the side of your neck, running his nose along your throat. It was one of the best part of sex with Price; the cuddling that came after.

Giving a small jolt of his hips, he grumbled something into your salty skin.

"Hm?"

John lifted his face slightly, breath tickling the underside of your jaw. "I said, I wish I was ten years younger. Then I could go again and again without a half-hour break between each round."

You giggled. John's age was something that you didn't mind. You knew that the age gap between you probably would have put some people off, but - if anything - he made you feel safe and respected. Though that could be the fact that he was a highly-decorated war vet, and a complete Golden Retriever of a man.

Pressing a kiss to his temple, you whispered, "I wouldn't have it any other way, John."

There was a beat of silence as the two of you soaked up the moment; the feeling of just holding one another on the sweat-soaking sheets, oblivious to the world outside of the little bubble you'd created for yourselves. With a chaste kiss to your shoulder, John gave another tentative roll of his hips, drawing another whiny groan from you.

"You sure know how to make an old man feel loved, princess."

Before you could reply - to bring up to the l-word that you'd both been skirting around for weeks now - your phone chimed. The alert tone was one you'd reserved for the other members of the taskforce only.

Why would they be messaging on a Sunday night?

A wave of panic cresting inside of you, you eased John's softening cock out of you, wincing at the sudden emptiness. Your phone was on the desk, all the way over on the other side of the room. It seemed so impossibly far as you scrambled for it.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" John asked, suddenly fully alert and hurrying to tug his boxer briefs back on.

Wordlessly, you read the message you'd just been sent. Your face blanched to an unhealthy pallor as you handed him the phone. A single message notification waited on the screen, glaring with accusation.

GHOST: We heard everything, you two. Think you owe us an explanation at the very least. Rec room in ten minutes.

John looked up from the phone screen, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a lopsided, sheepish smile. "Well, I guess that's what we get for keeping secrets, princess."

a/n: hello, hello :) so this was the Price X 141!reader fic that won the poll! I've had so much fun writing this one - not that I don't love Double the Love (my firstborn fic) please feel free to tell me what you want to see next! - happy surprise-post thursday, lapetitelapin :)

#cod #cod fanfic #fanfic #callofduty #cod x reader #female reader #john price x reader #john price #captain price x reader #smut #romance

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hunterthecharmer · 2 months ago

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Unexpected - Part 2

Sorry for the delay everyone. Here's part 2! Hope you all like it :)

Summary: You work for an events company and end up being assigned as a talent handler for a 2 week long convention. Your co-worker ends up assigned to Glen Powell, but you catch his eye. Can you remain professional and keep him from knowing you're actually a pretty big fan of his?

This is my inspiration for the outfit he’s wearing :)

Part 2

It’s the middle of the week, and every day has been spent coordinating with Dylan O’Brien’s team to get every piece of his schedule nailed down. He only had one assistant in the office currently which made your job a bit easier. Savannah, on the other hand was sipping her lattes with her feet kicked up in the corner of your office while you took your meetings each day as Glen’s assistant sent everything over via email or text, to not fill her day up with Zoom meetings.

“This probably means he’s a control freak.” Savannah muses, chewing on the end of her pen as she notates an email from his team. “Look, we both have our work cut out for us. Have you opened your package yet from his team?” You ask, waving your mailer in front of her with a grin. You already knew she was going to want to swap one of the items.

“Wait, what? No! What did they send?” She grins, tearing open the envelope to pull out a large autographed headshot of Glen. Some pens, a lanyard and a handwritten note from his assistant come tumbling out with it. Savannah pouts, immediately shifting her eyes to the one you’re holding. “C’mon, don’t make me beg! Let me see it!” She’s giddy as she shakes your arm, and you giggle as you dramatically remove it from its sleeve. “Trade ya?” You wink at her, before you both search the hall for some empty frames and get Jim from IT to help the two of you hang them up in your offices.

As soon as he’s finished, Savannah comes tapping on your door. “Thanks for trading. Dylan is my man! I hope he’s nice, I don’t know how I’ll feel if he’s rude..” her voice trails off, and you pat her on the shoulder. “He’ll be great. Don’t stress it! You’ll do a great job keeping him on track.” She smiles at your reassurance. “Sooo, are you going to pack your Longhorn hat?”

