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yuujism · 4 years

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Spoiled (fushiguro megumi x reader)

REQUEST: Can I get a dom megumi x fem reader fic where the reade is being a HUGEEE brat & megumi has no choice but to break her

| PAIRINGS: dom!fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

| WARNINGS: rough megumi, brat reader, dom/sub, lil bit of dacryphilia oop, explicit language, degradation, unprotected sex (be safe)

| WORD COUNT: 1,647

A/N: so... back to uhhh megumi having a thing for making you cry uhmm 😳 i kinda see megumi as a more soft kinda dom?? idk if that makes sense because he really likes to please you but when you get too need or too annoying he just snaps and goes feral?? yeah anyway lol i hope you like it and it’s what you expected! enjoy!!

Megumi was usually patient with you.

He knew you were quite loud at times when you were with him, reaching the point of being needy, always wanting his attention on you and only you. Even if these occasions weren’t common, He always spoiled you whenever you wanted, rewarding you with the best orgasms of your life.

However, the moments when you wanted his full attention on you became more and more recurrent lately.

Your small hands made their way under Megumi’s shirt, caressing his bare chest as your lips pressed against his neck while he was studying some book about curses. You wanted him. You heard a small, deep sigh and you smirked; It was working. In the other side, Megumi began to feel something igniting inside of himself, a feeling that came close to how he reacted when his friends were noisy.

Annoyance.

“Please~” Your hands came out of his shirt, walking around him until you were in front of him. You were brave enough to take his book out of his hands, placing it on his desk as you sat on one of his knees, legs on each side of it. You smiled in your mind, praising yourself for wearing a skirt that day. His eyes met with yours, a stoic expression you were too focused on changing into a pleasure one. “Megumi, I need you.”

What was it? He couldn’t find the words to describe you right now.

And as he watched you run your hands over his torso until they were about to reach his jeans, a serious expression never leaving his face, jaw clenched, it finally hit him. The words came to his mind as you tried to get some friction for relief, moving against his thigh like-

“A spoiled brat.”

Before you could even react to his poisonous remark, one of his hand was already holding you by the back of your neck, pushing you towards him as his lips captured yours roughly. Megumi swallowed each of your moans as his free hand guided your movements against his thigh, already feeling the wetness passing through your underwear and staining his jeans.

When he pulled away, you lingered for more, to stay close to him like that again, but Megumi had other plans. His hand grabbed your chin, his thumb making its way inside your warm mouth as he pressed you down even harder, all the friction going directly to your clit and filling the room with your muffled moans.

“You always have to get away with everything, don’t you?” Megumi’s voice was low and full of annoyance, watching as your tongue played with his thumb and some of your saliva started running down your chin. “Look at you. Can’t even keep your fucking drool inside your mouth. Are you that desperate?”

You could only shake your head no and something inside Megumi snapped. So you were just going to interrupt his study session and then pretend like you were all innocent? He’s had enough with you being needy and he was going to show you.

The way Megumi manhandled you to the bed was new to you, already missing the friction you were getting by his thigh. He placed you on your knees and you looked for support by placing your hands on the headboard, feeling his heavy presence behind you as your skirt was lifted to reveal your underwear and ass.

“Fucking brat.” Megumi let out an almost animalistic growl when his fingers traced your clit over your clothed cunt, his thumb playing with your entrance as you clenched around nothing, whining as your hips pushed back subconsciously. “You’re this wet already from riding my thigh? God, you really wanted to get fucked, didn’t you?”

He wasn’t giving you a chance to answer his question, expertise fingers pushing your panties to the side to finally slip two fingers inside your core, the stretching sting making you moan loudly in pleasure. The squelching sound of your wetness being fucked by his fingers was lewd, and Megumi took notice of this as his free hand unzipped his jeans.

“You’re so messy I could just slide my cock inside you, make that pussy cream all over me.” Megumi brought his chest to press against your back, fingers curling inside you and rubbing that sweet spot you both knew too well. He smirked against your ear as you pushed your head back, a sob coming out of your mouth. “Tell me how much you want my cock to fuck you raw.”

You could feel it. The way the tip of his hard cock was already pressing against your ass cheek. The way Megumi was so turned on he was annoyed. And you could also already feel the way he was going to ruin you. He was already ruining you with his fingers and words alone.

“Megumi, I-I want your cock, please!” You looked over your shoulder at him, tears prickling around your eyes as his fingers kept abusing your cunt, hips trying to meet his thrusts. “Please, Megumi, please I...” A throaty moan interrupted your own words as his fingers slipped out of you suddenly, leaving you with emptiness.

“Not so brave now, huh?” Megumi mocked you as his cock started pushing against your entrance, sliding inside you to the brim in a swift motion. Tears started running down your face thanks to the stretch and the pleasure you were feeling, not being able to hold back your moans anymore and Megumi loved it. “Go on. Tell me how desperate you are for a good fuck.”

His hips started thrusting slow and deep, making you feel every inch of his cock sliding in and out of you. Megumi smirked when he could already see your juices coating all over his shaft. You could only tighten your grip on the headboard, face falling down as your hips pushed back, trying to feel more of him.

“No, no.” His hands gripped your hips, not allowing you to move anymore and you almost complained but you knew better than to do that right now. “You think you can just interrupt me,” This particular thrust went harder, making you go forward and letting out a yelp. “ride my thigh like a desperate slut,” He almost slipped out of you before thrusting again, punctuating his own words with his movements. “and think you can just take control while I fuck you?” Another thrust had you whining loudly, trying to look back at him with a blurry sight by your tears.

“M-Megumi, I’m sorry, please, I need your cock I just-“ The sight of your pink cheeks covered by your tears almost made him explode right there and then, hands gripping your face to make you look at him as his hips started slamming against you in a quick pace.

“That’s it, baby. Cry for me.” Megumi moaned, his fast and deep thrusts had the tip of his cock rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you as you struggled to keep your eyes open, balls slapping against your ass. “Take my cock like the slutty brat you are.”

And, oh, were you enjoying every moment of this. The way his hands were gripping your face so roughly and the way his cock kept abusing your cunny was driving you insane. Your hold on the headboard was getting weak and when Megumi let go of your face, your body gave up, falling to the mattress, head pressed against your pillow.

Megumi’s hands gripped your hips tightly enough to bruise as he kept fucking you hard and fast, your sobs and moans only pushing him to keep going. You were close. And he could feel it by the way you were clenching around him.

“Tell me you love my cock.” One of his hands grabbed you by the hair, pulling your head back so he could hear you moaning his name more clearly. When he was only met by the slapping noises of your bodies and your loud cries of pleasure, Megumi circled his hips inside you, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Say it, brat. And you better keep crying.”

“I love- love your cock s- much” You babbled out, hands fisting the shits as he kept with his ravishing pace. Megumi couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, watching you get drunk off his cock.

It was just to much. You were so close and gone you felt like passing out if he kept fucking you as hard as he was. Your pussy clenched around him, almost as if your body didn’t want to let him go for even a second, hips trying to meet his movements. You almost screamed when his hand snaked under you, reaching your clit to rub circles around it.

“You gonna cum? Gonna cream all over my cock as I keep fucking your bratty cunt? C‘mon, baby. C’mon, cum around me.”

And his encouraging words plus the attention in your most sensitive part were enough to make you see starts, cumming around him like he told you too as his name fell out of your mouth like a mantra. His hips stilled deep inside you, enjoying the moment of your clenching walls.

“Good girl.” He kissed the back of your shoulder as you were coming down from your high, your cunt sensitive enough that the smallest movement of his cock inside you threw you into overstimulation. And the way Megumi turned you around still impaled on his cock made you cry out, legs wrapping around his waist “But I’m not done with you yet.”

“F-Fuck!” You moaned as his fingers met your clit once again, arching your back and trying to pull away from his touch.

“You wanted my attention, baby,” Megumi smirked, hard cock throbbing inside you as he slipped out again. “And that’s what you’re going to get, you spoiled brat.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi

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reidology · 3 years

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Dying in a bathtub - Hotchreid

Summary: Hotch gets nightmares and hides in the tub, so Spencer makes it comfy for him <3

Word count: 4.4k

Content warning: discussion and description of nightmares, smut, brief description of physical abuse, light angst, quite fluffy, happy ending <3

AO3

__________________________________________

The first time it happened Spencer woke up shivering, the cold of a missing body beside him seeped through the sheets chilled his bones. He braved a lazy glance to his bedside, squinting to see the alarm clock blinking big and aggressive red numbers. 05:25. Aaron must have gone out for a morning run, something Spencer never understood. In fact, his reasoning of ‘why run, when sleep?’ whenever Aaron attempted to get him to join always earned him an affectionate eye roll and kiss on the cheek, so why would he ever give that up? No promise of endless coffee can get Spencer Reid to wake up before 7am, much less for exercise.

Reluctantly the sleepy man made his way to the bathroom, knowing he might as well shower and get ready for work now, there’s no way he could get back to sleep without his human furnace of a boyfriend covering him completely. Only, through his grogginess he failed to notice the boyfriend-shaped body softly snoring in the tub.

So he padded over to the semi-closed shower curtain and blearily reached in to turn the water on for it to heat up while he got ready.

Almost as soon as the water turned on, a high-pitched shriek assaulted the young agent’s eardrums. Spencer did what, in his opinion, any caught-off-guard fully trained FBI agent would do— he squealed in shock and fell back on his ass. A moment later the shower curtain pulled back, revealing a very irritated -and very wet- Aaron Hotchner.

“Babe what the fuck,” the older man whined, wringing out his shirt and turning the freezing water off, “I was sleeping!”

“Oh this is my fault?!”

“Yes! Couldn’t you see me?!”

“I just woke up!”

“Me too!” Aaron pointed to his wet shirt as if to say you have no excuse for this.

Spencer let out a frustrated sigh and pushed himself up from the floor. Somehow he upset his boyfriend, he guesses apologies are on the table. He carefully stepped into the bathtub to face his dripping boyfriend and wrapped his arms around the soaking man’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he pouted quite prettily, “But honey, why were you sleeping in the tub?”

“I didn’t sleep in the tub. I went to sleep in our bed, then you woke me up in the tub.” Aaron grumbled.

Spencer thought Aaron looked positively insane. His eyes focused on the older man’s pupils as his hands checked for a fever.

“Do you have a concussion?” He couldn’t help but fret about the man who is usually so well put together. He was obviously in distress though what kind of distress completely eluded the dry man. Aaron waved Spencer’s worried hands away from his face, “No. Spence, I’m telling you, I didn’t sleep in the bathtub.”

“Then how did you get here?”

Aaron shrugged and swatted Spencer’s nosy hands away that were trying to inspect the grumpy man for any injuries, “Who knows? Let’s get some breakfast.” He calmly stepped out of the tub and headed out, leaving Spencer confused (for once).

“... But it’s 5 am.”

_____

Two nights later, it happened again. But this time Spencer awoke to the sound of sobbing. His heart just about broke in two at the sight of Aaron curled in on himself in the porcelain tub, shaking and covered in sweat.

The Unit Chief used to have terrors most nights. After Foyet, all of life’s problems seemed to unravel in his dreams. The sounds and images were so vivid that upon waking up he believed he had done what he’d dreamed. That he’d hurt his family or that Foyet had come back to finish the job.

During hard cases, Aaron would forgo sleep completely, knowing his mind would only haunt him with terror beyond his conscious capabilities. It left him exhausted and agitated for the rest of the investigation. The team and LEOs got frustrated but none had the guts to confront him, except for one young agent who took special notice of his boss.

So Spencer stepped in, and after weeks of getting closer and learning more about each other than they had in the past five years of working together, Aaron digressed and accepted the help that was offered. The following three months ensued so smoothly, the therapy was helping and Aaron couldn’t believe he was sleeping full nights again. He knew it was all thanks to Spencer, who had taken up a very special place in his heart. Aaron knew that Spencer would always be there when he woke up, like an anchor. Something real to hold on to and keep him in place.

It had been a while since Aaron had such a bad episode, luckily Spencer knew just what to do and jumped right into action. Without missing a beat, the younger man climbed into the tub and sat by Aaron’s head, taking hold of one of his white-knuckled fists and gently coaxing it open by rubbing his thumbs from the palm to the back of the hand. Constant pressure, soothing, real. With one hand he threaded his fingers through the brunette’s damp hair, stroking softly at his scalp, willing his nightmare mind to latch onto the familiar touch.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He murmured sweetly like a mantra.

Eventually Aaron’s panicked sobs dissolved into pained whimpers, his body lost some of its tension, allowing for Spencer to gently lift his boyfriend’s head into his lap and off the hard floor of the tub. The whimpers died down to light trembles and Spencer shushed him comfortingly, continuing to sooth him with gentle strokes to his head. Slowly Aaron’s eyes opened and Spencer felt the moment panic set in. The taller man’s breathing quickened and tension returned to his body, frozen in fear. God, Spencer should have turned the lights on.

“It’s just me, darling. You’re home, Aaron. This is home. You’re safe.”

Aaron trembled more, his eyes glazed over as if reliving the nightmare, “Shhh you’re safe.”

Spencer placed a feathery kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead that seemed to anchor him immediately. Tentatively, Aaron looked up at his rescuer, relieved to be in his lover's arms and away from the nightmare universe that had felt so real. He burrowed further into Spencer’s lap, wrapped his shaking arms around his boyfriend’s steady hips. He tried to focus on Spencer’s heartbeat in an attempt to regulate his own. Spencer was warm, Spencer was safe. Always safe.

“Foyet?” Spencer asked cautiously, breath fanning over the older’s forehead. Aaron stilled at the name then nodded. The younger man knows that Aaron needs to talk about it immediately, even if it’s terrifying. It allows him to discern dreams from reality, so that the events and sensations of the night terror don’t ingrain themselves into the man’s memories of reality .

“... and Scratch,” Aaron gulped, “They had Jack. I couldn’t... I didn’t know what was real. Couldn’t tell if it was really Jack. He made me hurt him. Oh god, Spence… I hurt him.” Sobs wracked the pained man’s body once again, unable to forget the horror of the dream. Spencer rocked them back and forth.

“Shh… Jack is fine, he’s at Jess’s. You would never hurt him, Aaron.”

Aaron was spent, he couldn’t muster up the energy to talk. He fell asleep once more in his partner’s comforting hold.

_____

The next morning they woke up with aching muscles from being in the bathtub for so long. Spencer couldn’t help but be worried about his boyfriend. There was definitely something going on, and though he respected Aaron’s privacy immensely, he was afraid of the older man getting into a dangerous situation. Was he sleepwalking to the bathroom? What if he tripped and hit his head on the edge of the tub? But most importantly, why were Aaron’s nightmares leading him to the bathtub?

Spencer nuzzled Aaron’s neck in an effort to wake him up a bit more. “Darling, we need to talk about this.” The worry in Spencer’s voice was audible and prompted Aaron to sit up and sigh deeply. He didn’t think this part of his life would ever come back up to the surface, he’d avoided thinking about it for decades and he didn’t know what triggered the habit to resurface. But now it’s affected Spencer, and he knew he couldn’t keep the love of his life in the dark, but some things were so hard to talk about.

Aaron found himself panicking again, flashes of Foyet and his father clouding his mind once more. Images of Sean taking cover in Aaron’s arms while their father pounds on the bathroom door-

“I know. I-” He was cut off with the sweetest kiss.

“You can take your time sweetheart. No rush.”

Even at this stage in their relationship, Aaron wasn’t used to being treated so well. The kindness that naturally radiated off his boyfriend was enough to make his insides melt, the understanding words never ceased to choke him up. But he knew Spencer would be there to put him back together once he gave him all his pieces. He buried his face in the younger’s neck, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, relaxing into his hold. Spencer wrapped his arms around Aaron’s lean form, offering a safe space. Aaron had never been this vulnerable with anyone before his relationship with Spencer.

After a moment of just holding each other, Aaron’s breathing mellowed out and his voice cracked as he explained everything.

“After Sean was born, my dad started drinking. He’d always been somewhat aggressive, scary even. He- he’d get angry and take it out on my mom… and if she wasn’t there... But when he started drinking it got a thousand times worse. I vowed to myself to protect Sean at all costs, I promised him I would never let our dad get to him. So I took the brunt of it when he was sober. But when he was drunk… he would chase us, try to get to Sean specifically. He was just a little kid 5 or 6, I was 15. He would scour the house to find Sean so I took him and locked us in the only room in the house with a lock… the bathroom. I’d carry Sean in my arms and make a run for it. I blocked off the door with a cabinet and we sat in the tub until he passed out.. My dad couldn’t get in but he would pound on the door so loudly, his voice was so angry-”

Aaron inhaled hard, the grip on the back of Spencer’s shirt tightened and his breathing shallowed. Spencer continued rubbing soothing circles on his back, allowing Aaron to take his time.

“The bathtub was the only safe space for Sean and I. We spent whole nights in there, waiting for my dad to pass out. Sometimes we’d tell stories, play games, but other times we cried and I covered his ears with my hands, not wanting him to hear the horrible things our dad was saying. This went on until I went to college, I tried to take Sean with me but my mother wouldn’t allow it. My dad died a year later, when Sean was 9.

“I- because of that, if any of us had nightmares we’d go into the bathroom and sleep in the tub, because no one could get to us in there.”

Aaron swallowed thickly and timidly looked up to the honey-haired man. Had he sounded pathetic?

But Spencer cupped his cheek once again and kissed him lovingly.

