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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

Can we have a general yandere typing for the TW dorm leaders or your favorite dorm pls?

This is very, very general (it has to be, if I’m going to fit seven different characters into the same post), but I hope it covers what you’re looking for! I’ve been meaning to write a ‘darkest fantasy’ drabble for the dorm-heads but,,, this’ll have to do, for now.

The NRC Dorm Heads as Yanderes.

TW: Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Dehumanization, Implied Kidnapping, Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of Non-Consensual Touching, Mentions of Blood, and Implied Violence.

Riddle is Domineering.

He can’t change what he is, and even if he could, he wouldn’t see the need to. Riddle loves you, he loves you so, so much, but to him, you’re so reckless, so impulsive, so inept, it makes his underclassmen seem cautious, in comparison. He worries less for your safety than he does for your carelessness. He doesn’t think you’ll impale yourself on a banister or trip and manage to break your neck, and yet, he’s managed to convince himself that, the moment you’re left into your own devices, you’ll twist, distort, manage to take something that’s so precious to him and turn it into something perverse, something that doesn’t deserve to have a caretaker so devoted. If he has to take a few hours out of his busy schedule to make sure you understand why he’s so adamant that you obey him, then so be it. He’d rather have a perfect, prized doll who can’t meet his eyes without trembling than someone he doesn’t even know, someone he can’t even love. Someone who won’t let him love them, even when he’s made it so clear that if he suffocates you, it’s only because you've forgotten that you can only breathe because he lets you.

Leona is Jealous.

It’s such a classic younger-sibling complex, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s possessive, he’d be more than fine with carving you up and handing out the pieces if he knows who he’s sharing with, but he’s had a say in so little, he’s had so much snatched out of his grasp before he knew better than to let it go, he can’t stand the though of losing you like that, too. He needs to monopolize your time, your attention, he needs to monopolize you, because if he doesn’t someone else is going to come along to do it for him, and he knows they won’t treat you half as well as he will. It’s why he’s so quick to pull you away from conversations he didn’t give you permission to be a part of. It’s why he can’t seem to go five minutes without insulting your friends or implying that you could cling to him as much as he clings to you, even when the two of you have been along for hours. It’s why he’s so desperate to bite into your neck and burrow his nails under your skin and leave proof of his existance, if only to satisfy that repressed, buried, primal part of himself that just wants something he can own. And he will own you, by the time he’s done. He tends to be thorough, with the things he’s so determined to see play out.

Azul is Paranoid.

There’s a connotation with this kind of alignment that might be a little misleading, when it comes to Azul. He’s manipulative, too. He’s obsessive and he’s controlling and he’s so many other things, but above all, he’s terrified by the idea that one day, you might decide that he’s just some pathetic, pitiful bottom-feeder and move on to someone’s who’s worthy of you. His mindset seeps its way into his behavior visibly, tangibly, blatantly, whether or not he’s willing to admit it. A dozen locks on your bedroom door, a new contract he’s gone over a hundred times, a thousand kisses and a thousand promises and a thousand hours spent clinging to your waist, his face buried in your chest as he begs you to never make him let go. He feels like you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold you close, like you’ll find a loophole or a way to leave him and he’ll never be able to get you back. It doesn’t help that he responds so reflexively to any change he didn’t acconut for. He can make all the plans in the world, contrive as many schemes as he’d like to, but all of his preparations won’t stop him from reacting so harshly when you say something he doesn’t want to hear or do something he didn’t see coming. Above all, he needs you to love him. He won’t respond well to any evidence of the contrary.

Kalim is Smothering.

You have to understand, he really, really thinks he’s just being the best boyfriend he can possibly be. Kalim is naive, like that. He loves you, and he doesn’t know better than to show that love off any way he can and every way he can. It kind of sweet, if you look at it like that. How is he supposed to know you wouldn’t enjoy receiving his gifts as much as he enjoys piling them onto you? You never told him how much his endless parties overwhelm you, so why would he ever stop throwing them? You always bite at your lips and look away and try to cover yourself when he gives you something pretty to wear, and Kalim just thinks you’re so beautiful, so wonderful, it’s only natural that he’ll - playfully, of course - pull you into his lap and go on about all the many reasons he loves you, layering on compliments so thickly, it’s only a matter of time before they start to seep into your lungs and force out the air. Remember, he’s blind to anything he doesn’t want to see, so by the time he finally crosses one too many lines and forced you to snap, he’ll be so caught off-guard, so heartbroken, he won’t know what to do besides buckle-down and give you more, force you to take more. He’s a simple man. If his antics were enough to make you snap at him, surely, more gifts, more attention, more love will only make things better.

Vil is Narcissistic.

This one speaks for itself, really. You might manage to worm your filthy little way into his heart, you might find a way to root yourself there and drive him to the point of near-insanity, but no matter how dear you are to him, no matter how much he loves you, you’ll always be second to the man himself, you’ll always be less than, compared to Vil. It shouldn’t be such a problem, he already acts like he should be the pinnacle of all mankind’s aspirations, but it’s taken to a new extreme when it comes to his closest companion. He expects to be doted on, to be worshiped, and when you’re not busy tripping over yourself to tend to his every desire, you should be hanging off his every word, letting him do whatever he’d like to because you’re just so honored he’d take a moment out of his day to look after you. If it takes a love potion or several, he’ll find a way to live with it. That’s the thing about a mentality like Vil’s, an obsession focused inward that just so happens to brush against someone it’s not meant to - he doesn’t really care about the parts of you that don’t lead back to him. Your health, your happiness, it’s all on the table if he has a chance to take hold of what he wants. He’s always been ambitious. You shouldn’t be surprised when he approaches your love with the same cut-throat attitude.

Idia is Possessive.

If it’s any help, he wants to lock himself away from the rest of the world just as much as he wants to isolate you. You’re the one person he can stand to be around, the one voice he’ll never get tired of, the one pair of eyes he knows will never judge him, even if he’d prefer that you call him more affectionate nicknames, as he explains that he’s just trying to keep the two of you content and alone. He’s greedy, when it comes to you, but that’s not his fault. He gets… sensitive, when you start to focus on other people, when you let other men touch you like they have any right to put their hands on something he deserves to keep to himself. It leads him to some habits he’s not proud of, some reactions that don’t exactly encourage you to indulge his more questionable habits, but while Idia still wants to be able to hide in your arms and ramble on to the only person he knows will listening, he stops caring about how much you want to embrace him, eventually. The world’s already so unfair in so many ways, and no one knows that more than Idia. He doesn’t think he’ll mind if you begin to think he’s as much of a disgusting freak as he already knows he is.

Malleus is Apathetic.

He wants to care. Don’t forget that - he really, really wants to care about your feelings, your interests, your happiness, all of it! He tries to care, too. Not a day passes where he doesn’t make an attempt to get you to smile, to coax out a hint of fondness from your scorned little heart, to sort through all the betrayal and the hurt and the pain and find something redeeming, something that proves he’s not making you any more miserable than he has to. He’ll give you what sparse freedoms he can, keeping your leash as slack as he can afford to, but when you take a step too close to an open window or refuse to hold his hand or he just decides it’s been a few minutes too long since you last swallowed your pride and showed him the affection he strives after like a touch-starved puppy, he never hesitates to pull you back to his side and ignore how violently you’re choking as he takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. He never feels guilty, either, not for the act itself. He’ll fret over the hatred in your eyes, he’ll loath himself whenever you flinch at the first signs of his touch, but in the back of his mind, he knows he deserves what he rips away from you. He’s doing you a favor. Humans are so fragile, so delicate, so easily tricked, and as a prince, a prodigy, a source of unadulterated power, he’s the only suitable candidate when it comes to keeping you safe, to guarding you as fiercely as dragon guards its hoard. He protects you, and he treats you like royalty while doing it, so he wants something in return. He doesn’t think he’s asking for a lot, considering how much he’s been denied.

You should just count yourself lucky Malleus might feel a little bad, by the time he’s done. At least he won’t leave you as bloody as he could, after he’s finished.

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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Demon Brothers Meeting the MC’s Family

I mean, if they have any family at all, what could they even tell them anyway? “Sorry Mom, still in Hell so I won’t make Thanksgiving but I’m doing great though!” This is another long one folks, but I lowkey kind of love it a whole lot. Sooo fun to write. One of my favorite posts so far.

Lucifer

Thinks it's a little weird that they’re so adamant to introduce their family to a literal demon but also kinda gets it. Family is the most important thing to him too.

Is very focused on making a good first impression, from image to attitude. Their approval isn’t going to do jack to stop him from being with the MC but he’d still take pride in being able to charm them for a night. Besides, if the MC cares then so does he.

Has more experience with the human world than the others so he’d know a lot of the do’s and don'ts already. They won’t need to worry about him making some kind of slip up.

Would love the irony if the MC’s family is religious at all. Christian/Jewish especially. May or may not play along with their little rituals but is going to make a lot of thinly veiled, passive-aggressive comments towards his "old man."

Would be most comfortable in a setting where there’s a lot of intellectual discussion or debate. He loves to steer a conversation down towards politics or other controversial things to get a rise out of people. The MC may need to reign him in if that’s a big no-go zone.

Isn’t really going to get along with any younger siblings the MC might have. Either he’s too stiff or too scary. If they’re looking for a playmate, look somewhere else.

Also not going to be particularly fond of any pets they have one way or another. Though he may take a shine to pitbulls or rottweilers because they remind him of Cerberus.

Mammon

You sure about this, MC? Him? Really? Are you really sure? He’s going to think they're crazy but he’s not going to refuse.

Will be so freaking excited if they’re from a well-to-do or, dare say, rich family. So much stuff to steal admire. Yeah, yeah no stealing from the MC’s family, he gets it... He’ll really try his best but it might be good to keep an eye on him.

Surprisingly though, he’s not going to be disgusted if they’re from a poor family either because the dude gets it. Money is hard to come by and things can be tough. He might even… pay... for some stuff while he’s there... You know, if he can. Don’t make a big deal out of it… He's got an image to keep.

He’ll try his best to not come off like a total scumbag and it may actually work. He’s rough around the edges but there’s plenty of chances for his better side to shine through as long as he stays on good behavior.

They will have to be sure that he doesn’t get to talking too much because his dumbass will let it slip that he’s a demon.

Mammon may not love kids but kids love him and any younger siblings are going to do the same. Even if he calls them little gremlins, he’ll let himself get roped into whatever game they’re playing and make it a lot of fun in the process.

Bring on the pets! He’s more of a dog person but he’ll play with a cat too. He may not be as animal-obsessed as Satan but he loves a good furry companion every once in a while.

Leviathan

NOOOOO and you can’t make him!!! A social event involving strangers where he has to make a good impression?? Fuck no, that sounds like actual hell and he doesn’t want anything to do with it!

… But he also can’t just let the MC go back to the human world alone because what if they meet someone better than him and get reminded that they’re with a good-for-nothing otaku…? Okay he's going. But he’s going to pout about it.

His first impression is going to make him come off like a nervous wreck no matter what. There’s really no polishing this bundle of anxiety. The best he can hope for is to ride this thing out until it's done.

Will be pretty quiet and cling to the MC like a life-raft the entire night. Refuses to be left alone with their family in any capacity, he could not handle the awkward silence. If they’re going to the bathroom, then he’s going too damnit.

If they have a pretty nerdy family then he might be a bit more comfortable. Especially if any of their siblings/parents game or are into anime. Steering conversation more towards his comfort zones will help him out a lot...

If they have little siblings who play a lot of video games then he is going to be the coolest person in the world. Period. He knows all the best strategies to practically any game out there, demonic or human. He may even loosen up a little bit and start smiling if he gets to wow an audience with his gaming prowess!

Like Lucifer he’s not going to be all that impressed with pets either way. He’ll think fish are pretty neat and probably even reptiles too but don’t expect him to get too cuddly with a dog or anything.

Satan

Doesn’t hate the idea but agrees that his name is going to have to change if they’re really serious about it. “Hey everybody this is my boyfriend, Satan!” is only going to be appealing to very niche circles...

Like Lucifer, he's going to be mindful of how he comes across. He'd rather the MC's family likes him than didn't, even if it's irrelevant, so expect him to be very polite and sociable. Damn near the perfect gentleman.

… Until something/someone sets off his temper. He may not go full Wrath on the situation but it's probably best to get him out of the room real quick so he can cool down.

Would love if the MC comes from an super educated family but it’s not a must. He's the kind of guy who will ask a lot of questions about any person's profession/skills and how things work regardless of background. He's curious that way.

Either way, he is going to show off his smarts and make sure that their family knows where his intellect is at. He wants them to know that the MC picked someone with a good head on their shoulders, after all.

Best keep him away from small children and bratty teens. He isn't exactly opposed to kids, but it takes one little shit to set him off and NO ONE looks good yelling at someone else's kid. Deserved or not.

Will there be cats? Do you have a cat? Please say you have a cat! He's okay with dogs too but if the MC has a cat this man will be ecstatic. The cat will love him and he will love it right back. Honestly, he's already adopted it. It's his now. Who's MC?

Asmodeus

Baby, you can take him anywhere and he’ll be the life of the party! A little family gathering doesn’t matter to him.

Is going to make sure that the moment he walks through the door the MC's family is in awe of what a catch they've got for themselves. He wants them to be proud of their little MC! To him, that translates to looking good and being fun!

Hope this is a house used to physical affection because he will not (and probably cannot) turn it off. Everyone gets hugs. Everyone.

Extra affectionate the whole night. He'll hold the MC's hand or arm or waist or really any part he can get away with. Kisses on the head and cheek aplenty. He may also lowkey butter up their parents with loads of compliments no matter what situation they're in.

If he's told to cool it on the touching though, he may get offended.

Is going to be better with teenage siblings than little, little ones. The man lives to give dating advice, fashion tips, or makeovers, you name it. Though he has to be careful to mention just human products and not some of the stuff he has back home.

Animal fur on his clothes? After he dressed himself so carefully?? No thanks. You can have your cute puppy or your little kitty. He'll take pictures, but he's probably not going pet much.

Beelzebub

Is honestly kind of honored by the suggestion. The MC is already a part of his family so it only seems natural to make him part of theirs. Though he has some reservations, mostly around his appetite...

He doesn't go up to the human world very much because it's really hard for him to stay fed. He's well-known enough in the Devildom that restaurants know what to expect when he walks in. Not so much up there.

Arrange the meeting around a state fair, festival, or carnival where the food is plentiful and he's golden. Hopefully their family won't be too disturbed by how bottomless his stomach is…

Beel is a sweetheart through and through but his lack of knowledge about how the human world, or humans in general, work might come back to bite him. He may need a little 101 about human manners before going.

Truthfully, their family is in for a real treat! This giant may look intimidating, but he's as gentle as they come. The kind of guy who will carry their grandmother’s bags with a smile on his face just for the sake of being helpful. 10/10 Sweetie, mother will approve.

Ooooh little kids are going to love Beel. He'll let their siblings hang off of him like a jungle gym. Will also play games with them if they want him to. Doesn't matter to him, their family is his family too and he wants to see them all happy.

Man wants dogs. Preferably big ones that he can rough-house with but little dogs he can cuddle work too. Do remind him that he can't just rip a whole-ass branch off a tree to play fetch like you could with Cerberus.

Belphegor

Really? You want that? Lol, okay but no promises. This is pretty much the equivalent of sticking two unlabeled chemicals together in a beaker and leaning in to see what happens. Who knows, but now you're stuck in the middle of it.

He's not going to try especially hard to make a good impression or change himself in any way. If their family is into people who are kind of chill and sarcastic then he'll get along swimmingly. If they were expecting more of a Satan type, yeah. No. He's not holding open any doors.

Won't be taking the whole thing all that seriously to be honest, like, what are a bunch of humans going to do if they don’t like him? Tell MC? They're certainly not going to be able to make him leave. He's humoring them at best, even if he's nice, so why bother fussing about it?

Might be a disrespectful little troll at times like pretending to fall asleep or making casual jokes like "Oh no, ma'am. I'm not all that comfortable with that cross over there because I'm a demon. …. Got ya, didn’t I? That'd be silly." *shit-eating grin*

Would appreciate a quiet, slightly introverted family the most. He's going to start getting annoyed if people in the house are too loud and may speed the whole thing along as a result.

Kids are things he'd rather avoid than have to interact with, but if pressed he will humor the little ones too. Don't expect him to do a whole lot of moving, though. If they're happy to just show him things that he can semi-pay attention to, that works for him.

MC has a pet? Is it fluffy? Is it lazy? Bring'em here. Like Beel, he likes big dogs but would rather just bury his face in fluff than try to wrestle it. He may actually fall asleep with them if they lay still enough for it.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #shall we date #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #whoyoubringinghome?

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cherrysung · 4 years

Text

attention

pairing: nerd!jaemin x reader

genre: smut

warnings: language, unprotected sex (stay safe!), deepthroating, oral (m. receiving), creampie, choking, fingering, dirty talk, slight degradation

prompts: none

summary: innocent and harmless to the eyes of everyone else, the quiet boy sitting next to you couldn’t stand your impatience anymore. maybe another lesson needed to be taught.

requested by @jjuullnnaayyaa.

word count: 2.5k

note: I hope you like this! this is the second part (requested) to my first nerd!jaemin scenario, which you can check out here! also, @glossyjaems have fun lmao

cherrysung’s navigation

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

Clenched jaw and threatening, narrowed eyes, Jaemin could only spare your mischievous smile a short glance before turning his attention back to the boring teacher in front of you. She spoke about some physics formulas and confusing projectile motions, yet although your focus seemed to be directed with full interest at her explanations, it was far from that. Instead, while you stared at the white board covered in multiple doodles, your hand rested not so innocently on Jaemin’s thigh. All under the desk and for nobody else to see.

You scribbled down the long formulas on your notebook in an unbothered nature, left hand moving slowly in up and down motions on your desk partner’s thigh, occasionally squeezing and teasing to reach unholy areas. Jaemin appeared to be sucking in ragged breaths, the spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose slightly sliding down due to the increasing perspiration on his face.

He looked nervous, angered even. Gritting his teeth or biting on his lower lip as your hand gradually moved higher and closer to the growing bulge inside his beige dress pants.

The two of you had been seeing each other for a considerable amount of weeks now, thankful that a simple tutoring session was enough to kick off your current relationship; date after date, you always picked up a new characteristic from his reserved personality, only adding to your belief that really—not all is what it appears to be. Despite the fact Jaemin was in reality a freak and nothing like the nerd he had come to be recognized as, he was still fairly shy, and had struggled big time to ask you to be his girlfriend. Stumbles and stutters had been leaving his lips infinitely until you kissed him and spared him the work, answering his timid question with a simple yes.

His breath abruptly hitched, hands roughly gripping onto the desk’s edge and pencil when you curiously palmed his hardened cock. The muscles on his thighs were flexed, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down as he forcefully swallowed with nervousness and want.

“Stop that. You know what I’m talking about.” He whispered, eyes still fixated on the class before the two of you whilst using his free hand to grip yours gently and stop it from further movements. “What’s with you? We’re in the middle of class, we need to pay attention or we won’t understand anything afterwards.”

You smiled, admiring his control and obedience. Leaning closer to his ear, you whispered anyways, “but the only one I want to pay attention to is you. Jaemin, I want to fuck you.”

In a bold move, you guided his hand under your plaid skirt and towards your soaked heat, moving your flimsy underwear to the side to run his index finger through your wet folds.

Jaemin cursed under his breath, tongue swiping swiftly on his bottom lip as he lowered his head so the teacher wouldn’t notice the slight pink tint that had flushed warmth into his cheeks. His fingers started moving on their own, thumb rubbing your clit gently before plunging two fingers into your dripping hole. You allowed him to continue the discrete assault on your pussy as you brought your hand back to its previous position—his dick. Experimentally, you unbuttoned his pants with only one hand, taking his hard member out after he had obediently raised his hips to lower down the fabric of his black underwear.

He continued to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt at an average pace, unable to move them any faster due to the little space between you and the desk. Still, he didn’t fail to please you, curling them and hitting your sensitive spot successfully with no trouble whatsoever. Meanwhile, you stroked his length slowly and tightly, using the precum leaking from the tip to coat his dick. All of this while he innocently rested his chin on his hand, mindlessly nodding at whatever the teacher said and as you pretended to listen, now writing random things on your notebook, because you weren’t bothered enough to actually keep scribbling down notes from the subject.

“So, Na Jaemin, what do we do next? Give a brief explanation too.” The teacher spoke up, all heads turning your way and prompting both your movements to halt for a moment. Though, it didn’t take long for them to resume, as if twenty-eight eyes weren’t situated on the boy next to you. If only they knew what was happening underneath the metal table.

Jaemin fixed his glasses, and you could only widen your eyes in annoyance at how fast his demeanor changed, gaze turning shy and cheeks still warm from your ministrations; but, fingers reaching deeper while his thumb returned to caressing your sensitive bub. “You move the number three to the other side of the formula,” he spoke with confidence, hips involuntarily jolting up slightly when your thumb swiped for a little too long on his tip. “The reason why you have to do this, is to actually get the formula working. Otherwise, the answer will be unobtainable.”

“That is correct.” The teacher nodded with a small smile. “Thank you, Na Jaemin. I didn’t expect any less from my best student, anyways.”

For about ten more minutes, the lesson carried on at an extremely boring and deathly pace, the sound of markers coming into contact with the board and quiet complaints from students the only things that could be heard between the four, dull white walls. Jaemin and you had resorted to torturing each other in the form of teasing, unwilling to have any type of release underneath a dirty school desk.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson as the two of you stopped your actions immediately. You swiftly fixed your skirt, and Jaemin made sure to zip his pants back up only after quickly licking his fingers clean from your essence while gazing deeply with desire into your eyes.

“Class, you’re dismissed.”

You stood up a ridiculously desperate pace, only to be pulled back down onto your seat by Jaemin. “What the fuck! Jaemin, I’m horny, let’s leave.” Your threats came out in a whisper, but they were enough to bring a sinister smile to Jaemin’s features.

“Don’t worry, I have a better idea.” He waited for the last pair of students to leave the classroom, watching as the teacher stood with her bag, hands holding onto her homemade lunch. She walked carelessly towards the door, steps coming to a halt upon noticing the two of you were still glued to your seats.

“Guys? It’s lunchtime, why are you still here?”

Jaemin took out his calculus textbook along with his calculator, placing the items on the table before pointing at them and then at you. “Could we stay here? She’s having trouble with Inverse Trigonometric Functions and we have calculus class after lunch break. We thought it’d be a good idea to stay here practicing just to warm up.”

She pondered for a few seconds, before nodding her head. “Sure, but if you get hungry don’t hesitate to go to the cafeteria, okay? It’s always better to avoid an empty stomach. Good luck and work hard!”

With that, she left, softly closing the door after praising the two of you for being such ‘dedicated students’. Jaemin chuckled quietly before locking the classroom door, walking back to the table and pulling you up rapidly, wasting no time in locking lips with you after having to put up with your endless teasing for an entirety of forty-five tedious minutes.

You held tightly onto his shoulders as he walked you backwards until your back hit a wall, taking advantage of the gasp that escaped your lips to kiss you deeper, tongue fighting with your own as his hands roamed with lust all throughout your body. He unbuttoned your blouse just enough to free your tits, pulling your bra down as his fingers pinched your nipples playfully. Jaemin swallowed your moans, turning the both of you around so his back was pressing against the wall now, rubbing your shoulders tenderly before pushing you down to your knees.

“You were so naughty today, weren’t you? I thought you had already gotten a well deserved lesson taught? Seems like you didn’t learn shit, my dirty princess. Should I be harder on you?”

A whimper left you as you kneeled on the cold, tiled flooring, looking up at Jaemin obediently as he lovingly tucked your hair behind your ears. He released his throbbing cock from his undergarments, right hand bringing your locks up into a makeshift ponytail before pushing your head closer to his leaking shaft.

“Do you have make-up removal wipes here?” He simply asked, free hand pumping his member as he looked down at you with hooded eyes.

You nodded.

“Then we’re fine. Open your pretty mouth, doll.”

You listened to his demand right away, mouth opening with your tongue slightly sticking out as Jaemin placed his cock on top of the warm muscle, breathing instantly becoming irregular. In a rapid motion that caught you off guard due to no warning given beforehand, he roughly thrusted his hips forward, dick reaching the back of your throat unexpectedly as you gagged, fighting the urge to cough out as his actions became consecutive and merciless.

He successfully caressed the depths of your throat experimentally, the outlines of his member occasionally showing whenever you were able to avoid the need to gag. His low grunts resonated throughout the empty classroom, fucking your mouth ruthlessly until tears mixed with black mascara were running down your face uncontrollably and your throat burned as it begged for an inexistent break.

His movements only slowed when his dick twitched, hand forcing you down onto his cock ‘till your nose was pressed against his tummy once last time before letting you go, gasps and coughs desperately leaving your lips in an instant as you attempted to catch your breath. Jaemin let out an exhale and pulled you back to your feet once again, swiftly wiping the black tears from your cheeks as he admired your reddened eyes. He wordlessly asked if you were fine, smiling gently when you nodded your head.

“Come here.” He guided you towards the teacher’s desk—again, giving you no time to process what was happening before he had pushed your upper body down, chest and cheek pressed onto the polished wood while his hand rested on your back. He pushed your skirt upwards, the fabric bunching up at your waist as he moved your pink panties to the side.