You gasp at her, crumpling a nearby scrap of paper and throwing it at her. “Listen, that hat is my only one that’s black, it goes with everything, and…yes, it may or may not have only been bought because of Glen. BUT, of course it’s coming. You never know what Tennessee weather will bring!” You smirk at her before flipping off the lights in your office, following Savannah down the hallway to the parking deck.

----

“Wow, it really is beautiful here.” You mutter to yourself as you climb into the shuttle taking you from the airport to the event location. The sky seemed a richer hue of blue, and the large trees shaded the vehicles the entire trip. You allowed yourself to breathe as you stepped into the large auditorium building. All the months of hard work and planning had finally paid off. Seeing it with your own eyes was a real treat that you rarely got to enjoy with this job. Hundreds of staff members were busily setting up chairs, tables and last minute details together before the talent would arrive that evening. The welcome party was going to be a blast - glow sticks, a DJ, boujee appetizers and twinkling lights. It would be the perfect way to welcome the talent and allow everyone on location to get ready for the weeks ahead.

After doing your makeup and spraying some texture spray in your hair, you take one last look in the mirror of your little cabin and smile. You felt confident in your all black outfit. Black levi jeans, an off the shoulder black long sleeve with some gold jewelry and some hoops. Your hair was curled, and the leather boots were keeping your feet warm from the winter chill outside. You plop down on the edge of your bed and take in your home away from home. Everyone had their own little log cabin, it was basically a studio set up with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room, chandelier above it and of course a bathroom and lounger with a big window. It was charming and cozy, and you couldn’t imagine how much nicer the talent’s must be if this was how lovely yours was.

One last spritz of texture spray to your hair and you were out the door, jumping on your personal golf cart to ride down to the warehouse.

“Over here! Over here!” You hear a high pitched squeal from across the gravel as you put the golf cart in park. You swivel your head to the left to find Savannah fastly approaching, one hand waving you down, the other holding her skirt from dragging across the ground. “Finally, you’re here!” She wraps an arm around you in a tight hug. You giggle as you steady your balance, hugging her back. You knew she had to be so nervous to meet the talent, because you weren’t the type to get starstruck and your own heart was hammering in your chest.

“We’ve got this! We aren’t the only ones meeting them for the first time tonight. Just remember that! I’m sure Glen will be lovely. I promise I will try to nonchalantly get Dylan to meet you tonight too. Deal?” You both pinky promise before heading inside towards the loud music.

You squint your eyes at the glowing white orbs on each high top table, not a single chair in sight other than at the bar. The DJ had many of the guests up and dancing while others socialized amongst themselves. Everyone was dressed casually, probably changing minimally after their plane rides. You and the other workers were definitely dressed up a little more, which instantly put you at ease. Feeling more put together and confident, you lead Savannah to the sign in table. Glancing around as you wait in line, you watch the other girls and guys check over their packets, taking in who their responsibility will be for the next two weeks. Reading what their pick up and drop off schedule will be like, and all the other fast facts about their assigned celebrity; allergies, preferences, etc. As soon as your packet about Dylan is in your hands, you find an empty table and start reading over it. You nonchalantly do a sweep of the room, the different colored lights illuminating everyone’s faces. Some of your favorite actors are in this room, and you couldn’t believe it. After a few moments you spot Dylan at the bar, the lavender backdrop and blue lights behind the stools accentuating his all white outfit. He runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair, mid conversation with another actor you didn’t recognize. You quickly glance down at your paper, making notes with your pen. You get through about three pages before Savannah appears in front of you, slamming her lanyard down on the table. “Did you introduce yourself yet?” She whispers, rummaging around in her bag for her lipgloss. “No, I’m letting him finish his conversation first. How’s Glen?” You ask, smirking at her. “He’s a dream. He literally made a beeline for me through the crowd to introduce himself! I have to bring him his schedule, apparently no one had it in their rooms when they got here so that’s awkward. Strike one on us.” She bites her bottom lip. You feel your eyes widen. “What?! That was supposed to have been done days ago! The girls from scheduling said they had it under control..oh well. I guess it’s a nice ice breaker for us to approach them. Wait, did you say Glen came up to you? How’d he know you were his handler?” Savannah raises a hand to cover her mouth before moving around the table top to grasp your forearm. “Girl! You know how they sent us head shots of the talent? Apparently they received one of us too! Isn’t that wild?” She giggles, taking in your reaction. “So, that means Dylan already knows I’m here probably. Great..” You let your voice trail off before closing your folder and grabbing your lanyard to place around your neck.