“Thank you for telling me. You’re the strongest person I know, Aaron. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.”

Aaron’s heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through his chest. He swallowed down all his uncertainties and let Spencer in, he was proud of himself. Both of them yawned in succession, still exhausted from last night and uncomfortable from sleeping in the bathtub.

With a cheeky grin the younger man announced, “Let’s go to bed, I’ll get us the day off.” Aaron was so grateful.

While he called in sick, Spencer had an idea, and he knew just who to call.

_____

“Boy Wonder! How wonderful to hear from you on this frabjous day! We miss you and the Bossman dearly. We are definitely… working. Work is happening, and we’re doing it, and it’s getting done. You can trust me on that. Definitely no piñatas in the break room, where would we even find one on such short notice? Emily doesn’t even know where to get balloons! Anyway, what magical service may I bestow upon thee today, my little lord?”

Spencer bit back a chuckle, “Hi Penelope. Listen I need some advice on… interior decorating-”

Immediately, he got cut off by a squeal, “I’m on my way!”

“No! Garcia- after work-”

The line goes flat.

“Dammit. I should’ve just texted JJ.”

_____

Despite her best efforts, the rest of the team did not let Penelope leave the BAU for a ‘design emergency’. Fortunately for Spencer, that gave him some time to plan what he wanted to do while cooking lunch for his sleeping beauty.

After a full meal of soup and grilled cheese, Hotch retreated to the living room hoping to watch some History Channel with Spencer. They love watching the conspiracy shows together and debunking the awful propositions. Though Hotch learned quite surprisingly that Spencer is very open to the idea of aliens on Earth. However, he has a suspicion that that’s mostly wishful thinking on the part of Spencer's inner child. Nevertheless, it’s adorable and Hotch was excited for it, and waiting patiently for Spencer to finish cleaning himself up.

Before he could question what was taking so long, their doorbell rang a sweet lullabye sound (they had to change it from the awful buzzing that it was- it was too overwhelming for Spencer). Not expecting any company, Hotch was puzzled as to who could be at their door.

“Who is it?” He spoke through the intercom.

“Bossman! Sorry to hear about your incurable case of Work Sickness! If you could let me up, I brought you some warm soup!-”

Spencer bounded through the foyer from the bedroom, practically hopping over furniture and knocking down a flower arrangement, “I got it! I got it!” he heaved frantically.

“Babe, what’s Garcia doing in front of our building on a weekday?”

“Nothing Aar don’t worry about it, Penelope and I are just going out for lunch, see you later!”

Spencer grabbed his satchel and was out the door.

“But- Spencer you just had lunch!” The curly haired man was already running down the steps, “Bye!”

It was Hotch’s turn to be left alone and confused.

_____

In Penelope’s car, Spencer explained his idea to Penelope, without going saying too much about Hotch’s nightmares. In true Penelope fashion, the bubbly bits-and-bobs connoisseur knew the perfect place to get what Spencer needed. Penelope dragged Spencer around the independently-owned home goods boutique like a lost puppy for about two hours. She ended up with more bags for herself and Sergio than what Spencer needed.

A few texts and one missed call from Hotch wondering what the hell was taking Spencer so long prompted them to leave. Spencer thanked Penelope in front of their apartment and air kissed her goodbye, promising to show up at girl’s night next week..

Spencer walks into the foyer as quietly as possible and hides the bags behind the living room’s entertainment center.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah! I’m home!”

Aaron walked out of their bedroom with a soft smile. His round glasses were on, meaning he’s been reading… or looking at case files.

“Are you going through the case?” Spencer scolded.

The bespectacled man didn’t waver. “There’s something the victim’s parents said that doesn’t add up, they said that every Thursday Mandy went to soccer practice after school and swim practice in the next town over in the evenings. She takes the bus so if the unsub was stalking her he’d either have to take the same bus and risk getting caught or have a car- which goes against our age profile- so that would mean there’s someone driving him. Spencer, there are TWO unsu-” He was cut off by being pulled into a kiss. He hummed into it and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s slender waist, pulling them closer together. When they pulled apart Spencer whispered “Two unsubs. The team knows, they’re working on it. You-” he tapped his finger on the older’s chin for emphasis, “need to relax today.”

The resulting pretty pout was swiftly kissed away. None of that now.

“But I don’t know how to relax. I’m Aaron Hotchner, stoic as a statue, stern glare extraordinaire, Mr. Emotionless…”

Spencer rolled his eyes and trailed his hands down Aaron’s hard chest, “I know how to make you relax…” The other man grinned “Oh is that right?” Spencer smirked and led his boyfriend to the couch.

_____

That night when Aaron was gone to bed, Spencer quietly retrieved the bags from behind the TV and set his plan in motion.

_____

He’s trembling. And he can’t recognize his own thoughts, he can’t think straight, all he can see is his son- and Haley with terror written all over their faces.

He barely registers the sound of Jack’s wailing because, as if from right behind his ear, he hears a voice that he interprets as his own thought ‘shoot him’.

‘What?’

‘Pull the trigger’

He looks back up to his sobbing, terrified son, and without hesitation- click- BOOM-

Aaron bolted up from the bed, gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the dark. Jack? Where is he- Jack ohmygod-

His vision landed on Spencer’s sleeping form, breathing shallowly and folded into himself like a pretzel, sleeping soundly like an angel. Spencer. Real. Safe. He took a deep breath to regulate his heart. In for 4, hold, out for 6, repeat. This was exhausting.

Groggily, Aaron slipped out from under the covers and headed to the bathroom to get a drink of water and maybe splash his face a little. He thought of getting into the bathtub for the comfort he desperately needed right now, but he’d be embarrassed if Spencer found him in there again. Who does that? But nothing could have prepared Aaron for the sight before him when he opened the door.

Lights. Yellow, green, purple electric lights on strings, illuminating the room in a beautiful calming glow. They were suspended from the curtain rod of the bathtub, taped to the walls. Gorgeously scented candles perched on the sink, some on the ground, a few tea lights lining the edge of the tub. It smelled glorious and comforting and Aaron couldn’t tell what it was. Pine? Sandalwood? Campfire?

The most breath-taking part was the inside of the bathtub. Patterned sheets hung from the walls and draped over to form a delicate roof. Fluffy pillows perfectly laid out to coat every inch of the porcelain interior, and soft blankets piled on top for added comfort. Lights lined the inside of the sheet tent as well, it looked fantastical. Like something out of a book.

Aaron was floored, to say the least. Was this what Spencer had been doing today? He was flooded by a new emotion, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Spencer had done all of this for him? To make him feel safe?

He was still standing just barely in the room, taking everything in and getting emotional when he heard soft footsteps behind him and felt Spencer’s long arms slink around his waist. A chin hooked over his shoulder and a kiss was pressed to his neck.

“Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

Aaron nodded, “You did all this… for me?” A tinge of awe decorated his voice.

“Yeah,” his boyfriend whispered back, “So you don’t hurt yourself when you sleep in here.”

Aaron felt stupid for ever thinking his wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend would ever feel embarrassed by him. Of course Spencer took everything he admitted seriously, of course Spencer cared about what he’s been through, Spencer cares… that's what he’s been feeling. Taken care of. Important. For once in his life, he feels like he’s allowed to let himself be loved.

The stunned man seemed to be frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. His mind was overwhelmed with love for his boyfriend. Spencer pulled away and grabbed the older’s hands, Aaron let himself be led to the makeshift fort.

They climbed in together, careful not to knock over any of the burning candles. Spencer settled on one end of the tub and pulled Aaron into him before he could even think of not cuddling with him. He made space with his legs for his boyfriend to settle between, chest pressed to back, arms wrapped around his love. Safe, warm, and comfortable in a sea of cushions like twin yolks in a shell.

Laying here, in his lover's arms, surrounded by low tranquil lights, and the gentle rise and fall of Spencer’s chest, Aaron felt as serene as he’d ever been. Spencer slid warm hands under Aaron’s shirt, bringing one up to rest cozily on his heart. Aaron turned his head and nuzzled further into Spencer’s neck, feeling the familiar tingle of the man’s touch and murmured a low hum of approval.

Spencer’s other hand, that wasn’t on Aaron’s heart, was used to tip the taller man’s chin up to look at him.

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind,” he cooed, “sometimes it’s impossible to take yourself out of that world. But in our home, Aaron, I want you to feel safe and protected at all times. I want you to be vulnerable and unashamed. You’re free to be everything you are in here, and I hope that you feel you can be everything you are with me, too.”

Aaron lost himself in his partner’s deep gaze, glorious hazel eyes boring into him. Completely enamored by the words spoken to him, all he could do was nod and lick his lips, trying to regulate his heart rate for a completely different reason now. Spencer had never been so… authoritative before and his sincere but stern tone sent thrilling sparks down his spine. A blush rose up his neck.

Spencer tracked the slow movement of Aaron’s tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and didn’t fight the impulse to drag his thumb over it. “You’re always safe with me.” He barely whispered before angling his head down to catch those lips in a languid kiss. Aaron sighed into it, waiting a little while before pushing himself up to fix their awkward angle. He positioned them so that Spencer was laid down flat on his back, allowing Aaron to lay between his legs once more, chest to chest. They tangled themselves in each other, lips colliding again like a match to a box, igniting a fire in the both of them.

Both were still tired from waking up in the middle of the night, but the desire coursing through their bodies was a more pressing matter. Spencer lifted his hands to frame his lover’s neck and wrapped his legs loosely around his waist, inviting Aaron to grind down onto him, both already half hard from the anticipation. Spencer groaned into Aaron’s mouth. A sound that went right to Aaron’s dick.

They explored each other’s bodies with a youthful novelty, eager to feel more skin. Never once pulling their lips apart. Aaron slipped his hands under Spencer’s shirt and shoved it up under his arms, digging his fingers into those delicious hips. Finally he broke away from the kiss to pepper the younger’s face with sweet ones. Aaron’s heart grew three sizes at Spencer’s soft giggles and let out a low laugh of his own. How ridiculous were they, making out like teenagers in a bathtub fort? Neither much cared to answer that question though, because the impatient genius bucked his hips up to meet his boyfriend’s, who was still in his boxers, let’s get those off.

Spencer eagerly reached for Aaron’s underwear and palmed at his bulge just until he heard that impatient sound from him. He pulled the man’s cock out now fully hard and dripping with precum. A groan escaped the both of them at the sight and sensation. They wasted no time in getting Spencer out of his nerdy physics flannel pajama pants, and grinded their dicks together. Lighting sparked right through the both of them, Aaron balanced himself on one arm near Spencer’s head and took both of their lengths into his right hand.

The rub of their slick cocks together was spectacular as Aaron kept a slow and steady pace, making sure to draw out all the best sounds he knew Spencer could make by nipping at his neck, where he knew the younger man was ticklish. Spencer whined at the excruciating pace, turning into a desperate whimpering mess. Making Spencer wait was so fun.

Spencer’s hands find grip in Aaron’s short hair, keeping him close, feeling the pull of Aaron's big hand on his dick and grinding up to meet him. It’s intoxicating bliss, being taken over the edge by the man he loves.

Their worlds minimized to just the slide of their cocks and the lips on their skin. The whimpering man felt the familiar build up in his abdomen, moaning freely now as he chased his orgasm, guiding Aaron’s hand with his own to feel his touch everywhere.

“Yeah baby,” Aaron encouraged, his own orgasm coming on quickly, “Cum for me baby.”

Spencer sputtered his release over both of their hands and stomachs, momentarily suspended in the intense bliss of his orgasm. He laid there spent, feeling like putty in Aaron’s hands, and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. He took his lover’s cock in hand and pumped him quickly, thumbing the head of his dick on each upstroke. Aaron came with a groan and a shudder, his arms gave out. They laid there catching their breaths for a while, ignoring the drying stickiness between them and tracing slow patterns on each other’s skin. They were so lucky to have each other.

“How are we going to shower now?” Aaron looked up and pouted.

“There’s a perfectly good sink just 5 feet away.” They laughed, Aaron pulled a blanket over them.

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

Taglist: @foxtrot91 @physics-magic @ssa-sarahsunshine @hearteyedhotch

#hotchreid #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid x aaron hotchner #spencer reid fic #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds fic #my fic #bathtub au

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aelingalathyniusrailme · 3 years

Text

If you find me on the edge, we’ll jump together

gwynriel pirate au pt 7-god may be a man but the devil comes in the form of a women

check out the other parts if you want :) pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6,

Feyre, feyre, feyre. Feyre fucking archeron. The name of the women before them reverberated through out her body, echoing against her ears, clouding every thought in her mind.

Gwyn was going to rip this bitch to shreds. why must the archeron’s be such a huge part of her life. One she consider her family, the other was love gone sour but the youngest archeron, the pain this women caused her was tenfold to anything Elain could have given her.

She hardened her self to the memories that arouse, let her anger burn through any remaining hope to salvage what they once were.

Her history with the assassin was long but her seconds was longer, she scolded herself for being so selfish.

Gwyn looked over to Nesta and struggled intensely not to go to her. To anyone else she appeared as she always did, cold, indifferent, unbothered. But gwyn saw the slight twitch of her hands, and narrow of her eyebrows. the way she dug her nails into her palms and the almost imperceptible change of her breathing. This unexpected visit had shaken her second and Gwyn knew first hand she didn’t do well when she wasn’t in control.

Nesta permitted seeing her sister all of once a year and gwyn had forced her to spend an hour with her just a few short weeks ago.

And while she was looking at Nesta, Nesta was staring at the strange interaction going on between Feyre and The Shadowsinger’s own second.

Gwyn’s mind was spinning, going over every way this could possibly go wrong, there were quite a few if shew as being honest. Her gaze cut to Azriel, his features gave away nothing except she knew recognition when she saw it.

Azriel did not know her, but Rhys sure as hell did.

Feyre’s eyes locked with Rhys’s, there was tension there, hatred even if they couldn’t look away.

“You look as radiant as ever Feyre, darling.” His voice was light, it was teasing with a hint of mockery. Although it would be impossible to dispute that Feyre was beautiful, even in the dingy light of a grotesque bar she couldn’t help but draw the eye to her.

Feyre could never be anything short of perfect. The irony of her being a trained murderer was not lost on anyone that knew her.

“You look about as well as the bottom of my shoe.” Her features were one of practiced disgust. And yet she was in a room with some of her greatest friends turned enemies and all she could do was stare at that boy. “What the hell are you doing here Rhysand?”

“I happen to find that the daily bouts of my life are none of your business anymore.” anymore. Clearly there was history here, but exactly what kind? Romantic or platonic, romantic or platonic.

Feyre stared back at him with a glare that could rival icy coldness of her sister, still clutching the lives of innocents on the thin line between life and death. A line she knew all too well.

This was going to be so fucking annoying. So gwyn took the opportunity to interrupt whatever that was, plastering a grin to her own face as she drawled, “Feyre archeron, so unlike you to be so distracted you don’t even say hello to a dear friend,” Gwyn gave her a look of mock surprise, “by a boy no less.”

She turned towards her with distain, “Yes, my apologies, hello Gwyneth. You too sister.” Nesta remained silent, thankfully, in order for all of them to walk out of here alive her second had to keep swords to herself.

“I remember mentions of a chat?” Azriel supplied quietly.

Feyre’s mood brightened, “ah yes thank you for the reminder, we were getting off track. I have a proposal.”

While she spoke, Gwyn’s eyes met Azriel’s from across the room. I know what you are about to do and I need you to please just follow my lead. Gwyn knew as well as any that the eyes told stories, she was praying that this wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

She needed her pirate enemy on her side. I’ll be damned, gwyneth berdara used the word please.

You are despicable.

You love it.

Over my dead fucking body.

No need for the language your majesty.

I’ll use whatever language I want.

Azriel inched closer to Feyre, slowly pulling out a knife.

Stop, Azriel you have to stop. gwyn pleaded with her eyes.

Why? There’s almost twenty of us.

Yeah, we would need an army of hundreds to defeat that women.

Azrie scoffed, that’s impossible.

Beyond her being the greatest assassin of our generation, she’s-

Gwyn could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. She watched as he slowly but sure connected the dots, noting the way she radiated power.

I’ll be damned, she’s fae isn’t she?

That women can kill you without even lifting a finger.

Oh Berdara are you worried for me?

Gwyn was about to respond when her senses kicked in and she noticed it was abnormally quiet. She forced her gaze away from azriel’s to find everyone staring at them.

“It’s almost as if you want me to slit their throats.” Feyre sighed. “Now are you two done?”

She stayed silent so Feyre took it to mean continue, but really Gwyn was just contemplating all the ways she could cut out her vocal cords.

“Anyways, back to my proposition. Under the law, pirates are considered criminals, however her great majesty, the queen turns a blind eye to the deeds of your...folk.” She sounded disgusted.

“And here I was under the impression that you murdered for a living.” Nesta responded.

“I murder for the sake of the greater good, you murder for fun. We are not the same.”

“You are a delusional coward.”

“And you are nothing, not even worth an insult.” Feyre laughed. “At least our imbecile of a sister had the curtesy of retaining some magic, but you dear sister could not even light a flame if your life depended on it.”

“Ah yes Feyre Archeron the greatest assassin to ever live, a puppet on a string still craving the validation of a queen who cares nothing for you. Poweful fae who falls to her knees for the very same you think yourself better than.” Rhys to his credit did not react to the clear insult.