Your glimmering cunt stared back at his intense gaze, juices now running down your inner thighs after enduring the attack of his fingers with no room for release. He ran the tip of his dick up and down your folds teasingly, breath hitching while whines escaped you.

“Jaemin, please.” You whispered, mind unable to think of anything else but the feeling of his shaft caressing your pussy.

“What, princess? What do you want? Use your words.”

“Please, fuck me. Fuck me hard, so hard I won’t be able to focus the rest of the lessons. Fuck me so hard I will keep my hands to myself during class next time I feel like a little slut.”

“Good choice and wording, love. We only have about… ten minutes left before lunch break ends, so let’s make this worth it. Let me fuck the whore out of you, alright?”

No more words said, he rammed into you, setting a ferocious and reckless pace right away as your frail body lunged forward weakly with every fierce thrust that he delivered. The tip of his dick kissed at your sweet spot every time, eliciting gasps and whimpers from you that only served to help Jaemin increase his already inhumane speed.

“You like that right?” He gritted out. “This is what you wanted all along, right? You were so desperate for my dick that you couldn’t wait until we got home; no, you just had to touch me in the middle of a lesson. What a dirty doll you are.”

He continued to pounce into you, thrusts never decreasing in rhythm as he pulled you up close to his chest by your hair, free hand circling around your neck before squeezing lightly. You let out a particularly loud sound of pleasure, hands shooting up to rest on Jaemin’s much bigger one, silently begging him to keep the hold on your neck.

A surprised chuckle left his lips, hand squeezing once again as your walls clenched around him, tightly engulfing his dick deliciously. He moaned, head falling to your shoulder before biting gently onto the skin, sucking and then soothing the burning feeling with a slight swipe of his wet tongue. Whispering dirty things into your ear, you whined as his words swirled chaotically in your mind; promises of what more he’d do to you once you were alone and praises of how good you felt drowning you.

You felt his member twitch inside of you, thrusts gradually becoming sloppier by the moment. The grip on your neck became stronger, nearly preventing you of all ability to breath.

“J-Jaemin, I’m close!”

“Yes, princess, go ahead and let go. I want to feel you. Go ahead and cum all over my dick.”

Jaemin softly nibbled on your earlobe, the action enough to bring you to your climax. Your cunt clenched unstoppably around his shaft, juices mixing along with his as he reached his release as well, cum filling your walls to the brim through white, warm strings. His hips abruptly halted, dick still buried deep inside you while the two of you attempted to catch each other’s breaths.

Upon the loud sound of the bell ringing through the classroom and school halls, you both fixed yourselves in record time. After zipping up his pants, Jaemin helped you button up your shirt, fingers collecting his juices that had trickled down from your pussy before inserting the milky substance inside of you once again and arranging your underwear back in place, your legs shaking at the oversensitivity. He smirked and cupped your heat, eyes twinkling at the squeal that left your lips. “Keep that in you until we return back to my house.”

Quickly, he was able to unlock the door on time as the two of you now sat at your assigned desk, while Jaemin softly wiped off the black stains of mascara from your cheeks.

“Oh my God, what happened? Why is she crying?” The teacher asked worriedly the moment she stepped into the classroom.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jaemin smiled sweetly at the elderly woman, “she became angry because she couldn’t get the topic, so angry that she started crying.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she smiled at you with pity, “you’ll get it soon! Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“I know right! I told her the same thing.” Jaemin giggled, aware of the strong glare you sent his way. “Don’t worry, though, I promised her I will keep teaching her the lesson after school.” He smiled innocently, eliciting coos from the teacher who had been unaware of the slightly harsh pat that he delivered to your sensitive heat.

You gulped, rubbing your thighs together at the feeling of his cum still sitting in the depths of your walls, and the intrigue of what else he would ‘teach’ you behind closed doors.

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Rumor Has It {Epilogue}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler

Warning: Cursing, Plot, Fluff,

Words: 2.2k

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

NOTE: DO NOT COME FOR ME. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If the public ripped Chris a new asshole when the odds seemed ever not in his favor, they massacred Ana once the facts were revealed. When it came out just how low Ana had gone in her efforts to get your husband, the world turned into a colder place. The tabloids ran endless pieces on what a horrible person she was. They were relentless when it came to nitpicking not just her behavior and actions, but they even went in on her acting. You could have said you felt bad for her, but you didn’t. Not one bit.

The support that came out for you and Chris was heartwarming. Everyone seemed to want to wrap the two of you in a cocoon of support and love. You received well-wishes from fans and supporters, and even celebs sent floral arrangements, all expressing their support for you. The narrative that was spun was the diabolical plot of Ana and jilted ex Christiano who concocted a plot that was to end with Ana getting Chris and Christiano kidnapping you. Most of the details were released to the press, though you and Chris had both tried to keep as much of it under wraps as possible. Neither one of you wanted to continue dealing with it. You just wanted to move forward and focus on better things—happier things.

Because Christiano had broken into your home and attempted to cause harm to its residents, Chris’s actions were seen as self-defense, and Chrisnao’s death ruled an accidental result of self-defense. Though the White family were distraught once they were faced with the severity of Christiano’s actions and continued plans, they didn’t have the heart to put you through any further trauma. You’d suspected it was Christina’s doing, and a floral arrangement from her a few weeks after the incident proved your suspicions.

You’d been friends with her first, and it was a friendship that survived the end of your relationship with Christiano. This was her way of letting it be known that her brother did wrong. A month after the incident, her statement shed light on Christiano’s mental health and revealed he’d been struggling for several years since the break-up. She made no apologies for his actions and didn’t try to make him seem like a victim. She was adamant about letting the full truth be seen. She did offer an apology to you, Chris, your families, and your children.

For her part in the plot, her actions of physically trying to kill you, not knowing you pregnant at the time, was what sealed Ana’s fate. She was sentenced to jail, and it wasn’t entirely the sentence of a privileged woman. It was one of a criminal who showed no remorse for their actions. She was given nine years behind bars, and because she was living and working in the US on a visa rather than citizenship, after the completion of her sentence, she would be deported to Spain.

Even film studios were distancing themselves from her at record speed. All the roles she had been considered for quickly changed their views and voiced wanting you to have the roles. It was sort of poetic to you. She hated you because you were black, and you didn’t deserve all you had, including your career and husband. In the end, she was the absolute furthest from your husband, and now everything that was hers would be yours.

You and Chris were on a flight to Massachusetts two days after the incident. Neither of you were suspects; there was no reason for you to remain in LA, so you quietly packed up what you wanted and made arrangements to pack up the house for the foreseeable future, then went where both of you felt like you belonged. You left any details about your career plans to your manager to close. Everyone seemed to understand the want you had to step back from work and Hollywood, especially when the news was out that you were going to be parents.

That was the only thing Chris seemed to care about. He was on a mission to keep you comfortable, happy, and taken care of. From the minute he carried you over the threshold of the home he’d built for you, it felt like a fresh start, a new beginning meant just for the five of you.

He was there beside you every morning, patting your back as you vomited because of your morning sickness until you were four and a half months along. He was there for every single appointment. He read every book you did to prepare for the remainder of your pregnancy and life with twins. He was there preparing you lunch every afternoon, there massaging your feet and back at the end of every night. He was there to lather on the cocoa and shea butter to your growing belly. He was there to compliment every stretch mark you received because of your quickly stretching skin. He was there to kiss each of them while telling you how much he loved each and every tiger stripe, as he called them. He was even there for you when none of your clothes fit you, and he offered you all his cable-knit sweaters, hoodies, sweatpants, and button-downs.

When your belly became so big you couldn’t see your feet; he put your shoes on for you. When you couldn’t get up without looking like a beached whale, Chris was there to carry you wherever you wanted to go. There rarely went an hour that went by where he didn’t strip you to worship your body as if you were his scripture, and he worshiped you and you alone. Not a day passed where you didn’t feel loved, desired, and protected.

Through it all, you decided that therapy was beneficial and a powerful enough tool to bring you back together that you wanted to continue. Dr. Danquah was thrilled having the two of you as clients again and, because of your progress, saw no need for you to see her more than twice a month to keep the lines of communication and the roots of love and passion ever strong. The love you felt for Chris and the connection you felt to each other only deepened throughout your pregnancy.

Just when you thought you couldn’t love him anymore, he did something to prove you wrong. Every day you found something more to love. If it wasn’t his fun-loving nature that was on display every time he played with Dodger, it was his outdoorsy adventurism with the way he bounded from the bed once the sun rose to drag you on another of his nature walks so he could photograph the trees or the hills. If it wasn’t his romantic side with how he prepared candlelit baths every night that posed as a prequel to dinner by candlelight and the most passionate session of lovemaking, it was his undercover, not so undercover freak antics with him wanting to christen every single room in the house and a few spots outdoors with your lovemaking. At nights when he thought you were sleeping, you heard him talking to the babies as he caressed your stomach. That was what you loved most. His sheer love, devotion, and adoration for his children and the strong protector that resided in him. he was the only one for you.

“Push Riah.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to push. You push!”

Chris snorted, and you wanted to kill him. His hands rubbed your belly before he kissed your jaw from his position behind you in the tub in your bathroom.

“I can push with you, but you have the babies in you. You have to show them the way.”

You groaned, and it echoed in the hallowed bathroom.

“You can do this, Uriah,” Lisa encouraged, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze.

You looked across to your mother, who nodded, hoping to steel your nerve. Chris kissed your ear.

“Come on, dragonfly. You got this. Bring our babies into the world so we can spoil them.”

And you can change all the poop diapers?”

Chris snorted again. “I don’t recall making any such promise.”

You squeezed his hand with everything you had. He groaned and hissed from the pain.

“Ah, ah, wow. Okay, I see my error. Yes, all poop diapers that you don’t want.” You released his hand, letting him relax somewhat.

“Use that, baby. I know it’s hard. I know it hurts, and I’m sorry.”

“This is your fault,” you pointedly accused.

“Yes. My fault. I take full blame. I’m sorry.”

“You owe me so big for this, Evans.”

He nodded, agreeing with you. that was when the pain intensified at levels that made you regret choosing a natural birth at home.

“Oh fuckity, fuck. So big, Evans!”

“You’re crowning. Do you want to come over here and catch your baby, dad?”

Chris moved from behind you and got into position between your legs. His eyes widened, clearly seeing the baby’s head. The excitement around you was palpable, and it gave you a burst of energy to get the baby out. You grabbed your knees, hunkered down, and pushed because whether you were supposed to or not. Your scream was loud, and the screams of those around you picked up. They shouted to you, encouraging you to keep going and not to stop. The look on Chris's face suddenly changed, and you saw the tears in his eyes.

“Oh my god, Riah, I can—I can see—oh baby, I can see a face. come on, Dragonfly, one more push.”

You screeched out and fought through the intense burning you felt, and in seconds the crying of a baby echoed in the bathroom.

“Aah, oh my god, Riah, it’s a girl. She’s here,” Chris elated as tears rolled down his cheeks.

You smiled widely as Chris held your daughter and cut her umbilical cord before he placed her on your chest.

“Oh my god!”

She was perfect, with a full head of hair that was the color of Chris’s and cheeks so plump you were tempted to pinch them. You only had a moment to place a kiss on her forehead before you felt another stab of pain that made you shout again. The second midwife took the baby from you so you could focus on pushing out her sister.

“She’s right there, Uriah. You’re doing incredible, baby,” your mother informed.

“I’m thinking three good pushes, Uriah. When you feel the urge, push.

You instantly felt the urge to push and returned to your previous position and pushed as hard as you could. This push was just as painful as the first one, but you felt this push accomplished more.

“Good push, her head is out. One more, and she’ll be out,” your first midwife said.

The look on everyone's face was one of anxiety and excitement. The sounds of your first daughter’s cries had died down, and the only thing that could be heard in the room was your panting, screeching, and grunting.

“Fuuuuuck!”

You managed to push your daughter out, and her cries filled the bathroom. Soon, it was not one baby crying but both of them.

“You did it!”

Lisa and your mother both kissed your cheeks and forehead, happily congratulating you and telling you how well you’d done while the midwives cleaned the babies to bring them to you. When Chris came up beside you, your mothers backed away, giving you a few moments together. Chris kissed your forehead.

“You’re incredible. You did so good, dragonfly. I’m so proud of you.” He kissed you once, then twice, and nuzzled his nose against yours.

“I love you so much.”

“Did someone order two perfect babies?”

The midwives placed your daughters in your arms.

“This is baby A; she was born first and her sister.”

Your tears flowed freely as so much emotion filled you. Love in it’s purest form washed over you.

“Chris. They’re beautiful.”

“Of course they are. They look just like you,” Chris said, kissing your temple.

A comfortable silence fell between you as you admired your newborn daughters.

“Any decision on names?”

You smiled and ran your thumb across the baby’s brow in your arm.

“Yeah. How do you feel about Nova and Rae?”

Chris’s face lit up as his smile spread so wide that you wondered if his face would split in two.

“I love them. Nova and Rae Evans,” he uttered. You nodded and couldn’t help but choke up, seeing the emotion on his face.

“Chasing dragonflies,” he whispered the meanings of the names you’d discussed weeks ago before his lips met yours for a tender kiss.

With his forehead pressed to yours, he whispered again. “Rumor has it you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

You smiled and looked at him before pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss. “Rumor has it you’re a DILF.”

Chris laughed so loud it startled your babies, making them stir and cry. You joined in laughing with him, unable to keep your sublime happiness under wraps any longer.

“Rumor has it you two will have siblings in record time,” Lisa said slightly above a whisper.

Everyone in the room laughed, not knowing how true those were most likely were. You and Chris gazed at each other with longing and love in your eyes. When Chris kissed you again, this time taking his time to do it properly, completely and heartily, you knew his mother’s words would be the truest spoken.

The End!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

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@thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @queenbetter @ilovehatembj @briellableu @zaddysqueen7 @melaninhawtie @simplyyamberr @ashanti-notthesinger @chezdricks @euh-say-what-now @afraiddreamingandloving @ajspencer1892 @wakanda-inspired @chillavesss @theunsweetenedtruth @geeksareunique @aykanna @hanasamara @profilia @ollieveracity @autumn242 @missyperle @forbeautyandlife @kreolemami @songtoyou @designerwriterchic @firedolphin04 @academic-glowup @periodtcevans @nova3312 @naturalthrone22 @squeackygeecapslut2014 @queen-audsalena

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@imthatbitchsworld @soul–notforsale @toni9 @someone-really-bored @venustrap04 @chrisevansdaddycap @kittykatlow @live-laugh-love-ki @asiaaisa77 @melanicia @fistmetonystark @livinglifeformemyselfandi @crowngold @allnamesicouldthinkofweretaken @lost- ssoull @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @shar74nett @cltex84 @badbitchhtown @petty-bitch-akira @unknownmystery22 @raveviolet @madixii @almosttherebutnot @rainbowkisses31 @smediumsmeatbae @bernie-k @nina1800 @nervousninjatheorist @lo-cheu @creole-mami @acciolove724 @shipatheart @captainchrisstan @ramp-it-up @bforbbgirl @brownskinafro @jhayes6984 @badbo1-evans @msblkfire84 @jovanaprime @poshgirl2 @marvelatthis30 @littlepreciousangel @youremysuperstar @alookintohersoul @cleopatra-knowles @xsweetdellzx @cxmfort @i-just-like-fanfics @storiestoldbyjazz @jennmurawski13 @imthewarmpenguininthemiddle @ak329

@koko-michelle @sophiasotherdaughter @maeleeme @mauvecherie @jbrizzywrites

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. Please check that you are taggable. I’m sorry.***

#rumor has it fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black ofc #black fanfiction #chris evans x ofc uriah

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tothemeadow · 4 years

Text

~*ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ OᑎE*~

warnings: alcohol consumption, oral sex

words: 2.8k

Prologue

Perhaps you should’ve have taken Daki more seriously. After that fateful night at the so-called gathering, she’s become adamant on getting you hooked onto the luxurious life. Frankly, you thought the rest of the night was a bore, watching rich people mill about, talking to each other about issues that you could wish to understand. The only thing that really kept you going was the company of your best friend and the delicious edibles set on the many tables.

Time and time again, Daki brought up the encounter you had with Idris’ friends – could they even be called that? She gushed about how handsome Rengoku Kyojuro was, how darling it would be to hang off his arm. You noticed the suggestive hint to her tone; you knew exactly where her train of thoughts was going, and you’d be damned if she acted upon them.

In fact, you’re entirely positive that she’s planning on whisking you into her lifestyle. Even now, as you sit in some one-roomed, slinky club, she taps a manicured finger against her chin. The place itself is dripping with wealth, from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the clusters of velvet chairs, right down to the mahogany bar you sit at. You don’t have the slightest clue how Daki knows of a place like this, but – judging from the few other patrons acquainting the place – it’s meant for those types of meetings. You have the slightest inkling that this is where she met Idris in the first place.

Glancing over at her, you can understand why Idris was drawn to her in the first place; of course, Daki has always been insanely beautiful, but her sense of fashion is impeccable. Combined with her short skirt and the thick platforms on her feet, her legs are long, soft. She looks like she just came off straight off a runway; she might as well have, if the big Chanel logo on her beret hints at anything. She’s perfect sugar baby material, and you’d be lying if you’d say you didn’t respect her for pulling off such a feat.

“Mitsuri really liked you,” Daki’s saying. You snap back to attention, mentally cursing yourself out for getting lost in your thoughts. “She thinks you’re really pretty, too.”

Ah, Kanroji Mitsuri: renowned fashion designer and easily one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever met. Her welcoming, bubbly personality had definitely struck a chord inside you, and you were more than thankful that she had been so nice. Hearing something like that, though… Well…

Staring down at your wine, you swirl the deep red fluid around in your glass. “She’s just being nice,” you say, deflecting the compliment. You didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing.

Rolling her eyes, Daki pops a grape into her mouth and waggles a finger at you. “Listen here, darling; Kanroji Mitsuri thinks you’re pretty. I wouldn’t take that so lightly.”

“You’re also drop dead gorgeous,” you shoot right back. “Of course you wouldn’t take it so lightly.”

“You’re missing the point,” Daki says with a sigh. “An insanely hot and rich woman – who has a great personality, by the way – is interested in you. By the way you two were talking at the gathering, it’s almost like you two have known each other forever.”

Deciding to take the bait, you set your wineglass down and turn towards her. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Go on a date with her, obviously. I know Mitsuri will treat you right. And, if the night ends well…” Trailing off, she follows up with a giggle. “We’d be sugar sisters.”

“Come again?”

“Oh, come on, (y/n)! Think about how much fun it’ll be! Mitsuri will spoil you rotten and you’ll have mind-blowing sex.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at the unexpected confession. Wait, did that mean…?

Daki flashes you a sly look. “What, you don’t think I only like men, do you? I may have fucked around with Mitsuri once or twice… But it was only a physical attraction, nothing more. Sometimes you just need to get with a woman.”

Embarrassment crawls up your neck at the mere idea of Daki and Mitsuri engaging in certain… activities. Warmth floods your system; you should be ashamed of thinking of your friend like that, but she did just tell you something you particularly didn’t want to know. And, truth be told, you are growing the slightest bit curious as to how Mitsuri’s like in bed…

A smirk pulls at the corners of Daki’s pretty mouth. She obviously knows what’s going on in your head – the two of you have been friends long enough for it to be second nature at this point. However, it still catches you by surprise as she fishes out a little piece of paper and slides it across the bar to you. “Since you’re clearly thinking about it, have her number,” she purrs. “I don’t think you’ll regret giving her a call.”

Taking the paper into your hands, you examine the neat, curly writing. You can imagine Mitsuri writing down the number, a flattering smile on her face. Your heart nearly skips a beat; did she really feel attracted to you? It’s just that, well, somebody at her social standing would usually stick to someone in the same group. You’re nowhere near it, so to have something like this happen… It’s kind of incredible.

You sigh. “Fuck it. I’ll call her.”

Daki eagerly claps her hands. “That’s my girl!”

On second thought, you might be regretting your decision.

Around you, the delicate clank of crystal glasses and fine platters intermingle with the soothing piano music. Other patrons talk amongst themselves, the slight murmur of dozens of voices reminding you of a hoard of bees. Some call out to the waiters passing by, wanting them to refill their glasses or get the check.

The dim, golden light makes the place ethereal, a heavenly glow surrounding everyone’s heads. Your hands glide over the spotless tablecloth, the pristine white of it practically mocking you. Jeez, if a single drop of wine spills on it, they’d probably just throw it away. Damn rich people and their ways – the mere idea of how much this tablecloth costs has your head spinning.

“You don’t have to look so scared,” Mitsuri says. “Believe it or not, but everyone here is just like you.”

You nearly scoff at that. You want to tell her that no, nobody is like you. You’re not rich and swanky, not by a long shot. Besides, this is Kanroji Mitsuri you’re speaking to. She’s part of this crowd; and since she’s a renowned fashion designer with a fairly large following, she’s practically a celebrity.

“I find that hard to believe,” you mutter. Picking up your glass, you take a careful sip of water, not wanting to cause a spill and embarrass yourself.

It’s not helping your nerves in the slightest that Mitsuri looks the way she does; hair pulled into a high ponytail, a slinky dress with a plunging neckline, dangling earrings that reflect the soft golden light. You don’t want to be disrespectful and stare at her pure, creamy skin, but it’s so hard. She’s downright beautiful – breathtaking, even – and it’s a challenge to keep your head on straight.

Her green eyes practically light up at your comment, a light giggle passing through her plump lips. “Everyone feels the pressure, you know. The need to keep up a perfect façade. It’s a shame, really, how so many people in this room wear a mask constantly.” She sighs, then, leaning forward and perching an elbow on the table and resting her chin in her palm. “I’ll be truthful, darling. The very first moment I met you, I knew you’d be different. You’re not some stuck-up corporate brat who’s too deep in their own shit to know right from left anymore. It’s refreshing.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. She hit the nail right on the head; sure, the upper class are usually depicted as being entitled assholes, but to hear it from Mitsuri? That’s just gold. She joins in on your laughter, the sweet, tinkling sound gracing your ears. It’s actually incredible how comfortable you feel around her, despite only knowing her for a couple of days.

“Plus,” Mitsuri continues, her laughter dying down, “I think you’re really cute.”

Scoffing, you try to downplay the excited fluttering in your heart. She’s almost been gushing about how nice you look all night, how much of a pleasantry it was that Daki introduced the two of you. Even better, she was so freaking ecstatic that you called her. Okay, yeah, so maybe you’re interested in Mitsuri. Who wouldn’t be? With the personality of a puppy and the looks of a supermodel, how could anyone say no to her?

“Now you’re just spoiling me,” you tell her.

“What can I say?” Mitsuri replies, voice smooth. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Shock floods your system, sucks almost all the air from your lungs. Jaw dropping, you gape at her, completely at a loss for words. It doesn’t matter, though; your waiter comes back with the meals the two of you’ve ordered, placing them down gently on the table and busying himself with pouring glasses of wine.

“Enjoy the meal, ladies,” he says, his thick accent flooding his words. With a polite bow, he takes his departure, stepping away with quick, precise movements.

Staring down at the food you ordered, your mouth begins to water. Even though you aren’t the biggest fan of these damned rich people, you’ve got to admit that you’re jealous of the things they eat. Like, look at this! This is something King Midas would eat himself!

“It’s almost as if you’ve never eaten before,” Mitsuri says along with another adorable giggle. “If that’s your reaction, then I’m going to have to take you to every high-end restaurant in town!”

“What? No! Mitsuri, you don’t have to do that!” you ramble. “It’s just… Well…”

“Oh, come on. I want to.” Mitsuri pauses, then, picking up her glass with slender fingers and taking a sip of her wine. “I agree with Daki, you know,” she continues, “I think the two of us could have a lot of fun together.”

“…I’m afraid I don’t understand…?”

Mitsuri casts a devious smile over the rim of her glass at you. “Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll find out soon enough.”

If you can recall it correctly, there’s a saying that would fit perfectly into this moment – blame it on the alcohol. Oh, but you’re not stupid. No, you at least have the guts to own up to your actions, as great or as stupid as they can be. That being said, you don’t want to admit to how desperate you’re feeling.

You didn’t doubt Daki for a single moment. As kind as she is beautiful, Mitsuri is the perfect package. She only managed to prove that point over and over again throughout the evening, swapping stories and genuinely taking the time to get to know you better. You still can’t believe she’s taken so much interest in you, but you aren’t going to complain about it any time soon. In fact, you’re glad that she’s into you.

Perhaps it was your tipsy mind that made you say yes; that’s what you want to believe, anyway. You don’t want to own up to the fact that you practically jumped at the opportunity of Mitsuri taking you home, to some swanky penthouse in one of the richest parts of the city. You barely had any time to gawk at the immaculate décor or overpriced furniture; no, what you got was a short tour as Mitsuri drug you off towards her bedroom.

The moments from there on out became nothing more than a blur. Clothing being slipped off, hands roaming over bare skin, the delicious heat of Mitsuri’s mouth. Your mind is still reeling from the turn of events, but you don’t have a single chance to think about it.

Heavy pants break through your lips, grace the still air in Mitsuri’s bedroom. The mattress is large, unforgivably so, topped with some of the softest blankets you’ve ever felt. Settled between your open legs, Mitsuri looks nothing short of perfection; long ponytail clutched in your grasp, her full eyelashes fluttering, the prettiest of blushes on her face, she’s a remarkable piece of art, reserved for your eyes only. The sounds spilling from between your legs is utterly sinful. Her lips and tongue eagerly work away at your sopping cunt, break down your walls until you’re a moaning mess.

