#but yeah no say something that makes me think your gonna hire the mob and then ask why i would interpert it like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

babybluebex · 4 years ago

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everyone loves an outlaw [arvin russell x reader smut]

➽ pairing: mob!arvin russell x fem!reader(y/n) ➽ word count: 2.2k ➽ summary: arvin works for your dad and you have to keep your relationship a secret. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, age gap (reader is legal tho!), fingering (f!receiving), praise kink, breeding kink ➽ a/n: mob!arvin goes brrrr hehe

In small towns, there weren’t many ways out. A job was the usual way-- graduate high school and get a job out of town and leave Coal Creek in your dust. Sometimes, though, the job search was fruitless and many people, young and old, were left to rot in West Virginia. That seemed to be the case for Arvin Russell. We went to high school together, him being a senior when I was a freshman, and I remember my father going on about him. “Gonna get him when he graduates,” Daddy said. “Not lettin’ somethin’ like him get outta here.”

Legally speaking, my dad’s business was in bail bonds. We had family in Chicago that we worked for, and the line of work that my father did was less on the end of selling the bonds and more towards extracting the payments. Coal Creek had a few names for what my family did-- “mob”, “mafia” (which were technically two different things, but the people in Coal Creek had no hope of ever distinguishing the two)-- but we preferred to call it family.

And, God almighty, Arvin Russell was in need of family. When he graduated, he had a bright future ahead of him, but that flame was put out when his little sister died. Lenora was a year ahead of me, quiet and reserved and very bookish, and it took the entire town by surprise when we heard that she had died. Rumors flew around as to why; she was sick and didn’t want to burden her family with her illness was a popular one. When Lenora died, Arvin lost his way. Wayward young men looking for protection and acceptance was my dad’s type when it came to employment.

He had me do it. I usually was the one to go out and hire young men. Papa realized fairly quickly that men would do basically anything I asked of them, including signing themselves into our little family, so, one day in my senior year of high school, I went to the garage where Arvin Russell worked. He split his time between road construction and the garage and, when I met him properly, he had grease all over his hands. “Hi, Arv,” I said sweetly.

His pink mouth had quirked into a smile. “Hey, doll,” he said. “You’re Y/N? From high school, ain’t ya? Ya daddy’s got that bail bond thing goin’?”

“That’s me,” I said. “I, uh…” I had a script that I had to stick to. “I… I was just wonderin’ if ya wanted to get dinner sometime. Maybe go to a drive-in? That car you’ve got is pretty neat.”

“You like my car?” Arvin asked, and I giggled out a yes. “Ya sure it’s the car ya like, doll?”

“Not as much as the driver,” I said, biting my lip. ‘C’mon, Arv, this is takin’ a lot of courage to ask ya.”

Arvin sat up from the rolling creeper he was at and wiped his hands on the thighs of his pants. “You really wanna go out with me?” he asked. His voice was dripping with absolute sarcasm, but his honey-colored eyes held something more hopeful. I knew, right then, that we got him.

“Well, yeah,” I mumbled sheepishly, picking at a loose thread on my blouse. “I’ve kinda had my eye on you since… Forever, I guess. I-I just think you’re outta sight, Arvin.”

Arvin’s eyes glanced over me, still wearing my clothes from school, and he gave me a smile, much more sincere than ever before. “Sure thing, doll,” he said softly. “What d’ya say to Friday night?”

Friday night came, and it was quickly obvious that the movie would be forgotten. Instead of that, Arvin and I ended up in the backseat of his car, his hand up my shirt, making marks on my neck that my dad would be mad at. I never planned on fucking Arvin and, while I had no qualms about doing so, I stopped when his long fingers began to dance at my panties. “Arvie,” I panted, grabbing his wrist. “I ain’t ever done nothin’ like this before. I-I just--”

Arvin kissed me softly, his hand holding my cheek tenderly. “No sweat, doll,” he told me. “We’ll go as fast or slow as you want. I’m here for you.”

I was supposed to break it off with him after that, but I just couldn’t. There was a bit of truth to what I said when I asked him out initially, that I had my eye on him for a while. I had always thought that Arvin was pretty cute, and I enjoyed the time I had with him. We had to sneak around, though, because my dad would have cast both of us out if he knew. While I was supposed to fluff up their egos and convince them to join the business, I wasn’t supposed to fool around with the guys my dad hired. Arvin was different, though, in a way that I couldn’t put my finger on. He was kinder, a gentler soul than most, hidden behind a gruff exterior.