“Let me go say hello, then!” You flash Savannah a nervous smile before heading to the bar, Dylan’s eyes immediately drifting from the man he’s talking to over to you. He places a hand on his shoulder and says what you assume to be a quick goodbye before turning on his heel toward you. “You’re the lucky lady who's stuck with me, yeah?” He grins, extending a hand to you. His brown eyes are friendly, twinkling beneath the lights dancing around the room. “I’m Dylan, so nice to meet you!” His handshake is firm, and you take note of how strong his cologne is. “I promise to get you everywhere on time these next few weeks. It’s great to meet you!” You return his smile, moving closer to him as a crowd of people brush past the two of you toward the buffet, the DJ announcing to everyone that dinner has been set out. Dylan leans down to your ear so you can hear him better. “I’m so stoked to be here, did you have a hand in all this?” He shouts above the music, gesturing around him to all the decor in the warehouse, fake pink and magenta flowers are strung up through the rafters, flameless candles were dispersed throughout the room, you were proud of the vibe in here for sure. It was kind of like a club but classier. “It took a village for sure, but I’m really happy with how it turned out! Oh, here’s your schedule by the way-” You continue to babble on to him about the whole event and the planning that went into it, and start going through Dylan’s schedule with him. He listens intently to you, his focus a hundred percent on what you’re showing him. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Savannah pointing you out to Glen, his eyes peering at you from beneath his black Texas Longhorns ballcap before he looks away. You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you tear your gaze away from him. You and Dylan exchange some more info, and decide to meet out front by the golf carts in another hour or so. You meander towards the back of the space, your stomach growling at the sight of all the warm food placed ahead of you. Before you can grab a plate, you hear Savannah call your name, “Hey, wait up!” You spin around, her arm locking with yours to pull you away from the buffet line. “Where are we going?” You whine, turning your head back towards the food. “The food is that way! I’m starving.” Savannah shoots you a sympathetic smile as she continues to drag you through the crowd until she sits you down at a round table in the corner of the room. “Unfortunately, that food’s not for us.” She frowns, before leaving you to disappear behind a door and reappear moments later with two foil covered plates, two large water bottles under her arm. “Savannah…what’s on those plates.” You wearily question, grabbing it from her. You both count to three together before ripping the foil cover off, revealing a hamburger, bag of chips and the tiniest cup of fruit you’d ever seen. “Guess they had to cut corners to save money somehow.” You pout, pushing the plate away from you as you grab the bag of Lays.

“Here we chose the best menus each night for them, thinking we too would get to enjoy them, but no. We have to eat like kids.” Savannah complains as she bites into her burger. “What, lost your appetite?” She frowns at your plate. “I don’t eat burgers. Actually, I can’t eat red meat at all.” You reply, shrugging your shoulders. You slump back into your chair, disappointed that you’re missing out on the all you can eat sushi bar the talent is currently enjoying right now.

Savannah inhales her food as the two of you chat about your schedules for tomorrow, trying to find overlaps. Your conversation is cut short at the sound of a male voice in front of you. “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt but, do you ladies happen to know where the restrooms are?” You both snap your gaze upward to see Glen standing in front of your table, the only celebrity in a 300 foot distance. You take in his outfit- his cap you noticed earlier, his dark black jeans, crisp white t-shirt and grey cardigan that fits him perfectly. He’s extremely handsome in person, even more so than on screen. You open your mouth to speak, but you realize nothing is coming out of your mouth. You quickly wet your lips with your tongue, eyes deferring to Savannah, since he probably came over here to ask her. She is his handler for the weekend, after all. Savannah’s mid chew on the last piece of her burger, looking at you expectantly. “Oh, uh, they’re behind the DJ’s set up, there’s a little hallway back there with the bathrooms.” You meet his gaze again, his green eyes locked onto yours before they drop to the plate in front of you. The sides of his mouth tugs up into a smirk. “Not hungry?” He points to your untouched hamburger, his watch catching the light. You take a mental note of your stomach doing backflips over this accessory, as watches have always been kind of a thing for you. A turn on, if you will. You shake your head and laugh, admitting that you can’t eat it. “I’ll be out of commission if I eat that.” Glen’s playful expression turns to one of confusion, pointing over his shoulder to the extensive spread of food behind you. “You want to trade? I didn’t see that as an option. Where’d you find that?” Savannah giggles, waving her hands in front of her as she finally speaks. “No, no, the burgers are just for us little people. You guys get to enjoy the good stuff.” She winks at him, and you nudge her beneath the table. Not exactly the best way to put it…