“Fuck, Mitsuri,” you breathe, voice turning shrill towards the end. “That feels so good.”

Mitsuri moans at the praise, her manicured nails digging into the plush flesh of your thighs. Arching her back even more, you’re presented with a better view of her godly ass, the defined dimples on her back. She’s too gorgeous to handle, too fucking sexy. Giving her ponytail a yank, you relish in the pleased hum vibrating in the back of her throat.

“Naughty girl,” Misturi purrs as she pulls away. A mix of slick and smeared lipstick cover her lips, the lewd shine making your insides tighten. “I didn’t say you could do that, now did I?” The mere controlling tone of her voice causes another fat drop of slick to push its way out of your pussy. Eyes locking onto the sight, Mitsuri cracks a salacious smile. “Does baby girl like being talked down to?”

“Don’t… Don’t say it like that,” you whimper.

“I’m just speaking the truth,” Mitsuri purrs. “It’s not my fault this pretty little pussy likes it.” With her words, she traces a finger up and down your slit, collecting even more slick. Waggling the coated finger in your vision, she makes sure your eyes are on her before she slips it into her mouth, her swollen lips wrapping around it. “So tasty,” she moans. “So fucking sweet. You’re a real treat, you know that? It’s a shame Daki didn’t introduce us earlier.”

“Mitsuri-“

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t call me that,” she warns, the honey in her voice turning into something darker, heavier. You swallow thickly. “If you don’t mind, sweets… Call me Mommy. That is, unless you don’t want to cum? That works too.”

Oh, god, with an expression like that and her fingers playing with your sex, you’ll call her anything. “Mommy,” you murmur, “please.”

“Hmmm… What was that?”

Clenching the blankets between your fingers, you call out louder, “Mommy, please!” A loud gasp bursts from your throat, then, as Misturi shoves three fingers into you with no hesitation whatsoever. Her mouth descends on your clit once more, a pleased hum escaping her mouth at your sweet, sweet taste. Your hips buck into her wildly, your back arching off the mattress.

Mind clearing, vision turning fuzzy, your orgasm crashes over, your slick spilling all over her fingers and onto the blankets below. Mitsuri chuckles at that, seemingly pleased with both herself and your reaction. She keeps pressing on, though, her mouth and fingers working you through a second orgasm, and then a third. She’s relentless in her quest to make you cum over and over again, leaving you a shaking, crying mess of overstimulated nerves.

“Oh baby,” Mitsuri purrs once she pulls her mouth away. “You’re such a good girl to me, aren’t you? I’ll groom you real nice, shape you into something utterly perfect,” she continues, leaning in close and brushing her lips against your ear. “You’ll let me, won’t you? Come on, baby, let’s have some fun.” Shuffling up your body, she perches herself over your face, thick thighs encasing your head. “Be a darling and help me out, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you coo. “Yes.”

In the end, Daki got what she wanted – a sugar sister.

Granted, you weren’t super eager to jump on the opportunity at first, but after some convincing from Mitsuri, you figured why not? As long as it’s with Mitsuri, there’s no harm, really. Plus, if you’re going to continue having incredible nights with her… Hell, of course you’re gonna agree!

“So, how did the date go?” Kyojuro’s voice rings through the phone. He sounds a bit too eager to hear the fine, juicy details.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mitsuri teases. Sitting comfortably next to you in bed, she scans her eyes of your sleeping form, at your bare arms and shoulders unhidden from the blankets. She smiles. “It went great, actually,” she says, voice gentle. “(y/n)’s incredible.”

“She’s a looker, too,” Kyojuro says. Even though Mitsuri can’t see him, she knows he’s smirking. “Real beauty.”

“Heh. It almost sounds like you want me to share her.”

Kyojuro huffs in amusement. “Now that sounds like a good idea. Even Tengen wouldn’t shut up about her after she left. Maybe if you’re feeling generous…?”

Running her fingers over your smooth skin, Mitsuri bites her lip. “…Maybe. If she wants to be shared, that’s up to her. Either way…” she trails off, gives a light giggle. “She’s great in bed.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny pillars #kny pillars x reader #kny hashira #kny hashira x reader #diamonds are a girl's best friend series

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mummybear · 4 years

Text

This Thing Between US

Words: 4479

Warnings: Swearing, Dirty Talk, Smut, Wall/Door Sex, Protective Jensen, Oral (Male Receiving), Fluff. Think that’s it :)

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: After getting a much needed night off from work and finally getting a date your best friend doesn’t agree with you about going, is Jensen right? Is the date doomed or are you about to spend the night with Mr Right?

A/N: This is my submission to @stiles-o-dylan24‘s challenge for passing 1K followers! My Prompt Was - If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to seduce me. A massive congratulations Ellie!! So beyond pleased for you babe, glad that we’ve been friends for as long as we have. You’re the sweetest person ever and you deserve every single follower and so many more! Big hugs babe, hope you enjoy this! :)

A big thank you to the lovely @ne-gans for reading it over for me too 😘💖

This is also another submission to my @spndeanbingo, for the square (Best Friends)

(This is an AU where Jensen isn’t married and never was. This is a work of fanfiction and should be treated as such, thank you :) )

Ko-Fi HERE :)

You were so excited, you’d finally managed to get some time off work to have a much needed date night. The trouble was that you were nervous as hell, the date you were going on was with a guy you’d met online last week. Despite your best friend and roommate doing his best to put you off of the idea, you were determined to go ahead with your plans. You’d spent the entire day at work distracted thinking about it.

Jensen’s opinion was always extremely important to you, him not agreeing with your decision must've been playing on your mind more than you’d first realised. As much as you trusted and respected Jensen’s opinion; and you did. You just couldn’t cancel these plans, you’d had them for weeks and you had been really looking forward to them. Plus that would hardly be fair on the guy you were meeting, Tim had seemed like a nice enough guy from what you could gather during your chats.

Your bath is finally how you like it, the steam filling the cool room and you quickly pull off your clothes and toss them into the hamper, before climbing into the tub, groaning in pleasure when your aching body makes contact with the water, it’s like your muscles instantly relax.

You take your time in the bath, enjoying a little time to yourself to relax. By the time you’re almost finished in the bath, the bathroom door suddenly opens and the intrusion makes you jump. Your hand resting over your heart when Jensen steps into the steam filled room, you allow yourself to relax slightly. Seemingly in his own world, until he stops mid step and locks eyes with you. He immediately covers his eyes with his hand, “s-shit Y/N, I’m sorry!” he half stutters and you can see the blush creeping across his skin.

“My fault, I should've locked the door.” You reply as you climb out of the bath and wrap your towel around yourself.

“You can look now,” you giggle a little nervously, noticing the way he’d stiffened when you climbed out. You can’t understand this, he’s never been this nervous around you before.

He hesitantly uncovers his eyes and you give him a small smile when he finally looks at you. The steam in the room suddenly feels like it’s surrounding you, like the air is stuck in your throat.

“I should… uh. I should go get ready,” you manage to croak out around the lump in your throat.

You don’t give him time to answer, gripping your towel tightly, you practically run from the bathroom to your bedroom, where you slam the door closed and fall back against it, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“What the hell was that!?” You demand of yourself out loud.

Nothing had ever happened between you and Jensen and you’d never intended anything to happen. He was by far one of the hottest men you’d ever known, sure there had been the odd sex dreams you’d had about him. But you didn’t understand what was happening now, he was your best friend and that had been all you’d ever seen him as. Maybe it was just the heat in the bathroom and the hot bath messing with you. That had to be the reason, right?

You decided not to think about it, you didn’t want some kind of fluke or whatever it had been to ruin your night. Taking a deep breath you turn your attention to your outfit hanging on your door, it was a simple black dress with cuffed sleeves and a split up the side, which reached your mid thigh. Your underwear was a sexy black lace set, with white woven in between parts of the fabric, you’d purchased it especially for tonight.

You did your makeup, wearing a little more than usual and paired it with your red lipstick. You didn’t do too much with your hair, deciding to leave the natural wave you already had. Now that you’re dressed and ready to go, you feel a little more confident, stepping into your heeled shoes. You smile at your reflection as you check yourself over in the mirror.

When you walk out into the living room, you find Jensen sitting on the couch, clearly he’d had a shower right after you’d left. His hair is still wet and all over the place and he’s shirtless, only his light grey sweatpants cling low on his lean hips. You tried not to notice the few drops of water that rolled down his thick neck. Clearing your throat, you lick your extremely dry lips and focus on his face, where he quickly closes his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

“You look… just wow, fuck Y/N.” Jensen rasps, standing in front of you.

You feel yourself blushing and meet his eyes once more, and you can’t help but wonder were they always that green? “Yeah? Thanks Jay. I’m really nervous,”

“He’s the one who should be nervous, sweetheart, trust me. You don’t have a fuckin’ thing to worry about. You call me if he fucks with you and I’ll kick his ass.” He winks at you and you watch as he chews on his bottom lip and his eyes drop, shamelessly checking you out, before he seems to remember himself and his eyes snap back to your face.

“So uh, have a good night. Call me if you need a lift home or whatever.” He dismisses, but there’s something about the way he’d said that, that just doesn’t sit right with you.

You decide it’s best not to mention it though, “yeah sure, thanks.” You reply, voice a little clipped and you quickly leave your apartment without looking back.

What the hell is going on between the two of you today? This morning was like any other morning now suddenly, there’s like this weird thing between you and you just can’t explain it.

You send a text to Tim and tell him that you’ve just arrived at the restaurant, climbing out of the taxi, you pay the driver, before heading inside and taking a seat at the bar. This place is seriously expensive, so you just order a drink while you wait. You check your phone and still no reply from Tim.

By the time you check your phone again, your second drink is gone and you’re beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. When you turn back to the bar you find someone is sitting beside you.

“It looks like you’ve been stood up, baby girl.” A deep voice states, clearly he’d been watching you, which is seriously creepy, honestly it takes everything you have not to roll your eyes and you just sigh loudly.

Turning to look at the stranger, slicked back black hair and brown eyes, moderately good looking but he also looks like a total sleazebag.

“Not that it’s anything to do with you, but no I haven’t, I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend to finish work.” You snap back defensively, thanking the bartender when he places another drink in front of you.

“You sure about that? You’ve been lookin’ at your phone awfully regular.” He chuckles as you do it again, this time you go through your contacts, in search of the only man who would make you feel safe in this situation.

Before you can press the call button the sleazebags hand lands on your thigh, the feel of his skin against yours makes you feel sick.

“You better move your hand before I shove it up your ass,” you all but growl, slamming your empty glass back on the counter and attracting the bartender's attention.

The guy is undeterred as he leans in closer, the smell of him makes your stomach roll with nausea.

“Come on baby, I can show you a real good time. Fortunately for you, I like ‘em feisty.” He whispers and his cracked lips ghost your ear and you quickly pull away. Before you can tell him to go fuck himself, the bartender is back with another drink for you and the sleaze excuses himself.

“Be right back darlin’ don’t you go anywhere.”

The second his ass leaves the stool you dial the number, your feet bouncing on the wooden slat beneath your seat.

“Hello sweetheart? You miss me already?” Jensen slurs into the phone and you want to headbutt the bartop. He cannot be drunk right now!

“Look, the guy didn’t show Jay. But I’m getting really freaked out by this creep, he won’t take no for an answer.” You reply quickly, worried about getting a taxi alone in case he tries to follow you.

“Stay right there. I’ll be five minutes.” He responds quickly, all humour gone from his voice.

Before you can mention the fact that he’s drunk, the line goes dead. You really hope he doesn’t do anything stupid, but at the same time you’re just glad he’s coming. You don’t have time to think about it too much, before you spot Mr creep returning.

You quickly finish the drink you have left on the bar, feeling that familiar burn in your chest.

“Did you miss me?”

God that had sounded so much better when Jensen had asked.

“Yeah, like a fucking hole in the head. Could you leave me alone now. My boyfriend is on his way, he’s the jealous protective type.” You lie easily, although that’s not a complete lie. Jensen is fiercely protective of you, but that was just how he was with his friends, it was one of the many qualities you loved about him.

“Why don’t I keep you company until he gets here,” the guy smirks, leaning across the bar on his elbow so his face is inches from your own, clearly he still doesn’t believe you.

When you jump back a little too fast, your stool rocks and you almost fall off, but a strong body behind you stops you. You recognise the way he smells immediately and let out a sigh of relief when those strong arms wrap around your body.

“Hey baby, sorry I’m late. I know I said I'd be here sooner.” His lips press against the side of your neck and you feel an unexpected shiver shoot up your spine.

Your hands drop to Jensen’s and you lean back into his embrace.

“Don’t worry babe, I’m just glad you’re here now.” You tell him honestly, turning back to the douche across from you, who still hadn’t moved.

“Was this dick bothering you?” Jensen growls against your skin and this time you’re sure that you visibly shiver, biting your lip to stop the noise bubbling in your throat, your hands tighten over his.

The guy looks between you and Jensen and swallows hard.

“Sorry man, guess I misread something. I didn’t realise she was spoken for.” The guy spits out, quickly finishing his drink and you scoff.

“Well that’s bullshit. You should probably leave now.” Jensen suggests, his voice taking on a dangerous edge that you’d never heard before and it affects you more than you might have previously admitted.

He takes the seat beside you and wraps his arms around your waist, fingers just slightly digging into your stomach. The sleazebag can’t get off of the stool quick enough, and you can’t help but laugh watching him stumble out of the door.

“You are seriously the best friend in the world.” You tell him relieved, turning to him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thank you Jay, I dunno what I would’ve done without you tonight,”

When you pull back you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, watching the blush appear almost immediately.

“S’fine Y/N, anytime.” He mutters quietly, scratching at the back of his neck and smiling awkwardly. “Are you hungry? I’m guessing you didn’t have time to eat?”

You look at him and shrug, a slight smile pulling at your lips.

“Honestly? I kinda just wanna get drunk with my best friend, not really that hungry anymore.”

An hour later you and Jensen are in a shadowed corner booth, the bottle of liquor that sits between you is almost empty. You lean in closer to him, brushing away some fluff from his shirt. “So, did you dress up just for me?” you ask with a grin.

Jensen took a deep breath and met your eyes, your heart suddenly felt like it was trapped in your throat.

“So what if I had, is that a problem?” he questioned gruffly, resting his hand on your thigh, through the split in your dress.

You suck in a breath at the contact, but the alcohol gives you the boost you need to push away your nerves. Thinking back to how he'd been acting all day, you wonder, what’s the worst that could happen if you gave into what you were feeling?

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to seduce me, Mr Ackles.” You practically purr, scooting impossibly close, so that you were pressed up against each other.

“Is it working?” Jensen asks with a smirk, fingers curling around the top of your thigh and digging into your skin. You have to bite into your lip to stop yourself from making a noise, very cautious of the people sitting less than a foot behind the two of you.

“What if it is? What’re you gonna do about it?” Your reply is more breathy than you would’ve liked but you go with it, your hand dropping to his on your thigh and squeezing.

Clearly the alcohol was giving him a confidence boost, when he leans in close and presses those plump lips to your ear, you’re completely overwhelmed by him.

“You wanna go home and I can show you, baby girl?” He asks huskily, this time you can’t hold back the whimper when his hand moves further up your thigh.

Taking a breath, you swallow hard, feeling his lips press against the side of your neck, just below your ear.

“This is a bad idea, isn’t it?” You ask, feeling a little lightheaded with him being so close and his lips pause on your skin.

Jensen pulls back so he’s looking at you in the eyes.

“I don’t think so, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it? I know I have.”

“I guess maybe, I’ve dreamt about certain things happening. But I’ve tried not to let myself consider it, you’re my best friend Jay, I don’t wanna lose you.” You tell him honestly, blushing as you look down at your knees.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Jensen all but whispers, cupping your cheek in his big hand. He always made you feel so small in the best way. He tilts your face until you’re looking in his eyes again, “Trust me, I have no intention of going anywhere. No matter what happens tonight. You wanna just go home and forget about this then it’s up to you, Y/N. No pressure.” There’s a pause as he leans in a little closer, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment.

“But if you want me to take you home and show you what you do to me, how fucking hard you make me-” You cut him off with those words, resting your hand over the obvious and large bulge in his jeans.

You swallow thickly at the implication as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, he’s so close and you’re out of reasons as to why this is a bad idea.

“Show me Jay,” you whisper against his lips.

His hold on your cheek is a little firmer as he presses his plump lips to yours, it’s like all of the air has been ripped from your lungs as your lips move against his effortlessly. The hand holding your cheek slips around to the back of your head and he grips your hair gently and tugs, deepening the kiss. You push your hands into his hair in an attempt to pull him closer, messing it up the way you like it. His tongue slips between your lips followed by a deep groan, the kiss quickly becomes a mess of tongues and teeth, until you’re forced to pull back for air.

Nervous excitement is bubbling under your skin as you wipe your red lipstick from his kiss-swollen lips with your thumb. You pull your dress over Jensen’s hand to hide it, which only gives him more confidence to move it higher, so his thumb is practically brushing over your damp panties.

You’re interrupted when a waiter turns up at your table and clears his throat, “Excuse me sir, sorry to interrupt but your transportation has arrived.”

“Thank you, this should cover our tab.” Jensen smiles, handing over some cash. The waiter nods and gives his thanks.

“Oh sir, I like it, it suits you.” You giggle as you both get out of the booth, Jensen scoffs but he’s smiling as he wraps his arm around your waist and you head out to the front of the Restaurant.

You climb into the back of the taxi, while Jensen gives the guy your address before joining you in the back.

“How’re you doin’?” Jensen asks as the car starts moving, pulling one of your legs over his knee.

You scootch down the seat a little to give him more room to move his hand, “I’m good. Thank you for tonight, I had a great time.”

Jensen bites his lip as his hand moves between your legs and pushes your dress higher, until he can reach the apex of your thighs, rubbing back and forth over the front of your increasingly wet panties.

“It’s not over yet,” he smirks, his breath ghosting over your lips. You whimper as he pushes your panties to the side and his fingers slide teasingly through your slick.

“Fuck you’re so wet baby girl.” Jensen groans deeply, resting his forehead against yours as he eases two thick fingers inside you.

You clench your teeth to stop from moaning, luckily the driver has the music on, so at least your heavy breathing is covered. You’re both lost in your own world as you look into his eyes, feeling yourself clenching around his fingers. There’s a knock on the partition and Jensen gives you a wink before pulling his hand free, “oh come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumble, voice thick with irritation, as he sucks those fingers between his lips and moans around them. You don’t know whether you want to kick him or kiss him.

Despite your protest Jensen pays the taxi and follows behind you once it’s driven away. When you finally manage to get the keys out of your bag, Jensen presses up behind you, moving your hair over one shoulder. You shiver as his lips move slowly over your neck, he takes the keys from you as your head falls back against his chest and he makes quick work of unlocking the door.

The two of you stumble inside, giggling like a pair of teenagers, you barely have time to think before Jensen is backing you up against the same door you’d just closed.

“You sure you still wanna do this?” he questions as his fingers ghost over the zipper of your dress.

“Of course I am, I wanna know what your filthy brain has been coming up with.” You smirk confidently, the alcohol giving you the help you need. You grip both sides of his shirt and tug hard, sending buttons flying across the room. You can already see the way his eyes have darkened as he looks down at you.

“So, your bedroom or mine, sir?”

Jensen starts pulling the zip down slowly, keeping his darkened green eyes focused on you, the anticipation of what’s to come has your heart thudding wildly in your chest. He’s being so gentle and slow, you’re waiting for what you know is to come, you’ve heard the way he’s made girls scream over the years and the thought has your stomach in knots.

You swallow hard as he pulls his ruined shirt from his body and unbuckles his belt, tugging off his jeans and boxers, kicking them to one side. You can’t take your eyes off of him, unable to stop yourself from shamelessly checking him out, he’s fucking flawless, just as you’d expected. He looks just like you thought he would, but his cock is so much bigger than you would have dreamed. His voice soon pulls you from your ogling.

“Why bother going upstairs? I could just fuck you right here, against this door.” Jensen muses with that deadly smirk as he lets the dress slip from your body and pool at your feet, his voice has taken that tone again which makes your entire body feel like it’s on fire.

You smile back, pushing your panties down and stepping out of them and your dress, you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Guess you’d better show me what you wanna do to me, huh Sir?”

“You’re really enjoying calling me that, ain’t you sweetheart?” Jensen smirks, reaching down to pick you up. You giggle as you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling his hardness crushed between the two of you. Jensen lifts you just enough so that the head of his cock is pressing against your entrance, “this what you want baby?” he teases, letting the thick head of his cock push inside you.

Your fingers push into his hair and you grip tightly, leaning your forehead against his.

“Please Jay, Please. Fuck me.” You beg breathlessly against his parted lips. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to because as soon as the words pass your lips he sinks into you with one thrust.

“Oh God, Jensen, fuck.” You gasp out, dropping your head back against the door as your hands grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his soft skin.

Jensen stills inside you with a groan, fingers digging into your ass cheeks. You keep your eyes on his as you roll your hips against him. He’s so much thicker than you’d realised, stretching you out so much, it almost feels like he could break you at any moment if he wanted to. Your pussy hasn’t stopped clenching and fluttering around him. You can feel his cock already hitting spots nobody had ever managed to reach before.

“So fuckin’ tight and wet for me baby girl. You want me to move? Make you come all over my cock?”

His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, “yes, move please. I need you so bad, wanna feel you.” You whine loudly, fully aware of just how desperate you sound, but you’ve never cared less about anything.

Jensen pulls out almost all the way, then that fucker smirks, before he snaps his hips forward, pulling a scream from your throat that makes him growl.

“Fuck. That’s my girl.” Jensen grunts before repeating his actions, your head makes a dull thud as it falls back against the door. The grooves of the door digging into your back as he picks up a hard and fast pace that has you speechless.

“Wanted to fuck you so bad in that bar, you felt so fucking soft, looked so sexy in that tight little dress.”

“I wish you had,” you moan loudly, feeling his cock pulse inside you and your walls flutter around him. You’re so close to falling over that edge.

“Who knew you were such a dirty little girl, we’re gonna have so much fun together.” He half laughs, half groans into your neck.

“Fuck Jay, I’m gonna come.” You whimper loudly, feeling your entire body beginning to stiffen around him.

Jensen grabs your leg and hooks it in the crook of his elbow, you cry out at the new angle, the tip of his cock is repeatedly slamming into your sweet spot. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as your eyes start to roll back.

“So fuckin’ sexy baby girl. Come on, you can do it. Want you to paint my fuckin’ cock white.”

That’s all you need to push you over the edge, your orgasm smashes into you hard, leaving you extremely glad that Jensen is holding you up against the door.

You can feel Jensen’s jaw repeatedly tensing against your shoulder as he swears under his breath. You feel his hips start to stutter and purposefully clench around him, pulling those perfect noises from his lips.

You press your lips against his ear and groan when his fingers dig tighter into your ass cheeks.

“Want you to come in my mouth, wanna lick you clean.” You all but purr, clinging to his biceps as he pauses and pulls back to meet your gaze.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m close, you want it baby?”

You feel your pussy clench around him at the mere idea of it and nod enthusiastically with your bottom lip between your teeth.

Jensen gently pulls his cock free of your pussy and lowers you onto your shaking legs. You smirk up at him as you drop to your knees at his feet. You lick your lips as he fists his cock and starts to pump it in his fist, he holds himself up against the door with his free hand. His eyes are focused on your face as your lips part and you lick them hungrily, leaning up a little higher you wrap your lips around the tip of his perfect cock, tongue flicking back and forth over the slit.

“Shit sweetheart, just like that.” He groans loudly, gently thrusting his hips deeper into your mouth, you moan around him tasting yourself on his cock is better than you could’ve imagined. His hand falls away and moves to grip the back of your head as you take every inch you can manage.

“That’s it baby girl, fuck Y/N. I’m gonna-” He’s cut off when a deep groan fills the room and his come shoots into the back of your throat.

You do your best to swallow every precious bit of it, licking along his shaft until you’re happy you got all of it. He practically drags you to your feet when you pull away and roughly presses his lips against yours.

You squeal as he suddenly throws you over his shoulder and smacks your ass.

“Jay! What the hell?!” You question still half laughing.

You can almost hear the grin in his voice as he makes his way towards the stairs, “I ain’t done with you yet baby girl, not after that! I didn’t even get to return the favour yet.”

You watch his tight ass move as he walks up the stairs with you in tow, realising you wouldn’t want to get out of this even if you could.

Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desireepow-1986 @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @negans-lucille-tblr @deanwanddamons @simsadventures @charmed-asylum @nicole-lynne @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @sunshineandwings86 @akshi8278 @peaches007 @stylesismyhubs @fandom-princess-forevermore @hobby27 @akshi8278 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @spnfanfic-reblogs @holylulusworld @mrswhozeewhatsis @sonofabringmesomepie @deans-baby-momma @mrsjenniferwinchester @hhiggs @pisces-cutie @trina44sb @heartsaved @matsumama @adoptdontshoppets @beth-winchester21 @doctor-hp-mcu @mrspeacem1nusone

Pond tags: @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @deanscarlett @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @deandoesthingstome @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @quiddy-writes @babypieandwhiskey @supermoonpanda @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @memariana91 @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @becs-bunker @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @evilskank-inthemegacoven @maraisabellegrey-blog @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @bennyyh @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @winchester-family-business @there-must-be-a-lock @just-another-winchester @cas-backwards-tie @winecatsandpizza @firefly-in-darkness

#spndeanbingo #stilesodylan24celebrates1k #Jensen Ackles #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles rpf #rpf fiction #supernatural #dean winchester #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles supernatural #jensen ackles one shot #jensen x y/n #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles fluff

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witchygagirlwrites · 4 years

Text

New Start

Request by @lifesaclimb-buttheviewisgreat (TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTION OF DOMESTIC ABUSE)

You took a deep breath before walking up the stairs leading into the twenty first precinct. This was a new start not only for you but for your son Lucas as well.