“You, my dear sister, are so much less than nothing,” She tilted her head and smiled, repeating her words. “and you believe you are everything.” Feyre grip on the knives she was holding tightened against the throats of Tarquin and Viviane. “It’s pathetic really cause you’re the only one.”

The archeron sisters stared daggers at each other, each refusing to back down.

Gwyn’s mask changed from insane adventurer to the pirate captain she occasionally had to be.

Her voice turned icy, her posture straightened, and she clenched her jaw, “Nesta stand down.” Gwyn ordered, dominance infused in those three simple words. She turned to Feyre, “How about we discuss in private where family and ex lovers do not intervene.”

“And ex friends are better?”

“Oh Feyre, sweetie, don’t get it confused, you are clearly here for a reason, my only concern is, have you come as my enemy or as my ally?”

“Me holding your crew hostage doesn’t give you a clue?” She droned.

“I’ve known you far too long to ever be fooled into making assumptions of your intentions.”

“I’m glad somebody here has some semblance of a brain.” Feyre shot a look in Nesta’s direction and then one to Rhys. “Now I am going to let you two go,” Feyre purred. “But do not mistake that for safety. Captains come.” Gwyn rolled her eyes to Azriel

What are we dogs?

Obviously we pale in comparison to the greatness of this women.

Gwyn laughed before she could stop herself. Everyone in the silent bar turned to look at her. Gwyn stared right back refusing to be embarrassed although she felt color flushed her neck. Azriel flashed her a smile, one that would send any ordinary soul to their knees. But gwyn wasn’t any ordinary soul, right?

They followed Feyre into the back room, watching her sit on the chair like a throne before speaking, “As I was saying my queen overlooks your faults for various reasons of her own but this fairytale you are chasing must be put an end to.”

Azriel crossed his arms, “and why is that?”

“Like I said the queen has her reasons, however, she is willing to make a deal with you two.”

“No.” No, no, no. Gwyn was done with the queen. Forcing the memories down her mind reacted like a moth to a flame repeating the mantra that got her to where she was today, never again she promised herself, never again.

Feyre ignored her. “Her majesty is willing to absolve you of all your crimes and keep both The Shadowsinger and The Silver majesty extremely well off for the rest of your lives.”

“What’s the catch?” Azriel questioned.

“You pirates, always so untrusting.”

“What’s the catch?” He repeated through gritted teeth.

“You allow the huge hall to be conquered in the queens name.”

“Why would we ever do that?” Feyre was many many things but she was not an idiot. There is no reason for her to ever believe either captain would agree to the fools bargain. So she waited for her to play the rest of her hand.

Feyre laughed as if they were beneath her. “Because you need me.”

Tagging: @imsointobooks @meher-sumedha @himadrij @gwynrielsupremacy @ipsa-est-lux-plenae @flora-shadowshine @allthebooksunderthemoon @valkygwyn @bookish-isha @lattristantketchup @generalnesta (If you want to be added or removed please let me know)

#gwynriel #gwyn berdara #azriel #gwynriel pirate au #if you find me on the edge we’ll jump together #feysand #nessian #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #rhysand #cassian #emerie #pt 7

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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part 3 of Escape Your Destiny (Star Wars Wangxian AU) - on ao3 or tumblr part 1, part 2

He had been right to reject seclusion, Lan Wangji thought grimly. The sweet siren call of calm contemplation had nearly seduced him, the Dark Side seeking to eat away at him through other means now that anger and hatred had not done the work – he would have meditated himself into a stupor, becoming little more than a vacuum within the Force, a black hole of deathly intent.

More than that, though, he would have missed – this.

This disaster.

Wei Wuxian’s lips were pale from blood loss and hypothermia. Two of his limbs were at odd angles, probably broken, and Lan Wangji feared that there were more like them beneath the body that was bruised like a tender peach – he had been shielding as many people as he could, Lan Wangji knew, because he knew his Wei Ying too well to think that he might have done anything else.

Lan Wangji still didn’t know all the details, what exactly had been the disaster or why Wei Wuxian’s starfighter had crashed when he knew (with painful recollection) exactly how good a pilot Wei Wuxian was, but it hadn’t really mattered. Xue Yang had rushed into his chamber shouting excitedly - not exactly a rare event - saying something about an alarm and a disaster and a crash and can I have one of these gadgets? possibly two, maybe, I’m thinking two but haven’t really committed yet, it’s a big decision you know, and Lan Wangji’s blood had run cold when he realized what alarm he was referencing.

(A proper Jedi would never have tagged the object of his affections like an endangered bird or a criminal, injecting the tracking chip so deep into bone and muscle that standard scans wouldn’t pick it up and even in-depth scans might register it as a naturally occurring aberration. A proper Jedi would think of such intimate surveillance as cruelty, dehumanization, the caging of a free bird –

A proper Jedi wouldn’t have known what happened.

A proper Jedi wouldn’t have been able to rush over at once, wouldn’t have been in time to retrieve the body from the wreckage, finding it still warm and breathing but swiftly fading into the Force.

A proper Jedi would have been worthless.)

“That looks pretty bad, Master,” Xue Yang said, the comm crackling in his ear, and for once his tone was almost solemn. Perhaps the lessons on empathy were working, following the introduction of the rancor Xue Yang had named Chengmei with an expression so pained and vicious that Lan Wangji had refrained from asking. Perhaps it was that he’d grown so obsessed with his pair of bounty hunters and their foundling assistant, a little not-blind Bothan girl who liked to mouth off at him. Or perhaps it was just something as simple as knowing that if Wei Wuxian were lost, Lan Wangji would have no reason to –

No reason to anything at all.

“It is within the limits of what a bacta tank can heal,” Lan Wangji said, because it was, it would be, as long as he got him there in time.

Time that was swiftly running out.

Later, when Wei Wuxian was safe, Lan Wangji would return to that obscure little space station that had nearly caused his beloved’s death and he would find out what had happened properly. He would find out, and he would slaughter every one of them that caused it, torment them for days if he needed to in order to know who to blame – it didn’t matter if their contribution were accidental or deliberate, major or slight. He would offer up a sacrifice of their suffering to the Dark Side, as solemn as lighting a stick of incense at a temple –

When Wei Wuxian was safe.

Because he would be. He had to be.

Lan Wangji’s Wei Ying would not die so easily.

“Uh, Master? We don’t have a bacta tank.” Xue Yang was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know that many people around here that do. This is Outer Rim, remember? Not even the Hutts have one.”

“There is one in an outpost in the Quiberon sector,” Lan Wangji said. His attention was split between piloting their stolen ship as fast as he could and monitoring Wei Wuxian’s vital signs. He had transferred a certain amount of energy into him already, but the Dark Side was poisonous in overly large quantities, especially if one was not accustomed to it; a pure Jedi like Wei Wuxian couldn’t tolerate it, and Lan Wangji would not risk making him worse. “Inat Prime system. I’ve entered the coordinates. Set us up for a jump to lightspeed.”

“Inat Prime,” Xue Yang repeated, instead of doing as he was told. “Isn’t that – near Rothana?”

Lan Wangji said nothing.

“Rothana’s a manufacturing planet. Heavy engineering – warships. It used to belong to a subsidy of the Jin Engineering Corps, maybe still does, I don’t know, but either way manufacturing planets like that are where those sleemos keep their precious IP. And that means it’s going to be guarded and booby-trapped up your chubba. Who in their right mind would set up an outpost anywhere near there?”

Xue Yang was descending into Huttese slang again, Lan Wangji noted to himself, keeping his calm only by sheer force of willpower even as the Dark Side screamed in his mind that now was the time for rage and pain and blood. Given his hatred of the entire species, Xue Yang only did that when he was especially anxious and didn’t want to admit it.

Later, when he didn’t have more pressing things on his mind, Lan Wangji would have to inquire of his apprentice – which he had previously believed was as transparent to him as a sheet of transparisteel – how he had learned about things like top-secret Jin Engineering manufacturing planets and IP and such things like that.

Later. Right now, he didn’t care.

“Prepare for jump,” he said again, the threat in his voice clear, and this time Xue Yang scrambled to obey, mumbling curses as he went. This was more typical of Xue Yang, but in this case it signified that he was concentrating, and that was all Lan Wangji cared about.

The rest of the trip passed as if in a daze, time counted in the beats of Wei Wuxian’s heart. Still strong, because Wei Wuxian was strong – this wouldn’t be the end of him. It wouldn’t.

Lan Wangji would make sure of that.

“We’re here,” Xue Yang said, breaking through Lan Wangji’s extreme focus on the rise and fall of Wei Wuxian’s chest. “I’m going to guess that our destination is the third planet? If you can call those other ones planets, they’re barely more than asteroids…”

Lan Wangji hummed, affirming.

“So, you going to tell me what this place is? Some super-secret Sith hideout?”

“No.”

“Smuggler’s base? Bounty hunter lair? Mandalorian terrorist cell? Clone factory?”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. Xue Yang had been reading too many historical action comics again.

“No, but seriously, Master! I deserve to know what we’re getting into, don’t I? What is this place?”

Lan Wangji was tempted to say you deserve nothing but what I give you, you filthy-tongue swamp-rat, but that was the Dark Side speaking, not him, and not only because the Gusu Lan Jedi order in which he had been raised did not permit cursing. It was simply anathema to him - he was Sith, but not a Lord, and he had encouraged this self-same insolence because it was better than having Xue Yang cringe before him like a kicked dog.

No matter how irritating it might be at times like this.

“It’s Jedi,” he said shortly, and to his amusement that actually shut Xue Yang up for a solid minute.

“I’m sorry, Master, I think I temporarily went insane due to Dark Force poisoning,” Xue Yang finally said. “But did you say that we’re planning on popping over and ‘borrowing’ the bacta tank of a bunch of Jedi?”

“Mm.”

“Master. Master. Please tell me you remember that we’re Sith, right? Sort of the sworn enemy of the Jedi? Arrest-on-sight orders? Any of this ringing any bells here? No? In short, have you lost your mind?”

Lan Wangji took Wei Wuxian’s pulse again. It was getting increasingly thready; he frowned.

“Take us in,” he ordered, and Xue Yang made a whining sound not unlike an especially agitated cat, but he obeyed, finding the planetary base and flashing them with a urgent medical attention required signal and transmitting the passcode Lan Wangji recited to him.

The base opened its doors in silent invitation.

Xue Yang took them in, apparently resigned to his fate and determined to pointedly suffer and judge him without saying a word.

This determination cracked the second they passed through the gates.

“Master!” he shrieked. “Master, Master! That’s the Qinghe Nie emblem!”

“It is,” Lan Wangji agreed. Foreseeing Xue Yang’s next question, he added, “It is here because this is an outpost of the Qinghe Nie Jedi order.”

Xue Yang sounded a bit like a rusty door when he hyperventilated, and even more so when he started laughing hysterically. How had he ever survived being a Sith before, if this was how he reacted to stress?

“Great, right, yes,” he said, nearly howling. “Sure, why not? Let’s go knock on the door of some Jedi and ask them for a bacta tank like we’re borrowing a cup of sugar, sure, okay, we can do that. Jedi are chumps, they’re all about mercy and sympathy and bantha fodder like that; we can con ‘em - it’ll be tricky, but it can be done when you’re in a pinch. I’m fine with that, up for it, it’s cool, all cool. You know who we can’t con? Qinghe Nie, that’s who. ‘Suppress evil no matter the cost’ Qinghe karking Nie.”

Lan Wangji ignored him, scooping Wei Wuxian into his arms and heading out into the saber hall.

Three grim-faced Jedi dressed in the immediately identifiable colors of the Qinghe Nie were waiting there, hands on their lightsabers and droids lingering in the corridors, but they did not attack. Instead, they led Lan Wangji, a nervous Xue Yang dogging his heels, to the medical bay, never uttering a single word.

The medical droids took Wei Wuxian from his arms – Lan Wangji forced himself to recall the Lan sect mantras on restraint and allowed them to do so without ripping out their wires for daring to touch him – but it wasn’t until Wei Wuxian was firmly encased in the bacta tank, the oxygen-rich liquid flowing into his lungs to heal him, the colors on all the screens all showing positive signs, that he was finally able to release the breath it felt that he’d been holding since he first saw the broken starfighter that encased Wei Wuxian’s broken body.

This was fine.

“Wangji,” a low voice said from behind him, and Lan Wangji’s back stiffened.

This was not fine.

The Qinghe Nie were a strange order of Jedi – almost heretical, really, by any traditional measure. The orthodox Jedi order, for the most part, valued calm and serenity and selflessness, prioritizing the logic of the mind over the yearning of the heart, preaching detachment from worldly concerns and attachments…

Qinghe Nie, in contrast, valued righteousness, and cultivated rage.

Halfway to Sith, Lan Wangji’s uncle had once remarked after a glass of something stronger than tea. He’d regretted it later, of course, and tried to walk it back, smooth over his uncharacteristic rudeness, but Lan Wangji still remembered.

The adherents of Qinghe Nie were of the view that for every virtue there was a fault – that the Jedi’s emotional remove would at times render them passive, that self-control could too quickly shade into indifference. They argued that it was the duty of the virtuous to be enraged by evil, intolerant of it, and that only through that anger would they be motivated to act to eradicate it.

Their philosophy often led to their deaths, whether through reckless action or through the corruption of rage into madness, but even their harshest critics had to concede that they were devastatingly effective.

Lan Wangji had always thought that there was something heartbreakingly sincere about all the Jedi that took the harsh vows of Qinghe Nie, each one willingly trading away long lives for the sake of righteousness, for the ability to make a change in the world, each one unable to tolerate life if it meant they weren’t striving to make things better. Perhaps they did not match the Jiang for creativity or the Lan for elegance, perhaps their techniques were more brutish and less refined, their diplomacy little short of appalling, but no other Jedi order could match them for sheer power.

Very few people wanted to be between a Qinghe Nie Jedi and their target, and still less if they had allowed themselves to succumb to the beserker rage that sometimes took them on the battlefield – indeed, in a crisis that called for force of arms, most people who knew what they were about would rather have a single Qinghe Nie on their side than an entire battalion of war-droids from the Jin or Wen engineering corps.

Still, even that efficiency might not have been enough to convince the ancient sticklers of the Jedi Council to condone such a Sith-like view of the Force, but the Qinghe Nie also had an unsurpassed connection to the kyber crystals that were essential to the creation of lightsabers – the mines under their hands were far more numerous and more fruitful than any other order, and for all that they seemed to have dubious connections to the lightsabers they crafted and wielded, with their highly unusual one-sided edge, they were always open-handed and willing to let other Jedi pick freely from their stores.

With the ancestral weapon of the entire Jedi order at stake, even the Jedi Council unwillingly bowed its head to reality and compromised.

Not very happily. Especially since the fierce young head of the Qinghe Nie order – the great Chifeng-zun, Nie Mingjue – had been constantly causing trouble for them ever since he had been admitted to their deliberations.

More relevantly, though, was that Nie Mingjue was also a good friend of Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji’s elder brother by blood, and it had been the gift of his token, his passcode, never revoked, that they had used to enter through the gates.

(Look what happened to the Twin Jades you prized so much, my old clansmen, Uncle, Father, Grandfather. Look at me now. Begging for scraps from a Nie -)

Lan Wangji turned and saluted, bowing deeply and ignoring Xue Yang, who had progressed so far into hysterical laughter that he was now hiccupping.

Nie Mingjue caught his hands and raised him up, just the way he always had, and that grim face surveyed Lan Wangji from top to bottom, those searing eyes seeming to pierce into the depths of his corrupted soul.

“You look well,” he said, which surprised even Lan Wangji, who had thought himself beyond surprises. “That’s good.”

“What the fuck,” Xue Yang muttered. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck – you guys are with me here, right? This is kriffing insane…”

The Qinghe Nie Jedi ignored him.

“Chifeng-zun,” Lan Wangji said politely, and ignored the man’s raised eyebrow. He was not about to fall back into calling him da-ge the way he’d done back when he was in the Jedi crèche, no matter how tempting – everyone had called Nie Mingjue da-ge back then, too young to be afraid of his fierce and barely leashed energy. “Thank you for lending us temporary use of your base.”

There wasn’t really a polite way to say I wasn’t expecting to run into you here under the circumstances, but from the way Nie Mingjue snorted, Lan Wangji suspected he’d understood regardless.

“Checking up on the Jin,” he said, an explanation that Lan Wangji didn’t deserve to hear. “Treasonous svapers, the lot of them. Is this Wei Wuixan?”

Lan Wangji nodded. His heart was unexpectedly in his throat as Nie Mingjue studied the other Jedi through the glass of the bacta tank, though he wasn’t sure why.

He was Sith now, after all. Why would he care what Nie Mingjue thought?

It would have been easier if Nie Mingjue had been angry at him, full of rage the way he so often was. Easier if he’d turned his tongue as sharp as any lightsaber to scolding him, or turned his face away in coldness. Nie Mingjue notoriously despised the Sith, had probably meant to call the Jin Sithspawn instead of svapers earlier, had probably switched the word only in deference to Lan Wangji’s current occupation – which meant he knew, because of course he knew, there was no way Lan Xichen hadn’t told him even if his position on the Council hadn’t already entitled him to all such secrets.

He knew, and he still persisted in acting like – like –

“Cute enough,” Nie Mingjue commented, and Lan Wangji covered his suddenly burning face with both hands. “You have good taste.”

“Please stop,” Lan Wangji mumbled, mortified beyond all belief. Xue Yang was looking back and between the two of them with his jaw gaping wider than a Gungan’s.