School was grueling, but the sight of the old Chevy waiting in the parking lot for me brought me comfort. Arvin stood near the door of the school, smoking a cigarette as he waited for me, and a smile passed his face when he saw me.

“Arvin, you know damn well that you aren’t supposed to be here right now,” I hissed quickly. “My daddy’ll kill you.”

“I reckon he’d have to catch me first,” Arvin chuckled. His smile promised illicit moments in the coming minutes, and he added, “It looks like it’s gonna rain and I was thinkin’ of offering you a ride. Wouldn’t want ya to walk and get all wet and melt.”

“Why would I melt?” I asked. “I ain’t no witch.”

“Nah, but you’re all made of sugar,” Arvin told me. “C’mon, babydoll. I know you want to. I might even buy you a milkshake if you’re good to me.”

“Good to you?” I laughed. “Right, ‘cause that’s my goal in life, Arv, is to please you. Fuck off.”

“Dolly’s got an attitude today,” Arvin drawled around his cigarette. His dark eyes were full of energy and promised nothing but fun, and the fact that he hadn’t given up his advances yet let me know that he saw right through my fake resistant measures. After all, he knew that I would give in no matter what, just as I always did. “Jesus, woman, you’re makin’ me work for it today, huh? This is fun for you, yeah?”

“Oh, so much fun,” I assured him. “I love makin’ ya dance, Arvie.”

“Shit, do I gotta get down on one knee?” Arvin laughed. “I was hoping that you’d be all graduated first but--”

I tugged Arvin close by his worn leather belt and I silenced him with a kiss to his cheek. My pink lipstick left a mark on his skin, and I said, “We can talk ‘bout that later. Thanks for the ride, loverboy.”

“Never a problem with you, doll,” Arvin told me.

As usual, we ended up parked at the river, with Arvin’s hand up my skirt. My hips bucked up into his hand as his skilled fingers found home inside me, and a soft whimper fell from my lips. “Vinny,” I whispered quickly; that name was reserved for moments like this. “O-Oh, fuck!”

“Such a good girl,” Arvin whispered in my ear, gently nipping at my earlobe. “S’fucking tight, doll. You really ain’t been lettin’ other guys fuck ya, huh?”

“I only want you, Vinny,” I said. “Nobody makes me feel the way you do.”

“Good girl,” Arvin told me, and my body went warm with the praise. Arvin had always been so good to me and I truly didn’t want anybody else. But I had always imagined getting out of Coal Creek, leaving my family behind and having a good and honest life. I wanted to get married; maybe to Arvin, but maybe to someone with no ties to my family. I was lovestruck, I’ll admit that much. I was so pathetically in love with Arvin that I had doodled his name during class, even going as far to put his last name with mine. Mrs. Y/N Russell was enticing. If Arvin were ever to propose, I would be compelled to say yes.

“Vinny,” I said, and I grabbed his strong arms. “I-I’m gettin’ close, baby.”

“You hold that shit in,” Arvin growled into my neck. “Want ya to come on my cock, babydoll.” His fingers fell from me quickly, and he made light work of undoing his belt and jeans. My thighs were quivering around his hips, and I sunk down onto his hard cock with a satisfied keenness in the back of my throat. Arvin’s moan in my ear was heavenly, and he mumbled, “Pussy’s so good, doll. Fuck.”

“Fuck!” I squealed as he snapped his hips up into me. “Vinny, I-I--”

Arvin’s mouth met mine in a greedy kiss, and I whimpered my way through a blissful orgasm. Arvin swallowed every single noise I made, his hands raking my blouse up to feel the skin of my back, and I felt myself shaking so hard in his grasp. “Good girl,” Arvin shushed me, kissing all over my face. “So good for me, babydoll. Gonna help me now?”

Even though my legs felt like liquid and my hips ached, I rolled my hips down onto him. Arvin quickly got rid of my shirt fully and tugged my bra up my chest to expose my tits, my nipples hard at the feeling of him. His mouth latched into my tit quickly, and I pushed his curls off of his forehead as I watched him suck on my tit. Arvin looked up at me through his dark eyelashes and gave my nipple a quick bite with his front teeth, and I yipped. “Vinny!” I cried.

“Aw, dolly,” Arvin cooed. “I only do it ‘cause I like the pretty little noises you make.”

I chuckled breathlessly, and, with his lips back on my nipple, Arvin winked at me. “Arv,” I sighed. “Your cock is literally inside me right now. You can knock it off with the flirting.”