When you walked through the door sergeant Platt glanced up but when she was about to look away she did a quick double take "Y/N?" She was around the desk and pulling you into a hug. You felt a smile slip onto your face at seeing such a familiar and welcoming face first thing.

"Hey Trudy. How have you and Mouch been?" You asked once she pulled away. She stared at you for a moment before smiling herself "We're good. How have you been? I know you went to stay with your aunt in Rockford for a while" you nodded "Yeah but you know Chicago's home. She got a chance to move back here and since she works from home it's perfect to be able to leave Lucas with someone I trust. When I started sniffing around about transferring back Al gave me a call saying that Voight needed a slot filled in intelligence so here I am"

"Well you know if you need anything me and Randy are always here to help. You're with family here and you know we'll have your back" you knew that. Hell you wouldn't have been alive today had it not been for the crew at firehouse 51. "Are my prints already in to get upstairs or do you need to walk me up?" You asked motioning up the stairs. "They're in but if you don't mind I'd like to walk you up and maybe see some new pictures of Lucas since I haven't seen him in a while"

You handed your phone over opened up to the most recent album of Lucas. Trudy followed you up the stairs commenting on every photo along the way. Once the two of you made it up to the bullpen she handed your phone back right before everyone turned to look at you. Luckily you knew most everyone you'd be working alongside but as far as you knew only Trudy, Al and Hank knew the real reason as to why you'd up and left the city.

Jay and Adam were the first two to your side welcoming you back and to the unit. Then it was Kim and Kevin. Hailey Upton Jay's new partner introduced herself with a smile before Al pulled you into a hug "Welcome home kid" "Where's Hank and Detective Dawson?" You asked about the time Hank's voice answered from behind you "Right here"

You turned to see him and Antonio walking up the stairs. You smiled "Well look here my first official day and already beating the boss to work" Antonio cracked a smile at your words. Very few people got away with teasing Hank Voight. He shook his head "Keep it up and you'll already be my favorite" then he motioned to Antonio "You know Antonio don't you?" You nodded "We've worked together in passing when I was on patrol out this precinct"

"Well you'll be working together more than in passing now. You'll be partnered with him" you held your hand out and when Antonio shook it he said "Look forward to working with you"

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

You fit in seamlessly with the unit. It came from years of knowing most of them and from the trust that you had for Al and Hank.

The biggest surprise was just how smoothly you and Antonio worked together. Like you'd told Hank when you were assigned to the twenty first as a patrolman you'd worked with all of intelligence in passing but working side by side with Antonio you got to know him a lot better. The two of you had quickly become good friends.

You were currently sitting next to Jay on top of Hailey's desk while Hank did a run down of the perp all of you were currently after. "Y/N you and Dawson will be undercover to do a gun buy. Far as he knows Antonio is a big player in the mexican cartel and you're his girl" you leaned around Jay and winked at Antonio "Why can't I be the player and you be the arm candy?" "How's your spanish partner?" He asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes and said "Sé lo suficiente como para no atrapar una bala" Hailey covered her mouth with her hand and a grin slipped onto Jay and Adam's faces. "Let's try to do more besides not catching a bullet though?" Antonio suggested so you shrugged "Fine ruin all my fun. Just saying you would've looked better in the outfit"

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

A few hours later you were standing in a warehouse waiting for the crime scene techs to roll on scene.

"Good job Y/N" Antonio said with a smile offering you your jacket from his car considering the outfit you'd had to wear to be convincing as a cartel members girlfriend wouldn't be your chosen style. "Thanks Toni. Still think you'd look better in this outfit" he tilted his head to the side looking over you and you felt your cheeks try to warm but pushed it down by laughing when he said "Don't think I got the legs for that"

Your phone started vibrating in the jacket pocket so you pulled it out to see it was your aunt. "I gotta take this" you told Antonio and walked outside nodding to a few officers you knew along the way.

"Is everything ok?" You asked as soon as you answered and heard your aunt let out a sigh "Yeah baby everything's fine. Lucas just refuses to go to sleep without hearing your voice" you smiled feeling the knot in your stomach release "Let me talk to him" you heard the phone shuffle a bit before Lucas said "Mommy?" "Hey little man. Aunt Ann said you wanted to talk to me. I'll be home in a couple hours and I promise I'll be there for breakfast ok?" "Ok. Love you" "Love you more" you heard him hand the phone back to Ann then run off. She laughed at something he did before saying "He just wanted to check in. I'll see you when you get home" "See you then" you said and hung up.

"Lucas checking in?" Antonio asked from behind you. You turned with a smile "Glad he waited so long to call. Ann would've freaked if I hadn't answered. I need to get her Trudy's new number so if I'm out and can't answer" "I feel like there's something all of us besides Trudy, Hank and Al have missed" you ducked your head to not meet his gaze. Something about Antonio had put you at ease even back when you were in uniform going through hell at home. Now you were so grateful to not only him but all the guys in the unit for their nature.

"Maybe I'll end up telling you Dawson" he watched you for a second then nodding scratching at the bit of scruff on his chin from missing a shave "I've got Diego and Eva this weekend. Was thinking of going to the zoo. If you, Lucas and Ann want to come we'd be glad for the company" you bit your lip considering his offer then nodded "Sounds good. Forewarning Lucas will probably not to leave the tigers" Antonio grinned "That was Diego's favorite when he was that age too"

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

You were walking a bit behind Ann and the kids. She was in heaven pushing Lucas in his stroller and chatting with Eva and Diego. She always loved kids more than having to deal with adults.

"Having fun partner?" Antonio asked and you heard Lucas giggle when Diego handed him a stuffed tiger from the gift shop "Very much" you answered with a smile glancing at Antonio then took a deep breath "You've never asked about his dad" he stopped walking for a second and turned to look at you "Didn't figure it was my business. You'll tell me if you want me to know"

Ann looked back to see where you were and smiled when she saw you talking to Antonio "Y/N We're gonna head to the cafe and go ahead and grab a table" you nodded "We'll catch up" Eva took over Lucas' stroller and you watched them walk off then turned back to Antonio "Do you want to know?" You asked and he ran a hand across the back of his neck "I wanna know why you flinch at times if one of us guys goes to high five you yet you have no problem taking down a suspect heads taller than you. I wanna know why you hate when anyone close to you yells. Strangers I've noticed doesn't bother you but when Hank yelled last week I saw him look straight at you afterwards then he apologized later"

"My ex. Lucas' father was abusive. It started off verbal and emotional abuse. That turned physical sometime around my sixth month. When I was eight and a half months pregnant he hit me hard enough I blacked out. When I woke up the house was on fire and I was trapped. Had it not been for Kelly Severide and Joe Cruz me nor Lucas would be standing here today"

You hadn't realized you were crying until Antonio tentatively pulled you into his arms. When he felt you relax against his chest he started to gently rub your back. "Y/N You are such an amazing woman. You're one of the best cops I know and you're a fricking super mom to that little boy. He deserves to burn in hell for ever laying a hand on you" you laughed despite the tears in your eyes "He got life plus two. Not to mention Hank and Al knows some of the fellas he's in with" "Good" Antonio said then smiled down at you "Let's go find Ann and the kids cause Eva has my debit card and they very well might just leave us here"

You laughed and pulled away from him "Well is now a bad time to mention Ann has the keys to my car?"

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

After that day your relationship with Antonio started to shift. You worked beautifully as partners still but there was something else there brewing under the surface. Maybe it was the fact that Lucas started wanting to talk to Antonio as well when he'd call before bed when you were working later. Or maybe it was how Eva and Diego started wanting to stay with their dad more and more half of the time ending up staying at your place with Ann and Lucas after Antonio cleared it with Laura once with a reply from her of "I don't care. If she's your partner her aunt must be ok"

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

You were sitting cross legged on top of Antonio's desk working through the stack of files you were digging through. He'd went with Adam to meet a C.I. so you were doing the paper trail part. "When are you gonna admit you have a thing for him?" Hailey whispered leaning over you to grab a few more files "When you admit you have a thing for Jay" you responded laughing when she blushed darker red than your shirt and scurried back to her desk.

Did you have some confusing feelings for Antonio? Maybe. It just seemed like at every turn he was there to support any move you made.

When you chose to finally tell the rest of the unit why you'd left Chicago and what the scars on your left shoulder was from he'd stood next to you. When Lucas got sick a few weeks after that he'd come to med and stayed with you until Lucas was released then went to pick up his medicine so you could take him straight home. When Eva got her heart broke because her boyfriend broke up with her Antonio had called you at her request and didn't seem the least bit put off by her wanting you to comfort her.

Somewhere along the line you'd crossed a line and didn't have any clue what to do about.

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

Another week passed and your thoughts hadn't changed a lot. In fact the feelings for Antonio had seemed to grow deeper. You just had no clue how he felt.

You were sitting on the side of Lucas' bed next to him reading the book he'd chosen to him. "Mommy?" He asked and you smiled "Yeah baby?" "Do you like Toni?" You stared open mouthed at your three year old. "How do you mean baby? I mean he's my friend and my partner" "No I mean can Toni be my daddy?" You were speechless for a few seconds then finally managed to say "Lucas baby that's a loaded question little man" "I like Toni" he said with a yawn then scooted further down in his bed and you knew that meant he'd be out soon.

You turned off his bedroom light then walked in the living room where Ann was watching a movie. She glanced up when you walked in then paused the movie "Y/N? You're pale sweetheart. Come sit down"

You sat heavily next to her and was quiet for several long seconds until she finally said "Dammit tell me what's wrong?" You repeated what Lucas said and she cracked up laughing "And that surprises you? For months now every weekend and half the weekdays Eva and Diego end up staying here. They're spending so much time with Lucas Eva's phone background is a selfie with her and both boys. I have seen you come back. My niece the beautiful, strong woman who's went through hell is finally smiling again, you sleep most nights, you don't flinch when you hear a firetruck. You're healing and I think some of that is the very loud fact that you're in love with Antonio and him with you even if you haven't admitted it to each other or yourselves"

You let her words sink in and felt the truth of them like a weight being pulled off your shoulders "What the hell am I supposed to do?" She shook her head with another laugh "If what Eva says is true he'll tell you eventually how he feels because apparently he talks about you to the kids like a lot"

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

You tried not to let Ann's words get to you too much. You still had to keep your head on straight. A couple more weeks passed and everything changed.

The raid was supposed to be simple enough but somehow you and Kevin got pinned down in the back of a building with bullets raining down on you.

By some miracle the situation was able to be contained with no one ending up dead. You were standing next to Kevin recounting what had went down for Hank when you spotted Antonio heading your way. Hank went to talk to one of the scene techs and Kevin walked off to talk to Al so you turned to face Antonio who pulled you into a crushing hug.

"Toni you good?" You asked against his chest and he nodded "Yeah I am now" you pulled back to look at him and saw the worry in his eyes and realized that was for you. "I'm ok partner" you assured him and he nodded "I'm glad. I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost you" "Antonio?" You said it like a question but Hank was calling both of you so he said "Can we talk after shift?" You nodded then followed him over to Hank.

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

When your shift ended you walked downstairs and was leaning against your car when Antonio made it to the parking lot. "It's after shift" you said as soon as you saw him and he shook his head "Not here. Let's go grab a coffee. I already told Ann" you rolled your eyes at him and your aunt teaming up on you. "Fine but we gotta stop by the bakery and get Lucas something plus you can grab some muffins since Eva and Diego will be at your place tomorrow" He smiled and said "Sounds good"

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

You sat across from Antonio watching as he stirred his coffee. The two of you were sitting in a corner booth of your favorite coffee shop and he'd done everything but talk. When he reached to stir his coffee again you laid your hand over his to stop any movement. His eyes went from your hand up to your face and he smiled "I said we'd talk didn't I?" "Yes you did" you replied.

He let out a breath then dove right in "Y/N since you became my partner. Everything is better. I look forward to seeing you every day. I meant it when I said you're an amazing woman. You and Lucas mean the world to me. I couldn't imagine my life without you and him in it. Hell i think Eva and Diego would disown me for you and him at this point. Today? You and Kev getting caught like that and me not being able to get to you? It clarified something I already knew"

"And that would be?" You asked your heart beating in your throat at this point. You saw a blush work it's way up his face to his ears before he said "I think I'm in love with you" you were stunned silent. Did he really mean that?

He mistook your silence for something else and went to stand up "It doesn't have to change our friendship I'll still be there for you and Lucas and I hope you'll be there for Diego and Eva especially since I just got full custody but I just needed to tell you" you snapped out of it fast enough to grab his hand and pull him back to you "Antonio wait!" He met your eyes and must have liked what he saw there because a smile slipped onto his face "I love you too. Lucas loves you too and I will always be there for Diego and Eva"

"Does that mean I can finally kiss you?" He asked his eyes flicking down to your lips then back up. You didn't try to hide your smile when you said "I'd be offended if you didn't"

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

Three years passed and you were sitting in front of the fireplace on Christmas morning watching the kids open presents. Diego was showing Lucas how to work his video games while Eva snapped photos of her brothers on her new phone.

"Is that all?" Antonio asked from his position next to the tree and you cut your eyes at Eva "Want to grab that last one for your dad?" She nodded and grabbed Lucas' hand "C'mon Luca let's go get daddy his present" Antonio cut his eyes at you when all three kids disappeared "What'd you do?" You grinned "you'll see"

They came back with Eva carrying the present but she handed it to Lucas to give Antonio then sat next to you leaning her head over on her shoulder. Antonio looked a bit suspicious until he tore open the package and his eyes teared up. Inside was the paperwork you'd gotten a week before where Lucas' adoption had become final. "Lucas Dawson" he said quietly then laid it to the side "C'mere buddy" and Lucas jumped into his arms with a laugh "You're officially my daddy!"

You felt Diego and Eva both hug you "And we love you like a mom Y/N" you smiled at your little family then said "I couldn't love any of you more than I already do"

#antonio dawson x you #antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawsom fanfic #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #chicago pd one shot

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dragonrebelrose · 5 years

Text

TROS Reaction 12-20-19. AKA my 6 page long dissertation about why I really disliked TROS.

I didn’t think it would be this bad. I truly thought there would be some gleaming moments of redeemability, but no. It’s one...giant...shit-show. What a horrible blow to the end of not only the sequel trilogy and these characters but to everything that came before. It really takes skill to mess up this badly.

A little something nice though, was the guy I sat next to. Really nice (and cute too ^-^ ) and he offered me some of his candy (Buncha Crunch! My favorite!) before the film started and then throughout the film because he said, “Well this is consolation for having to sit next to me.” Aw I couldn’t have asked for a better seat partner, I didn’t even know him! And then when the film ended he knew I didn’t take it well and I cried and shook through many moments and he offered the rest of his candy and I said, “Thanks, I think I need it.” I asked him what he thought overall and he said, “C-3P0 was pretty funny.” I said, “Yeah I agree. I actually knew everything that happened before I saw it, and I thought it was a mess.” He chuckled and said, “Me too, but I didn’t want to say anything in case you liked it.” I said, “Oh, no, I didn’t really like it. But I gotta be honest, Ben Solo didn’t deserve to die. That’s just my opinion.” I think he was surprised by that but didn’t disagree. He just kinda nodded or something and then we said goodbye and he left with his buddies, who also seemed pretty unenthused by the whole movie. Hopefully I gave him something to think about with my comment, but he was really nice and I’m glad he sat next to me.

Pessimism aside for now, I’ll start by listing the things I liked. I gotta be honest, there’s not much here.

Reylo is canon! But, in my opinion, it was handled pretty badly. Ben’s death is only the start of the problems for it, but more on that later.

C-3P0 is funny I guess. Yes he is annoying sometimes like usual, but not more so than other times.

D-O is freaking adorable. Out of everything good I’ve listed I have no qualms with this one. His manner is cute, his speaking is very funny, and his actions are just precious.

Babu Frik is very cute too, just perfect! Lovely little puppet! Don’t know why he was shoehorned in at the end battle but whatever. We never saw him again.

Maz is a puppet now? Okay, cool. Wish that would’ve been the case since the beginning. You had the technology JJ.

The music is good, when it’s given its own time to shine and be noticed. I feel like I barely noticed it was there because sound effects just drowned it out. Really wasted, but still good nonetheless.

Leia’s death and how it affected Ben. Wow. This was the first moment I truly cried. This was handled very well by Adam Driver, and then Maz saying “Goodbye, Princess.” Ouch, that got me.

Ben talking to the memory of his father! This is something I did not know was in the movie and boy am I glad I wasn’t spoiled for it! THIS is where the really hard tears and sobbing came. I was literally shaking and shivering trying to keep it in so as not to disturb everyone else. This. Part. Was. Perfect. Ben looks at him like he wants to say “I love you,” and Han says out loud “I know.” *crazy screaming and crying* Out of all the things they got wrong for Ben in this film, THIS they got right!

Ben Solo is the Solo boy we always wanted. Running in with a t-shirt, gun slinging, blasting opponents without even looking. THIS is a true son of Solo! But of course they give him no lines except “Ow.” THAT was a bad idea.

And that’s it. Yes those are the only things I even remotely liked, but I have to be honest, each one of these has some kind of problem attached to it which sours the real enjoyment.

On to what I disliked. Strap in lads, this is going to be a long ride.

1. The pacing. OH. MY. GOSH. SLOW. THE. FUCK. DOWN. For fucks sake I couldn’t even process what the hell was happening before we were on to the next thing! This was the biggest problem with the movie, BY FAR. Yes I know the story is terrible, we’ll get to that, but the pacing just completely took me out of the movie. I couldn’t feel invested in anything because it was all in one ear and out the other like ten-fold!

And this is part of the issue I have with how Reylo was handled. It. Felt. So. Rushed. And. Unfinished. There weren’t enough scenes with them and the scenes we did get were so fast and then over with that it felt like no progress was being made at all! It felt, for lack of a better word, unearned. And I know, that’s not really the case since they’ve had plenty of build-up in the last 2 films, but there wasn’t enough time with them spent NOT fighting and hating each other and opposing each other. Yes, I know, Kylo kept trying to get Rey to take his hand, but it doesn’t feel genuine because even Kylo feels out of character, and Rey too, big time. Now this isn’t the actor’s faults, they did what they could with the shitty story they were given, so I put all this blame at JJ’s desk.

In any case the overall film pacing was too fast, too much, too soon, too many things onscreen, too many things happening at once, not enough character, not enough motivation, not enough letting scenes breathe and just play out naturally. Everything felt forced for the sake of the “plot.” Oh we gotta get this thing, and then that thing, to get this thing, so we can defeat these guys! LET. US. BREATHE.

2. The story. My gosh, they couldn’t have picked a worse storyline to follow. Everything truly felt like it was written by a fanboy who wanted to retcon everything in TLJ, even down to the dialogue. Everyone keeps saying to Rey “You’re a Palpatine.” But it sounds SO strange, like nobody says things like this. I get it, it’s a space fantasy, they talk weird mumbo jumbo but it just sounds like a fanboy ghost wrote this. Like we gotta have everyone know now she’s a Palpatine! You’re a Palpatine! You’re a Palpatine! Palpatine heir! All bow down to the Palpatine! Give me a break.

3. Yeah, let’s talk about Palps. The old raisin himself. You know, I never really liked ROTS, but Palps was always a great thing about it. He was sinister, diabolical, he had a plan and knew what to do with it. But this Palps. *le heavy sigh* What a waste this was. For one thing, the lightning effects that lights up his face is really annoying, even for someone who doesn’t get seizures, I can’t even imagine what it’s like for those who do, I’m so sorry. And like, he has this whole legion of Sith followers? The fuck? Where the hell were these guys before? I’m sure they existed BEFORE the last Sith Lord died, right?

I digress. I have a question though: why does he want Rey so much? Why didn’t he try to get his son to take over? Wouldn’t that have been easier? Also, WHO DID HE FUCK TO GET A SON?? HOW DID HIS SON GET AWAY FROM HIM?? WHY DID HIS SON APPARENTLY TURN TO THE LIGHT?? THERE’S TOO MANY QUESTIONS HERE AND NO GOOD EXPLANATIONS. AND NO DISNEY, I DON’T WANT A 10-PART COMIC ON THIS. GO FUCK YOURSELVES.

The only interesting thing about Palps in this film is that his face gets melted off like a Raiders of the Lost Ark knock-off. He better not be coming back. Ever again.

4. And hey, while we’re on the subject, let’s talk about Rey’s parents. So apparently they’re both good people. *le sigh* But what kind of good people leave their daughter alone on a harsh and unforgiving planet with a blubber guy? And don’t tell me they didn’t know he was an abusive asshole, they LIVED on Jakku, they HAD to have known him, ESPECIALLY if they truly were junk traders, they would have DEALT with him. Oh, and apparently the “I’ll come back for you sweetheart, I promise” line is changed up a bit and given to her father after all. No. Screw that. That line was meant for Ben, I don’t care how petty this sounds, this is terrible. So yeah, fuck Rey’s parents, I don’t care how “good” you try to make their intentions, they’re badly shoehorned in and they screw up anyway. Next.

5. Ben’s story and his fate. So yeah, obviously I hate that Ben died, but more than that I hate how his story was handled here. It was so rushed, it didn’t feel as natural as it should have. It needed time to BREATHE. A lot of time! And I feel like they really shafted Kylo/Ben’s story off to the side to give more time to the hereby named GoldenTrio. (You know who I mean...we’ll get to them.) It really seemed like JJ didn’t even care about Ben’s fate anymore, and just kind of put it in as an afterthought. His death scene? Not even given a fucking minute to process because WE GOT TO PARTAY. All in all, his whole story is so terribly sad that I don’t even know if I can watch TFA or TLJ anymore, knowing how it ends.

6. The GoldenTrio. Oh for fucks sake, JJ, you should have killed Poe off when you had the chance, because now the story is all about THEM. Boom! They’re literally front and center in the movie. I don’t even think Reylo gets as much screen time as them. I mean really, Ben’s death scene and Rey’s grieving gets 1.5 minutes, tops. GoldenTrio reunion and threesome hugging? 5 fucking minutes of nothing but them hugging. I’m not even exaggerating. (Okay maybe I am, but it’s given more focus and time to “breathe” than Ben Solo’s fucking death. I’m getting a headache remembering it.)

Hey, remember in ESB and ROTJ where the trio got split up and had their own story lines and own purposes to fulfill without each other hanging around (apart from Han and Leia because their story lines are interconnected)? Yeah, I miss that too.

Also, Rey keeps wandering off being “pulled” to something, and every...single...time, Finn is like “Rey, wait! Poe we gotta get her! rEy CoMe BaCk!!” This happens at least 5 times, pretty consecutively too. It gets old real fast. Boy do I miss the days of TLJ where people got to be away from each other to discover new things without interference.

Which leads me to another point: They tried to shove FinnRey in here while shitting on FinnRose quite literally. What. A. Slap. To. The. Face. This is horrible treatment, and I hope Kelly will never do another interview for Lucasfilm again. She doesn’t deserve this.

7. The Ending™. Wow. What a way to show that your characters haven’t progressed at all by showing them in the same environment that they started in. Let’s do an overview: Rey starts out alone on a desert planet and meets a droid that isn’t hers. Rey ends up alone on a desert planet with a droid that still isn’t hers. PROGRESSION 101!! *slaps forehead* I mean, don’t even get me started on the fact that Ben isn’t there with her and that literally one half of her soul is gone (how is she not in agony right now??), but then to add more salt to the wound she’s just like “oh yeah I must be the rightful successor to the Skywalker name, even tho I’m a Palps...makes sense to me!” Fuck off. You don’t deserve that title after hating Luke for not doing what you wanted him to do and for hating Ben for most of this movie too.

Can we also acknowledge that this is THE ABSOLUTE WORST POSSIBLE WAY TO END A 40 YEAR SAGA AND FAMILY LEGACY? So, Palps had a kid who had a kid. This kid is then deemed a-okay by the family that was affected most by Palps and they welcome her like the sunshine child she is, yet shun their own offspring for being damaged goods because he was being manipulated by said Palps. Okay, it’s official now, everyone’s an asshole...except Ben. He seemed to be the only one to understand his faults and right his wrongs and not be an idiot. Then the kid who was abused and manipulated is killed because “reasons” or “problematic” or whatever and the offspring of Palps lives while the family that Palps manipulated is ultimately gone forever because it’s last descendant wanted to save the offspring of Palps out of the goodness of his heart. Now the offspring of Palps doesn’t even give a flipping thank you and steals their name. wHaT a SaTiSfYiNg EnDiNg!!! Someone gag me.