Nie Mingjue snorted, amused. “I carried you around on my shoulders when you were knee high, Wangji. I think I’m entitled to torment you a bit about your crush.”

Xue Yang looked like he was going to forsake the ways of the Sith, convert to Qinghe Nie, and start logging prayers at the temple of Nie Mingjue, and Lan Wangji couldn’t even blame him.

“Don’t you have anything to say about –” Lan Wangji shut his mouth with a snap.

He didn’t actually want to hear Nie Mingjue exorcising him for his choices, no matter how little he regretted them.

Nie Mingjue was silent for a moment, contemplative. “No.”

Lan Wangji blinked, not understanding.

“I don’t have anything to say,” Nie Mingjue clarified with a shrug. “I can’t say I entirely understand why you chose what you did, but we all choose our own paths in the Force, Wangji. I have faith that even though your path leads you to the Dark Side now, it will eventually lead you back to us once more. If you keep your sense of righteousness about you and continue to stand up for what you believe is right as you always have – and avoid engaging in the wholesale slaughter of innocents the way so many Sith do – I will never be disappointed in you.”

…maybe Lan Wangji would allow the people in that spaceport to live.

But only because it would hurt Wei Wuxian to know that he had sacrificed so much for nothing, of course. It was pure selfishness, nothing more.

(The Dark Side hissed in his head, bitter-angry-vicious-hate-hate-hate, but Lan Wangji hadn’t been Hanguang-jun for nothing. He controlled himself, allowing for only the influences he chose to accept – it was his independence that had led him to the Dark Side, and his independence, he believed, that would allow him to forge his own path, as Nie Mingjue had said, even inside the ways of the Sith. His uncle would say that such thoughts were pure arrogance, pride before the fall, but, well. He’d already Fallen, hadn’t he?)

“Would you like to stay with him until his vital signs have recovered?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji nodded, grateful despite himself.

Grateful, too, that Nie Mingjue did not speak of Lan Wangji reconciling with the rest of his old order.

“I will not stay longer,” he added. “I know it must be a burden to you, opening your doors to one such as me –”

“Ridiculous,” Nie Mingjue scoffed. “This is a secret base, Wangji. If you don’t say anything about it, who’ll know? And before you ask, I’m going to tell Wei Wuxian that you saved his life whether you’re here for him waking up or not, so take that into account when selecting your leave time. And I’ll exaggerate.”

He would, too, Lan Wangji thought fondly. Nie Mingjue had always been big brother to all the Jedi younglings, no matter how grown up they eventually got, and he never let them forget it.

“I’ll consider it,” he allowed, and settled into a meditation pose at the side of the room.

“As for you,” Nie Mingjue said to Xue Yang, who straightened up so quickly that he might as well have attached a ruler to his spine. “I hear that you’re the one that’s been attacking Hutt palaces?”

Xue Yang glanced at Lan Wangji, who sighed.

“You shouldn’t encourage him, da-ge,” he murmured. “He gets into enough trouble as it is.”

“Comradery does more to defeat evil than any amount of solitary philosophizing,” Nie Mingjue proclaimed, certain as ever in his own righteousness. It would be unbearably irritating if it was anyone less sincerely bullheaded about it, earnest but full of flaws. “Anyway, it’d be good for some of our padawans to see a Sith in action without needing to go up against one right off the bat. You in?”

“…in? I don’t – there aren’t any Hutt palaces around here..?”

“They take their travelling palaces on the Quiberon Line,” one of the Qinghe Nie Jedi said, and Xue Yang’s eyes lit up at the promise of what he undoubtedly thought was an opportunity for wholesale slaughter. It wouldn’t be, of course, not when he was going to be fighting alongside the strict Qinghe Nie, but it would keep him busy for the time it took Wei Wuxian to stabilize and recover.

Maybe Lan Wangji would even stay long enough to speak with his Wei Ying before retreating to be his silent and unwanted protector again.

Maybe.

#mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #xue yang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #escape your destiny #star wars au

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secret-rendezvous1d · 4 years

Note

What about it being late one night and maybe you can’t sleep and (Spence or MGG) starts drawing pictures in your back with his finger and you have to guess what he’s drawing and you go back and forth until you both get sleepy and fall asleep together. Bonus points if you’re not actually dating yet

So, I watched 68 Kill last night before I went to bed and there was a lot of naked/shirtless MGG in it and it made me feels things and then this came in overnight so-

I changed it a teeny bit so I hope that’s okay.

Friends with benefits.

That’s all they were, with no feelings and no emotions attached to each other, and that’s the mantra that she kept repeating in her head after they’d collapsed on the mattress beside each other and chosen to revel in the silence rather than talk about the elephant in the room. As much as she wanted to reveal her love for him, telling him that he was the only one in her life and that she had eyes for him and only him, he showed no signs of their agreement moving to a new level in their friendship - and she would use friendship as the chosen word for the situation because relationship never felt like the right word to use.

He cast a spell on her and she was stuck. Did she keep it to herself or did she run the risk of ruining something that she enjoyed? That they both enjoyed?

“You’re not asleep.”

“I’m not,” she hums and she can feel his body moving beside her, a flush of his breath feeling hot against her skin as he rolled onto his side and faced her dark silhouette, “I’m not asleep.”

“Why?”

“I’m still running on the high,” she admits and she wasn’t lying; he’d gone extra hard with her that night, teasing her and edging her and bringing her to so many orgasms that she was seeing starts after coming down from her euphoric state, and she could still feel the tingle in her belly and the flutters between her thighs when she was given a brief reminder of the most mind-blowing se she’d ever had. But she wasn’t going to tell him why she was awake nor was she going to tell him why her mind was clouded with feelings towards him. “Have you had blue balls or something?”

He snorts in amusement and she feels his lips press against her shoulder with a soft kiss being left behind, the tip of his nose pressing into the curved bone of her shoulder, a slip of his arm over her belly and around her waist making her move closer to him.

“You just have that effect on me,” he whispers and she begs her heart not to skip a beat but it does and she mentally scolds herself, “you drive me insane.”

And, as well as scolding herself for finding everything about him so cute and so attractive, she wants to scold him for being so soft with her, for being the only guy that treated her right, for being someone who knew how to treat a woman when she needed the right kind of treatment and respecting her when no one else did. That’s what brought her feelings to light.

“Do you want to go again?”

“I wish but it’s already late and I have work tomorrow,” she groans when she feels his hand slip a little closer to her pubic bone, fingertips so gentle as she barely forced him to stop, “Matthew-”

“Shush,” he tuts and grins, stretching his neck to press a kiss to her cheek, “let’s play a game.”

“A game? Matthew, it’s almost 2 in the morning.”

“Just a quick game,” he whispers into her ear and nibbles on her earlobe, a soft moan leaving her throat, “guess what I’m drawing.”

The darkness masks her confusion and she wishes he got a glimpse of it because she had no clue what he was talking about. What did he mean by drawing? Drawing on what? Drawing where? Why drawing?

It’s only when she feels his finger drawing a strange shape across her stomach that she gets a rough idea on what he means. Incorporating something to help take her mind off of whatever was running laps in her mind (if only he knew that she was thinking about him) and incorporating what helps her sleep at night... mindless patterns being drawn on her skin that he had found she loved after the first night they spend in bed together. It helped calm her nerves and she only liked when he did it. He had the touch.

“A fish?”

“Nope,” he grins, continuing the drawing, “close. It’s an animal.”

“A cat?”

He shakes his head and his breath fanning across her face added the hot flush she was experiencing. How could she focus when his fingers kept dipping lower and lower? When those same fingers were deep inside her just a short few hours ago? When he had touched her in the same way when discarding her knickers? If this was the help her sleep, he was far from doing so.

“A spider?”

“Spot on, right answer,” he nods and brings his hand up to the bare skin of her chest, deciding that teasing her was done for and that he could save that for next time, drawing lines up between her breasts and tapping her skin as if he were drawing dots, “this one?”

She shakes her head, giggling when he brushes over her ticklish spots and he snickers into her shoulder, a yawn escaping her lips and filling the silence with sound that hadn’t been their laboured breathing.

“A tree?”

He gasps in mock shock and laughs, “how did you guess?”

“My tired brain works wonders, you’d be surprised,” she admits, rolling onto her side and bringing up a hand to cup his face, “I’m tired now.”

“You are?”

She nods and she’s unsure why because he can’t see her nor can he feel her and she feels a little stupid for doing so.

“Come here,” he coos, wrapping his arms around her so she could cosy into his warmth. Her leg draping over his body whilst her other laced in between his legs, her arms around his neck and his around her waist, his lips pressing against hers, “sweet dreams, baby.”

Yeah, she was definitely in too deep. xx

#matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler chats #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler smut

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pawsitivelymiraculous · 4 years

Text

Damian, the baby assassin, Dupain-Cheng (Part 5)

Hellooo everyone! I'm... somewhat alive. I'm so sorry this took so long to update. Welp, I can't believe that this is the end of the first arc. Thank you guys so much for your support.I wouldn't have been able to get this far without all of you. I´m so excited for whats to come. Also Tysm @beautiful-disasters-sunshine for beta reading this!

<<Previous Next>>

Ao3 Masterlist

So, recap

Marinette kidnapped/adopted Damian after seeing him with Talia in the Miraculous Café. She gives him the choice between staying with her or a non assassin relative. He chooses to stay in hopes of stealing the miracle box, but since that didn’t work he lashed out and tried to kill Marinette and her friends repeatedly. This makes Marinette doubt in herself because she feels guilty about the whole situation. After hearing Marinette cry, Damian runs away confused at the whole situation, but he didn't get far before realizing that he was actually okay with the idea of Marinette becoming his mother. Marinette finds him and they go home.

After that, Damian began to feel more comfortable around Marinette.

Their dynamic changed. No longer was Damian desperately trying to escape, and now that the walls he had built had almost completely crumbled Marinette began to learn more about the boy she considered her son.

For example, she learned that he liked art.

The moment she found out she ran to her favorite craft store and bought all sorts of things ranging from paints and canvases to a couple of sketch books and a variety of pencils.

Damian, of course, tried to tell her how unnecessary it was.

But Marinette ignored him.

She cleared a corner of her studio where she kept all of her sewing machines and the commissions she was working on, and set up the new supplies.

The two could be found on most afternoons peacefully sketching and painting in that room while munching on the leftover pastries from the café.

Another regular activity was to go out to various places to get inspiration for said projects. Whether it was an outdoors market, or a quaint town bordering Paris, Marinette loved to show Damian all her favorite places to visit whenever she needed inspiration.

She loved to see how his brow furrowed in concentration as he sketched. How he used his natural ability to pick up on little details and used it to make beautiful pieces of art.

And of course being the proud mom she was, Marinette hung up all the paintings all around the house, despite Damian's protests. She even taped some of his sketches on her side of the "Creative Room", as Marinette liked to call it, to use as inspiration for her designs.

Damian also continued to go to school. It took a lot of macarons and begging to let the principal of the school allow Damian to go back, and it only happened once they agreed to a reasonable punishment.

Marinette was rather relieved at how difficult it had been to convince them.

It was reassuring to know that the faculty in the school she chose was willing to address the issue instead of turning a blind eye to someone with enough money like they had done when she had been in school.

Also, there was a new addition to the family.

Since seeing Damian look at a flyer of the animal shelter with interest, Marinette suspected that he liked animals more than he was willing to admit.

This was confirmed when she arrived home and found Damian trying to lure a dog out from under his bed.

Marinette obviously allowed Damian to keep the dog and almost burst into tears when for the first time, Damian called her "mom"

Together, they managed to get the dog to come out from where he had been hiding. The poor thing looked so frightened, and kept shying away when they got too close.

Marinette sang a soft lullaby that her mother had taught her hoping that it would help the dog calm down, and it did.

Hesitantly, he walked closer to Damian and eventually let him pet him.

"You're a little survivor aren't you?" Marinette whispered. Looking at the dog who was now falling asleep in Damian's gentle embrace.

A small smile graced Damian's face. "Naji. We must name him Naji" He murmured, taking Marinette by surprise. "It means 'survivor' in arabic. Naji has experienced a lot of difficulties, but yet he survived them all and he has now found his home." He explained.

Marinette didn't think he was only referring to the dog.

~♡~♡~♡~

Marinette paced nervously around the living room as she waited for it to be time to pick Damian up from school.

The reason she was so nervous was because she was hoping to ask Damian if he was okay with being adopted by her.

She had to pull some strings but after waiting for a long time she had finally gotten the permission she needed to legally adopt Damian.

The only question was if he was going to accept.

Naji walked over to her and laid at her feet making Marinette stop dead in her tracks.

Despite being skittish around them, Naji had an uncanny ability to know when either Damian or Marinette was upset. He would usually try to sit near them and eventually he would allow one of them to pet him gently.

It was adorable if Marinette did say so herself.

Naturally, Marinette sat on the ground and patiently waited for Naji to approach her. Meanwhile, she closed her eyes and made herself relax.

It was all going to be okay. If Damian didn't like the idea then that would be fine. It wouldn't change her love for him and hopefully the proposal wouldn't make him draw back to himself.

Naji sat on her lap as she continued to calm herself down.

Finally, Marinette glanced at her watch and saw that it was time to pick Damian up. Giving Naji one final pat, she stood up and got her keys.

The pep talk she had just given herself had become a sort of mantra for her.

When Marinette arrived at Damian's school, she noticed that Damian was with another kid his age. Damian looked somewhat bored as the boy talked.

Nonetheless, Marinette could only feel pride as Damian continued to listen to the boy.

Taking notice of her, Damian excused himself and walked to the car.

"So, I see you made a new friend." Marinette said after exchanging greetings. She was unable to keep a teasing tone out of her voice.

Damian frowned, "I was merely tolerating his presence. I would hardly call that a friendship."

"Yeah, sure. Keep telling that to yourself honey." Marinette replied with a grin. "Anyways, how was school today?"

Marinette listened to him as he told her what he had done throughout the day. When he was done Damian noticed that they were going the wrong way. He told her as much.

"Your right mon petit oiseau" Marinette sighed as she pulled over. "Damian, I have something important to talk to you about."

Damian looked at her, a hint of worry seeped into his eyes. "Is there something wrong, Maman?"

Marinette's heart swelled at the name, it gave her the confidence she needed for what she was going to say next.

"Damian, I love you as my own son. That- that's what you are to me… my son." Damian's concern grew as tears started to roll down Marinette's cheeks. "And I don't care for technicalities or anything," she continued, grabbing Damian's hands between her own. "But… I would like to legally adopt you."

~♡~♡~♡~

Damian could only stare at Marinette in shock.

Being legally adopted by her was something he had never actually considered. He knew how complicated that would be, but if she was asking then… maybe it was possible?

He thought about what it would mean. Perhaps he could change his last name and leave behind his grandfather's legacy behind for once and for all.

Damian didn't think he would ever be able to escape the league. For most of his life he didn't even want to. But Marinette had cared for him more than his own family had.

It would be incredibly stupid not to accept. So with that in mind, Damian made up his mind.

"I… I am not opposed to this idea Maman." Relief flooded Marinette's features "Though I must ask how you managed to make it possible?"

Marinette choked out a small laugh. "Let's just say I'm very persuasive and I have friends in high places."

Yeah, that made sense.

Their time in the courthouse passed by in a blur. When they walked out Damian felt... lighter. Like a weight had been lifted off from his shoulders.

This was his new beginning. Damian felt relieved because he had no doubt that with Marinette's guidance he would be able to right the wrongs he had committed.

He no longer had to fend for his own because someone was going to be there for him. To protect him.

To love him.

And for the first time in his life Damian felt safe.

Past Damian would probably be ashamed of that, but now? Now only felt joy.

Because he was no longer Damian Al-ghul.

He was Damian Dupain-Cheng.

~♡~♡~♡~ TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

@elmokingkong @anjuschiffer, @ii-fox-demon, @justcourttee, @tazanna-blythe, @lozzybowe, @idontfuking, @wannajointhecrabcult, @bakergirl13, @rosalineandrosemary, @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry, @our-preciousss, @consumeconstantly, @jiso-lee, @allthegooddaimenettenamesaregone, @justcourteesuportline, @finallyaniguana, @user00000003, @whydoexamsexist, @justafanwarrior, @violetfandomaddict, @smolplantmum, @fidget-eep, @cadenceh2o, @justarandomtumblerblog, @tomanyfandomsonmymind, @emmathedestroyer, @emotionalsupportginger, @insane-fangirl-of-everything.

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #mominette #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #my trash writing

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justauthoring · 4 years

Text

A MANIC GRIN. [PART FIVE]

PROMPT: After everything the two of you had been through, years of trust, years of love, you’d thought he’d tell you, trust you, confide in you. You’d been wrong.

PAIRING: Josh Washington x Reader, slight Mike Munroe x Reader (best friends) Please don’t plagiarize my work!!

TAG LIST: @itsfangirlmendes - @minigranger - @nari-la-morena - @jovialcat123 - @pretty-and-pink-284 - @sxperncturalimpala67 - @megzdoodle - @thequinzz - @kaelyn-lobrutto24

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR - PART FIVE

“Josh?”

This was crazy. This was absolutely insane.

“Josh!”

Stepping back from Mike and Sam, keeping a distance from them as the two of them rush towards Ashley and Chris, hurrying to untie them; the sound of Josh’s maniacal and terrifying laughter feels like a repeated mantra in your head.