“Can’t help it,” Arvin said, biting his bottom lip as he cupped his hands around my breasts. “Just an instinct.”

“It’s a good thing I like it,” I whispered, and I leaned down to kiss him. His breath was hot against my mouth, and I clutched his hair as he continued to fuck into me, and I finally pleaded, “Vinny, please come. Want you to come inside me, Arvin, please.”

Arvin took a fistful of my hair and tugged my head back to expose my neck, and he kissed all over the soft column of my throat as his thrusts became quick and sloppy. “Fuck,” he whispered and sucked a mark onto my neck, but I was too far gone to chastise him for it. Arvin huffed out a heavy breath then, and I felt him spilling himself inside of me, painting my walls with his hot cum. I gasped aloud at the feeling of it, and Arvin set a kiss to my lips to silence me. “Ya like that?” he whispered. “Like being fucked like this? My good girl, my best girl.”

“Christ, Vin,” I whispered with a giggle. “I love you, you fuckin’ square.”

“Hey, I’m not a square,” Arvin laughed. His arms were circled around me, holding me tightly, and his cock was still inside me as he laid his head on my chest and tried to catch his breath. “But I love you too, babydoll.” There was a quiet that blanketed the car then, the only sounds being our rasping breaths and the faint radio that we had left on before climbing into the backseat. Arvin was right; it had begun to rain.

“Think it’ll take?” I asked softly.

“What?” Arvin asked. His brown eyes were still blown out as he looked at me, and a smile split his face. “Oh, dolly. Is that why you wanted me to come inside ya?”

I shrugged sheepishly, and I hid myself in his neck. Arvin laughed and readjusted us so that he was laying on his back, making sure to stay inside of me all the while.

“You wanna have my babies?” Arvin chuckled. “Your daddy’ll kill us.”

“I jus’ wanna be yours, Arvie,” I told him. “Want everyone to know I’m yours.”

Arvin pulled my face from his neck and captured my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “No more hidin’?” he asked hopefully.

I shook my head, and Arvin smiled. “No more hiding,” I agreed.

Arvin gave a content sigh, and he kissed my mouth once more. “My pretty girl,” he whispered. “My pretty wife, maybe?” I nodded, and he laughed. “Shit, that sounds pretty nice. Having a pretty little wife to come home to, gettin’ all big with my baby… Jesus, I love the thought of that. But you ain’t even graduated yet, doll. Are ya sure…?”

“There’re girls who dropped out ‘cause they got married,” I told him. “I think the fact that I’m engaged and pregnant, and still manage to graduate won’t be a problem.”

Arvin kissed my forehead, and he whispered, “Just a few more minutes, baby. Wanna make sure, ya know. Then, I’ll get you that milkshake I promised.”

#arvin russell x reader #arvin russell #arvin russell x y/n #tdatt #the devil all the time #tom holland #arvin russell fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #arvin russell fluff #arvin russell angst

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mcheang · 4 years ago

Note

Lila doesn't know that Marinette's parents own the bakery and thinks that she's just an employee. So, she tries getting Mari fired by acting like a Karen, complaining about the service, etc. Or, she just tells the Tom and Sabine about how Mari is a bully at school and other lies. Unbeknownst to Lila, one of her classmates or someone from school overhears and records what Lila said. Tom and Sabine either reveal that they're Mari's parents or she learns at school.

Nickname

I’m not gonna use the phrase “Karen”. It’s kind of sad that this name can also be an insult. I always liked the name ever since watching Mermaid Melody.

Everyone knows Chloé refers to Marinette as “Dupain-Cheng”. But how does Lila learn about it?

One morning, Lila saw Chloé lounging at her desk when Marinette rushed in, surprisingly on time for once.

Chloé held out her hand imperiously. “Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette huffed. “I have a name you know.” And she handed over a T&S box of macarons.

Chloé: your point?

Lila turned to Nathaniel. “Does Marinette work at a bakery or something?”

Nathaniel: You’ve never been to Tom and Sabine’s patisserie before? You’ve gotta go today. They are the best patisserie in Paris!

Lila raised a brow. “Wow, Marinette must be quite the baker to have gotten hired.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “Well, she’s still learning but Marinette comes from a long line of bakers. She’ll probably be a professional by the time we graduate.”

Lila hid her scowl. She had not forgotten her promise of war to Marinette. And what better way to start then by sabotaging her job? After all, Lila had only just returned and while the class was under her spell, they won’t be so easy to turn on their old friend just yet. A professional bakery on the other hand...