8. Luke’s X-Wing being raised out of the water and it’s in perfect working condition. What. The. Fuck. I don’t know if you guys realize this, but this completely undermines Luke’s arc in TLJ. That X-Wing was sunk and dead to show that he had no desire to return to the outside world. He was staying on the island. For good. And he buried that thing in water to make sure he couldn’t use it ever again, but it was still visible to him to remind him of his conviction if ever he questioned it. But no. That thing is a-okay and ready to fly. No need for parts, there’s no rust or any sea salt corrosion, ready to go skipper! This was just added for easy call-backs to ESB but boy this had absolutely 0 weight to it. I literally yawned or looked at my watch around this part thinking “oh my gosh isn’t it over yet?” Pretty much sums up my entire experience.

9. Rose got shafted to appease the fanboys. This one needs no further explanation or analysis, it just sucks and has no real reason to exist.

10. Luke was barely in it and offered not that great advice. Poor Mark. His performance really peaked with TLJ and never went back up.

11. Rey is suddenly the Avatar now? You can now talk to all previous Jedi’s who existed? What buffoonery is this? Oh, but Ben doesn’t get a single. fucking. word. from Anakin, the man he looked up to. I’m so tired right now. What’s left?

12. The message changed from “it doesn’t matter if you’re a nobody, you’re a somebody to me” to “you’re a somebody with a bad bloodline, but that doesn’t define you (except when it totally does)”. That sort of message would be fine if it had been the message since TFA, but it wasn’t. The message since TFA was “I’m a nobody, but I can become a somebody regardless of my lineage or my childhood.” Why change the message in the 11th hour? To appease fanboys. Literally anything that makes no sense in this movie can be attributed to fanboys. There’s so much contradiction and hypocrisy in this film from both the narrative and the characters that it’s insulting.

13. Hux was utterly shafted too. What a waste of a well built up and conniving little bastard who in the end gets shot for shock value and laughs. It’s like what TLJ did but way worse because he’s actually killed. Hux as the spy? Just no.

14. Jannah was kind of wasted too, not enough screen time. I get her and Finn kind of bonding over being ex-stormtroopers, but it’s not really delved into. Also the whole “nature vs. machinery” thing kinda briefly shows up at the big battle and feels unearned too, because there was nothing before in this movie or others to suggest there was a war between the two.

15. Poe is treated more as the heir to Leia than Ben is. Poe gets to fly the falcon and gets to wreck it up (dishonoring who it belonged to before), gets to be by Leia’s deathbed, etc. Not earned at all.

16. The pointlessness of random cameos or thrown in references. Not a single person in my theater noticed John Williams as the bartender, nobody pointed out or said anything about any reference from previous movies, it was silent.

17. What the hell was even the point of the whole “Dark Rey” vision? Oh, she shows her scary pointy teeth ala Bilbo style. No thank you.

18. Why the hell does it feel like these characters aren’t the characters from TFA and TLJ? They feel so different and it’s noticeable.

19. Finn is Force sensitive. Literally tacked on like nobody wouldn’t notice. We noticed JJ. We notice everything.

20. Rey and Kylo/Ben fighting for way too much of the film and their interactions. Not enough caring or understanding, not enough longing looks, it feels like their romance was almost cut from the film entirely.

21. Oh yeah, Rey floating at the beginning? Looked stupid as hell. And the “Be with me” line? I thought maybe, just maybe, she meant Ben, but no. She’s trying to reach “her past selves” like the fucking Avatar and she’s even floating rocks around like Aang did. Ugh.

22. Anything else? Oh yeah, this movie sucks completely and wholly...FOR NOT GIVING ONE FUCKING LINE OF DIALOGUE TO BEN SOLO AFTER HE HAD BEEN REDEEMED. HOW HEARTLESS CAN YOU BE THAT YOU LET HIM DIE WITHOUT SAYING ONE FINAL THING?!?! DAMN J.J. YOU’RE STUPID.

And that’s it. Kudos if you read the whole thing. I ramble a lot.

#tros #the rise of skywalker #tros review #reylo #tros rant

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darlingpetao3 · 5 years

Text

The Conference (Harry Wells x Reader)

Rating: M (Smut)

Summary: As his personal assistant, you accompany Harrison to a Science and Technology conference in Star City. You’re great at your job, though sometimes it can be difficult seeing as you’re attracted to your boss, no matter how much you try to repress your feelings. But when a series of mishaps occur while at the conference, you can’t help but fall harder for Harrison. Does he feel the same way? The world certainly starts to believe so...

A/N: Okay, so this seriously might just be one of my favourite things I’ve done in a long time. I had so much I wanted to do with this story, so it’s ended up with a word count of 5,631. I’m imagining this taking place on Earth-2 before Harry met Team Flash. I really hope you all enjoy this!

Tag List: @blogforhoes

It’s been a few years since Star City has held its world-renowned Science and Technology Association Rendezvous conference (you think someone had to stretch to make the conference coincide with the theme of the city), but that time has returned. In fact, that’s where you’re headed now from the airport - to the hotel where the conference is to be held, luggage in tow.

Your fingers fly across your phone as you handle a few more work emails in the town car you’re sharing with your boss. You try not to look anywhere else because you feel the eyes of Harrison Wells watching you. Yes, working as the world’s-greatest-mind’s personal assistant can be intimidating, but that’s not the reason you’re mentally jittery.

It didn’t necessarily start out this way - having a deadly liability of a crush on the man - but it happened regardless. Spending the amount of time you do with Harrison Wells was bound to show his true nature. Not the front he puts up for his other employees, or the other one he hides behind while speaking to adoring and captivated crowds. You know the real Harrison Wells, even though you’re positive he would deny it until the end of his days.

“You should put that away,” he says eventually, making you look up now. “Enjoy yourself a bit while you’re here.”

“But then I wouldn’t be doing my job,” you counter, “a job you pay me to do.”

“Do you want me to pay you not to do your job?”

Why does this sound vaguely like flirting? You need to not imagine these kinds of things because that road will only lead to getting fired.

You sigh. “Okay, I promise not to work so much this weekend. But if for some reason your schedule gets screwed up, or you aren’t informed on some major deal, it’s not my fault.”

Harrison hums. “Duly noted.”

The car soon pulls up to the lobby doors of the Starling Grand Hotel. The driver helps you both with your luggage and point you in the direction of the front desk. On your short trek into the hotel, there are a series of camera flashes and shouts of “Harrison!” and “Doctor Wells, over here!”

The pair of you keep walking, but the man of the hour gives a polite wave. You think you’d be used to working for a celebrity of technology, but it has never gone away. At least you manage to keep it professional on the outside.

Once at the reception desk, you tell the hotel employee your name to confirm your reservation, only to receive a strange look from the person.

“I’m sorry, we had a system failure the other day, and I must inform you that your reservation has been reduced to one room for the two nights.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, feeling a ferocious fire igniting in your blood. Definitely because Harrison does not deserve to be reduced to anything and not because you’d now be sharing a room with Harrison Wells, supreme crush number one.

“We apologize, truly, but there are no other rooms available at this time, what with the conference happening this weekend.”

Um, DUH, that’s why we’re here!

“But we’ve included a few extra favours on us in your room as a-”

“-I’m sorry, but do you know who this is?” You gesture to your boss behind you, who appears calm, cool, and collected through this whole debacle. “THIS IS HARRISON FREAKING WELLS!” you shout. “He deserves his own freaking room!”

Harrison’s hand finds your shoulder.

“(Y/N), it’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, really.” Harrison takes the room key from the employee, offering her a kind and apologetic smile. “Thank you.”

He guides you away from the desk to the elevators with a hand on your back all the way there. While you’d think an action such as this from your boss would cause a fiery hole to rupture through your entire body, it actually calms you instead. It’s like his touch has extinguished the flame of rage you had felt mere moments ago.

Neither of you utters a word until the elevator doors close. The corner of Harrison’s lip tugs upwards slightly.

“Go on,” you tell him, “say it.”

“You’re very passionate.”

“I just believe a man of your stature should have his own damn hotel room. At the very least.”

“So, it has nothing to do with sharing a hotel room with your direct superior?” he teases. You pull out your phone to scroll on as a distraction.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I never have, nor do I ever plan to be ridiculous.”

The elevator dings once you reach your floor. Harrison motions with a hand to allow you to leave first. You hike up the strap of your bag on your shoulder and head out to find your shared room.

It’ll be fine, it’s fine — All fine.

Alright, 1545, here we are.

You unlock the door with the key card, hearing the click. But as you push the door open, you drop your bag, and subsequently, your jaw.

Not fine, not fine, not fine.

Harrison tries to move past you, but accidentally trips on the handle of your bag and topples over, hitting his stomach to the floor with an “oof”!

He squints ahead.

“Is that… one bed?” he wonders aloud.

“Yup.”

Harrison gets up, immediately looking from the bed to you. He probably senses your unease, but you seriously hope he doesn’t catch on as to why. Sleeping in the same bed as the man you work for and have a huge thing for? You’d fantasized about such a situation before, just not like this and not so abruptly.

“I’ll go talk to the front desk,” he assures you. “If there’s nothing we can do, we’ll go somewhere else.”

“No, you know what?” you say at last. “We’re adults here, right? It will only be a big deal if we make it that way. It’s just sleep.”

Harrison nods slowly, his Adam’s apple bobs. “You make a fair point.”

“Besides, you don’t have much time before your keynote address tonight. It would be best to start getting settled and ready here.”

His smile at your practicality makes your heart flutter.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says. You toss your bag into the chair in the corner.

“I don’t know either, Sir. Dibs on the right side.”

***

It took a little while to figure out who would use the bathroom to get ready first, and of course there were moments of awkwardness. You never knew how ga-ga you would get when you watched Harrison pop out his shirt collar, tie his tie, and straighten his cuffs.

Those small actions shouldn’t make you want to jump him then and there, and yet here you are with these feelings a PA shouldn’t have for their boss.

You decide to wear your slimming black dress for tonight’s keynote address. And no, it’s not because Harrison loves black, you tell yourself. It’s because it’s classy and sophisticated, and you’ll blend right into the background.

When you step out of the bathroom, all ready to face the crowds, Harrison looks up and immediately drops his phone at the sight of you.

“Are you… all set?” you ask him. Harrison retrieves his phone and straightens himself.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am… You look-”

“-And you.”

There’s a beat of more awkwardness. You tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear.

“Right, so, shall we…?” you say.

“Yup, yes, let’s,” he agrees.

You never expected to essentially be Harrison’s bodyguard as well this weekend. Nearly every person you meet along the way to the auditorium wants to talk to him, ask him a question, want a piece of him. Yeah, well, get in line. You quite literally need to hold them back so that he’ll get to the stage on time. It would not look good if this man was late to the kick-off of the whole conference weekend.

But alas, the two of you make it with a few minutes to spare. On stage right, you make sure his suit has no wrinkles, no stains, hair is perfect — all in a day's work.

“My speech…” Harrison mumbles, patting his chest and checking his pockets. “I had it… here? Where…”

He’s so cute when he gets like this, you dare to let the thought flicker in your mind. You whip out the piece of paper and show it to him. The man of the hour exhales in relief.

“What would I-?”

“-Do without me?” You grin, loving whenever he brings this up, and hand him the speech. Your fingers brush momentarily, and you clear your throat instead of the squeak-whine that wanted to come out. What is with me today? “Now go on, get out there and give those people a keynote to remember.”

Harrison lingers a moment before shaking the paper gently in his grasp. His eyes twinkle with thanks before stepping out into the spotlight. You inch as close as you can to the side of the stage and watch behind the curtain. Applause erupts from the auditorium - an ocean of onlookers, cameras, and lights.

And there’s that smile.

It’s times like these that you can selfishly admire Harrison in his element, talking about what brings him the greatest of joys. You’re glad of the suit he chose for this event - a classic midnight-black suit with a crisp white shirt. It’s subtle and powerful and perfectly Harrison.

“Good evening, fellow colleagues,” he greets the room. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Harrison Wells, and it is a great honour to have been asked to speak tonight.”

More cheers.

“Additionally, it is an equally great honour to be in this room with all of you, for each of you have the drive and dreams to create a better future for the world. And with your help, I believe the future will be here faster than you think.”

That’s it.

There’s no denying it.

You really are falling in love with your boss.

***

You and Harrison stand beside one another, shoulder to shoulder in your pyjamas, staring straight down at the damn hotel bed. He wears an aged heather-grey Central City University T-shirt and black sweatpants and it’s almost too much for you. Seeing the man in an expensively tailored suit is one thing, but having to witness Harrison Wells in casual clothing - the kind he sleeps in…

Somebody save me.

You feel utterly self-conscious in your lacy sleepwear, which is all you brought for the trip. It was a recent purchase, of the “treat yourself” variety, and no one was actually supposed to see you in it. Let alone your boss.

Harrison clears his throat. “Should we go to bed? I mean sleep. Should we go to sleep?” His face burns red, undoubtedly at the humiliation of having to sleep in the same direct vicinity as a subordinate. Oh, the horror.

You turn towards the man, but don’t look him in the eye.

“Probably for the best, yeah.”

The two of you pull back the blanket and get under it together, albeit at a “safe” distance from each other.

“Well… goodnight,” Harrison says to you, his face staring straight up at the ceiling.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, also finding the ceiling highly intriguing.

This was going to be a long night.

***

Something feels… different.

It’s like there’s an extra weight on your pillow-?

Holy Lord.

It would seem that Harrison, in his sleep, has moved over to your side of the bed. Your heads now share the same pillow. The smell of purely him overtakes your senses. His breath warms your ear. He is so incredibly close to you right now that you can feel him inhaling and exhaling, his chest rising and falling.

Is that his heartbeat or yours?

You may be going into cardiac arrest.

Ever so carefully, you turn your head the tiniest bit to see him sleeping peacefully like an angel. Your heart races like it never has before in your entire life. It's like it's going to burst out of your chest and run out of the room screaming. And your breathing! You think you seriously do need CPR. Your breaths are horribly uneven and hitched and are impossible to control and your worst fear at this moment is Harrison waking up to find you in this awful and embarrassing state.

How could I ever explain to him that this freak-out is all his fault because he was basically spooning me without even knowing it?

You somehow manage to drift off a little while after your near heart-attack until you later feel something nudge your leg.

Oh for goodness sake, it's his leg.

And how is it possible that your bodies seem even closer? God, I can't run away from my feelings for him if I tried, can I?

So naturally, now your leg decides that it wants to start hurting. It's going numb. Am I sleeping on it weird? You don't know anymore. What is up with your entire body trying to attack and hurt you tonight?

You think that if you move your leg or your body at all right now, Harrison will wake up, see this position you’re both in and distance himself from you. And as much as your love/hate relationship with this closeness is, you don't want him to…

Ultimately, though, you can't handle the numbness in your leg, so you’re going to have to opt-out for a more comfortable sleeping position. You turn insanely slowly on your side, now facing the bathroom and your back to your boss.

Oh shit, he’s stirring.

And then it happens.

His hand finds your hip.

But only for seven glorious seconds.

You feel Harrison freeze and retract his hand. It’s almost as if you can see him through the back of your head - him assessing the situation and pulling back. He moves over - far, far away and back to his side of the bed.

The other side of the universe.

***

After Harrison spent the rest of the night on his side of the bed, you somehow managed to settle down and got your heart rate to return to a relatively normal state.

Presently, you work on your hair near the mirror by the hotel desk. Harrison walks past you. Neither of you has said much to each other this morning. You don’t want to bring up the incident. Clearly, he doesn’t either.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

Ha! I almost died in my sleep!

“Yes, thanks,” you reply instead. “You?”

“Yeah, good.” He clears his throat and shuffles towards the door. His hair is sticking up at all ends and you wish you had something to do with that look, but alas, you had no part in it. He wanders back with the newspaper that had been placed outside the room. He freezes in place.

“What?” you ask, frowning.

He hesitates. “Nothing,” Harrison claims but then throws the paper in the recycling. “I’m going to get ready. Long day today.”

As soon as Harrison grabs his necessities and retreats to the bathroom, you rush over to retrieve the newspaper to see what threw him off. After un-crinkling The Star City Star (honestly, this city…) you read the headline:

Is Central City’s Doctor Harrison Wells Dating His Personal Assistant?

“WHAT?” you whisper-shout. Your eyes scan below at the write-up where the author speculates further on whether you and your boss are secretly dating. There are two photos beside the article, too - black and white, zoomed-in images. The first is the moment when Harrison’s fingers touched yours when you passed him the speech backstage. The way you two are looking at each other… Is that how it really looks? If it weren’t you in this picture, you would believe these two were dating for sure.

The second photo beside the first is zoomed-in on you. Only you. You’re standing at the side of the stage, looking on as Harrison delivers his speech. There’s no visible doctoring of the photo, so you know that’s genuinely how you appeared last night: giving the scientist enormous heart eyes. It’s so plainly evident in your photographed face how you feel about him. And now all of Star City knows.

You pause.

Harrison saw this.

He chucked this newspaper in the bin and retreated without a further word on the matter.

You think you might be sick.

***

It took a little longer than you’d plan to get ready, but seeing as there were two of you, you should have factored that into the schedule. You rush out into the corridor when Harrison says, “You’re a little…”

“What?” you look down at yourself to find your shirt is not fully tucked into your skirt. “Oh, thanks.” Harrison closes the room’s door while you adjust accordingly.

Just a short way down the corridor, you hear whispering. Looking up, you see a woman saying something to a man in a hushed voice. They scurry into the elevator.

That… can’t be good.

Imagine how this looks - catching a woman adjusting herself after stepping out of the same hotel room as Central City’s hottest commodity.

You draw breath to remain calm and push the worry down.

“Alright, let’s go.”

***

Harrison is on his phone while he waits for the panel to start, but after not even a minute, he quickly puts it away. He then holds out his hand to you. “Hand me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m making sure you don’t work too much while you’re here. Take it all in and what have you.”

You sigh, half-wondering why he’s brought you along if you’re not meant to be doing your job. Oh well. Maybe it'll be fun without your phone?

“Boss’ orders,” you concede. Relinquishing your phone to Harrison brings a smile to his face. Eventually, you leave him to speak amongst the rest of the panel and stand at the back of the room. This is much farther away from the cameras and journalists, who are trying to move as close as they can to the table to capture the perfect shots of Harrison and his fellow innovators on this panel.

Wells, McGee, Stein, Palmer, Smoak, and Brand.

Needless to say, the room was packed.

Afterwards, you usher Harrison out the side exit of the room instead of the main entryway. It was blocked up with conference-goers. There would be no way out otherwise.

Lunch is next on the schedule, thank God. You barely had anything to eat after leaving the hotel room, so you are ready to stuff your face.

Daintily, obviously. You save the savage-eating for the comfort of your own home.

The conference coordinators hired the best catering service, in your opinion. You would literally lick your plate if you were not continuously stared at for being in the constant presence of Harrison Wells. During the lunch hour, several people had come up to the man himself, whether they be fans, old colleagues, or people searching for funding, just for a moment of his time and attention. And while this happens quite a lot generally, for some reason it irks you today.

Why can’t they just leave him alone?

And then- why can’t I just have him to myself?

You quickly bury that thought away.

As the time gets closer to Harrison’s scheduled board meeting, you have to figuratively fight off the hoards of people to get him there on time, not without a series of frowns and scowls from them. Screw them. I’ve got a job to do.

Harrison graciously thanks everyone in passing and mentions how he hopes to hear from them again. When you finally reach the designated meeting room, you stop and say to him, “I can’t help but feel I’m the Bad Cop and you’re the Good Cop, here.”

“Someone has to be.” He laughs a little, and you find it contagious. You meet his eyes for a brief moment, but break the contact, letting your eyes fall to his chest.

“Oh dear.” You reach into your bag.

“What is it?” he asks. You show him your handy-dandy detergent-to-go stick.

“You have a little…” Instantly, you begin to dab and swirl the applicator to the small stain on his white shirt around his right pectoral area. Your free hand rests flat against his left. He’s so fit underneath these clothes, though you’ve never actually seen proof of it. Not even after sharing that room last night.

The entire time, Harrison watches you - watches your hand make the mark vanish from the fabric. He is silent, save for his breathing, which you can also feel as his chest moves up and down under your hands.

“There,” you say weakly.

“Thank you,” he replies quietly.

You’re still touching him, and once you register this, you take your hands off of him like you’ve been burned.

“Have a good meeting. I’ll meet you back here when it’s over.”

“Thank you, great, yes.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

You take your leave, daring not to look back, no matter how much you want to. It isn’t until you make it into the lobby that you realize your boss still has your phone in his pocket.

Welp.

***

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” you apologize breathlessly while running towards Harrison in your bare feet with your heels in your hand.

He stands outside the meeting room doors. His eyes are wide and round upon seeing you, and that may be a smile tugging at his lips, but it’s hard to tell at the speed you’re rushing.

“I lost track of time, and you still have my-”

He shows your phone to you.

“Yeah, that.”

After a short moment of catching your breath, you slip on your first heel, but the second proves more difficult in your tiredness. You just about fall over.

“Here, let me help,” he offers—what a gentleman. You balance on your one heeled shoe, with assistance from his wonderful, wonderful arms as you slip on your other one. You think his arm flexes when you clutch onto it.

“Whoa,” he says as you wobble a bit, but he has you.

And boy, does he have you.

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum and nod, not trusting your words. “We better head back to the room if we want to get ready for the banquet.”

He hands you your phone.

“Then, by all means, (Y/N), lead the way.”

***

You seriously need to stop thinking about how he said your name.

It was like a near-whisper. Like a secret. A secret you could try to decipher for hours, months, years, and never learn the true meaning because that was the enigma that is Harrison Wells.

Once back in the hotel room, you pull out your phone, at last, to catch up on what you’ve missed today.

Emails regarding in-development contracts.

Requests for funding.

Meetings to coordinate with Harrison’s schedule.

Junk, spam, email forwards, more junk.

And…

What.

The.

Actual.

F-

You make a noise similar to one you might make if you were drowning. In your inbox are a series of emails featuring various blog posts sent from familiar names within the company. All of these posts have one thing in common.

The speculative nature of whether you and Harrison Wells are an item.

Candid photos, inside scoop, rumours and catty gossip, there’s so much of it!

Pictures of you and him at lunch, you removing his stain, even him helping you in your heels not that long ago! What the hell? Who are these super spies?

There’s even an adamant blog poster insisting you’re sleeping with him because she claimed to have caught the two of you leaving the same hotel room and fixing your…

Oh God. This is bad.

Harrison turns around to you, now noticing that you’ve been incredibly silent and haven’t moved from your spot. His tie is significantly loosened, and it is not helping.

“Is something wrong? Is it the company?” he asks you. “Did someone blow up another prototype of the-”

You shove your phone in his face and look away. This cannot be happening. You just want to disintegrate out of humiliation.

“Well, then…” is all he has to say. He loosens his tie a bit more. “This is…”

“This is ludicrous, that’s what it is!” You start to feel the sheer indignation rise within you, for the both of you. “I’ll have every one of them all take these posts down, I promise. I am so sorry this is happening. People apparently have nothing better to do with their lives.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N), you know it’s not your fault,” Harrison says, calmer than you’d ever have expected.

“I know, but it’s just still so wrong, all these lies.”

There’s a pause.

“...What if it were true?” he asks.

“What?”

“What if it were true?” he repeats, shifting in place and massaging the back of his neck. “You and I? Would that be something you’d be interested in? With me?”

He did not just ask that.

Did he?

“I- I mean, we can’t,” you fumble for what to say. “Even if I wanted to- if we wanted… I work for you.”

Harrison takes an unexpected large step forward. “Forget that for a second. Have you ever wanted this? Do you currently want this?” He gestures between you both. You swallow hard, bracing yourself.

“I do, yes,” you confess. Harrison smiles and moves yet another step closer. “But it’s not professional. You, Harrison Wells, cannot date your personal assistant, no matter how much I...”

Oxygen has stopped circulating to your lungs. Time is suspended. The man looms over you, biting his lip to keep from smiling too much.

“Then you’re fired,” he says, only before taking your cheek in his hand and pressing his soft and smooth lips your yours.

Angels sing in a chorus, you’re convinced.

Harrison pulls away to examine your reaction, carefully taking in your fluttering lashes and still-puckered lips.

“You’re rehired,” he tells you, seriously.

You barely get the words “I quit” out before you’ve attacked his mouth again, officially throwing care to the wind. You’re desperate to feel those lips again, they’re like your dreams, repressed or otherwise, come true. His hands grip your waist to hold you close to him, while your own lock around his neck.

Now it’s you who pulls back.

“Can I have my job back?”

“Not yet.”

Harrison spins you ninety degrees and presses you against the wall. A gasp leaves your throat, followed by a profoundly pleased noise of pleasure. Harrison’s hands wander from their caress of your cheeks, down your sides, brushing against your breasts as they do. His mouth does some wandering of its own - venturing down to the side of your neck.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening…” you say breathlessly to the spackled ceiling, feeling each nip of his lips on your burning skin. Every part of your body is on fire. Your lips, your limbs, your blood.

At your words, Harrison stops and searches your eyes.

“I need you to be clear with me if you want this to continue,” he says, “if not-”

“-Please, please, for the love of God, Harrison, continue.”

Impatience and desperate heat take hold of your actions. You start to undo the buttons on his shirt. When he slips it down his arms, you swallow the gasp that almost squeaked past your lips.

His. Arms.

You’ve never seen your boss’ arms like this - completely bare and muscular and perfectly toned. These arms held you up earlier, and now you can’t help but imagine them holding you in the throes of passion.

And you may find this out very soon...

With one swift movement, Harrison has his undershirt off in no time at all and it’s kind of a miracle you haven’t collapsed to the ground. Is your mouth open? Probably. He hides that body under those suits? What a shame to keep it hidden… but then again, you’re glad. You get to see it now. Just you.