You’d tried to warn them. You’d tried to say something to Sam and Mike. You’d tried to explain but....

Pressing your hands against your lips, his name leaves your lips in a desperate cry. “Josh...”

“Oh, oh, very good!” He cheers, his wide grin never once fading from his lips as he circulates around the lot of them. “Every one of you! Got my name! And after all you’ve been through. Good, good, good, good. I mean, how does that feel? Right?

You don’t think he noticed you. You don’t think he even knows you’re there.

He probably thinks you’re still locked in that room. Away from all of this.

“How does it feel? Do you enjoy feeling terrorized? Humiliated? I mean, panicked? All those emotions that my sisters got to feel once one year ago! Only guess what? They didn’t get to laugh it off! No! Nope! They’re gone!”

No, Josh... No. You’ve got it all wrong. You’ve got it all twisted.

“I don’t know if you noticed this,” Mike speaks up, dark, angered eyes solely focused on Josh and only him. “But none of us are laughing.” He gestures around the rest of everyone else at that. You take another step back into the shadows, somehow feeling that hiding will make you feel better.

It doesn’t.

“Oh come, come-come-come-come. Why the long faces? Come on!”

You wince as he just keeps going; not seeming to catch the hint.

He hadn’t caught it from you. Why would we understand from them?

“It’s good to get the heart racing every now and then, right?” Josh explains, his voice encouraging. “And race they did, I mean, everyone one of you, just pitter-pat-pitter-pat! I hope you appreciated my little phantasmagorical spectacle! I mean, no detail too small! No opportunity missed! It was such a delight to play the puppet master for all of your Pavlovian panic! And all that gore? I mean, gore, there was gore-galore! Fake bodies... I mean, God, that shit was expensive.

“And no retakes! Nope, nope, nope, only double takes! Ah, you should’ve seen your faces. Hook line and sinker. For every little stinker!”

It’s almost like he’s trying to purposely rub it in.

“Josh,” Sam calls, desperate, “why are you doing this?”

“Don’t even ask this squirrely little runt,” Mike huffs, “he’s got no clue. He’s out of his fucking tree.”

“Well, he’s definitely off his meds.”

Your eyes flicker to Chris, relieved, even if only a little that he understands. He’s mad, which you understand, but he knows. He knows Josh. He understands. Understands that while it might seem that way, none of this was necessarily meant to be malicious; he just wanted them to understand.

Josh’s face is blank. He seems lost. “Aw, come on you guys. Revenge is the best medicine!”

“You’re done!”

Your lips part at Mike’s words, moving to take a step forward.

“Mike,” Chris calls, saying what you’d wanted to say. “He’s sick--”

“What?” Josh calls, stunned. “Come on, you guys are all going to thank me when you guys become internet sensations!”

“Wait, wh-what?”

“Oh, you better believe this little puppy is going viral ladies and germs. I mean, we got unrequited love. We got... We got blood! I don’t think there’s enough hard drives in China to-to count all the views we’re gonna get you guys.”

Josh, you plead in your head, just stop.

“What are you talking about you ass hat?” Mike demands. “Jessica is FUCKING DEAD.”

But... But Josh couldn’t have done that... he just couldn’t have.

One look at Josh’s face and you know he didn’t.

“Jessica is dead and YOU ARE GONNA FUCKING PAY YOU DICK!”

You step forward the moment Mike advances on Josh, his name leaving your lips in a desperate plea just as he bashes the hilt of his gun against Josh’s head, effectively knocking him out. There’s a moment of stunned silence, and you’re not sure what to say, but then you remember that this is Mike and he... he has to listen to you.

“Mike,” you call, voice soft, nervous, hesitant. “Mike, Josh didn’t kill Jess.”

Mike doesn’t move. Not at first.

“Mike, please, listen to me,” you plead, desperate. “I-I don’t know what happened with you and Jess, but I know Josh didn’t kill her. He... He couldn’t have. I just--”

And then in the next second, Mike is whirling around to face you, the end of the gun pointed directly at your face.

A chorus of gasps echo, but you barely pay mind to the rest of them, your gaze solely focus on Mike. A moment of stunned silence echoes, the fact that he’s pointing a gun to you seems so incredibly bizarre that you almost feel you’re imagining it. That this is all just one really long fucked up dream and in the next second, you’ll blink and suddenly find yourself back in back with Josh and everything will be okay.

But, you blink, and everything’s the same.

“M-Mike--!”

“How do I know?” He cries, voice twisting in desperation as he shakes his head. And you assume he’s talking about Jessica, about Josh being responsible for her death; but then he says; “how do I know you weren’t part of it?”

And his words surprise you so you stammer for a reply for a moment, speechless, that Chris manages to get a word in before you.

“What?”

You turn to look at the other three. Notice the bewildered looks on Chris and Sam’s face, but then you noticed the hardening glare Ashley sends your way and your heart sinks with the realization that if it hadn’t stung enough that your best friend thought this; he wasn’t the only one.

“Mike,” Sam calls, stepping forward. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Mike keeps his harsh gaze on you. “How could she have not known? How could he have not told her?”

The fact that he regards you as if you’re not even there....

“Just like I didn’t know,” Chris calls, standing up. “I’m his best friend and he didn’t tell me.”

You swallow thickly, turning to Mike. “Please, Mike,” and you take a step forward, only to flinch back when he shifts, tightening his grip on the gun. “Puh-please. Listen to me. I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me. I came up here with you, remember? Because Josh said he had something to do, and I-I told you he wouldn’t tell me. Remember? Please.”

Hands shaking, Mike shakes his head. “How do I know you weren’t lying?”

“Mike, it’s me,” you call, voice pleading, cracking. You press a hand against your chest, shaking your head. “It’s me. We’ve known each other for years. You’ve always been able to tell when I’m lying.” You pause a moment, face hardening. “So look at me and tell me I’m lying.”

There’s a pause, Mike doesn’t say anything.

“Mike,” Sam calls, “this is crazy. I found Y/N tied to the bed, terrified. She was with me until he took her.”

“Yeah, took her,” Mike glares, “how do we know that wasn’t just part of his elaborate plan.”

“Because it wasn’t!” Sam cries, “I know!”

Licking your lips, you take a step forward, this time fighting the urge to flinch as Mike straightens out. “What are you doing, Mike? Are you going to shoot me?”

“What!” He shrieks, faltering. “Of course not! I... I just don’t think we can trust you.”

“You can’t trust me, Mike?” You cry, gaze watering as you shake your head. “Me?”

His lips tremble and his gaze softens.

“I didn’t know. Not before. Not during any of this.” You explain, trying to keep your voice levelled. “And then, when he took me,” you glance back at Sam, “Josh pulled off his mask, told me his plan, told me why he was doing it. I tried to get him to understand, realize he was making a mistake, I really did. But he wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t taking his meds. I thought he was, I really did. But he wasn’t, and he just wouldn’t listen to reason.

“He kept telling me I’d understand. That it’d make sense. But he had to finish first. He locked me in that room and I tried to get the words out when you and Sam found me, but I was in shock, Mike. Disbelief. I mean, I still don’t understand any of it. And then we heard Chris and Ashley and well, then,..”

The rest was obvious.

A moment passes. No one says anything and you don’t dare to take your gaze off of Mike, desperate for him to believe you.

And then, his gaze falters and his lowers his hands and this breath of relief rushes out of you. You step back, pressing a hand to your chest as you glance back at the rest. Sam rushes to you, making sure you’re okay to which you nod to her questions, not really saying anything.

You keep your gaze on Mike.

He moves to Josh, crouching down, and using some of the rope that had tied Chris and Ashley to the chairs to tie his wrists behind his back. He calls Chris over for help before the two of them are hefting him up to his feet, struggling slightly.

“Where are you going to take him?”

The sound of your voice surprises Mike, but nonetheless, he answers. “The shed out back. Until morning. He shouldn’t be left alone, but I don’t want him here.”

His gaze falls on Ashley, and you glance over at her, noticing the look on her face as she regards Josh.

“Okay, then,” you call, pulling back from Sam gently, “i’m coming.”

“What?” Mike blinks, turning to face you. “No.”

“Yes,” you correct, shaking your head. “I’m not leaving him alone. And besides, a few minutes ago you were ready to throw me there with him, weren’t you?”

And by his guilty expression and silence, you can tell he can’t argue anything else.

PART 6?

This chapter is a bit shorter but I really just wanted to get it out and posted for you guys, so I hope you don’t mind!!

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yayteaberry · 3 years

Text

*SFW* Wildflowers (Bakugou)

He hadn’t shown it, but he was very angry with you. An inordinate amount, yet there wasn’t room to do much about it without looking insane.

Your quirk wasn’t something he didn’t notice, it was manipulative and sneaky. The quirk was certainly notable in that he’d never heard of it before that point, someone producing pheromones to influence the people around them accordingly was a powerful thing to have on your side.

But for someone who was trying to become a hero, you had a seriously sadistic sense of humor. He didn’t notice it at first but now it was becoming a problem.

Obviously, you were toying with him.

The reason? He couldn’t say, there wasn’t any discernible gain beyond embarrassing him. Maybe that was the end goal then - keep him from his top performance by distracting him. In the span of two months he’d gone from refusing to memorize any names, to knowing your schedule like the back of his hand, and that was a major problem. It was an unintentional side effect, he wanted to be sure of wherever you were so he could try to prepare himself for your fuckery.

He spent a lot of time trying to recall if he’d known you in the past, why you would torture him like this. Though he never dredged up anything meaningful, at no point before UA had you even attended the same school as him.

At first it was a light annoyance, something he could dismiss as initial nerves brought on by someone who could have power over him.

But it was getting unmanageable, he was wasting his time thinking about your dumbass when he was supposed to be focusing on his studies or counting the number of pushups he was doing.

You can’t be worth all this stress and attention, he knows there has to be an outside source. Why on earth would he feel this way otherwise? Somehow you’ve managed to become his greatest annoyance but also the one person he never minds being around.

Somehow, pft, it was obvious that you’ve been using your quirk to keep him from being a threat, keep him away from being better than you by softening him up.

The worst part of it all was your own passiveness. You acted like you didn’t even know him while doing this to him, rarely looking in his direction and never speaking to him unless spoken too.

He was losing control of his own thoughts, getting visibly upset whenever Kaminari said a single thing about you. For his own sake he just chalked that talk up to Kaminaris delusional teenage antics, as if you’d ever give that freak the time of day. Why did he care? Why should he care? He never felt anything in that degree when Kaminari picked anyone else, what makes you so radically different?

Things were getting messy for him, blurry and confusing, too many questions piling up that had only one answer. You were ruining his mind with your stupid quirk. It’s your own fault! You’ve infested his soul at this point, rewiring him to brainwash him into doing whatever you ask.

Today was the last straw, he can’t take this anymore! Every day he just waits for you to ask him for whatever you’re building up too, knowing in his heart that you’re about to take advantage of what you’ve been planting within him. He’ll be damned if you turn him into a cowering sidekick.

The moment he knew for sure you’d be in your dorm, he made a plan.

Well, ‘plan’ being the surge of adrenaline that filled him at the prospect of tiptoeing around you for the rest of his time at UA, potentially even once he became a pro.

He decided he’d confront you, make you stop, and everything would go back to normal. After this he could finally resume his climb to #1 without your claws pulling him down.

It’s that thought he repeats to himself like a mantra as he speed walks over and kicks the door of your room wide open.

You yelp and nearly jump off your bed, the combination of being scared like that and seeing the boy responsible nearly ejecting your soul out of your body.

“I’m sick and tired of your fuckin’ bullshit!” He stomps inside, kicking the door a second time to close it.

You stifle the urge to scream, scrambling away until your back hits the wall, hands up as you try to defuse the situation. “Wait, wait! Hey now w-whatever you think I did, I swear I didn’t, if you’ll let me-”

“Shut the fuck up! There’s no hypothetical here, you’re fucking with me for fun and if you don’t stop it right now I’m gonna kill you!”, he curls his lip up, sparks lighting up in his palms as he tries to force a confession out of you.

“... What?” You’re completely lost, letting your confusion show as your shoulders drop.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me! Keep playing ignorant and see where that gets you!”, he raises his voice up another notch, taking a step forward. “I’m not an idiot like the rest of those extras, I see what you’re doing! You really think someone as smart as me wouldn’t notice!?”

“I never said you were an idiot! But I swear to god I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You spout anxiously, pulling your knees into your chest, feeling fully cornered.

He just rolls his eyes, closing the gap between him and the edge of your bed. “Oh so now you act all pathetic when I call you out on it to try and get me to feel bad? It isn’t gonna work! I-!”

When he inhales he catches onto the smell in the air, eyebrows knitting together as he feels an instant calming effect from it. “... The fuck?”

“That’s my quirk, that’s what it smells like when I want someone to calm down,” you shakily explain, still holding your hands out like you’re going to have to push him away, sending out as much relaxation pheromones as physically possible.

His shoulders roll back and he stops making his standard ugly expression, face zeroed out in a way you’ve only seen once or twice when he gets invested in something enough to forget he’s around others.

It’s cute, but right now it's more of a sign he’s no longer about to throttle you. “Yeah this is familiar in a way, when we’re in training I think. Guess I never noticed it could be pretty. Usually I’m just pissed that you’re trying to beat me.” For once he’s using an inside voice, which feels oddly personal since you’ve only heard him screaming. It almost seems like whispering in comparison. “So you can choose to make it scented? Masking it so people don’t see it coming is smart. But it’s not so smart now since I know what you’re doing.”

“Mask it? I kinda can’t, the point is that people breathe it in, if they can’t smell it then it doesn’t really work. I really do mean it when I say I have no clue what you think I’m ‘up to’.” You begin to ease off the output, not wanting to knock him out, which you’ve accidentally done before.

“No you have to be, it doesn't make any sense otherwise. You’re doing something or I wouldn’t be feeling this way. Don’t bother lying to me, I’ve already caught you.” He’s still passive but he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head.

You give an exasperated huff, “Feeling what way!”

“It’s so fuckin out there that I’m surprised you don’t use this tactic more in training. It’s totally obvious that you’re doing something to make it so I’m the only one who can smell your stink. You’re manipulating me, otherwise there’s no way in hell I’d be so dopey around you. Why the fuck else would I notice whenever you’re gone? Feel compelled to return your pens that you always drop since you’re such a klutz?”, he speaks as if it’s common fact, rolling his eyes as he continues, “You rope me in daily with these little details that you heighten by using your quirk, and then it’s like you have no idea who I am. Since you’re so comfortable living in my head, you should’ve seen this coming.”

That's much more than you expected him to say, a light pink dusting across the bridge of your nose at the confession he has unintentionally given you.

“I-I can’t remember a single time you’ve done that,” is all you can think to say.

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, lolling his head from side to side as he formulates a response. “It’s just like when return all the shit you drop but you pretend to not notice, and you’re doing the same thing right now. It was confusing at first but now I’m just getting irritated that you keep playing dumb. Stop working your dumb stinky magic to turn me into your lackey, get someone else to do your dirty work if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Bakugou I’ve never done that to you, I wouldn’t!”, you stammer for a half second, making a judgement call on how you should handle this, and deciding to come clean. “I actually… I really like you…. I-I respect your work ethic, how strong you are, confident as well, I wanted to gain your attention through the right ways!” You sit up on your knees and make eye contact with him, trying your best to convey how much you mean what you’re saying. “If I wanted you drooling on my shoes then you would be, but everyone around me would be doing the same, my quirk isn’t selective like that. But I wanted to get noticed by you more than I wanted to chance annoying you as a first impression… I really wanted to have a reason to approach someone like you first.”

“Well that’s a stupid way to go about it. I can’t afford to have these kinds of distractions so if anything you put a lot of effort into just, wasting my time.” He’s nearly hesitating on some words. But he pulls himself together, staring you down for a moment. “So I’m done with this. I’m not doing this anymore, I’m done playing games.”

You can’t understand the logic here.

He comes barging into your room, demanding you stop making him like you against his will, and when he finds out it’s organic plus you feel the same way, he somehow manages to reject you? It stings, a lot.

“Yes or no.”, he sternly interrupts your quickly spiraling thoughts.

“Yes or no..?” Flat out confused for the millionth time, you blink a few times, pulling back the tears that threatened to spill over at his initial rejection.

“I’m not asking again.”, he curtly spits out.

“But what are you asking yes or no for?” You squint at him, unsure and waiting for him to say something along the lines of ‘Yes to dying or no to living’.

“Are we dating or not! Yes or no goddamnit!” He’s blushing brighter than you at this point, eyes pointed to various places in your room where you aren’t, shifting in place uncomfortably.

Suddenly it dawns on you.

Even after hearing your returned confession he doesn’t think you’ll say yes.

“Yes, Bakugou, of course.”, you say with a warm smile, reaching forward to hold his hand.

His sigh of relief as he relaxes his posture strikes you as intensely adorable, though your heart skips a beat when he shoots you a smirk. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

#bakugou katuski x reader #sfw #bakugou katsuki #gender neutral reader #gn reader #bakugou fluff #mha fluff #fluff #a03 fic

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sparkandwolf · 4 years

Note

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep - sterek

One Day He Won’t Be (read on ao3)

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale Rating: General Summary: He was sick and tired of seeing Stiles hurt. He had picked up after Scott’s recklessness, Lydia’s calls of the dead, and Chris’ too eager attacks more times than he would have ever liked. And Stiles - fragile, human Stiles - seemed to always find his way to the middle. Stiles wouldn’t even let Derek use his ‘werewolf healing powers’ on him no matter how many times Derek advised him that wasn’t an actual ability he had.