Glen’s eyebrows furrow slightly, head tilting to the side. “That doesn’t seem fair. Tell you what, I’ll bring you back a plate of whatever you want if I can devour that burger on your plate.” He flashes you a grin, and you’re enthusiastically nodding before you can think twice about it. “Yes, please! I’ll literally take anything you can gr-” you begin, but Savannah cuts you off. “She loves sushi, Glen.” They exchange a smile as he points to her before wading through the crowd. You turn to your coworker, mouth open in disbelief. “Umm, is Glen Powell bringing me a plate of food right now?!” You let out a tiny squeal, hitting her on the knee. She props a hand on her cheek, “I know right? Isn’t he so nice? Where the heck is Dylan?” She responds, squeezing your shoulder. “It sucks we have to act like we don’t know them. Like, at all.” She huffs, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s over by the dessert bar, why don’t you take a quick walk by? He won’t even notice! He’s quite the social butterfly tonight.” You wink at her encouragingly, and she actually stands from her chair. “You know what, you’re right. Be right back!” She’s giddy as she weaves through the crowd, and in her wake you see Glen reappear, a plate full of sushi in tow. He sticks out his tongue, clearly proud of his selection. “Here we go, I got a little bit of everything for ya.” He presents the plate to you dramatically, flicking his wrist to emulate a waiter as he drops it on the table. “You’ve outdone yourself.” You grin, placing a hand over your heart to match his energy. “And in return…” You reach for the plate, lifting the burger to his hands. He shakes his head, instantly grabbing the burger out of its sleeve and taking a huge bite out of it. “I’m Glen, by the way.” He mumbles, his mouth full. You swallow thickly, Savannah’s reminder echoing in your head as you introduce yourself, acting as casual as possible. You lift your chopsticks and dig into your food, not having realized that Glen’s attention is on you. The two of you continue to eat in silence, hunger clearly winning here. “Guess we were hungry.” You laugh, pushing your now empty plate away from you. Glen throws his head back with a chuckle, nodding in agreement. “Guess so. It was a long travel day.”

Suddenly, you remember why he approached your table in the first place - the bathroom. “Wait, did you ever find the restrooms?” Your tone has a hint of worry in it; what were you thinking, sending him off to get you a plate of food? You were sup[posed to be serving the talent, not the other way around. You suddenly felt embarrassed, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Glen’s mouth turns into a soft smile, his expression playful again. “Oh, I knew where the bathrooms were.” His words hang in the air as you process his tone, taking in his facial expression. Was he..flirting with you? There was no way. You were delusional. Before you can respond, he stacks his empty plate on top of yours and slides them back toward him, leaning over the table a bit to make sure you can hear him. “Nice doin’ business with you.” He shoots you a quick wink before he tosses the plates into the trash can and disappears into the crowd. You’re aware of the cheesy grin on your face that you can’t wipe off, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you fidget with your bracelets. Savannah soon returns, waving you toward her. “C’mon, let’s get to our carts and wait for the boys! We have an early morning tomorrow.” ANd with that, you grab both of your bags and follow her to the gravel lot outside, the exchange with Glen replaying over and over in your mind.

Dylan strides up to your golf cart right on time, his eyes glazed over. “Man, that was fun! You guys killed that. I’m dead tired though.” He raises his hand for a high five, and you happily oblige before driving him to his personal cabin. Agreeing on a wakeup time, you wait for him to get inside before driving off.

You snuggle into bed that night replaying how amazing the event space looked, relieved that Dylan was kind and, so far, not a diva. You were looking forward to getting to know him a little better and look out for him the next few weeks. And then there was Glen…you had to try and downplay tonight’s interaction. He was just being nice, his parents clearly raised him right. That’s all it was. Did he seriously wink at you? Maybe you dreamed that part. Maybe he isn’t as nice as he seems, and just a charmer. He could have a girlfriend for all you know!

“I need help.” You mutter to yourself.

You shake your head and sigh; you were here to work. You needed to be professional and short with all of the guests here. End of story. You let yourself fall asleep to the sound of the wind blowing outside your cabin window.

#glen powell #glen powell fic #glen powell x reader #glen powell fanfic

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