Your fingers trace the lines of his stomach muscles, captivated. You follow the lines down until they disappear under his black slacks.

But he interrupts your tracings when he starts to take off your shirt. This time, you’re ecstatic at it being untucked from your skirt. You shimmy out of that too. All these clothes are starting to become a real pain. A nuisance. A hindrance.

You’re now concerned with his black trousers still on him, belt and all. Your fingers automatically show him their keen interest and begin to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal clanging is music to your ears. You exhale shakily at the sight of him growing more erect before your very eyes.

You can’t help but chuckle, “We’re going to be late for the banquet dinner.”

Harrison stares at you with lust-filled, black eyes, staring you down in your bra and panties.

“Fuck the banquet dinner.”

He leads you towards the bed - the bed that had initially been your enemy. Now it’s your friend. The scientist lowers you down to your back, all the while crawling with you back up towards the pillows. Harrison hovers over you, scanning every part of you, downloading every curve and dip and line of your body. He plants a kiss to your stomach.

“So beautiful,” he breathes, working his way up with his lips, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Me too,” you squeak. “But there’s just one thing…”

Harrison lifts his head from the valley of your breasts and raises an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You’re going the wrong way.”

It takes a second for him to understand.

The corners of his lips curl up when he does, and snakes back down your body, peppering kisses all the way.

“I’ve dreamt about this, you know,” you divulge, suddenly realizing that someone having witchcraft in their lips is a real concept. These special people make you spill your secrets.

“Is that so?”

Harrison’s slender fingers slowly pull your panties down your legs and discard them to the floor. You nod vigorously the closer his face moves forward to your wet heat. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You swallow.

“What a coincidence,” he says, “I’ve imagined this in my head about a hundred times.”

His breath on you has you in a hot sweat.

“Only a hundred?” you hear yourself say. Harrison responds by licking a stripe upwards. Your legs tense and you let your head hit the pillow. He grips your hips and pulls you closer to his mouth. It’s wild - the same mouth that is so eloquent in delivering speeches to hundreds of people is equally talented in what it’s doing to you right now.

Kisses, licks, swirls, and dives.

You are utterly at this man’s mercy.

You always have been.

“More,” you tell him, as a general plea. Just more of everything. All of it. “More. Don’t stop.”

He hums his reply, face buried deep.

It’s encroaching quickly on you - your climax. Your hand finds his hair, soft and silky and now perfectly ruined by your desperate fingers. Simultaneously, you grind your hips up to his mouth and hold his head to you. He’s devouring you until there will be absolutely nothing left of you.

You hit your peak, and you’re falling. Falling hard.

In a couple different ways.

***

It’s the middle of the night, or rather the early-early morning. After a night of much lovemaking, you lay there in bed, pressed against Harrison with your hand on his chest, which has only just returned to its regular rise and fall. You trace random lines on his skin. He holds you with a sort of protectiveness. You never want him to let go.

“A bit too late for that dinner, huh?” you say.

Harrison’s laugh vibrates through you and sends a shiver down your spine. Those good kinds of shivers. “We could order something,” he suggests.

“It’s three in the morning.”

“It’ll be no problem,” he assures you.

“Actually, there is a problem,” you mention.

“Which would be…?”

“I don’t ever want to move.” This moment is just so perfect that either one of you moving feels as if it would shatter it. “I don’t think I can, anyway,” you add playfully. That earns you another laugh. Harrison takes your hand in his to rest on his stomach.

“So… I’m just wondering. What does this mean for us now?” you dare to ask the big, mountainous question. “I can’t work for you if this is going to continue, you know.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “Which is quite terrible, really, because you are the best assistant I’ve ever had.” It’s your turn to giggle. “I’m sorry,” Harrison continues. You look at him straight on.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you’re now out of a job and I’m to blame.”

“Trust me, it’s not just you. It takes two to do the horizontal tango. And besides, I couldn’t be an assistant for the rest of my life anyway. No matter how perfectly amazing my boss is. I’ll find something else. Something I love to do.”

“That’s what I love about you-” he stops dead in his sentence. His hand tenses around yours at his confession. You can’t believe his words.

“Did you really just…?” you ask, needing to know for sure if you did hear that word correctly.

“I apologize, (Y/N), I know it’s probably-” You stop Harrison from his unnecessary apology with a deep kiss and crawl on top of him to straddle him. His hand runs up your back and down again. “Firing you was the best thing I ever did,” he sighs.

“And quitting was mine.”

A/N2: I have to disclose that the ‘you’re hired/rehired etc’ moment is actually taken from my favourite Ed episode (S03E17 “Captain Lucidity”). I just felt like it was so incredibly perfect (both in general and for this story) and I swoon every time at that scene. But yes, I did take a page straight out of Rob Burnett and Jon Beckerman’s book with that one. Those damn geniuses.

Anon Request: Hi i think I can still request so.. Harry and reader(his PA/ a scientist at star labs) go to a science conference thing out of town. they have to spend the night at the same hotel room ( maybe busy days so rooms are already occupied or something). Things get.. spicy between them. Both ends up in a relationship(optinal). Smut! AND I LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

#reader insert #anon request #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells imagine #harrison wells fanfiction #harry wells x reader #harry wells imagine #harry wells smut #earth 2 harrison wells x reader #earth 2 harrison wells imagine #the flash imagine #the flash fanfiction

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mysterioh · 5 years

Text

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Chapter 2

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

Synopsis: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

Death of a College Student

“Excuse me?” you questioned incredulously and a bit freaked out.

Steve gave you a charming yet crooked smile, taking note of your features with great detail. Your brows were knitted in confusion and mouth ajar in disgust. Your form leaning towards him in a primal state of attack with your hand tightly wrapped around your bag. Ready to swing if he decided to call you sweetheart one more time.

He found it rather endearing. Attractive would be the best word. Very attractive. Steve knew he was a bit unhinged, probably had something to do with his line of work , and that he did just meet you like two minutes ago but damn did he like you.

The way you held yourself. Firm and bold in front of a man you had to look up at to get a good look in the eyes. Your curt responses and brash attitude. He liked it all very much. Bonus points for having a cute face. Extra credit for possibly being a fellow Brooklynite.

"Sorry," he chuckled, "I didn't mean it in that way. I say stupid stuff sometimes."

“Then maybe you shouldn’t talk at all,” you snapped, quickly turning on your heel to walk away.

“Come on, now. If I didn’t talk, you would’ve been stuck in front of the painting for hours,” he pointed out, following behind you like a lost puppy. You grunted at his reply. He was right, but that didn’t give him the right to call you sweetheart. “I helped you and don’t you think I deserve some compensation for my contribution?”

You stop and turn to him. “Right of course,” you said, starting to rummage through your bag. Steve smiles, already thinking of what kind of coffee he’d like to get. You take his hand a put something in it. He looks down to find a dirty penny in his hand. “A penny for your thoughts,” you smiled then turned to leave.

Steve laughs heartily. Extra extra credit for a horrible yet good sense of humor. He wasn’t ready to quit just yet and quickly approached you, walking by your side. You huffed then turned to him.

“What am I gonna have to do for you to leave me alone?” you spat.

“Ahh, so you are from Brooklyn,” he pointed at you.

You groaned and he almost awwed. “Listen, asshat, I will not hesitate to break that pretty nose of yours,” you threatened.

“You think my nose is pretty? That’s kinda weird, but I’ll take the compliment,” Steve smiled teasingly. “I think you’re pretty cute overall,” he stated.

You jump back a little when he drops that on you. Receiving compliments was scarce, especially ones about your looks from gorgeous men. A light blush slowly creeps onto your cheeks and for the first time that morning, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Alright how about I help ya?” Steve offered.

“Help me?”

“Yeah, you’re doing some project, right?” You nodded. “And you probably have no idea what to write.” Another nod. “Then I’ll help ya. I’ll be the Rosalind Franklin to your Weston and Crack.”

“It’s Watson and Crick,” you corrected.

“Uh-uh, no science talk,” he wagged his finger. “We don’t do that around here. This is holy ground and we only speak in the language of the arts.”

You roll your eyes at him, but don’t say anything to deny his offer. He was right. You were probably going to fail this project if he didn’t help you. So why not just take it? If he made a move, you could just kick him in the balls and make a run for it.

You sighed. “Fine, I’ll let you help me.”

Steve beams when you accept and you couldn’t help but smile just a little. “Great let’s go.” He motions you to follow.

“Woah, woah, woah,” you stopped him. “You don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Right,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Mind explaining?”

“So I have to look at three works of art in this place and write how I feel about it,” you informed. “My professor gave us a list of things that are the most famous. I already have two. So I guess we can just go to the next one on the list?”

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“Right, so next on the list is-uh…,” you glance over the paper in your hand. “The Death of Socrates.”

“Ah, a classic,” Steve says, walking down the hall.

“You know your way around here?” you asked, with your map in hand.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Do you work here or something?”

Steve shakes his head with a chuckle. “No, just a humble lover of the arts.”

Left at the end of the corridor and right at the next then walking straight down the hall brought you to the painting of the great philosopher Socrates.

“Oh, I’ve seen this before,” you pointed at it. “We talked about this in class.”

“Yeah? What did you talk about?”

“Dunno wasn’t listening,” you shrugged.

Steve turns slightly towards you with an incredulous look.

“Please don’t yell at me again,” you told him.

“I won’t, but you’re making it so hard not to,” he replied, turning his body back to the painting. “Now tell me, what period is this from?” You had to have at least caught that.

“Renaissance,” you took a jab. When all else fails it had to be the Renaissance.

“Wrong.” he deadpanned. “It’s Neoclassical.” As if you knew what that meant. “You’re hopeless,” he said. “You sure you’re not failing this class?”

“For your information, I have a high B,” you retorted, hands on your hips.

“Okay,” he said doubtfully. “Neoclassical refers to a period after the Baroque. It’s simpler in terms of its style while the one prior to this was extravagant in its technique. The best thing about this painting is that it’s the perfect statement of Neoclassical technique. The stark simplicity of their statues and the focus on Ancient Greek and Roman anatomy... ”

The guy goes on for what felt like hours and it all just goes through one ear and out the other. You quickly write down some important notes about the technique. Something to do with a focal point and the direction the natural eye would move. Blah blah blah.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, I’m listening,” you replied, scribbling down words onto a notebook. He takes the book from your hands. “Hey!”

“You’ll learn better if you listen with all your attention. Bet you when you get home, you’re not gonna understand any of this.” He said, shaking the notebook in his hand. You yanked the notebook from his hand but listened.

“So as I was saying,” he continued, making you huff and cross your arms. “Notice how muted the colors are towards the outside of the painting and how it becomes more vibrant in the center. And why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “Cause he’s in the middle?”

“Exactly,” he grins. “And why is that so important?”

The look in your eyes is blank and said: you’re asking too much of me . Steve sighs then pointed at the painting with emphasis. “Don’t you see it?”

“I wouldn’t be asking you for help if I did,” you snapped.

“Socrates is the subject-matter. This entire painting is about his death.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He ignores your sassy remark and continues. “Look at everyone else. They’re distraught. Broken-hearted that their beloved teacher is being forced to poison himself just because his beliefs differ from the rest of Athens,” he explained. “But look at Socrates. He stands tall. He’s not afraid of dying. Cause he knows he’s dying for what he thinks is right. He takes it as an honor. When everyone else around him is falling, he’s still strong in the face of death.”

“Man, you’re really good at this.”

Steve hunches over with a sigh. “You haven’t listened to a word I just said, did you?”

“I did!” you assured, turning back to the painting. “I think it brings about the question. How far are you willing to go for what you believe in? Even if it brought you to death, would you still stick to it?”

Steve laughs with a shake of the head. Your brows furrow in confusion.

“Was I wrong?” you inquired.

“No,” he chuckled. “It’s just I wasn’t expecting so much from you. You caught me off guard there.”

“Jerk,” you murmured, writing a few words into your notebook for memory. You clicked the top of your pen with a satisfied smile. It was finally time to go home.

“So about that coffee?” Steve recalled with a wickedly handsome grin.

You groan internally, forgetting he was right there. Now it was time for an escape.

“Oh my god! Look!” you exclaimed, pointing behind him. He turns to look and finds nothing.

“I don’t see anything,” he shakes his head. He turns towards you or where you were supposed to be. All he found was a figure of dust and you halfway across the room. He could’ve caught up to you, but this time he decided to let you go. He chuckles to himself. She’s cute. She’s really cute.

TAGLIST

@scuzmunkie @achishisha @rootcrop

A/N: Hi! If you want to be tagged pls ask or msg me. This is a sideblog so I can’t reply :( but if you do it’s fine! I just won’t reply!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #mob!steve #steve rogers #mafia!steve #mafia steve rogers x reader

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edelwoodsouls · 4 years

Text

calling out for one more try (to feel alive) - ch. 1

Adam hasn't been able to sing since he found out what his parents do for a living. Until he stumbles across the ghosts of a band who died twenty-five years ago, and the world begins to look a little brighter. But how did they die? What did they leave behind? (and why is the front man so freaking cute??)

(ghost band au, or the jatp au that possessed me last night and wouldn’t let go)

Shoutout to @exhaustedwerewolf for putting up with my yelling and giving me some brillianty angsty thoughts for later plot

Word Count: 3,071 | Also on Ao3

chapter one: wake up, wake up (if it's all you do)

Adam

It's quiet in the music room.

Just outside the door he can sense the seething mass of teenagers and noise and colour, the pantomine of a clockwork life ticking onwards. But in here it's quiet, and the world stretches out in a haze of blue and grey.

His fingers rest on the piano in front of him, slotting perfectly against the keys. A heartbeat away from making sound, falling short.

He could spend a life in this moment. Let the whole world slip away into silence. He stares at his splayed fingers, stark against the pale keys. Just play, he thinks. Shatter this moment into fragments, break free from the weights around his ankles dragging him slowly to the bottom of the blue.

Just play.

"Adam."

He looks up. He hadn't even noticed her open or close the door, but there stands Chloe, hands on her hips, blond hair so frizzy it looks like its about to make a break for the sky. There's paint on her nose and splattered all over her overalls in messy, natural way aesthetic influencers could only dream of.

"Oh, hey, Chloe. What's up?"

She gives him a frown, hands on her hips. "I could hear your thoughts from the art studio." She raises an eyebrow. "That's on the other side of school, Adam."

"Oh, uh. Sorry."

"Don't you dare apologise!" She comes to sit beside him at the piano, leaning against his shoulder. "You know you don't have to apologise to me, of all people. I know what you're going through."

"Whether I want you to or not."

"Pros and cons of having a mind reader for a best friend," she shrugs, a smile playing on her lips.

They've been friends ever since they started high school, the quiet creative kids who spent more time in their own heads than the world around them. Silent lunches together had become awkward murmured conversations had become a tentative friendship.

That was before Chloe started hearing voices in her head, and Adam found out what his parents do for a living.

Sophomore year had been pretty intense, and their friendship had been forged in fire.

It's certainly strange having a mind reader for a best friend, but it comes with perks. Like not having to name the endless blue sea in his chest for her to understand what it is.

"You nervous?" she asks.

"Do you even need to ask?"

"I like to hear it from the source, sometimes."

"Isn't my brain the real source, technically? So you're always going direct, unless you listen to someone speaking instead of thinking?"

She narrows her eyes in mock annoyance. "You're deflecting. But it's okay, I'll let you. I know you're stressed out."

How could he not be stressed out? There's an unscaleable wall inside his mind, behind which he's trapped everything he cares about. Music. Feelings. Sunshine.

He hasn't played the piano, hasn't sung, since Chloe stumbled across a homeless man with thoughts of Adam's parents burned into his brain. Can't bring himself to even press into the keys resting under his fingers.

And now he's about to get kicked out of the music programme, if he can't perform today.

"I've got this," he says, and from Chloe's expression he's not fooling anyone.

"Even if you can't play, Adam, you know that doesn't make you a terrible person, right? People want you to play for you, because it used to mean so much to you, not because they think you're only worth what you create."

"Mm," he shrugs noncommittally, as if she hasn't hammered right to home. As if he hasn't always judge his own worth by what he can do.

This is his thing. What is he without it?

"I'm gonna get to class early," he says, pushing away towards the door before Chloe can stop him and confront him on his so-called unhealthy coping mechanisms (aka - none). "I'll see you later."

"I'm rooting for you!" she calls after him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he weavs through the halls. He doesn't dare to check it; knows that it's his parents wishing him luck.

The absolute last thing he needs. The one thing, in fact, more likely to throw him off performing than anything else.

He isn't the first to arrive to class, as much as he'd hoped. He could never be that lucky - of course Caitlin is already there, surrounded by her entourage.

"Oh hey, Adam," she smiles, more viper than girl, as he spills into the doorway. She's dressed stunningly as always, pale purples and creams.

The jacket Adam bought her for her birthday last year, before everything.

If she rememebers, she doesn't say anything, looking down at him with the look of someone regarding an insect.

He knows he deserves it. They'd been close, before last year, but how could he possibly explain everything to her? How could he explain the rainclouds that gathered above his head and made a home? How could he explain what his parents did, the whole world of the atypical, without being thought completely crazy?

It had been easier to let her go, and she had taken it personally. Friendly rivalry had become enemies.

He can't feel enough today to even be sad.

"Hey, Cait," he shrugs into his seat.

"I'm surprised you came today. Wasn't yesterday your last chance?"

She knows that's not true, is trying to get a rise out of him. He busies himself with leafing, unseeing, through the sheet music he's half-heartedly prepared for today.

He already knows he's not going to be using it.

Caitlin sighs dramatically and turns back to her group, the conversation quickly drifting away from him. Frankie is staring at Adam, trying to catch his eye, to ask if he's okay, but he ignores that, too. As he much as he appreciates him - the only other atypical in school apart from Chloe, who knows a little of everything that went to shit last year but has also very clearly thrown his lot in with Caitlin - he doesn't want to give Caitlin reason to pause.

Better to fade into obscurity.

He doesn't notice the rest of the class file in. Doesn't notice the teacher begin the lesson, or the other performances that come and go.

"Your turn, Adam," Mr Beck says gently, and the world snaps back into focus.

Every eye in the room is on him.

He makes it to the piano without breathing. Chest constricting, world contracting to a single, narrowed point. There's cotton wool in his ears, spots dancing in the corners of his vision.

His fingers rest on the keys.

Just play.

Just play just play just play just play just play just-

"I'm sorry." He stands up suddenly and, without looking back, flees the room.

It feels like freedom.

It feels like the cell door slamming shut behind him.

~/~/~/~

When he gets home, he heads straight around the back, avoiding the risk of his parents being home.

Tears burn in his eyes but he refuses to blink them away. He can’t bear to see the sadness on his parents’ faces, the confusion, when they find out he’s been kicked out of the music programme.

Because they know they’re the reason he stopped. They just don’t understand, or refuse to try to, why he’s still not over it.

As if his horror at human experimentation should have a shelf life.

Behind their house is the old garage slash studio his parents had soundproofed, back when Adam first got into the music programme. They’d been so proud, and the world had been so full, back them.

He hasn't been back inside his studio since he found out what his parents do for a living. His mom had been the one to first bring music into his life, and now he can’t trust anything she's ever given him. This studio is built on blood money and half-truths.

The air is thick with dust when he slips inside. Sunlight filters through the garage door window, catching the dust motes in beams, spinning dizzily like planets.

His piano sits in the centre of the room, untouched, surrounded by boxes of half-packed things - relics of Adam’s childhood, old memories and things that might be useful someday, left over objects the last owners of this house forgot to take with them.

He has the sudden urge to smash everything in this room apart.

Instead, he takes a steadying breath. It’s not like he needs a studio anymore - may as well start packing his things away along with the rest of these forgotten memories.

He grabs a half-full box at random and begins shoving things into it haphazardly. The first notebook he wrote songs in. The headphones his aunt gave him that only work through one ear now. The metronome perched on top of the piano, its slider in the shape of a smiley face.

The sellotape at the bottom of the box gives out just as he’s shoving a second notebook in, and everything clatters onto the floor. Of course. This is on par with the rest of his day, really.

He stoops to begin picking things back up when he sees it: a CD box, dusty with age. The front cover is watercolour, blue blending with yellow to create a sea of green in the middle. The band name - Atypical! - is emblazoned in black across it.

He doesn't recognise it, though it's in a box of his old things. One of his parents’, maybe? Or left over by the last owners? Curiosity guides his hands, and before he knows it he's clicking play on the old CD player his mom gave him for his twelfth birthday.

Music bursts into the room for the first time in a year, swells to fill the space. This room has felt hollow and empty, a black hole pulling at light, this whole time- until now.

It's good music, too. Rhythm sinks into his bones, sparking something inside him he hadn't thought was still alive.

He's so caught in the music, it takes him a minute to notice the air is beginning to shake. Not with the soundwaves- he's not playing it that loud - but the space in front of the speaker is shivering and shimmering, like a heatwave.

He can't say when it happens, can't pinpoint the moment his life pitches off a ledge. Between one blink and the next- they just appear.

Adam blinks. He blinks again. Rubs at his eyes until they're swimming.

They're still there.

There are three people in his studio. Strangers, teenagers about his own age, two guys and a girl.

The first guy is dark haired, dressed in an over-sized pink hoodie, so many leather bracelets peeking out from his pushed-up sleeves he looks more straps than skin. The girl wears her black hair in space buns that are trying their hardest to escape her head. A slashed denim jacket covered in patches, black pleated skirt, neon green and black striped leg warmers.

It's the second guy that stops Adam's heart in his chest. Bright green eyes, styled golden curls spilling over one side of his face. He's dressed in a red high school lettermans jacket, except the sleeves have been cut off, showing off muscles that are frankly unfair given the current situation. He's staring around the studio in surprised confusion, eyes darting over the room in a remarkably familiar way.

His eyes land on Adam, and it's like lightning has struck. Adam's breath vanishes from his chest.

"Who the fuck are you?" he manages.

"What do you mean who the fuck are you?" the guy narrows his eyes. His voice is low and hypnotic. "Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in our studio?"

Frustrated anger crushes any confusion momentarily. "Your studio? Dude, this is my studio."

"Uh, no, it isn't. Look-" the guy all but lunges across the room, as if he knows exactly where to go. He digs through a pile of discarded objects and emerges seconds later with a guitar clutched triumphantly in his hands. "See! This is my guitar."

"That guitar's been there since my parents moved in. Seventeen years ago."

The guy deflates suddenly, and Adam feels immediately guilty, finds himself wanting to find any way to reignite his enthusiasm.

"We're dead," the guy in the pink hoodie says, in a nonchalant way, as if this is a perfectly normal thing to say. He waves an awkward hello, a bashful grin. "Hey, sorry about him. He's a total jock sometimes."

"Hey-"

"You are, Caleb. Embrace your brand."

The cute guy - Caleb? - pouts, still clinging to his guitar. It’s ridiculously adorable.

"I'm sorry, I'm confused," Adam says slowly, mind racing along with his heart. "You're dead?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, this is a lot, huh? I'm Mark." He sticks his hand out to shake and Adam, instinctively, reaches out to take it.

Their hands pass right through each other.

Welp. Not much more proof he needs.

"Ghosts," he breathes, staring at the place where their hands should have met.

"Oh my god, it wasn't a dream," the girl says, voice high and taut with anxiety. She's twirling drumsticks in her hands - where did she get those? - so fast they blur into panic-inducing windmills at her side. "I really thought- that maybe- but no- but how long have we been- I mean, maybe we just- but that means-"

Her gasped sentences are triggering a tightening in Adam's own chest.

"Hey," Mark says softly, reaching over and putting a hand on her shoulder. The twirling freezes immediately, their eyes locking. "Sam, it's okay. We're okay. We're safe."

"We're dead," Caleb deadpans. How is he holding that guitar if he's incorporeal? None of this makes sense.

"Well nothing can hurt you when you're dead," Adam says before he can think better of it. Three pairs of eyes fix on him, unblinking.

"Oh my god," Caleb laughs suddenly, snapping the silence instantly. "I love this kid."

"I'm not a kid - you look the same age as me!"

"Sure, kid," Mark says, turning back to the girl - Sam. "Look, I know this sucks. But for now, we're okay. We've got each other, yeah?"

Sam nods shakily, tapping the drumsticks in a nervous but manageable rhythm against each other.

Caleb practically bounces across the room to Adam. "Hey. Sorry for the freak out. We, uh, we've been through a lot."

"Not surprised, considering you're dead."

Caleb cracks a grin that makes Adam's insides swoop. "What's your name?"

What's my name. His brain short circuits. "Uh, I'm Adam."

"Adam! Cool. That's really cool. How're you so cool with all this?"

"What?"

"You're, like, super chill about this. We just showed up in your studio and told you we're dead. Wouldn't most people freak out about that?"

Why isn't he freaking out? He supposes there isn't much left that can surprise him, after everything. Superpowers? Evil scientists for parents? Ghosts seems like a logical progression.

"You're not the weirdest thing I've seen. Wait, hang on- how did you know I was so chill?"

Caleb's face plummets like he's been caught in a lie, face cycling through too many emotions to translate.

It clicks like a spark to a fuse, understanding crashing through him so fast he's almost knocked over. How the hell did he not put two and two together?

"Oh my god, you're atypicals!"

It's as if he dropped a bomb in the centre of the room. The three ghosts freeze, not in the surprise of before, but palpable, chilling fear.

Sam vanishes.