(Derek left off the part where he would do anything in his power to make sure Stiles was never hurt again when he responded.)

Derek laid Stiles’ still body in the center of his bed, letting his weak neck fall onto the pillow as his arms spread across the sheets. Stiles looked beautiful, as he always did, even with the darkening bruise next to his mouth and the bandaged claw marks on his shoulders. It took almost everything in Derek to resist running his thumb over the discoloration if only to finally feel the softness he had longed after for so long.

He shook his head to rid himself of the thought and reached for the washcloth resting in a bowl full of warm, soapy water beside the bed. It was a wooden bowl with a fox carved into the side that Stiles had bought him a few months prior. Stiles had said it was to remind Derek that every wolf had a fox and Derek still wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Inside of the container, Derek had stored everything he could possibly need to dress a human’s inevitable injuries. It was practically his Stiles Emergency Kit and he hated every time he had to use it.

It was more often than not as of late that Derek was filling the bowl with disinfectant and holding bandages and cloths underneath his arm while his teeth bore down on plastic-wrapped painkillers. He was sick and tired of seeing Stiles hurt. He had picked up after Scott’s recklessness, Lydia’s calls of the dead, and Chris’ too eager attacks more times than he would have ever liked. And Stiles - fragile, human Stiles - seemed to always find his way to the middle. Stiles wouldn’t even let Derek use his ‘werewolf healing powers’ on him no matter how many times Derek advised him that wasn’t an actual ability he had.

(Derek left off the part where he would do anything in his power to make sure Stiles was never hurt again when he responded.)

Stiles looked peaceful any time Derek broke out the first aid kit, as if happy he had someone to take care of him. If it made Derek’s heart swell, no one had to know. Stiles would sit patiently, making lewd comments about their proximity or complimenting Derek’s ability to remain calm around the sight of blood.

“It took me at least four ER visits to stop fainting at the sight of my own blood,” Stiles had said as if it was entirely in the norm for a child to visit the hospital that many times. Derek had always noted as such but Stiles would brush him off with a simple, “I was Mischief incarnate, Sourwolf, what can I say?”

(Derek started calling him Mischief after that and Stiles never told him to stop.)

He hadn’t looked as peaceful at that moment and it took everything Derek had in him to stop his body from trembling. He grabbed the cloth with the steadiest hand he could and wiped away the blood drying on his temple and on his cheek. He was afraid to scrub too hard in fear of waking the fatigued boy or hurting him when Stiles couldn’t even begin to make a sarcastic remark about liking it rough. Derek squeezed his eyes shut as he rested a hand on Stiles’ neck and pulled as much of the pain away from him as he could. Even when it became too much for Derek to bear, he had known there was more buried underneath judging by the discomfort braided into Stiles’ usually soft features.

“Why does this keep happening?” Derek mumbled as he tossed the blood-ridden rag into the bowl a bit harsher than he intended. It slid across the tabletop, stopping just on the edge as if hoping not to wake Stiles either.

Stiles groaned in his sleep and even in a state of unconsciousness, it was as if he was hiding the hurt that must have been enveloping his entire body. Derek had seen it happen and was powerless to stop it. As if catapulted into a vivid nightmare, Derek saw the rogue wolf’s claws embedded in Stiles’ shoulder, his other hand punching Stiles’ jaw with the loudest crack Derek had ever heard. It reverberated through the loft and straight through Derek’s spine like lightning.

It was only when the wolf was sure Stiles couldn’t fight back any longer that he tossed Stiles’ limp body aside without a care in the world - as if he wasn’t throwing Derek’s entire reason for living away like garbage. Stiles slammed into the wall, only Peter’s quick reactions slowing him enough that it didn’t kill him. Derek made a mental note to thank Peter and then decided to cross it off of his list. Peter had done more damage to Stiles than most so it was his turn to save the boy’s life, Derek thought bitterly.

The door opening snapped him back into reality. He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, him gazing down at Stiles as if he was the most precious entity in the universe, but he was sure it was an inappropriate amount judging by the sympathetic look he received from Isaac.

“Is he--” Derek’s glare must have given away his answer to whatever ridiculous question Isaac was about to ask and the beta nodded and sighed as he leaned against the doorway. “Scott was asking,” Isaac responded as if it made any difference. Scott was the reason Stiles was in that position - half-dead and unconscious on Derek’s bed - so he hadn’t deserved to know if Stiles was okay.

“You can tell Scott that--” Derek sucked in a breath as Stiles winced beside him, gasping as if the pain was finally too much as he reached out toward Derek. He gripped Derek’s shirt, tugging him closer as his eyes squeezed shut, only open enough for tears to slip through. Derek shushed him softly and stroked a delicate hand over Stiles’ head, careful to avoid any of his injuries.

When he calmed, Isaac whispered, “He’s going to be okay.” The words sounded so sure, Derek almost believed him. He pulled more pain from Stiles’ tense form again before he glanced over at Isaac and shook his head.

“One day he won’t be,” Derek spat. He knew it was harsh and that Isaac didn’t deserve to have his anger taken out on him as he was so used to, but he couldn’t help himself. All he cared about was that once again, Stiles was broken, and one day Derek might not be able to fix him.

Isaac left quickly after as if he realized that nothing he could say would ease the sting in Derek’s heart or change the sequence of the night’s events so that Stiles made it out of the loft uninjured. Derek would apologize to him later when he was sure Stiles was going to be okay.

He considered his words when Stiles finally relaxed under his gentle coaxing. One day he won’t be. They repeated like a mantra in his head, a cacophony of Derek’s worst fears and anxieties circling around his mind until there was nothing there but terror.

Stiles once asked him what his worst fear was. Stiles said that his was losing his family to the crazy life Derek had always felt responsible for pulling Stiles into. Stiles had tried for so long to keep his dad away from the supernatural world they lived in and it had eventually been too much to hide. Derek would never tell Stiles how much relief he had sensed once the Sheriff was let into it all, though.

It was obvious to Stiles that wasn’t a fear Derek could have anymore and the boy had never been one to deny the obvious. Derek couldn’t help but laugh as Stiles stumbled over his words when he asked the question and he appreciated that Stiles smelled of guilt when he finally finished his stuttering.

Derek hadn’t thought much about his worst fear before then. It used to be losing his family, but then it happened. All at once and then slowly when Laura was murdered and Peter went insane. Sure, he still had Peter, but they both knew it wasn’t the same. He had always known his fears were entirely encompassed in one word; loss. He had never wanted to lose another person in his life and wasn’t sure if he could bear it if he did.

But he had lost Boyd and he had lost Erica and he was still whole. He had gained Cora in the mess of it all, but somewhere along the way, he had realized he could handle losing her. He had made it through the loss of his entire pack twice and he wasn’t sure he could fear anything else anymore.

No, that wasn’t quite true.

He peered down at Stiles’ calm face scraped and covered in bruises and the realization hit him like a goddamn truck.

“I couldn’t handle losing you.”

Once the dam was open, it was as if he couldn’t control the words that flooded from his mouth.

“You were the first person to remind me of my power - the first person to remind me that I was worth anything at all. Even when no one else trusted me, you went against the people you fear losing the most to let me in. You showed me that I didn’t have to be--”

Derek’s breath caught in his throat and he stared down at the unconscious form in front of him. He hadn’t noticed the hot tears on his cheeks until they darkened the material of Stiles’ torn shirt.

“--I don’t have to be defined by what I went through. You understand me better than my family ever did, better than my pack ever could. I can’t handle the fact you’re lying in my bed and even though you’re recovering, my biggest fear is that one day you won’t. One day, you won’t be fine. You’ll be broken in a way I can’t fix. You’ll be gone from my life in a way that I will never recover from.”

Derek let out a dark chuckle as his grip tightened in Stiles’ shirt, covering the emotions he rarely let slip. He realized that Stiles had been the only member of his pack to see him cry. He had kept their late-night talks - when Derek would sneak into Stiles’ room just to let himself feel for a moment before leaving with a newfound sense of peace - entirely to himself even if his family or best friend questioned him on it. When Boyd was killed, Stiles was by his side, hiding Derek’s vulnerability from anyone who could take advantage of it.

“Somehow you became the only person in the world who knows me inside and out and Stiles-” Derek breathed his name as if it was the most important sound in the world, “-my only fear in this life is losing you.”

The immense relief that washed over Derek as he sobbed into Stiles’ steadily rising and falling chest was almost too much for him to manage. As much as he had tried to tell himself that the reason he had to go through everything his life had thrown at him was so that he could live on fearlessly, he had known it couldn’t possibly be true. No one was fearless in their world - especially in a world where there was so much unknown - and Derek could never have been the exception to that rule.

But he looked up at Stiles and wished that he could be. He didn’t want to be afraid of losing Stiles because it seemed as though all of his fears always came true. That night was one step closer to him having to find something else to be afraid of after that fear came true and he knew he wouldn’t survive even a day without Stiles in his life. Every time he restocked the wooden bowl was a reminder of the eventuality of him not needing it anymore. Every time he washed his sheets of Stiles’ blood was one step closer to no longer smelling Stiles’ scent littering the air of his bedroom - of every molecule of air he breathed.

“You wait until I’m unconscious for a confession like that?” A whispered voice strained from above him. Derek shot up, his hands wiping away the tracks of tears that he couldn’t seem to stop from falling. Derek opened his mouth to argue - to somehow backtrack all of the truth he had admitted without his consent - but Stiles stupidly tried to sit up and groaned in discomfort as Derek pushed him back down.

“I won’t talk if you promise not to move,” Derek pleaded as he cupped Stiles’ warming cheek in his hand. Stiles lifted his arm but before Derek’s glare could deter him, he wrapped his fingers around Derek’s wrist softly and leaned into his touch.

“I think I deserve a chance to respond, don’t I?” Stiles asked and who was Derek to deny him? “You can sit there and deny everything you just said, but I won’t sit here and accept your lies - and yes, I know that’s what you’re going to do,” Stiles said, still straining to find his voice as he cleared his throat. “You wanna know what my last thought was before that werewolf knocked me unconscious?” Derek didn’t, but he stayed silent anyway. “I thought, ‘shit, who’s gonna tell Derek this isn’t his fault?’”

“Stiles--”

“No, you don’t get to say all that romantic shit when you think I’m unconscious and not let me get a word in,” Stiles stated, his gaze hot on Derek’s. “You might fear losing me, Derek, but you know what I’m most afraid of?”

Derek wasn’t going to say anything, but Stiles urged him with that raise of eyebrows that always got Derek talking and he whispered, “What?”

“I’m afraid that you are never going to believe a single word I’ve said to you in the last few months. I’m afraid that everything I’ve tried to pound into that thick skull of yours has barely made it past the surface and somehow, you’re going to blame yourself for the bad things that are - let’s face it - just inevitable at this point.”

“They’re not--”

“I’m lying in blood-soaked sheets and I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out from the pain in a few minutes, so don’t you dare argue with me.”

Derek didn’t. He handed a glass of water and the strongest pain killers he could convince Melissa to prescribe to him over to Stiles and held his head up as he swallowed instead.

“You deserve good in the world, Derek, and from what I’ve been told, I’m pretty damn good. So I’m gonna tell you what you’re not going to do,” Stiles paused for a beat as if waiting for Derek’s argument, but he was done fighting. “One, you’re not going to leave the second I pass out and instead, you’re going to slide into bed next to me so you stop hunching over like you’re in Notre Dame. Two, you’re not going to blame yourself every time I get hurt and instead, you’re going to figure out how to equip me to handle the next bigger, badder evil we’re faced with.”

“Anything else?” Derek asked because Stiles could ask him not to breathe and he would make sure his lungs stopped working.

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered and his breath ghosted across Derek’s face reminding him just how close they were, “you’re not going to kiss me right now.”

Derek froze and furrowed his eyebrows, hoping his disdain and confusion was clear on his face. Stiles laughed but it sounded broken and Derek suddenly remembered how much pain Stiles was probably in. He cursed to himself as he backed away, but Stiles reached out to him and yelped at the movement.

“Instead,” Stiles said as he pulled at Derek’s shirt, “instead, you’re going to wait until all I can feel is you. I can’t associate pain with kissing you, Derek, I already associate it with everything else.” Derek nodded and after a brief moment of quiet, he pressed his lips gently to Stiles’ bruised forehead, letting them linger there until a soft sigh left Stiles’ mouth.

Derek laid down next to Stiles, careful not to rustle him too much as they settled together. He peered over at the boy next to him and felt himself smile for the first time in what felt like hours - it probably was - when Stiles smiled back at him.

“In case it wasn’t clear, I’m afraid of losing you, too,” Stiles said as his eyes slipped closed.

“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them.

Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.”

― Rabindranath Tagore

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #my writing #prompts #sorry this is a bajillion years late!#but i hope the words make up for it 🥺

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naivesilver · 3 years

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top 5 adaptations of the Fairy from Pinocchio? (or maybe top 5 best AND 5 worst?)

I spent so long staring at this and wondering if I even KNEW five good Fairies, but it turns out I do, albeit mostly for asinine reasons. Anyway AHFAKKJKFHAHJKJA thank you <3

Ask me my top 5 anything

Obviously under the cut because I couldn't resist and did BOTH

The salt AKA the worst of the worst first:

1) Piccolino No Bouken

Surprised? I suppose most would have expected me to put the Disney Fairy first, and I did, too, for a while, but as I was sitting in my car pondering this ranking I realized I was SEETHING with rage about this one, so I had to rearrange things a bit. This, guys, is where my Fairy hate begins - not the book, not the Mouse's interference. This woman.

I hate her. I hate her SO MUCH, for all that I love this adaptation more than most things in the world, and that the choices made about her characterization were a huge inspiration for me. Not only does she not send Pinocchio to school, instead teaching him on her own, she is the only one to actively keep Pinocchio from his father - indeed, she makes the choice for them, saying to Geppetto's face that it would be best for the boy to be taught something before he goes back home. Who the hell are you to make this call, uh? You have known him for a day at most! You left him hanging from a fucking tree all night! I wouldn't trust you with a bloody lapdog, nevermind a child!

Also she lets Pinocchio believe she's dead UNTIL THE VERY END. She turns into a bird while he cries at her tomb. Are we fucking serious now? Leave him alone.

(Yes, this is elementary school me howling for revenge. I've been mad about this longer than reason would let me. Sue me.)

2) Disney's Pinocchio

Bane of my existence. I don't know if anyone remembers that pic of me at the Pinocchio theme park I posted a while ago, but basically in that moment they were putting up a little show to tell children a little bit of the OG story, and they asked the audience if they knew what color the Fairy's hair was - a few said blonde, and I, being on stage next to her, distinctly heard her mutter "dammit, Disney". I've been living with that mantra since then.

Nobody asked you to make that puppet sentient, ma'am. He doesn't owe you shit. Aside from that, just like Jiminy Cricket, she ruined her character in a good two thirds of future adaptation. And while we're speaking of Jiminy, WHY did she think it would be a good idea to entrust a little boy to a slime ball such as him? He's too horny to have an ounce of sense. Conscience, my ass.

Basically...begone, asshole.

3) Pinocchio and the Emperor of the Night

This film is so horrible, the Fairy had no chance to be decent at all. A cheap copy of the Disney one, with the addendum that she turns MULTIPLE toys into living beings while holding them responsible for whatever they do after. Basically Victor Frankenstein, but make it a poorly dressed woman from a direct-to-TV movie that shouldn't have existed at all.

-100/10, at least you're pretty, but by God, SHUT UP.

4) Once Upon a Time

Honest to God if she doesn't keep her filthy hands off my faves she's gonna get a slap across the face so strong her Wish Realm self ought to feel it sting. I am not exaggerating.

Seven seasons in, she hasn't done ANYTHING useful that I can remember. She's not even good at her own fucking job! Not only that, she's traumatized and guilt-tripped a good chunk of the population of Storybrooke, including first and foremost my beloved son August. The Pavlovian reaction I had every time she appeared on screen can't be described in coherent words, only in eagle screeches.

She's wrong. On principle, she's wrong. Let's move on.

5) Luigi Comencini's Le Avventure di Pinocchio

Doesn't rank higher only because she's played by Gina Lollobrigida (my beloved). She's book accurate, which means she'd be annoying as fuck as it is, but what little they added only makes her worse.

She has the gall to tell Pinocchio she'd like to see him happier. Like, apart from the fact that the ghost of his father's deceased wife isn't exactly the most reassuring person to hear it from...Said father has been swallowed by a giant fish. You told that boy he's only going to see his father if he studies hard. You keep turning him into a puppet anytime he misbehaves. What did you expect, that he would do the Macarena every time he entered your house? I am honestly too shocked to say any more. What the fuck.

Okay, I've been enraged enough for a single night. Let's move onto brighter shores!

1) Enzo D'Alò's Pinocchio

Enzo D'Alò knows what the fuck is UP!!! The only one with the courage to let the Fairy be a weird little girl - not only for a short time, but up until the end of the movie! That takes guts! Balls of steel!

I've said before that this movie has nothing memorable to it, and it's true, but also...Pinocchio wanted a sister so bad, and the movie gave him one. And they even explained the plot hole of the medallion with Pinocchio's face in it! That's twice as good as the fact that they cut out the most awful parts of her story, which is already delightful.