Lila visited the bakery after school, when she was certain no one from class would be visiting it.

Down there, Lila wasn’t that impressed by the space, though the decor was colourful and elegant.

She ordered a macaron. After having a nibble of the admittedly scrumptious macaron, Lila made a face.

Tom: oh, is something wrong?

Lila: oh, it’s just that this is my first time in Paris and I was looking forward to trying the pastries here. I’m a popular food blogger you see. I travel overseas for holidays and recommend what to try and what to avoid on my blog. My fans were so excited to see my food recommendations, one of which was the macarons. But after this, I’m disappointed.

A waiting customer in line heard what Lila said and started filming her. Lila didn’t mind.

Tom was worried. “I’m sorry to hear that. Normally our customers love our macarons. Perhaps it’s because you are not used to french cuisine?”

Lila but back a retort, and instead sighed. “I gave this place a try after Marinette recommended it.”

Tom: our Marinette?

Lila: yes, she kept pushing me to come visit your patisserie. Even after I said yes, she kept badgering me and even the teacher reprimanded us!

Tom raised a brow. “That doesn’t sound like Marinette.”

Lila: she also promised me a free box of macarons if I visited. But now I’m not so sure. I’m afraid this is a definite place-to-avoid for my blog.

Tom was now suspicious of this girl. Marinette never pushed for reviewers to visit their place. She never needed to. Their bakery was doing splendidly. And it’s not like Marinette to just surprise them with a strange blogger without leaving a warning message.

Lila was hoping her representation of Marinette would paint her as a horrible employee. And she wanted some free macarons too from a boss hoping to salvage his company’s reputation.

But Tom just crossed his arms and gave a cold smile. “I’m sorry you didn’t like our macarons. But you still have to pay for the macaron you just ate.”

Lila frowned at the man. “So rude. I should at least have gotten a refund for the horrid taste.”

Tom’s face turned stern. “If you refuse to pay, I will call the police.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a drama queen.” She handed over a bill. “Here.”

Lila stormed out, too upset to even enjoy the macaron in her hand.

When Marinette and Alya came inside, Tom called them over. “Marinette, is there a food blogger in your school.”

Marinette blinked. “Not that I know of. Alya?”

Alya shrugged, “Sorry. I don’t watch those.”

Tom: a girl came by today saying you had offered her a free box of macarons in exchange for her visiting. She also claimed to be a food blogger.

Alya: must have been a scammer.

Marinette: but how did she know my name? From the sound of it, she probably never came here before.

Tom: she had brown hair.

Alya: that’s it?

Tom scratched his head. “I’m not good at remembering people. But that’s the beauty of security cameras!”

Tom led them to the back where he showed the girls the Lila drama.

Marinette growled. “Lila!”

Alya: what the hell? You never go near her if you can help it, always claiming she’s a ...liar...oh.

Marinette: yeah.

Alya: well, I can see why you hate her so much now if this is her true personality. What a snob. Even Chloé doesn’t act like that.

Tom: so you do know her.

Marinette: Lila’s a new girl who likes to make up grand stories about herself and has somehow convinced our friends to buy her lunch.

Alya counted off her fingers. “Forgotten wallet, sprained wrist, allergic to the cheap menu items, donated all her allowance to charity...”

Marinette: which one did you pay for?

Alya: when she told me she was robbed. Ugh. That liar is going down!

Marinette: but Adrien thinks we should take the high road.

Alya: Adrien’s rich. We’re not! I’m busting her right now! Mr Dupain, may I film this scene?

Tom: sure. I have to get back to the counter to help Sabine.

But as Alya spread the footage to the class, another clip was being shared rapidly among Parisians.

The girls opened their messages to see a video link.

WHO IS THIS GIRL TO CRITICISE OUR BELOVED PATISSERIE?

It was the same scene, but shot from another angle.

The waiting customer was a fan of the patisserie and a regular customer. She was not pleased at hearing a supposedly famous blogger giving the shop a bad review from just one nibble. and Marinette was such a sweetheart, the customer didn’t believe the drivel that came out of Lila’s mouth. And so she posted this clip, calling Lila out on her rude behavior, and asking if anyone knows this so-called famous food blogger.

Alya eagerly replied.

This clip became so widely spread that it even made the evening news, told by Nadja Chmack, who had even interviewed Mrs Rossi and told her what Alya and other commenters have said.

Mrs Rossi was too stunned to give a comment and had retreated to her office.

Ironic that the diplomat had such a mob-rousing daughter.