"Fuck," Mark hisses. Takes a slow breath to gather himself. "It's okay. She'll be back soon. No need to worry."

He sounds very worried.

Caleb is so close to Adam he towers above him. If it wasn't for the open, imploring eyes, Adam would have his own fear thrumming through his chest. "How do you know that?"

"I mean, I played a CD for a band called Atypical! and you appeared. I’m guessing that’s your band? And you said you knew how I was feeling, I'm guessing you're an empath?"

“You listened to our CD?” Mark asks, bright-eyed. “What did you think?”

"More important,” Caleb shoots Mark a look, “how do you know about atypicals?"

"Caleb, he can see ghosts!" Mark throws his hands up in exasperation. "He's obviously atypical, too."

"Uh, no- I'm not- at least, I don't think-"

Adam's brain grinds to a halt. Is he atypical? He's never had reason to consider it. He's always been at the periphery, a totally average human looking in through a window at the miracles and atrocities on the other side.

Wouldn't Chloe know if he was atypical? Not if he didn't, he supposes.

Do his parents know? They can't, can they?

The pit in Adam's stomach becomes a sickening, plummeting vacuum.

"My best friend is atypical," he says quietly, carefully boxing away those dizzying thoughts and burying them beneath the sea of blue in his mind. For future consideration.

Or never.

"Oh, cool." Caleb says, no doubt feeling the hurricane going on just beneath his surface. "What can they do?"

"She’s a mind reader. Great in class, not so much fun at parties. Ha." The words fall flat. He's in shock, he thinks. The world is distant, slipping back beneath the grey fog of the rest of the day.

Mark grimaces. "Okay, kid- Adam - I know this is a lot, but you need to chill."

"Chill?"

"Your emotions are all over the place. We haven't been around people in a long while, aren't used to other people's emotions."

"You're an empath too?"

"Mirror. I take on other people's powers when they're around."

“That’s cool.” His parents would have a field day if they knew about this guy.

“Most of the time,” Mark says, something odd and hitching in his voice. “Not right now, though.”

“I can go,” Caleb frowns. “If it’s getting too much-”

“No, no,” Adam interrupts, guilt rising up to churn alongside his apathy. He feels bad enough when he inflicts his depressive thoughts on Chloe - he can’t imagine how awful the emotions themselves must feel. “I’ll go. It’s, uh, it’s been a long day. I’m sorry. I just-”

He flees the room, for the second time that day.

He really does ruin everything.

#the bright sessions #fanfiction #adam hayes #caleb michaels #mark bryant #chloe turner #sam barnes #julie and the phantoms #own work

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.43 prt.1

Keith slept like a log. When Lance had left so suddenly it’d taken Matt to make him realise what was happening. Forced into conversation, it’d been nearly an hour before he headed upstairs to check on Lance. Finding his boyfriend asleep and the sweet smell lingering in the room, he grabbed a blanket off the bed and stuffed it along the bottom of the door to keep the scent in. Shooting Shiro a quick text to let him know Lance was “sick”, Keith hoped that Shiro got his implied message. Stripping off to his underwear, Keith slid under the blankets where Lance immediately moved to cuddle him, mumbling his name as he wrapped an arm around Keith’s waist. Why couldn’t Shiro see this side of Lance? Sure, he might be a vampire, but he really was stupidly sweet. Not used to sleeping with someone like this, Keith had expected to spend the night tossing and turning, or even to be plagued with nightmares as usual, instead he woke to find himself spooned up with Lance curled around him.

Letting Lance sleep a little longer, Keith wasn’t looking forward to crawling out of bed. He would have stayed with his boyfriend but his bladder had other ideas, Lance stirring as he lifted his arm from around his waist

“Keith?”

“Bathroom”

“Mmm... ‘kay”

Using Lance’s bathroom felt like a privilege. Keith making sure he hadn’t made a mess before stumbling back to bed. Lance had woken up properly, but that didn’t mean he’d gotten out of bed. Crawling back onto the bed, Lance automatically reached for him, Keith too uncaffinated to feel embarrassed or protest as he climbed into Lance’s hold. Kissing his cheek, Lance sighed as he leaned against Keith

“Good morning”

“Mmm...”

“I know. You haven’t had your coffee yet. Do you have enough energy for me to cuddle?”

“Mhmm”

Lance kissed his cheek again

“Thanks for being here when I woke up. I know you’re not used to it and I’m not used to it, but I really needed a hug”

Turning his head, Keith pressed a kiss to Lance’s lips. Lance blushing slightly as he did

“It’s okay... are you okay?”

“Yeah... I slept like the dead”

Keith groaned at Lance. It was too early for his shenanigans

“Didn’t like that one? I’ll keep it in mind. Let’s get you your coffee. Everyone else is already up”

Lance laughed at him as Keith struggled into a pair of the vampire’s jeans and a shirt. Though he would have been fine wearing the clothes he’d had on the day before. Keith glaring the best glare he could manage, mind firmly on his coffee, as Lance went about getting dressed, Keith made to not peak as he changed underwear. Not that he was going to peak. Lance had nothing to be ashamed of down there, but there was a fresh wave sweetness that lasted a few seconds, making them both blush for no damn reason. Keith wasn’t a natural born blusher, yet it seemed to just happen around Lance. Managing to look far more presentable than Keith did, his boyfriend was annoying like that.

Yawning as they entered the kitchen, Keith ignored everyone as he made a beeline for the coffee machine, only to be irritated that his normal cup wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Sharing a house was already proving annoying. He didn’t like it. That wasn’t to say he didn’t like Matt and Rieva... he just liked things better when people didn’t interrupt his coffee routine. Glancing back to Lance, he found he’d already ducked out, leaving him with no support over his stolen cup

“How’d you sleep, kiddo?”

Keith grunted at Shiro. He didn’t deserve words until Keith got his damn cup of coffee

“It’s like watching Pidge in the morning”

“Keith isn’t functional until he’s had his coffee”

“Pidge is like a demon. She’d literally bite ankles if she could get away with it”

“Keith is too. He bit me once for moving his coffee”

“Oh, man. That’s just too good”

Matt and Shiro both seemed in excellent moods as they talked about him. That was something. Yesterday had been draining and he didn’t want a repeat.

“What are we talking about?”

Keith felt himself blushing as Lance walked in. His boyfriend didn’t need to know he was being teased

“Keith is acting like Pidge”

“Pidge is worse. Keith isn’t as snarky as she gets. You guys eat?”

Lance seemed happy enough replying to Matt. Hopefully that was a good sign

“Yeah. We helped ourselves. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. I meant it’s your house too now. If there anything in particular you don’t eat or we need, let me know. I promise I don’t bite”

Matt laughed, even his laugh sounded like Pidge’s. Keith now wondering if she was on her second cup with her laptop in front of her. It seemed highly likely

“Honestly, there’s not a lot we don’t eat. What about you?”

“Blood three times a day and I eat. I think there’s a conversation we need to have too over what happened last night”

Keith froze. He felt like Lance was pushing himself when it came to the subject he thought his boyfriend had in mind. It meant confiding in strangers, which he wasn’t good at. He didn’t dare turn around as he watched his coffee finally coming out the machine and into the inferior cup he’d taken off the hook

“Did we do something wrong?”

“No. It’s just... It might make things complicated and hearing you react last night really drove home how awkward this might be”

“Man, you’re scaring me now”

There was the scraping of a chair, meaning Lance had sat. Keith felt like he should do something, but he didn’t know what

“It’s not you, it’s me... Wow, I didn’t think I’d be using that line so early in the morning... so... um... I’m not a normal vampire”

“You can’t turn into a bat or hypnotise humans to do your will?”

Lance snorted

“I can turn into a bat... not a very good bat... No, it’s, um... I’m a vampire, but... um... I get flushes like a werewolf... in heat. It’s from drinking human blood. Well, from drinking Keith’s blood. You know what it’s like when you turn, so I’ve been trying to live as humanly as possible... I didn’t go out of my way to find out much about that side of things. I thought I had a handle on it... but Keith was the first human I ever drank from... and his blood changed my body. You caught my scent last night... and fuck this is embarrassing. I’m a breeder...”

Lance’s words hung in the air, Keith finally able to move again. Turning, he found himself walking to Lance’s side, and placing his hand on his shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone

“... and I’m kind of dating Keith”

Matt gaped at the pair of them. Shiro didn’t say anything, which Keith was grateful for

“Pidge never told me that”

“Pidge doesn’t know. That I’m a vampire or that I’m dating Keith. I don’t want to make a big fuss out it. But I really wanted to explain so there wasn’t a misunderstanding on why I left the room the way I did”

“So you go into heat?”

“Basically... My body is still adjusting to it. I didn’t think I could get any weirder but here we are. That’s why Curtis is here. In case I get sick again, or turn into a bat again. It’s not something I can control”

Matt snorted. Keith felt like punching him until he shook his head, he must have been glaring at the man

“Lance, dude, that’s not that weird. You’re in a room with two werewolves, and a cursed guy. We get it. We don’t really talk about heats outside of with our mates, but now things make sense. It’s cool, dude. We’ll show you a good time if you ever...”

Rieva slapped the back of her boyfriend’s head

“Ignore him. He doesn’t get it. If you need help managing your heats, we can talk”

Keith felt like he was invisible. He was the one trying to help Lance with that

“Hey, does that mean you’re boning Shiro’s little brother?”

“We’re not having sex... and that’s fine. My body isn’t stable”

“Damn Keith, you’ve got some balls being with a vampire. Make sure you keep his fangs away from your junk. Shiro, you didn’t let me know about this. You must be freaking out”

Shiro sighed

“Keith and I talked, then Lance I talked. They both know I don’t want either of them going through something like what happened to Adam”

“What happened to Adam was messed up, but Lance seems to have his shit together better than any of us. Plus, he can cook, so Keith isn’t gonna starve, and he’s got a house and job. At least he’s not doing crack in some back alley”

“This is true...”

Matt pulled a face at Shiro

“You’re a right royal arsehole when you travel. You should have seen him in Platt. Zero patience. I thought that orange haired dude was gonna have a coronary”

“I wasn’t that bad”

“You punched the elevator wall because you tripped into it”

That sounded like Shiro was stressed rather than just being cranky from a long flight

“It had it coming”

“Basically you were a dick and now you’re embarrassed. I can smell it on you”

“Fuck off. He’s my brother. I’m allowed to be worried”

“As long as you’re not dooming things. Patience yields focus... so focus on having some patience and not bringing the vibe down”

Keith had to hide his smile behind his hand. Shiro was being put in his place by Matt the same way Adam would have. It was easy to see the absolute worst in people after the shit they’d seen. One time they’d been on a hunt and the vampire caught wind of them. It left its human pets behind, Keith taking months to get over that. There was something even more fucked up about it feeding on children. The memory still made him queasy and his nightmares had been out of control over it. Back in their old apartment there’d been a bullet hole left in wardrobe thanks to him leaving his gun beside his bed before falling asleep. Adam had been pissed for days over it. Keith then forbidden from having his gun in his room, instead it went in to the safe in the hallway.

“You’re making me feel old here”

“Don’t start with that. We’re the same again”

“Technically I’m the older here, so you’ve got nothing to worry about, Shiro. There’s hope for you left”

With how negative Shiro had been, Keith expected him to snap at Lance. Instead his brother shook his head, looking like he’d been ganged up on. It wasn’t so funny when the teasing was happening to him

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better?”

Lance shrugged as he undid the cap on his bag of blood

“Whelp. I tried. Keith, your coffee’s going to get cold. Now, Matt, please tell me I don’t have to lie to Pidge for much longer. She always comes by on the weekends, she’s actually past due for a visit this week. I want to let Hunk know ahead of time, so he can be here too”

Keith went back to his coffee, some one had been at his milk. He had enough for two coffees left despite the fact they’d been shopping with Curtis. He wasn’t happy as he rationed his milk carefully, before carrying the cup over to the table to sit by Lance. His boyfriend was still on guard but Keith could tell he was feeling better now that he’s confused his secret. Keith quietly proud of him

“Tomorrow morning. Call Hunk and let him know. I probably need your number too while I’m at it”

“Sure. So what are you planning on doing today?”

“Shiro insisting on training to better protect ourselves. Maybe we can answer that age old question?”

“Which is?”

“Are vampires really that strong?”

Lance rolled his eyes

“Remember you said that when I’ve wiped the floor with you, Fido”

“Hey, Keith why don’t you stick your hand up his arse and count to ten. This over stretched muppet’s got no clue”

Lance groaned at Matt

“Dude... don’t bring the muppets into this. Though Curtis would be the Chef. No idea what he’s doing in the kitchen and I’m sure he’s make copious amounts of spaghetti if he could”

Curtis sighed, not wanting to be dragged into this

“You kill one toaster and they never let you forget it”

“Nope”

Keith wasn’t sure about this. Curtis warned Lance not to push himself, Lance simply declaring this to be “his weeks worth of physical activity”, before starting to stretch. Sitting in the backyard, Shiro and Rieva sat by him. Curtis would be the referee and Rieva would jump in if Matt got too carried away. Keith was quietly trying not to interfere, telling himself that this was Lance accepting how Matt wanted to bond. Catching his eye, Lance winked at him. Keith realising Lance hadn’t taken his glasses off. The idiot was on his way to breaking another pair

“Lance, glasses!”

Practically smacking himself in the face, his boyfriend pulled his glasses off, jogging over to Keith

“Good call. Look after them for me”

“Don’t make me regret this”

“Look at as a chance to make you fall for my fine Cuban arse all over again”

Keith wasn’t having it

“You hate combat”

“Yeah... but it’s an ego thing... Besides, we’ve got rules. No breaking anything and no going for the throat. Oh, you better take my jacket too”

“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when it hurts later”

“I will”

Lance looked like a video game character as he bounced on the ball of his feet. Curtis didn’t seem pleased to be between two supernatural creatures

“Ready?”

Lance nodded, Matt adopting his own pose. Keith waited for the video game announcer voice to come from no where... unfortunately it didn’t

“Yep”

“Bring it Dracula”

“No changing shape, wolf boy”

“I won’t need to”

“Remember that when Rieva’s patching you back up”

“That’s some pretty feisty talk from a virgin”

“What can I say? I believe in true love... and kicking your arse”

“I’ll believe it when I see it”

“Oh, it is so on”

Curtis retreated half a dozen steps backwards

“Okay. Don’t kill each other. Fight!”

Both males circled as they sized each other up. Matt growling at Lance, Lance’s fang emerging as his facial expression changed. His eyes changing from their brilliant blue to something darker, almost completely black as pupils dilated. Keith felt a stab of fear. Lance looked as if he’d let his ego go completely, Matt baring his teeth at the threat

“All bark and no bite?”

“You’re not going to beat me”

“No. You’d have to throw a punch first. If you wanna tuck your tail between your legs and run along, I won’t tell”

“Arsehole!”

Matt let Lance provoke him into the first swing. Lance blocking as he leapt back

“You’re going to lose if you can’t hit me”

Starting to circle again, it felt like a weird dance between the two of them. Lance could be a pain in the arse, practically an expert at avoiding physically attacking. Keith was worried that his boyfriend wouldn’t know what to do. Lance’s fighting experience of late had been fighting him

“Fine. I won’t hold back. You don’t hold back either”

Not holding back put everyone in danger. Matt and Lance going for each other too fast for Keith to catch up. One stage Matt was on the defence and the next he was throwing Lance across the yard... which Lance didn’t take too kindly too. His whole feel changed. His teeth bared as he smiled, nails elongated, and he seemed taller than Keith remembered. He was cold. And he was distant. This was the side himself that Lance feared. The two were back at it again, Keith had a mind to stop this. Lance hated senseless violence and this couldn’t be good for his mental health. Catching Matt as he lunged, Lance wrapped his legs around the man, head butting him hard. Matt grabbing Lance by the waist to slam him down, only for Lance’s legs to end up wrapped around Matt’s neck, hands pulling on the werewolf’s hair. Matt’s hands found their way to Lance’s throat, dropping to his knees as smashing Lance’s head against the ground. Beneath him, Lance went limp as Keith went cold. They weren’t supposed to do serious harm to each other. Matt immediately releasing Lance’s neck, only for Lance to draw himself backwards, kneeing Matt in the chin as he did. Keith hadn’t even seen how Lance managed it. The Cuban joked about being flexible, but this was something else. Snarling, Matt’s internal chain on his wolf snapped. The man changing shape and lunging at Lance. Rieva was tackling him down before Keith could shout in warning.

Laying on the grass, propped nip on his elbows, Lance watched as Rieva changed into her wolf, pining Matt down and snarling at him. Changing back to his human form, Matt looked a little sheepish as he cranes his neck to see Lance

“You good man?”

“Yep. You?”

“Yep. Tie?”

“Yep”

“Okay. Babe, you can get off me now”

Rieva turned back, Keith looking away from where she and Matt were. Both too naked and too casual about the whole thing

“Idiot. What have I told you about you wolf?!”

Matt whined pathetically

“I didn’t mean too”

“I don’t care. You need to control yourself”

“I was having fun. We were having fun, right, Lance?”

Lance flopped back, hand coming up to shield his eyes

“Sorry, you’re own your own with this one. I don’t like fighting at the best of times. Between you and Keith I’ve learned so many new moves I don’t think I wanted to learn. I like peace and not exercising... ugh... I think I’m dead”

“Dude, you’re already dead”

“Fair... I’m going to take a bath”

Keith watched Lance climb to his feet. His boyfriend swaying a little before limping over to him. Something inside Keith coiled away in fear of never having seen Lance like this. His heart was racing from raw power of the fight

“I won’t touch you, there’s blood and that’s dangerous. Can I have my glasses and my jacket?”

“Oh... sure... do you need help getting to the house?”

“Nah. You say and enjoy the sun”

Keith didn’t know if Lance had seen the fear in him, but he hoped he hadn’t. The fight had stirred up other emotions in him, other than his fear over Lance’s mental health. Taking a deep breath, he couldn’t quite catch it. Emotions over Adam too strong to stomp down. The fight has been so fast. The grass torn up from the force behind each twist and move. Adam never would have stood a chance... but if Adam had survived the turn why couldn’t he fight back? How had Shiro survived with simply getting scarred?

“Keith?”

Shiro’s voice was gentle, his brother asking if he was okay in just the use of his name

“I’m heading back up to the house”

Keith could hear Blue yowling as the sat himself down on the stairs. Burying his face in his hands, he fought to control his breathing. He hasn’t pushed Shiro on the death of Adam. He hadn’t pushed him and now all these questions wouldn’t shut up. Blue sounded worried, her cries getting louder and louder, Keith feeling he needed to find her, even if it was just to make himself feel better for doing something. Heading upstairs, Keith followed Blue’s unhappy cries to Lance’s bathroom door. Scratching on the wood, the feline was begging her human master to be let in, Keith crouching down to scoop her up where she immediately bit his hand

“You don’t want to go in there. There’s water in there”

Blue protested hard, Keith opening the door and the cat immediately jumping from his arms to the tiled floor

“Keith?”

“Sorry, Blue wanted in”

“I heard... Hey, can you come in here for a moment?”

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

Slipping into the bathroom, Keith closed the door behind him. Blue was standing with her paws on the edge of the bath, Lance buried in a mound of bubbles. Keith wasn’t sure if he was supposed to look at his boyfriend or not

“What’s up?”

“Can we talk?”

“Aren’t we already?”

Lance huffed, turning his head towards him. The vampire sporting a rather impressive black eye, Keith’s breath catching at the sight

“It doesn’t hurt. Just... I need to... I need to talk to you and I’m worried”

Keith swallowed, nodding before heading over to sit on the toilet on lid

“What is it?”

“I... I want to apologise for upsetting you”

“You...”

“I did. I did and I know I did. You’ve been worried about me since this morning, but I still went ahead and fought with Matt, like I didn’t respect your feelings. I kind of want... I want to explain things to you”

Keith shook his head

“You don’t have to”

“I do. I do because you’re important to me. What you saw today, that was ego. Matt losing control, me losing control. That was ego. Last night I was pretty upset at the situation. About everything. Me. Us. This body. While you were getting dressed I was gathering up my bravery to tell him. You know that drive. How you train yourself until you feel satisfied and you hurt in a good way... feeding my ego is kind of like that need. It’s not but it is. My ego and his would kept clashing, so I told myself that if he suggested it, I’d agree. What I didn’t think about was you... and I feel like a douche for it. I know I scared you... I scared me when I saw my face... and I’m... I’m sorry”

Keith blinked half a dozen times. Feeling mad at Lance for not talking to him ahead of time. He had scared him. And he’d been scared for him. He’d thought his heart was going to stop when Matt changed shape. Lance was prepared for it, and he wasn’t

“Why couldn’t you talk to me?”

“We kind of...”

“You didn’t make the effort before deciding everything yourself”

“Keith...”

“No. You let yourself be hurt knowing it’d hurt you more than physically!”

Fuck. Fuck. He didn’t want to snap, but he couldn’t get the right words out

“I’m sorry”

“I was worried about you and now you have other friends here to talk to instead”

That’s not what he wanted to say. He wanted to question why there couldn’t have been another way. Lance didn’t need to train with other people when he had him

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imaginedisish · 6 years

Text

Across the Universe (Five Hargreeves x Reader) (The Umbrella Academy)

A/N: WELL FUCK ME HEYO IT’S 4:11am HERE ON THE EAST COAST...

honestly i don’t care because I absolutely love this LONG ASS IMAGINE OMG. Here is the 1K Follower Special!!!! All 2,486 words of it. I hope you guys enjoy! You all mean the world to me...thank you for 1,000...that’s absolute insanity. Quickly, before you read...understand this is ANOTHER AU! I’m imagining Five is AT LEAST 20 years of age in this...ight? WE DO NOT STAN ILLEGAL/UNDERAGE ACTIVIDADS HERE??? OKAY? OKAY! Enjoy...love you guys....thank you for everything

Summary: Five suffers from nightmares due to all he’s experienced in life, as do you, but Five feels as though these past experiences, as well as his flaws, deem him unable to be loved. You make sure he realizes otherwise...

Warnings: Language, angst, reference to kidnapping +murder+death, FLUFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!

Word Count: 2,486 uwuwuwuwuw SHE THICCC!

The world is cold. Everything is in ruin. Destruction is all the eye can see, for miles upon miles. The sky is grey, and an ominous chill lingers in the air. It’s just you, standing amongst collapsed buildings, not a person in sight.

“Five?” You call out. But there’s no response. Your voice simply echoes back to you. You stumble about the mess around you, searching for some sort of sign of life. “Five!” You scream this time. You wanted him next to you.

No, you needed him next to you.

Suddenly, the environment around you shifts to a motel room. Two evil, menacing, yet familiar figures wearing terrifying animal masks face you, each with a gun in hand. In between the two of them is a chair, with someone tied up to it. There’s a black sack over the person’s head. The figure to the right, the one wearing a bunny mask, rips the sack off.

“Five…” You whisper. There was the boy that mattered more than anything else in the world to you. Each figure raises their gun to Five’s head.

“No! Five!’ You scream, trying to run forward. But it’s no use. You’re frozen in place. There’s nothing you can do. The figures begin to move farther and farther away from where you’re standing. You try to run again, but you still seem to be stuck. You feel helpless, like the walls around you are closing in on you.

“Let him go!” You shout. But no one listens. The two figures chuckle in a cacophonous melody. Tears begin to stream down your cheeks. “Let him go,” You whimper this time, choking on your words, hoping that your pleas have some affect on Five’s captors.

“I love you,” Five whispers.

“BANG!”

You groggily open your eyes to the dimly light room around you, reality greeting you once again. Nightmares were normal after everything you had been through, but this one was new, and definitely not in a good way.

You had shut your curtains as tightly as you possibly could the night prior, hoping that you could get a good night’s sleep for once, but it was no use. Rays of light poured through the cracks of your white, lacy curtains nonetheless. You look around the light, airy room. Beatles, Bowie, Arcade Fire, and Arctic Monkeys posters adorn each and every wall, comforting you after the nightmare you had just experienced.

You apprehensively turn onto your side, uncomfortably twisting your neck to read the alarm clock resting on your antique white nightstand.

11:00 am, it reads.

Holy shit, I slept that long? You think to yourself, rolling back onto your stomach, shoving your face in your grey pillow case, partially out of guilt, and partially out of exhaustion. Usually, Five woke you up in the morning. He loved pestering you, and honestly it had begun to make your mornings just a little bit better.

This morning, however, was different. Five didn’t knock on your door. He didn’t twist the door knob, humming some Beatles song as he swiftly swooped into your bedroom, a cup of coffee in his hand, pleading with you to get out of bed and come downstairs with him. He was always the first one up, and he hated being alone. He had been alone for so many years, that the thought of being alone anymore, even if it was just to eat breakfast, secretly killed him. Of course, you were the only person who knew that. He would never tell another soul. Feelings and such were never his strong suit.

Yet, there was something so special about him to you.

You and Five had grown close over the past year. You arrived on the steps of The Academy, crying, with nowhere else to go. Your entire life, you were called a freak, a worthless piece of nothing. But Five didn’t see that in you. He saw beauty and strength, someone with a gift who simply didn’t know how to use it. You were telekinetic, and you often struggled controlling your powers. Five made things feel natural for you, something no one else was every able to do.

He was always there when you needed him most, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You hesitate before pulling the plush, white covers off of you, your warm bed begging you to stay. You sit up, allowing your legs to swing off to the side of your bed, your feet slowly meeting the cold, wood floors below. You finally stand up, and make your way out of your room.