Thank you, Mr D'Alò. You have my trust until the end of days.

2) The Adventures of Buratino

Speaking of weird girls, this one is officially balls to the walls enough to gain my respect. She's bothersome to Pinocchio, but she's bothersome to everyone and everything, so I'll let it pass. Her role is exclusively to appear out of nowhere and do batshit insane stuff for no good reason at all. A star.

Plus, other than having an handwashing obsession that I've felt very keenly in the past year and a half, she also has a boyfriend - her and Pierrot are the original girlboss and malewife, I'm not accepting any criticism on the matter.

(Fun fact: when I was a young kid I once dreamt that the Piccolino No Bouken Fairy was dating a big, buff and blonde farmhand. He wooed her by gifting Pinocchio a dog. Apparently I've always been very interested in Fairies getting a love life and staying the fuck away from my specialest little boy.)

3) Pinocchio miniseries

"Serena, but you said you were disappointed in this adaptation so many times!" True. But consider: I am also very, very queer, and Violante Placido being motherly and wearing wispy dresses stirred SOMETHING in 11yo me that I can't very well ignore.

In hindsight, she and the Cricket probably had something going on behind the scenes, which is a shame. Miss Fairy, I swear, you could do better than Luciana Littizzetto in an ill-fitting green suit. She's gonna break your heart and lose your puppet charge in a crowd of little idiots. Do me instead.

4) Pinocchio Vampire Slayer

This woman kills monsters - and she's damn good at it! Honestly, so badass, and such a good mother figure too, even in trying times. I don't want to spoil the comic much to those who haven't read it, but she and Cherry are the highlight of the first volume and I am very fond of them. A+.

5) Matteo Garrone's Pinocchio

This one's book accurate, too, but Garrone did something with her that almost burst in tears in a crowded theater. She's awful, and irritating, but she's...she's so human, too. I can't rage against a Fairy that's so impossibly human even during the smallest of scenes. It breaks me over and over again.

Look at her SMILING, for pity's sake, am I supposed to think there's some warmth in the dead lady? Fuck you, Matteo, what did you do to me? I am an honored Fairy hater. You're going to ruin my reputation if you keep this up.

#ask meme #bewilderemoth #pinocchio #the tag needed some more bullshit from yours truly didn't it

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ladyhallen · 4 years

Text

Holding Secrets Like a Crystal

Read on AO3|FFN

Monica Elshett wasn’t always a telepath.

That happened later, when she fell out of a tree and started hearing people’s minds.

No. Before the tree, she was an ordinary child that was just extra perceptive and sensitive to people around her. A broken branch and gravity seemed to open her mind to other things that everyone else couldn’t hear.

She handled it as well as little girl usually did to strange and impossible things.

She bawled her lungs out.

It was very lucky that Monica was a very smart child.

The next few years after The Incident, as she’d taken to calling it, had solidified the need for cleverness. Initially, she’d tried telling her parents. But after three visits to the doctor in quick succession, Monica learned to keep her mouth shut.

Her parents, being bureaucrats, had very little time to spare for her. This gave Monica the time to experiment and realize several things as fact.

One, that people’s minds weren’t in any way comparable to books. No, people’s minds were like radios. They broadcasted things so loudly.

Two, that the volume of a person’s radio depended on how intensely private they were as a person. A loud and extroverted woman might have a mind quieter than a mouse or vice versa.

Three, people didn’t really think about their crimes so much as picture them.

Monica came across her first crime at fifteen years old, a young man gloatingly thinking about his dead girlfriend’s body as he hacked her to pieces. The images floated to her mind, broadcasted by the murderer and Monica, walking down the street with a minor headache, staggered with nausea.

“Bahamut’s fucking balls,” Monica swore loudly, to the censure of a young mother and the delight of her child.

Monica had heard about people’s secrets, their thoughts and their sins, but it had been the first time she’d seen it.

With another curse, she did a sharp turn of her heel and marched to the Crownsguard precinct.

The problem, of course, was that she had no proof based on actual, physical evidence.

Nothing, except her knowledge, and the location of the pieces of a woman.

Still, Monica wasn’t going to be deterred by something as plebian as other people’s limitations. They were their limitations, not hers. She just needed to convince someone that those didn’t apply to her.

“I need an officer to come with me,” she repeated for the sixth time. “It’s urgent.”

The processing officer’s eyes had glazed over and his thoughts had turned to other things. He was so fucking useless.

But.

There was someone in the vicinity curious. About her.

Monica turned her head slowly, looking for the person and almost jumped out of her skin.

A man, in his mid-twenties, stared at her with intense, ice blue eyes.

“Well,” she said, staring right back at the man. “I need help.”

The man nodded slowly. “Alright. Then I will help you.”

While Monica could feel his curiosity like a living thing against her skin, she almost couldn’t hear his thoughts, they were so quiet.

Still, if she concentrated, she heard it. He looked at her scruffy shoes, her messy hair and her fidgety hands and seemed fond. Like she reminded him of someone.

It was the first time she’d actually had to concentrate to hear someone’s thoughts and Monica decided, then and there, that she liked him.

“Here,” she took him to the burial. It only took a few spadefuls of earth from a hastily borrowed spade, and there she was. The poor woman. “This is her. Her boyfriend murdered her.”

He was frowning at the grave, grim and scowling. “And you know this how?”

Monica hated questions like these. It reminded her, quite terribly, of her doctors.

“I heard it,” she said sharply. “And he gloated about it. I don’t know his name, or hers. But he gloated about it.”

“You only knew where,” he said, the light of understanding in his eyes. “I see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Monica hadn’t done this to be thanked, by Bahamut’s wrinkly old balls. She did this because she didn’t want to live in a city where an asshole like that boyfriend could make another victim. She couldn’t live with the knowledge that she could have helped.

Monica scowled at him darkly. “You don’t thank me, not about this. I did the right thing so I could sleep at night.”

She needed him to stop thanking her. Goddamit.

He nodded. “I will take care of it,” in that kind of voice you know would finish things.

He started calling people and people started arriving in droves. They taped up the area, they took samples of the earth and the spade and the tree. It was insane.

Monica stared at all of it with wide eyes and read so much of their determination to do the right thing that she didn’t even mind the cacophony of their thoughts. All of them were, to a person, thinking of helping the poor murdered woman.

It was amazing.

The man took her to the side to keep her out of the way but still managed to somehow make her see everything happening. His thoughts had faded back into obscurity now that she was no longer concentrating on him.

Then.

He knelt, so she was taller than him.

“Monica, I’m not thanking you for being a good person,” he said softly. “I’m thanking you for saving his other, potential victims.”

Monica curled her shoulders but nodded.

“My name is Cor Leonis,” he said, like he wasn’t famous. “And if you ever hear anything like this again, don’t bother going to the precinct. Call me immediately. Here’s my number.”

She held on to his card with a kind of desperation that she hoped wasn’t too obvious. Monica heard a lot of things. She had hoped, at least, that she could save someone. Or make a difference somewhere.

That she did. That an adult confirmed that she did…!

Monica started to cry.

Monica called Cor Leonis a grand total of three times after that.

The first, when she was eighteen, was because she had heard several fraternity boys in her college plan terrible things for the girls attending the party. She called him, and he answered, despite it being two in the morning.

An entire unit of officers show up in the frat party and saved several girls. Cor sent her a gift basket that made her laugh.

The next, a couple of months after that, was because she heard her professor’s thoughts and realized that he was a fucking predator with an actual shrine to the girls he molested, complete with videos.

Monica had actually barricaded the door and shivered in her bathtub until Cor himself knocked on the door and told her that Professor Morstan had been arrested just a few minutes ago.

She ran to him for a hug and he was so surprised. But he didn’t push her away.

The third time, Monica called him for the requirements for entrance into the Crownsguard. He answered by knocking on her door thirty minutes later with all the paperwork and a proud smile on his face.

“I’ll be working for you now,” she told him seriously as she filled out the forms.

He smiled, which transformed his face. “Honestly, Monica, everyone has been asking me what I’ve been paying my informant. If that’s the case, I probably owe you several years of back pay.”

Monica laughed.

The Crownsguard had insane requirements, both mental and physical, and if Monica hadn’t been thinking and planning for it for years, she might have been blindsided.

Cor helped her plan, telling her certain study tactics that would have been useful in university. He also left her with an entire packet of exercises to do for an entire three months, so she would be ready for the exams.

Which he would be hosting. Fucking Bahamut.

“I’m not going to hold back on you, just because I like you,” he told her sternly.

His mind was light, broadcasting a very light music that she was starting to think that Cor associated with her.

“I didn’t think you knew the meaning of the word,” she said blandly, rubbing her bruised wrist.

His lips quirked into a smile and his mind freaking laughed.

Cor’s mind had been getting louder around her, something that made Monica realize that that meant he trusted her. It blew her mind, honestly.

“Don’t stress out on this, kid. You’ll do great,” he said. She’s gonna blow all their socks out of the water, his mind thought.

It had her fighting a blush.

“Thanks, Cor,” she said quietly.

Monica had a mantra in her head.

WWCD. What would Cor Do?

It came in incredibly handy when faced with sexist trainees and misogynistic trainers at the boot camp. Monica was one of two women, and the other one was a very tall woman with visible muscles called Daisy.

She’d confided to Monica that her muscles came from helping her dad out as a blacksmith.

With Daisy looking like she could bench press several behemoths, Monica was the target of hazing. Bullying, she thought, looking at their calm faces and hearing their leering thoughts.

WWCD, she mused. Cor would let them eat their tongues in jealousy.

With a vicious smile, she looked at the exercises with renewed determination.

At the wall climbing, she made sure to climb the fastest. At the weapons assembly and maintenance, she made sure to ace that too, memorizing the smallest component.

Everything else, she aced. Their thoughts leered less and veered more to respect. Some, of course, went to jealousy.

But that, she knew how to counter. If they thought they were vicious, they had nothing on jealous teenage girls.

Monica did physicals, and aced the written tests. All the while dodging increasingly terrible sabotage attempts. She dodged laxatives in her food, snakes in her uniform and itching powder in her pants. When they went to acid in her shampoo, she smiled toothily and had to hold back a cackle.

Evidence. They had to leave her with evidence, the idiots.

She went to the trainer with the common sense and watched everything fall like dominoes.

“Congratulations, Ace,” Cor teased her as he handed over her diploma. “Your scores are the highest for the past decade.”

Monica ducked her head. “Who was the highest before me?” she had to ask. It was her damned curiosity.

“Mine,” he said. “Good job, Crownsguard.”

“Sir,” she saluted.

So fucking proud of the kid, his mind went. Regis, you owe me so much money.

Monica froze for a second.

He had bet on her results! And he didn’t have the decency to split the pay.

She huffed. Well, that was her own damned fault for attuning her listening so much to Cor that she could hear his thoughts through a crowd.

#fanfiction #ffxv #final fantasy XV #monica elshett #cor leonis #friendship #telepathy au

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leechonspeeddial · 3 years

Text

Midnight Shift: Carry On, Citizen Fang

Summary: Something wicked this way comes. If only Resentment could figure out if it was the same thing that stunk up the Burger King. Chapters: 2/? Read on ao3

Straight Kevin had been very understanding about my family emergency – He was super duper cool with manning the restaurant all by his lonesome. Sadly, he wasn't understanding enough to let me get away with not telling Gay Kevin about it – which wasn't very super duper cool of him, now was it?

He didn't even have the decency to offer to call for me, the fucking coward.

"Are you certain it's an emergency?"

I rolled my eyes and skipped over the muddy snow pile blocking the sidewalk. I felt a sense of kinship with the season. Besides the cold and death, Winter went all out when it came to inconveniencing the population.

"Trust me, Kev. If I wanted to blow off work, I'd do it on location. I'm not exactly in a rush to get home, ya know?"

The line went quiet for exactly five seconds and I could picture him doing that breathing exercise he did whenever he was fed up with my shit. I took the opportunity to loudly slurp my mello yello.

Delicious.

"I don't know, you could be ditching to hang out with friends or something. Teens do that. I did that." I almost laughed, as if.

"I spend all of my free time at work and everyone my age thinks I'm pregnant with an incest baby. Bold of you to assume I even have friends."

"You would get friends if you felt like it would inconvenience me. And it would really inconvenience me right now"

"Ugh. Don't be so dramatic. I don't do things just to be a general nuisance," I heard a snort that didn't come from Gay Kevin. "Wait, did you put me on speaker?!"

"What's the word, Res" Not Kevin chimed in before being shushed by Gay Kevin.

"Relax, we're loading the rental. I don't exactly have a free hand."

"So? This only needed to be like two seconds. Take a five or something."

"I'm going to level with you, our new napkin guy gives me real sketch vibes. Any second where we're not loading, it's an additional second we have to spend here. I simply refuse to die in a dilapidated warehouse, Resentment. I refuse."

I crossed the street to take the park shortcut home. A couple of high schoolers were vaping by the swings; they stared at me and I ignored them.

"I think you'd survive. You exude final girl energy"

"Have you ever watched a horror movie? I'd literally die first"

"I watched Practical Magic once" I smirked when Not Kevin groaned.

My satisfaction didn't last long, because no more than a second later, a snowball hit the back of my head. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I couldn't gloat to Edward about having the moral high ground if I murdered every minor annoyance that crossed my path.

It just sucked having to ignore my vampire senses because I had to play human. What was the point of knowing something was coming if you were unable to stop it because you had to keep up appearances? In my opinion, humans should just have to deal with the knowledge of the supernatural. They were big kids, we didn't need to coddle them anymore.

It was 2022, for God's sake.

I turned back scowling and flipped off the fuckers. I recognized High-Pony in the group and decided to give her the soggiest, saddest, AND smallest fries next time she dared enter my work.

Maybe even sprinkle some burnt ones for extra flavor.

"I know what you're doing and I'm begging you to stop. I'm the one who has to deal with him for the next two hours"

"Don't be rude. Not Kevin is a gift," I glared at the group and slowly walked away backwards. At least until they were out of my sight. The Cullens were insane for going back to high school as often as they did.

"Ha. It's nice to be appreciated"

"Truly. Short of a museum, where else are you going to find something so old?"

"Boo. Get new jokes, the material is stale," I rolled my eyes as I shook the snow from my hair. I was rapidly approaching home and I wasn't quite prepared to go in.

For one, how was I supposed to keep my new mystery to myself if that's what Alice saw? It wasn't fair. To think I had only been worried about Big Brother and his thought police...

Reflecting on it though, if Alice saw my mystery man, then wouldn't that mean he was either a vampire or a human? Ergo, something neither mysterious nor interesting.

Disappointing.

"Whatever, gramps"

"Ok, ok. Let's get back on topic –"

"You gotta start trying harder, Chucky. You're far from the only teen girl that calls me ancient on the regular."

"Why are you regularly taking to teenage girls, creep?"

"Guys –"

"That's not what–! I foster kids!"

"Yeah, sure, pervert"

"I'm NOT –"

"OK RESENTMENT, DEAL WITH YOUR FAMILY. HANGING UP NOW"

I stopped walking and stared at my phone. Despite the length of the call, there had been no new messages from my family. I was unsure if that was a good sign.

I took a sip from my drink and was disappointed to find I only had ice left. I wondered if that was thematically significant, or maybe even foreshadowing.

Sigh.

I picked up my pace and tried to empty my mind before arriving home. "No thoughts, head empty" was a good mantra when you lived with a mind reader.

The rest of the walk was fairly uneventful, save for some guy who got attacked by a flock of ducks for getting way too close without enough food. Beware, all amateur wildlife photographers, lest the same fate falls upon you, I guess.

Poor guy even lost his coat. I was happy to assume it was the first casualty under the duck assault.

I slowed down when I finally arrived across the street from my home. The newest Cullen mansion stood foreboding before me. A concrete monument full of sharp lines and odd angles; despite all of Esme's soft touches, brutalism simply exuded hostility and soullessness. Try as she might, there was a limit to how much you could dress up a giant grey concrete block to make it look approachable – and if we were being honest, it wasn't working.

How's that for a metaphor?

Well. There was no use delaying the inevitable.

I entered the house.

[Scene Break]

Being a half-vampire meant that I always felt at a misstep with everyone around me. To me, humanity was more of a scientific field of study that I took interest in and less of a dearly held-on memento of a bygone era or something that I simply had.

From the vampire side of things, while I was clearly an abomination, my existence didn't require me to be a parasitic blood freak. That put me in a different head space from the rest of my family. For one, I didn't need to agonize over my monstrous nature; secondly, I wasn't a slave to my bloodlust if I kept myself full of human food; and thirdly, there just wasn't much precedent for me to measure up to.

For all we knew, everything I did was the best I could have done.

That was all to say, I always felt like there was something I was missing when interacting with anyone. My point of view was fundamentally a different one, and though some things I could make sense of theoretically, it wasn't the same as first-hand experience.

Standing in the living room, surrounded by my family as they continued to say nothing, I couldn't help but think that perhaps this time the context I was missing had nothing to do with my hybrid status.

Edward paced while looking constipated but everyone else stood motionless and rigidly like the statues they were. Not even Emmett tried to lighten the mood, and that's how you knew it was serious.

"So who's going to who's funeral? Please don't say any of my coworkers, I've grown quite attached to them"

"Renesmee," Edward warned. I ignore him like he ignored my preferred name.

"Is it you pops? Wanna crack open another high school girl and drink her up like grape soda?"

"For once in your life could you stop acting like a brat?" Edward snapped and I flinched.