Mrs Rossi’s public humiliation was perfect for akuma bait. She basically spent her time looking for Lila to confront her but was defeated before Lila even knew what was going on.

Mrs Rossi apologized to the heroes for doubting their ability.

When Lila came home, she was surprised to see her mother waiting for her. Were they actually having dinner together?

Not exactly. Mrs Rossi tore into Lila for her horrendous behavior and outrageous lies.

And because Mrs Rossi was in the spotlight for negligent parenting, she went for extreme measures. From now on, Mrs Rossi would call the school every day, once in the morning to see if Lila had arrived, and every evening to see her progress report. Lila’s allowance would be cut off since she had been cheating her classmates for lunch money. Lila would also be seeing a professional therapist regarding her behavior.

Lila was shocked and furious she had been exposed to Paris as a fraud. She was hoping for an akuma, but Mrs Rossi had realized her lecture would cause upset emotion so she had asked the heroes to keep an eye out while she lectured her daughter. Ladybug caught the approaching akuma quite easily. Chat Noir’s night vision helped.

Lila tries to claim she felt lonely but Mrs Rossi retorted that was no excuse for her behavior. Then Lila tried to blame her mother for neglecting her and forcing her to keep leaving behind any new friends she makes just because of her diplomat job.

Mrs Rossi paused at that. It was true.

“Fine. I’ll concede on that point.”

Lila brightened up until her mother continued. “You’ll be finishing one last semester here before I send you home to live with my parents. They’ll give you undivided attention (monitoring) and you’ll have friends for the long-run (which means if Lila gets caught for lying, she will face the consequences instead of moving away)”

Lila: you’re abandoning me again?!

Mrs Rossi: I’m going to leave you in capable hands. And it’s not like I don’t want to spend time with you, Lila. But someone has to keep a roof over our heads and pay the bills.

When Lila returned to school the next day, she scowled right back at the glares that came her way. Upon entering class, Chloé called out, “Look, it’s the famous blogger. Oh, wait, no, never mind. It’s just some bragging nobody.”

Adrien stayed silent. Alya had chewed him out for his advice and warned him he was on shaky ground. Yeah, Nino wasn’t happy with him either but defended his bro was unaware of the cafeteria activity since he was always at home for lunch.

When Lila sat down, Nathaniel drawled next to her. “Oh, did I mention Lie-la, that the patisserie you asked about is Marinette’s family business?”

Lila’s fingernails had splinters under them.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #Lila salt #ml salt fic #lila busted #lila fails #lila gets exposed #lila is exposed #lila karma

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v-hope · 5 years ago

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»part forty one - priceless

»hobi’s girl

»jung hoseok x army!reader

after attending a bts concert and very clearly catching one of the members’ attention, you can’t help but get flooded with hate comments once people find your twitter account. who would’ve thought that would be the reason jung hoseok would find his concert girl, too.

a/n: helloo, this is one day earlier and also one hour earlier than usual, i know, but i already explained why 🤧 there isn’t much text interaction between seokie and y/n in this one bc they were together all day so like why would they text ya feel. bUT, i gotchu, fam 😤 smol drabble that i wrote at like 2am right under the cut 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

“Isn’t it weird how something so ordinary is so new to us?” you couldn’t help but point out with a light laugh as the two of you reached a bench, sitting down on it and pulling your intertwined fingers with his towards you, so that he would do the same.

Smiling at both your comment and the way your hand had tightened its hold on his, Hoseok nodded his head, moving slightly closer to you. “It’s been a eventful day, hasn’t it?” he joined in your amusement.

It was fair to say, it was.

Waking up earlier that morning to attend another meeting with him and his management before the statement was released, going through said statement a couple of times and suggesting a few changes, being there when it got posted on BigHit’s official page, still being there when they went through a good part of the comments to see what the general reaction was and how to proceed from now on, being practically mobbed by the paps that had somehow found out you and Hoseok were at the building... yeah, it had been a long, eventful day.

But now, however, it was just you and Hoseok, and no one else to disturb you. Just the way the two of you always wanted it to be like.

After getting lunch that day, the two of you had in fact headed towards the dorms like your boyfriend had let the rest know on the group chat. Nevertheless, as you drove past the quiet area he lived in, and your eyes fixed on that one huge and almost isolated park you would always see whenever you went to his place, the temptation of being alone together for just a little longer whilst also getting some fresh air, was way too strong to just ignore.

And so here you were now, for the first time ever in your relationship being able to be outside, together; having walked hand in hand through the entire place for what could’ve easily been hours, only enjoying each other’s company and admiring how peaceful it was right then, before you took a seat near where he had parked his car.