There isn’t a sound in the normally loud mansion, except a slight stirring coming from the kitchen. You silently hoped to yourself that it was Five. You continue down the hallway, your footsteps echoing as you walk.

You finally reach the kitchen, and you spot Five sitting at the counter, staring down at what’s presumably a cup of coffee. He anxiously bounces his right knee up and down, aggressively tapping his finger on the counter in unison with his knee.

“Morning Five,” You yawn, a small smile spreading across your face. Five doesn’t answer. “Is everything alright?” You question as you walk further into the room, pulling out a stool and sitting down next to him.

Five swallows harshly, and he continues to stare down at the black liquid in his white mug. “Morning, (Y/N).” Five finally says, still refusing to look up at you.

You bring a hand to his own. “Did something happen?” You ask. Five shuts his eyes tightly. Something was obviously bothering him, something extremely painful. “Talk to me, Five,” You plead, now gently brushing over his hand with your thumb. To your dismay, Five pulls away from your touch, grabbing his coffee with his right hand, and standing up.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Five says, irritation and annoyance heavy in his voice. “Stop with all this worrying bullshit, got it?” He finally turns around to face you, his eyes widen as he waits for you to nod or respond in some way.

You shake your head, refusing to agree with him. “Something happened, and whatever it was can’t be good,” You stand up from the stool, and walk closer to Five. “I knew something was off when you didn’t wake me up this morning, so tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Do I have to say it again? I don’t feel like talking, okay?” Five says, anger growing in his voice, his cheeks becoming red. This wasn’t the Five you had come to know, and possibly started to love. You needed to find out why he was acting this way, immediately.

“Just talk to me-,"

Five cuts you off, quickly walking forward in your direction. “I told you, I don’t want to fucking talk about it! Just fuck off!” He shouts, his arms extending out to either side of the room as rage fills his eyes. You instinctively take a step back. You had seen Five angry, but never like this.

If you were being honest, it scared the shit out of you to see him this way.

Five slowly puts his arms down, a look of guilt spreading across his face. Silence looms over the room, and Five nervously scratches the back of his neck. His bright blue eyes meet yours. Five’s face screams “I’m so sorry,” but he says nothing.

“Fuck this,” You mutter, your heart clenching as you turn your back to Five, storming away. It killed you to see him this way, but you knew you didn’t deserve to be treated like this, simply for trying to help him. You stop in the middle of the kitchen, facing Five once more. “All I want to do is help you. Quit assuming the worst. Stop treating everyone around you like absolute shit. Can’t you see I care about you?” You yell, turning around and walking away from Five as you were before.

You hear Five shuffling to catch up to you. “(Y/N), wait, please,” Five begs, his hand grabbing your wrist. You stop in your tracks, turning around to face him. “I can, and will explain everything, I’m so sorry…” Five trails off, his crystal like eyes searching yours.

You simply nod your head, allowing Five to guide you back over to where you and he were sitting before. His leg begins to anxiously bounce again, and his finger taps away as well. This time, however, his eyes refused to leave yours.

Five’s adams apple bobs as he swallows harshly. He takes a deep breath as he runs a hand through his thick, dark brown hair. “I-I keep having nightmares about the apocalypse, b-but last night was the worst yet,” Five mumbles, his voice soft and low.

“What happened?” You ask.

“I-I, It hurts to think, nonetheless, to actually say,” Five pauses, taking a deep breath again before continuing. “I-I lost you. It was so lonely, so cold. It felt like the first time, but a million times worse, because you, well, you were fucking gone. I couldn’t save you.” Five stares back down to his coffee.

You bring a hand up to the back of his neck, massaging the area lightly. “The apocalypse isn’t happening anymore, Five. We stopped that. And I’m not going anywhere,” You say reassuringly, bringing your hand up to play with his hair.

Five hums softly. A wave of calm washes over the room. You continue to comb through Five’s hair with your fingers. You and Five had shared small moments like these in the past, but nothing ever truly confirmed anything between you two. You longed for some sort of spark to be ignited, but nothing ever seemed to happen.

Finally, Five speaks up. “I’m not good enough for you.” His ocean eyes meet yours again. You’re at a loss for words. “You sit here, comforting me, and yet I know damn well that I don’t deserve this, or you.”

“Where is this coming from?” You ask firmly, removing your hand from Five’s hair.

“I’ve been trying to find a way to say it, I’ve been meaning to tell you how I really feel,” Five says, now trying his best to avoid eye contact. “But I’m clearly absolute shit at this sort of thing…and you deserve better than someone who can’t say how they feel, or save you from an apocalypse, even if it is just a dream.”

You shake your head. “You’re being absolutely ridiculous,” You can’t help but giggle. For months, you longed for Five to be honest with you. You wanted to know how he felt, and more specifically, if he felt the same as you did.

“I’m not, though, (Y/N),” Five’s eyes find yours again. His right hand hesitantly extends out towards yours, Five now holding your hand in his. “You deserve someone who won’t lash out at you, someone who will treat you right. For God’s sake you deserve someone who knows how to be in a relationship with a real human being and not a fucking mannequin!”

You can’t help but laugh. He wasn’t wrong. In his 58 years on earth, the only “woman,” he was ever with was Dolores, a department store mannequin.

Five grins a bit. “God I love that laugh,” He mumbles under his breath as to not let you hear him; but you hear him anyway, your heart fluttering in your chest in response.

“What if I don’t want anyone else? Did you ever think of that? What if you’re all I can think about? Even in my dreams?” You ask, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I have nightmares too, you know that. But what you don’t know is that I can’t save you in my nightmares either…” You trail off. You had told Five about your nightmares before, but never that he was usually at the center of them.

“I-I’m in your nightmares?” Five asks, his thumb now brushing softly against your hand. “W-what happens in them?”

“I don’t like th-thinking a-about it,” You stutter, shutting your eyes tightly at even the smallest thought of your nightmares. Silence greets the room once again, just like an old friend. You finally decide to speak up. “You’ve been through so much, Five, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve love. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve me.” You stare deeply into Five’s glossy eyes, looking for some sort of answer. You’re disappointed when you find absolutely nothing.

Five sniffles a bit, most likely thinking about what to say next. “You just, well, you-, goddammit,” Five mutters, closing his eyes, struggling to find the right words. “You mean so much to me. I’m worried I’ll lose you like I lost everyone when I was younger. I’m afraid that if something happens, I won’t be able to save you.”

You smile, shaking your head. “I have powers too, you’re not that fucking special,” You say jokingly, giggling a bit.

“Woah, thanks,” Five says sarcastically, smirking a bit. “You’re special, though. You know that?” Five says matter-of-factly, looking straight ahead, trying his very best to be as casual as possible.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and your heart flutters in your chest. “Five?” You call out, staring in his direction, waiting for him to turn and face you.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” Five responds, his eyes finding yours yet again.

“I think I might be in love with you.”

Five doesn’t break eye contact. His bright blue eyes widen a bit.

“Well thank god, I thought I was going to have to say it first,” Five smiles.

Before you can say anything else, Five’s lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, yet longing, as if two people had traveled across the universe, across space, across multiple timelines just to be with each other, and finally, somehow, they actually made it to each other.

The minute Five pulls his lips from yours, that longing sensation fills your gut yet again.

But you’d travel across the universe a million more times just to have him kiss you again.

“Nothing’s gonna change now, right? Things can stay this perfect forever?” Five questions, his face inches from yours, He smiles widely, and his voice is low and peaceful for once.

“Yes,” You say softly. “Nothing’s gonna change our world. No nightmares, no apocalypses for now…Nothing.”

“Good,” Five whispers, leaning in slowly again. “I like that.”

“Sounds of laughter, shades of life

Are ringing through my opened ears

Inciting and inviting me

Limitless undying love

Which shines around me like a million suns

It calls me on and on across the universe

Nothing's gonna change my world

Nothing's gonna change my world”

-Across the Universe, The Beatles, Let It Be, 1970.

Tags:

@foolish-dragon @multifandom-ramblings

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

Arcanum || Morgan & Mercy

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @cryxmercy & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Mercy and Morgan go witch hunting.

CONTAINS: Mild gore, blood poisoning

Morgan gave Mercy the details as soon as she realized the truth and before long they had everything they needed on her whereabouts. Jo Muscgraves was staying at the Haven Hotel, but of course that wasn’t satisfactory for the kind of butchery she’d been up to. So naturally she had rented out a storage unit for the month too. Under a freaking anagram, no less, like no one had ever heard of those before or would think twice about seeing Grace J Mussov on a list if they went looking. What kind of person thought a storage unit was really the place for doing whatever bullshit magic she was after? The backlash from any experiments were bound to affect anyone in the units nearby and potentially destroy anything unlucky enough to involve the wrong elements.

Morgan didn’t want to bother with knocking on her hotel door and playing nice. She wanted to go straight to the source and put an end to it all. She was taking the bolt cutters out of her bag when she realized the unit was already open. Her body went stiff with dread. This was what she wanted, she reminded herself. This was what Coraline deserved. Morgan exchanged a look with Mercy, trying to draw on some of her strength. The PI was a valkyrie, a fighter with more experience than anyone else she knew. And Morgan could still work her own will in the world, magic or not. She had to. “I’ll do the honors,” she muttered, giving Mercy an uneasy look.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to find, but white light and storage jars hadn’t been on her list. Jo had amassed more than your average witch’s cupboard. Along either wall that stretched deep into the storage complex were jars of herbs, flaked or ground rock, bottled elements in easy to work with states, and shelves of what must have been past experiments. Hybrid plants bowed and purpling with strain as they tried to grow in their new spliced state. Teeth from wolves and vampires thinned and warped into weapons or fused into impossible shapes Morgan could only imagine to be impossible. A pair of wings hung over the worktable at the end of the room, and on the surface itself, lit even brighter by a lamp, were the missing pieces of Coralaine’s body, most in jars ready to be worked with, but her scales were already fused with a piece of cotton, flaking and shriveled. Jo was in the middle of the room, wrestling with Marina Adams, Coraline’s older sister. Both women turned their heads at the sound of intruders. Morgan froze. Killing a witch was one thing; freeing a captive fae was another.

The strong preyed on the weak. That was the way of the world. Always had been. Always would be. It was the natural order. Be stronger than what wants to kill you... or die. Mercy knew this better than most. But she also knew that the laws of nature, the laws that most creatures that inhabited this world obeyed because they had no reason not to, and no choice otherwise, didn’t apply to humans. Or the supernatural. They killed because they could. Because they wanted to. Or because they held some antiquated notion that they had to. Not all, of course. An individual didn’t define them as a whole. But every species had evil in its ranks.

And the witch she had offered to help Morgan find was as evil as they came. So Mercy would have no qualms relieving her of the terrible burden of living. And thus ridding the world of one more evil creature that didn’t deserve the time she’d been given.

When they arrived at their destination, Mercy was fully ready for whatever came their way. She was just about to touch Morgan’s arm, to indicate that the doors she’d intended to cut open were already slightly ajar, but Morgan noticed. When she looked to Mercy, the Valkyrie gave her a nod of encouragement, and followed her inside.

What awaited them there was… horrific wasn’t the word for it. Despicable wasn’t right either. Monstrous was closer. But the only word that seemed to fit…. was evil. Mercy would be lying if she said this was the first time she’d seen something like this. Supernaturals being experimented on. Made into weapons. Killed and maimed and tortured for the sake of someone’s fucking curiousity. Or worse: profit. She wasn’t innocent of killing for money, but that was a lifetime ago now. And she’d never harmed the innocent or the weak. Not on purpose.

The wings across the back of the unit briefly drew Mercy’s eyes, but the struggling figures in the center of the room took precedence. Mercy glanced at Morgan as the other woman paused. “Courage.” She turned her eyes back to the witch and the young fae. Tilting her head curiously, Mercy started slowly forwards, peering at the shelves and their collection of items as if she were simply in the grocery store, trying to choose what to have for dinner. And not in the lair of a homicidal, psychopathic witch.

“You know, Jo - Can I call you Jo? - as much as I love the whole…” Mercy gestured vaguely. “- Island of Dr. Moreau vibe you got goin’ here…” She focused her gaze on the witch, hoping to hold her attention for as long as possible. “- I’m gonna have to ask you, from the bottom of my heart…. to stop being a murderous fucking cunt. And let the girl go.” Mercy’s easy smirk faded to something cold and unforgiving. Slowly, she pulled a small vial of dark blue liquid from her pocket and gave it a gentle rub with her thumb. The center bled a bright, angry red. “Or… I let my little friend here go. And we see if you new age witches still burn like the old ones did.”

Marina used the shift in the room to try to pull free. She twisted in Jo’s grip, dragging her feet over the edge of the circle to smudge it enough to be rendered useless. But something on Jo’s wrist (probably another fucking circle) made her go shrill with pain. She writhed, still pulling, wrenching as best she could. Morgan felt like a first class idiot for having assumed Jo was fae in the first place. She inched to the side, trying to close the distance between herself and Marina while Jo and Mercy had it out.

“You have no idea what you are getting yourselves into,” Jo said firmly, “Or that this ‘girl’--” she emphasized the word bitterly, “Is capable of. Turn around, walk away, and I’ll forget we crossed paths. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” she stomped her foot on the ground and sent out a ripple of power towards them. The ground went slick under Morgan and she fell hard, landing on her wrist, which snapped with an awful sound. Morgan grimaced and eased it back into place. Jo nodded with intrigue as she saw Morgan’s skin reshape itself with ease. “I’m not going to repeat myself,” she said evenly. “Trust me that this is not how it looks, and leave.”

Mercy stood calmly, keeping her eyes on the witch and the girl as Morgan slowly moved in the opposite direction. This was her show. Mercy was merely a player. Though it appeared the witch wasn’t going to take Mercy’s verbal bait. But for the moment, Mercy had her talking, bringing whatever spell had been in progress to a pause.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Mercy huffed, pocketing the vial of blue liquid for now. “I know exactly what this girl is capable of.” Her eyes flicked to Marina, and it was to her that Mercy spoke this time. “I bet you’d like to drown her, wouldn’t you, little nøkke? Feast on her flesh for what she did to your sister?” But Jo sent out a wave of magic, turning the floor slick as ice beneath their feet. Mercy managed to catch herself before she went down completely, but still fell hard to her knees, hands splayed in front to steady herself. She saw Morgan go down as well, the woman’s wrist crunching unpleasantly. But she righted herself, so Mercy carefully pushed to her feet and turned her attention back to Jo.

Antagonizing the witch seemed like a bad idea, though the very air around Mercy hummed with the desire to do just that. But she couldn’t. Not while the young girl was still in the alchemist’s grasp. So maybe changing tactics would work. They needed time. And distraction. So Mercy could only hope that Morgan would catch on to what she was doing. And not think herself betrayed.

“Say I believe you.” Mercy’s tone was thoughtful, but cautious. “Say I believe that whatever this is,” She gestured towards Jo and Marina. “- it’s the girl that’s the real threat, and not you.” Mercy took a few steps closer, clasping her hands behind her back. “Say I turn around and leave, and forget about you and this place. Say I forget about all of it. And I make sure she forgets too.” Mercy tipped her head towards Morgan, while still holding the witch’s gaze. “What’s in it for me?” Another step, and Mercy’s fingers slipped idly beneath her jacket and curled around the hilt of a blade tucked into a sheath concealed across her back. “What can you offer me, Jo Muscgraves, so that I forget you ever existed? Because trust me when I say that whatever this girl is capable of… I’m capable of much, much worse.”

Jo had been in plenty of tight spots before. Taboo research to crack the code of organic supernatural magic would do that to you. So did obtaining live samples from murderous animals like the Adams girls. Jo really had been fond of them, to the point that it made her sick with guilt. After what they’d done in their hometown? Fae and beasts were just specimens with power they had no right to monopolize for themselves and use against humans. If Jo could just finish her work in peace, maybe she could find the key to sharing the wealth. But Marina was whimpering and moaning in a way that made Jo’s stomach twist, the circle was smudged, and the women/creatures before her were probably about to ruin everything. “You leave me, you let my work succeed, and you’ll be first in line. You--” She turned to Morgan, looking at the way her bones were rearranging themselves inside her skin. “You know about this world. You know what kind of power is being used to keep humans ignorant and underfoot. Don’t you think you deserve a piece of it too? Shouldn’t you be able to glamour yourself at will? To jump into the air and out of danger on wings?” Her gaze flitted back to Mercy, sizing her up. She might be less human than she looked, but Jo could hardly slip her some litmus right now to tell for sure. “What would you give in order to fly? To change your face, your form? This isn’t senseless, this is--”

“If it wasn’t senseless, you shouldn’t have dumped the girl who trusted you out with the trash!” Morgan snapped. “Shouldn’t have butchered her like a hack!” The words burst out of her before her mind could think of words like ‘stealthy’ and ‘careful’ and ‘no one will warn you you’re going to die this time’ could stop her. She staggered upright and lunged for Marina just as Jo sent a lightning streak of magic her way. The power crashed through her, but Morgan didn’t stop. She grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled. Maybe being a living dead girl was good for something after all.

“First in line for what?” Mercy asked, partly to keep Jo talking, partly out of a sense of morbid curiosity. Because Mercy - perhaps more than most - could empathize with the desire to know. The search for their origins, for the answer to how the abilities - the magic - possessed by supernatural (or preternatural) creatures worked, and where it came from, wasn’t a new quest. And Jo wasn’t the first person throughout history to go about their quest the wrong way. Through murder and butchery. Which was also something Mercy could understand. But not when it involved spilling innocent blood.

So Mercy watched Jo watch Morgan. She saw how the witch’s eyes lingered on the healing bones, the way the skin knitted itself back together. Mercy kept her hands behind her back, one wrapped around the blade that was now loose in it’s sheath but still hidden, and continued her slow pacing to try and flank the woman as Morgan moved opposite. She paused, however, when Jo addressed her again.

What would you give in order to fly?

For just a moment, the Fury… considered. Of all the questions to ask… why that one? Mercy had wanted wings for close to 1200 years. It was one of the few things she felt she was owed after so long. Did Jo know something she didn’t? Did the witch have some uncanny sense of what might sway Mercy to let her live?

Almost everything. Mercy nearly spoke the words out loud. Her eyes flitted to the wings strung overhead. Where had they come from, she wondered. What creature had died, or more likely been killed, so that Jo could display them in such a vulgar, disrespectful way. And then offer them up as some sort of… reward. Mercy had a response waiting, but the witch’s words had fueled Morgan’s anger to a fever pitch and she reacted accordingly. Morgan lunged for the girl, ignoring the violent, sizzling magic that ripped through her body. The smell of sulfur and burnt flesh permeated the air, but the moment Morgan had hands on the girl, Mercy moved as well.

There was a soft ‘shick’ sound as the short-sword was pulled free. It spun in Mercy’s hand, a blur of motion as she brought it down with deadly accuracy, aiming to sever the witch’s hand at the wrist, and release the girl into Morgan’s arms.

Jo had only a second to see the blade coming and in that second one long equation fired in her head, racing to calculate the balance of her next move. Pull on the girl, hope she could be a shield. Maybe some scales would be damaged, maybe she preferred to remind them both how little her life was worth by testing the limits of her power personally, but her body would still be usable. She could risk some damage to her own body in an effort to keep Marina’s intact, and being injured might make the girl bold. She fought harder than Coraline, already, but that was a temporary state. She could let go, try to get her back later, or escape unharmed and try again in a different town. She had some contacts she could rely on, people who were counting on her to help them with her work. But how? And how did she know they wouldn’t chase her? Three supernaturals trapped in her vault, including a zombie? But Jo had a second, only a second, and in that time her body, not her mind, took control. She released Marina in time to catch the blade mid air. The sharp edge sliced into her palm for a moment, deep enough that she grunted with effort. Then the blade splashed down her sleeve and did away with any hope of keeping her circle charged, melted into water. “Nice try,” she said, and wound her fist up to land a punch. If she would get a hand on her, her tattoos could help her do the rest…

Marina crashed into Morgan as soon as she was let go. They toppled onto the slick floor together and scrambled to their knees. “There’s a car outside,” Morgan grunted. “Go. You’ll be safe inside.” She gave her a push as the girl scrambled to her feet. She flashed her teeth at Morgan. “Don’t touch me!” She spat, and staggered away. Morgan braced herself to her feet in time to realize Mercy might just be in some serious trouble if the tried hand to hand with an alchemist fast thinking enough to transmute at a moment’s notice. “Get back!” She reached to pull back her friend, but her mind hadn’t gotten around to calculating what might happen with a sudden distraction.

Over a millennia of life had given Mercy an advantage that most would never possess. Centuries upon centuries of time to hone the craft she had learned as a girl. So when the sword hit home, slicing through flesh and bone, Mercy wasn’t surprised. It was what she’d asked the blade to do, after all. But for all of the Fury’s deadly speed and accuracy, for all her confidence in those skills, when flesh and bone and blade connected because the witch caught Mercy’s sword with her hand - and in less than a moment the blade was gone, forge-hardened steel turned to nothing but a puddle of water - Mercy was, for a heartbeat, well and truly surprised. Her eyes shot to the witch’s face as she spoke, but the single moment of shock seemed to be enough for Jo. Her fist caught Mercy square across the jaw. Mercy grunted, staggering slightly to the side and nearly slipping on the slick floor. But she righted herself almost immediately, her expression turning from shock to something else. Something that welcomed the faint taste of copper in her mouth... the hum of power in the air… the unexpected (and yes, thrilling) challenge of a witch that could change one element to another at will…

Mercy turned to face Jo again. “I can do better.”

Behind her, Mercy registered that Morgan was on her feet and shoving the girl towards the exit. She heard the girl scream and snatch away. She even heard Morgan’s voice calling out to her, felt the zombie’s hand on her arm, trying to pull Mercy away. “Go!” she told Morgan, though her eyes stayed on Jo. “Take the girl. This one doesn’t have the power to kill me. Do you?” Mercy taunted. Though she didn’t miss the circles inked onto the woman’s arms and the palms of her hands.

Jo didn’t squander her advantage. She closed in as Mercy stumbled, stabilized the floor with her boot, and grabbed her by the shoulders, pressing down good and hard with her tattooed palms. A flash of power passed from her body to the strange woman’s, unlocking her skin and her blood, flooding her with iron, enough to send her body into shock. She shoved her away and started to make a break for it. Right now she didn’t need a perfect kill. She needed to make sure she was alive to finish her work.

Morgan nearly left Mercy where she stood. She had what she needed and the valkyrie was a consenting adult. She could exercise her autonomy no matter what. But she saw Jo getting away, saw something bubbling under the surface of Mercy’s body and froze. She wanted to make the witch pay. She wanted Mercy to be okay. She wanted to stop her from grabbing Marina again and running off with her. She wanted, she wanted… Morgan’s hand shot out for the witch, but Jo was ready. Even Morgan’s dulled senses registered the pain of her flesh falling away from her bone. “Fuck!” She staggered back into Mercy, cradling her skeleton hand to her chest. That was gonna take a bit to heal.

A single moment of distraction cost Mercy dearly as Jo grabbed hold of the Fury’s shoulders. Mercy shot a hand out to grab the witch’s neck, while the other swung hard at the woman’s ribs. But that was as far as she got. She felt the sudden, sickening flow of magic as it was forced beneath her skin and into her blood. As it… changed something inside Mercy. Her healing factor pushed back instantly, trying to right what had so suddenly been thrown off-kilter. But the Fury still grunted at the sudden white-hot pain, like shards of glass soaked in acid being forced through her veins. Mercy met Jo’s eyes for the span of a moment, the cold fury of the Valkyrie’s gaze both another taunt - Is this what you call power? - and a promise - This isn’t over. - just before she was shoved aside. She caught herself against the wall as her body started to slip into shock.

Fire laced through her belly, followed by nausea so intense she thought she might very well faint. It took all Mercy had not to double over. Everything hurt. Every movement, every breath, every heartbeat felt like it took a monumental effort. But then Morgan was being shoved towards her and the smell of burning flesh was in the air and Morgan was screaming…

Mercy tried to steady her as they collided, but she felt near to collapsing herself. Whatever Jo had done was making her feel weak. Tired. Underneath the pain and increasing systemic shock. “Need to go...” Mercy said. “No good like this…” Mercy with her blood poisoned by magic and Morgan with her flesh peeled away from her bones. The Valkyrie coughed and spit red onto the ground. “We saved the girl. ‘S’what matters. For now…” Later, they would make Jo pay. For today. And for all the days before. But right now they were in no shape to continue. Live to fight another day and all that.

Morgan averted her eyes as the muscle and sinew around her skin stitched itself anew. On a fresh meal, it might have been done by now, but she was stretching out her feeding schedule to make sure she at least had raw strength going for her in this encounter. Apparently it hadn’t counted for much after all. At least she knew Mercy had seen worse. “Hey, you’re okay, right? You’ve made it twelve hundred years, a little hack job like whatever she did can’t knock you down now.” She braced Mercy against her shoulder and staggered out into the open air. There was no sign of Marina in the car. Figures. She probably wouldn’t have waited around in some stranger’s car to find out what would happen to her either. Wherever she’d gone, Morgan hoped she was safe. “I’d say at least you can sleep this off,” she said, laughing dryly, “But we both know that's gonna be a whole other hell of a time.”

#wr mercy #wr chatzy #wr mercy chatzy #medical blood tw #gore tw #arcanum #wr #wickedswriting

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