"Takes one to know one. Maybe if you didn't raise one you wouldn't have to deal with one, dad"

"Enough!" We both turned to look at Carlisle and I could see how unsettled he was. My stomach churned.

"Maybe my vision was wrong. Maybe it wasn't him," Alice sounded desperate, almost like the time the truck transporting her latest Givenchy haul got into a freak accident and the customer service lady told her they couldn't replace her order until after whatever microtrend that had been happening at the time ended.

"No, Alice. I saw your vision. It was. No doubt about it, that face is burned in my memory"

"It just doesn't make any sense, Edward!"

"I know what I saw," he replied forcefully.

Carlisle rubbed at his eyes, and for the briefest of seconds, you could have mistaken him for human.

"What's going on? You guys are scaring me," nothing felt right and all I wanted to do was to get back to the Burger King. At least the Kevins kept me in the loop when potentially life-threatening stuff happened.

"James is back," Bella whispered and I looked at her. Out of all of the Cullens, she looked the least worried. While everyone else's expressions visibly darkened at hearing the name, Bella said the name like she would say any name that wasn't Edward's.

"Who the fuck is James?"

"He was a vampire," Jasper growled.

"So what's the big deal? I don't know if you have noticed, but all of you are vampires"

"Emphasis on the was, Nessie. We ripped apart the bastard a good 16 years ago," Emmet explained. I raised my eyebrow.

"You sure about that? Last I heard, once you killed the undead, they were dead for good. No such thing as an undead undead."

"Oh, damn sure. We tore into him like frenzied piranhas at lunchtime and then lit him like a firework on the Fourth of July," Rosalie lightly hit his arm.

"You don't have to be so graphic about it"

"So it's obviously not him," Edward made a noise filled with frustration.

"Renesmee, I know what I saw. It was him, I would bet my life on it"

"Would you bet Bella's?" was what I almost said but Edward's glare made me reconsider. Just this once.

"Dead people just don't walk around all over the place," I said instead.

"We do," Emmett chimed in.

"We're different!"

"So why not him?"

"Edward is right," Classic Carl Carlisle move. His Golden Child could never be wrong. "I might have heard of something like this happening before."

There was a brief moment of silence before everyone exploded.

"WHAT?!"

Carlisle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You have to understand, I couldn't verify it at the time."

When he said nothing, Esme made a "well, go on" motion.

"It happened about a decade ago. I only came upon this information because of Eleazar – he had approached me about it because he thought I was involved," Carlisle walked towards a window and stared into the distance like the dramatic bitch he was.

Edward slapped the back of my head.

"He told me heard of rumors of a vampire that had died 50 years ago and who walked the Earth again. You all know about my passion for Theology and my desire to find out what waits for us on the other side, so I promised to look into it. It took a while, but eventually, I heard back from someone"

"Your trip to Carencro," Esme gasped. "You said it was a conference!"

"When was this, I don't remember this?" Carl was holding back no punches in his dramatic reveal.

"It was our semester abroad," that's what Edward like to call the half a year experiment we spent in France. He wanted to see if Bella, him, and I could be a family unit all on our own.

It failed pretty miserably, would never happen again.

"I didn't want to burden you, love. Not unless I knew for sure."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "So what happened?"

Carlisle turned back to us and shrugged.

"I met my informant and they told me to go to this one cafe and ask for Roy. I went there and the manager told me no one with that name worked there"

"So you got pranked," Emmet said.

"I looked around town for a couple of days, and since nothing else came up after my trip to Lousiana, I felt comfortable labeling the whole thing a hoax."

Rosalie scoffed. "And you think that's what's happening here?"

"I think it could be a possibility. This is our only lead"

I thought over what Carlisle just said. Could there really be an afterlife vampires could come back from? And if that was the case, then what happened to Roy? Was Roy even the vampire Elezear heard about?

But most importantly, why now?

"Hey, Alice. Besides James, what else did you see?"

Everyone went quiet and I looked back at them confused.

"I saw us without you"

"I mean, you don't really see me in your visions," I chuckled nervously.

"When I don't see you, it's like I'm looking around something. What I saw...it felt like I would never have to deal with that interference again."

"...Oh"

That didn't sound good.

#midnight shift #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #my writing #renesmee cullen #the cullens #fanfiction #twilight renaissance

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prorevenge · 4 years

Text

Neighbours refused to be quiet, so I played the long game and made them move out

A few years ago I got hired at a job in a big city with expensive rent. I slept on my brother's couch for a few months while I struggled to find a place, but eventually found someone in an old building who wanted to get out of their rental agreement. The apartment was pretty close to work and in a nice area, so I took it, almost too good to be true...

It didn't take long for me to realize I made a big mistake. The building was old, and the walls were made of plaster. Any sound reverberated like crazy, I could hear people cough and sneeze like they were standing in my place. What's worse, I shared one of these thin walls with my neighbours, who were absolutely fucking insane. They just would not shut up. I would hear a man and woman argue constantly, often until 2 or 3 in the morning. And by arguing I mean literally screaming and shouting and throwing things against the wall. When they weren't arguing they were always just LOUD, shouting and whining at each other like little kids constantly. Pretty much the quintessential toxic, obnoxious couple. And the shit they would argue about was so stupid! I remember hearing an argument about who's turn it was to steal shampoo from the drug store. One time the boyfriend decided to yell "THE BIBLE SAYS WHAT THE BIBLE SAYS" over and over again for some reason. Almost every day it would be something different and uniquely annoying.

The first real incident happened when I was woken up by screaming and banging against my wall at 1am. I did what I usually did (blasted Kenny G through my speakers at the wall until they shut up), but this time it didn't work. The banging got louder so I stopped the music, but then it got worse and sounded like a fight. It was hard to describe, but it sounded like the woman was getting beaten up. At this point I was more concerned than mad so I called my superintendent, who told me to call the police (not the US). The police came, the neighbours told them everything was fine, the police left, it was quiet, I went back to bed.

Literally the next night I am woken up again at 1am by my neighbours having another argument. This time I heard a BOOM, then the woman say "oh my god" in an weird voice, and then banging and what sounds like someone being strangled. The noises were freaky and way more concerning than even last time so I called the police again. The police came, the neighbours told them everything was fine again, the police left again, and it was quiet again, but this time the police called me back and basically told me I was an idiot for wasting their time. They said there was no evidence of any fight and both neighbours denied anything even happened. Even the superintendent said that no one else on the floor complained and intimated that I was starting to become a nuisance. I decided from this point forward I was going to go full Spielberg with video evidence.

The noise was bad for the next 6 months, and I would get woken up at least once a week after midnight by yelling and screaming. I made a few written complaints, a few videos as evidence, and sent them to the property manager. There was enough to serve them an eviction notice and go to the landlord/tenant board, but somehow the property manager fucked up the date for the hearing and it never actually took place. Thankfully the noise stopped anyway (for now...), so I assumed the neighbours finally got the message and would be quiet from now on. I didn't fight for another hearing because the eviction notice gave the neighbours an opportunity to be quiet, which they sort of did.

As an aside, the video evidence I gathered during this time was BEAUTIFUL. I was pleasantly surprised that my phone was very good at picking up their voices. It got to the point where I would get excited when I was woken up in the middle of the night, because I would run out into the hallway and film their door and room number as the noise blasted out and echoed down the hall. I gathered some damning, unambiguous evidence, pure gold, and it was all timestamped at around midnight or 1am. But because the hearing got cancelled I didn't get to present my evidence (at least not yet...)

For a few months, everything was reasonably ok. They were still loud as fuck during the day. and there were a few times after 11pm on weeknights where I went to their door and asked them to keep it down, but other than that things were mostly better, and I was starting to be able to relax in my place for once. Yet again it was too good to be true...

One day around 2:30 in the afternoon I start hearing this weird, high-pitched screeching coming from my neighbours place. And it doesn't stop for hours. I'm sitting on my couch trying to figure out what it is. It sounds like a giant fucking tropical bird moved in next door.

Well it turns out, after all the shit we went through a year ago with the noise complaints and eviction notice, my neighbours decided it would be a good idea to get a dog.

And of course these obnoxious assholes couldn't just get a quiet, normal, well-behaved dog. They had to get a completely untrained, 4 month old, tiny, yappy Pomeranian that was INCAPABLE of being quiet. This thing would yap and screech and bark over and over and over EVERY DAY for HOURS.

While I'm still coming to terms with how miserable my life is about to become, I get a note under my door. On it, my neighbour writes that she just got the dog as an emotional support animal for her mental health, and asks the whole hallway to please try to tolerate the noise.

Fuck that shit. I'd already been living next to and listening to these neighbours scream at each other for over a year. They were confirmed fucking morons; two insane, toxic assholes in a mutually abusive relationship. I knew with CERTAINTY that they weren't capable of taking care of this dog properly and the noise situation would go to complete shit.

And regarding the mental health, I was going through my own troubles during this time (in part due to lack of sleep) and was seeing a therapist. The last year of complaints should have made it clear to anyone that noise was a problem for me, especially getting woken up at night. Of all the things this neighbour could have chosen to help their mental health, they chose the most obnoxious thing possible. They knew getting a loud dog was going to be a problem and they did it anyway. It was time for WAR.

I realized if I wanted this noise to stop, or to be even taken seriously, I needed a mountain of evidence against my neighbours. I researched the evictions process and everything that was required. I checked the forms my superintendent would have to send out for an eviction notice. I read threads on reddit about slumlords and neighbour disputes. It became clear to me the only way to win was to be religiously disciplined both in gathering evidence and refusing to retaliate (no more Kenny G). I became a noise-complaint monk, taking a vow of disciplined log taking, and relying on mantras like "shut the fuck up... shut the fuck up...."

Once I submitted my first written complaint, things got bad. My neighbours flipped out when they realized I was complaining again. I heard stuff like "OF ALL THE APARTMENTS IN --- WE HAVE TO LIVE NEXT TO THIS FUCKING GUY?!" for a few days. Then the loud arguments in the middle of the night started all over again. And one of the neighbours got into the new habit of SLAMMING their chest of drawers against my wall at 2am.

The barking also got much worse. The emotional-support-animal letter said that the barking would get better once the dog was trained, but from what I could hear my neighbours methods of training began and ended with screaming at the dog just like they screamed at each other each day. "NO! BAD DOG!", "BE QUIET!", "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" came through my wall in new and varied combinations every day. And every time an argument started between my neighbours the dog would always join in, even in the middle of the night. The constant level of noise was insane.

For over a year, l logged every instance of yelling, shouting, and barking coming from my neighbours apartment. It didn't matter if it was after 11pm or not at this point, I was trying to demonstrate how I can't get peace at any time of day. And when I say every instance, I mean I had minute-to-minute logs of every loud noise and every word I heard from my neighbours wall. If I was woken up in the middle of the night it went in the log. If I heard the dog bark from 12pm-1pm on February 2nd it went in the log. If I heard someone yell "YOU PEED ON THE FLOOR AGAIN, FUCK!" at the dog it went in the log. Honestly it sucked and made me almost lose my fucking mind, but by the time I was done I had pages and pages of notes

Obviously written logs wouldn't be enough. I already had a decently fat stack of video evidence to demonstrate the true character of my neighbours, but I needed current evidence if there was going to be another hearing. Fuck Spielberg, now I was Coppola in the heart of darkness. I got more videos of screaming and shouting coming out of their door. I got videos of banging and barking against my shared wall. I got videos of screaming, shouting, banging, and barking all at the same time, or in any combination. I had amassed a war-chest of video evidence to be deployed at the next available hearing, but I was getting war-weary

At this point I was like 6 or 8 months into the complaints process and I could barely take it anymore. I was getting woken up like 2 nights a week and would be a zombie at work (I complained about my neighbours at work often). I was finding it harder and harder to keep myself from blasting music, or banging on their wall, or kicking their fucking door down. But I managed to stay strong, and I followed the eviction process like it was my religion. I sent in a second written complaint, then a third which resulted in an eviction notice, which gave the neighbours an opportunity to be quiet. This time they didn't give a fuck, if anything they were louder than ever before. I was looking for other places to move into when I finally get good news from the property manager: there's a hearing date!

There was light at the end of the tunnel, but once the neighbours heard about the hearing date they did everything they could to fuck me up. There were no attempts to stop the barking anymore, it was constant. The screaming matches were back in full force, and when they started yelling and screaming the dog would go nuts! It was just an insane amount of noise.

And the drawers were ridiculous! Honestly I never expected the slamming drawers to be that bad but they easily eclipsed the barking and the shouting. They would SLAM and SLAM and SLAM the drawers over and over again against my wall. And because of the plaster it would BOOM BOOM BOOM and echo through my whole place. These assholes were definitely doing it on purpose.

3 days before the hearing date I go to bed at 9:45pm. At 10pm I'm still not asleep but I'm startled by BOOM BOOM of the drawers, I log it and go back to bed. At 11:30pm I wake up to BOOM BOOM BOOM again, and I'm pissed off. It takes me half an hour but I fall asleep again. Then at 12:45am BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM there it is again! I call my superintendent, tell her what's going on, the super calls them and tells them to stop. I fall back asleep. Then at 1:30am BOOM BOOM BOOM I wake up super fucking angry, it's obvious they're doing this on purpose to piss me off before the hearing and get a reaction out of me. I call the super again, and go back to sleep again. Then at 2:45am BOOM BOOM BOOM I can't take it anymore. I scream "DO IT AGAIN!!!! DO IT AGAIN!!!" I lost it, I couldn't help myself. My discipline broke. My superintendent calls me and tells me my neighbours just said I yelled a death threat through the wall (what the fuck?) and that they're calling the police (WHAT THE FUCK?). Everything just feels fucked now, I can't sleep so I just wait until morning. No police show up and I go to work. I realized I couldn't even stay at my place anymore until this hearing was over, so I went back to my brothers couch for the next 3 days.

Finally the big day arrives. I gather my evidence: Over a year of meticulously logged noise complaints, 6 instances of video evidence (I cherry picked the gold out of 20 good ones), the previous eviction notice the neighbours received, 4 written noise complaints (including the 2 from the previous eviction notice), a letter from my co-worker about poor work performance due to lack of sleep, and even a letter from my therapist about how my neighbours' excessive noise was affecting my mental health.

I got there and met the property manager and superintendent, who were there with the owner of the property management company and a slick looking lawyer. I handed the lawyer all my evidence. I gave him a usb stick with the videos. I even handed over my big bluetooth speaker to make sure the videos were loud enough to hear (laptop speakers suck).

I look over to my neighbours and they are wide-eyed. They look scared! Finally!

We all go into the landlord/tenant board room with everybody. The adjudicator first asks if anyone wants to mediate instead of going through with the hearing. My neighbour's hand immediately shoots up. I say in front of everybody "I don't want to mediate!" but apparently it's not up to me and the lawyer takes me aside.

The lawyer tells me if it goes to mediation, the neighbours and the property management create an agreement (e.g. no more noise at x o'clock), and if that agreement is broken once it results in an immediate eviction. He explains if we go in front of the board instead it's a 50/50 chance they either get evicted or get off completely. Obviously mediation is the better way to go, I know these idiots are already incapable of keeping quiet, so I agree with the lawyer. We go out to find the neighbours and they're nowhere to be found. Turns out they opted for the free legal counsel ( I wonder why) and won't be available until the afternoon.

While waiting I explain to the property manager, owner, and lawyer what happened a few days ago with the slamming drawers all night long. When I made my complaints before no one really took them seriously, but today everyone is very interested in everything I have to say.

The afternoon comes, and I'm excluded from the mediation meeting because it's between the neighbours, the lawyer, and the owner. I can't hear what they're saying but I can hear my neighbours yelling and shouting from inside the room so I know it's not going well for them.

Everyone leaves the room and the lawyer comes up to me. He tells me the mediation failed, the neighbours refuse to change their behaviour and won't accept any terms. The lawyer says they have to go in front of the adjudicator again but by now it's almost the end of the day.

I wait another hour or two and everyone comes out. I see my neighbours leave as the lawyer comes by again and explains. Apparently, after the mediation failed, the property management owner offered my neighbours 2 months rent FREE if they agreed to move out in 2 months. The neighbours agreed, but when they all went in front of the adjudicator the neighbours changed their minds and said no! And apparently a second offer was made, which they said yes to, and then no again, all in front of the adjudicator! They ended up running out of time and the adjudicator cut the hearing short and said it would have to be resolved in a second hearing. I was disappointed, but the lawyer assured me that because of how capricious and insane my neighbours behaved in during the hearing, they would almost certainly be evicted during a second hearing. I was dismayed that it wasn't over, but hopeful the end was coming soon. I also felt vindicated, it was finally clear to everyone that my neighbours were actually insane and I wasn't just making this up.

The next two months weren't as bad as before. I continued my long steady march of logs and videos. But the noise definitely let up, especially the drawers. One day near the end of the second month I started to hear insane barking, it would not stop. It went on for hours and hours and hours. I called the superintendent to complain when they told me it was probably because the neighbours were moving out today. YES! HAHAHA! FINALLY! Apparently she couldn't tell me earlier because of privacy reasons. As they were moving out I blasted 'Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye' on loop, put in some earplugs, and took a 2 hour bath.

My apartment is quiet now and I can finally sleep. It wasn't exactly the satisfying crushing blow I wanted but my discipline paid off and now I can live in peace.

(source) story by (/u/ZapoiBoi)

#prorevenge #by /u/ZapoiBoi #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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