“I think it went well so far” you commented. “I mean, as well as it could go, at least”.

“Yeah” he agreed. “Although a lot of them didn’t exactly like the news, I’m glad the company made it clear not to mess with you. I think that’ll help a lot”.

“God, I hope so” you sighed over dramatically, earning a small chuckle from him.

“I think I’ll release a statement myself anyway...” he let you know.

“You will?” your head turned to him.

“Mhm” he confirmed. “I’m sure the company will ask me to at some point, given how many fans are demanding an explanation from me, so... the sooner, the better”.

You nodded understandingly. “Please don’t copy-paste Taehyung’s idea though”.

Hoseok laughed, shaking his head no before he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “I won’t, don’t worry about it”.

Allowing an adoring smile to take over your lips, you pressed a small kiss to his cheek — loving the way his eyes had turned into the shape of two crescent moons as he stared at you.

Your head snapped down to your pocket after feeling your phone buzz, taking it out and unlocking it to answer what you thought would be a text from either your best friend or one of the boys, trying hurry you and Hoseok back to the dorms — your eyebrows furrowing faintly at the name of your English classmate instead. Nonetheless, you decided to answer him right then anyway.

“Who are you talking to?” Hoseok asked out of curiosity after you had exchanged a couple of messages, softly letting his head rest on your shoulder and causing a smile to curve up your lips as your head leaned on his.

“Hosung” you let him know.

Not really knowing what to say to that, he just nodded — the way he kept his stare fixed on one of the trees on the other side of the park, when you knew he was dying to know what your classmate was saying to you, had a small giggle coming out of your mouth in a second.

“You know you can just read over my shoulder if you want, don’t you?” his eyes snapped up to you at your amused statement. “There’s nothing going on here that you can’t see”.

Watching the way he had rolled his eyes as he tried to suppress a smile, he just let his eyes fall on your phone after you had brought it closer to him, giving him a good view of it before you kept on typing.

“He’s offering to look after you at uni?” he wondered after one particular text Hosung had sent.

Reading the same as him, you nodded, biting your bottom lip before you glanced his way. “Unless that makes you uncomfortable, of course”.

“No, no” Hoseok was quick to deny, motioning with a nod of his head to your phone, as if trying to rush you into answering him. “I think that’d make me feel better, actually”.

“Really?” your eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah. I can’t be there with you… and you won’t take my offer of hiring you a bodyguard” he huffed, unconsciously wrapping his arm around your waist after you had snorted. “So it’s good that you have someone who can be there for you in a minute” his lips planted a small kiss to your shoulder before his head was once again resting on it. “As long as he doesn’t try anything weird though. Otherwise I will fight”.

You tilted your head back as a throaty laugh escaped your mouth, not wasting another second to softly press your lips to the crown of his head.

“Oh, I don’t think he will” you denied, scrolling up on your previous texts until you found the one you wanted to show him. “He said he stands no chance against you anyway”.

The smug smile that had just curved up your boyfriend’s lips, could only earn a snort from you, giving him a gentle push with your shoulder.

“What?” he asked, sitting up straight so he could get a better view of you as he squinted his eyes. “Was I not supposed to feel good about that?”

Amusedly rolling your eyes in defeat, you shoved your phone into your pocket before you stood up, causing his lost eyes and pouty lips to follow your figure.

“Where are you going?” he wondered.

“To the car? So we can go to the dorms?” you replied as if it was obvious, stretching your arm for him to take your hand. “We said we were getting lunch and would go there hours ago”.

“It hasn’t been that long” he shrugged, holding your hand nevertheless for you to help him up.

“The sun is about to set, you idiot” you pointed out, not being able to keep your laugh from coming out when he childishly poked your side in response. “They are so not gonna let us live it down once we get there”.

“This is the first time we get to be actually outside together though, and we’re only like three minutes away from the dorms” his fingers tugged at the sides of your jacket to pull you closer. “They won’t mind”.

However, as if on cue, the phone in his pocket started buzzing like crazy, letting you both know that was not the case at all, and causing your triumphant eyes to fix on his defeated ones.

“How much you wanna bet it’s Jimin” you raised one of your eyebrows.

“Come on,” Hoseok chuckled, intertwining his fingers with your so the two of you could make your way back to the car for once and for all. “We know it’s Jimin”.

tag list: @lets-keepit100 @aquietkerfuffle @hobicomeholla29 @sakura-uji @brinnalaine @thefickive @zxlla @dreamcatcherjiah @booklover240 @luneseok @randomkoalablog @seokssbagel @thestral-balerion @unadulteratedlyunique @pikapikaachuu @salty-for-suga @biaisezabini @extaevaganza @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @hanniiesuckle17 @btsxdoll @cvbachacbitch @dearest-sunshine @tirednation @shakes0peare @llovekoya @re-sugance @veonjun @yeontanie21 @notinmycomfortzone @slxtfortae @cherryjiminiee @creepysweet @hobi-love @betysotelo18 @zaryas @kpopgirlbtssvt @bubblegumcat229 @mygscafe @uxwi @lovelymultiwrites @rjsmochii @margaritafariasw @moccahobi @lidda @seoulgotmysoul @sunskook @jayhope88 @magicshop-myg @longlivebnc

#bts #bts imagines #jung hoseok #hoseok imagines #kpop #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #bts fake texts #hoseok fake texts #bts social media au #hoseok social media au #bts x reader #jung hoseok reader #bts hoseok #hoseok

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theunvanquishedzims · 3 years ago

Text

The Michigan Fleet authors posted their AUs so here are mine

theunvanquishedzims: I have SO MANY Boat Boy ideas but I'm sitting on them because I came up with a bunch halfway through the book and they got jossed by the end rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Uhhh, sorry? I think?? theunvanquishedzims: (i.e. Basil gets sad and weepy over Rich and Liam flirting at a party, Trimmer plays fairy godmother a la ripping half his shirt off, giving him a pep talk, and sending him back out there to Win Back His Man) rollerskatinglizard: *whooping* theunvanquishedzims: Jossed so hard rollerskatinglizard:Okay, that's DELIGHTFUL rollerskatinglizard: Trimmer is the most terrifying fairy godmother rollerskatinglizard: Anything else? :Dc theunvanquishedzims: Lemme get my notes rollerskatinglizard: *gleeful wiggling*

theunvanquishedzims: Okay so I stopped reading when the Sympatico grabbed Rich during the storm and it took me a month or so to get back and finish, so I was under the impression that the ship was still being fixed in drydock and not, y'know, actually being crewed and sailed. (Trimmer yelling "just let her sink" hits reeeeeaaaallly different when you know that) rollerskatinglizard: Ahaha oh dang theunvanquishedzims: So the big idea was the gangsters needing something from the Sympatico. Not the general thugs and delinquents crewing the Sympatico but the actual organized crime of the Fleet, who were getting pretty used to using ships like the Sympatico to run their dirty deeds through. Except it's basically impossible to get what they need out of it, even when they drag out one of the old IST guys. He finally tells them Rich was the one who did the heavy lifting for the past few years rollerskatinglizard: Ooooh! rollerskatinglizard: What an interesting idea! theunvanquishedzims: Hang on I need to restart rollerskatinglizard: Ah yes, computers theunvanquishedzims: Sorry, that turned into a dinner break and running errands During which I came up with a couple new AUs theunvanquishedzims: Okay, back to mafia: they track Rich down, probably snag him after he's been out boarding. Off work, not expected back on the ship, tired from all the exercise, etc. They're not overtly threatening, just pick up his skimmer and politely suggest that he comes help them, and he probably goes quietly because there's like, six of them. I'm thinking only one of whom was actually posted on the Sympatico theunvanquishedzims: So they get back to the Sympatico. She's been temporarily decommissioned until the Fleet can fix her broken processes, but that's also a cover story by the mob. They want to clear out all the smuggled goods and information, but she's basically a ghost ship, silent and empty, and even the other IST guy couldn't get more than a few blinking lights. She's sulking basically, she knows they're not there to fix her so she's digging in her heels and playing dead. Like a toddler going ragdoll when they don't want to go to bed. theunvanquishedzims: They explain to Rich that they can't get a response and want him to take a crack at it. "Has she said anything?" "Who?" "The Sympatico." "...we didn't talk to it." "Well that's half your problem right there." theunvanquishedzims: At this point you should watch Show Yourself from Frozen 2, and the crystal scene from Atlantis the Lost Empire. Stepping into the place you've been called, making your presence known, and having a greater power reach out for you. Shiny lights, chasing the spark of life to its source, and having the power consume and embody you. Rich is used to it but it's probably pretty freaky from the outside, and way less magical-looking than a Disney movie. Probably more like when Magneto activated the machine in the first X-Men movie. Step up, turn it on, and suddenly it's sucking the life out of you, making you a living battery theunvanquishedzims: In my head I am picturing the glowing blue eyes, lights cracking along the skin like lightning or circuit patterns, the implants glowing in his temples, standing at a terminal like a star trek deck, maybe a faint breeze-like movement of the hair and clothes to indicate the sheer power radiating off of him. In reality it's probably more like he falls down, gets up, stumbles along to a good spot out of the weather, and curls up in a secluded defensible spot to stare emptily at the wall for a few hours while lights randomly go on and off around the ship theunvanquishedzims: Just being trailed by six very wary mafia dudes who have probably never seen someone mind-meld a ship, and definitely not solo. He's like a zombie, and when he does talk it's very clear he's talking for the both of them theunvanquishedzims: If any of them are in sync with the ship they definitely feel the !!!Rich you're back!!! vibe theunvanquishedzims: No idea how that resolves, I guess it depends on how powerful the mafia is. If they're the kind of entrenched criminals who are ongoing characters, then they have Rich scrub out what they need then dump him back on his skimmer to face the fallout alone. He might report it to the spooks? Or at least try to tell Basil and Mitch theunvanquishedzims: If they're not recurring characters then they were definitely being tracked by the spooks, who move in once the Sympatico comes back online. Rich has to answer some very tough questions but he cooperates fully and winds up digging up a LOT of dirt out of the Sympatico, now that the mafia showed him where to look. It's another one of the super traumatizing moments that makes him look cool and heroic. Oh yeah, totally got kidnapped, single-handedly piloted a ship, and helped bust the mafia, please stop talking about it, I need a nap, and also someone to go with me next time I go boarding. theunvanquishedzims: (And then I finished reading the book and found out that the Sympatico had a new crew and was out on the water with her AI still fried and broken, how did no one notice that)

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theunvanquishedzims: Okay I don't have Trimmer's voice well enough to write this fic so I'm feeding it to you raw: Trucker AU theunvanquishedzims: Rich is a long-haul trucker, much to the disappointment of his elder sister Angela, who is in law enforcement and thought he had a decent future in it too. Athena is a pro wrestler and totally down to support her brother traveling the country (and hopefully being in the same city as him sometime, she wants him to see her kick ass!) Rich wants to pursue a degree in [tech or engineering] but college is expensive, and trucking is a good way to make money, on top of which you don't have to pay rent when you're on the road. So he's saving up for school, probably listening to a lot of audiobooks, podcasts, and training guides while chugging along. theunvanquishedzims: Not nearly as bad or sketchy as the Sympatico, but life on the road can get pretty sketch sometimes, especially when you're alone. Enter Trimmer. Or rather, enter Rich into the middle-of-nowhere trucker stopover bar where Trimmer is getting his ass kicked. theunvanquishedzims: (Gonna go ahead and say the bar is called the Sympatico, and this is a very bad night to be there, which is saying something because any night at the Sympatico is a bad night to be there.) theunvanquishedzims: Fortunately, Rich is not trapped there by the cold uncaring waters of Lake Michigan, he can just turn around and leave when he sees the nightly fight brewing. Unfortunately, he has a weakness for cute twinks, and no matter how much the guy is insulting their mothers four on one is really not fair, so he winds up wading in, scooping Trimmer up, and murder-stalking to the exit theunvanquishedzims: [At this point I pause to stare out the window and wonder wistfully what their canon meeting was like, who approached who, if Trimmer just straight-up used his lunch to hire a bodyguard or if Rich did the "are you gonna finish that" puppy-eyes and Trimmer realized how easily he could be bribed, etc etc] theunvanquishedzims: In the Trucker AU Trimmer waits until they're outside to go feral goblin on the arm that's holding him, Rich drops him, and negotiation commences theunvanquishedzims: I don't have Trimmer's backstory nailed down, the "teenage runaway" archetype doesn't really suit someone with a large loving family, but safe to say that whatever lead him to hitchhiking across the Midwest he is determined to see through out of sheer bullheaded stubbornness. The only thing worse than calling your parents to bail you out with bus money home is calling your grandma. It might have involved stabbing a college advisor when the guy got rapey, he's technically not on the run from the law, he DEFINITELY is not on track to getting his degree. Halfway between college dropout and missing person. If he was wealthy he'd be backpacking Europe for a semester, but he's not, so he's hitchhiking America. And getting molested by truckers, because Trimmer can't have nice things. theunvanquishedzims: He is really not interested in getting molested by Rich! But, as Rich points out, he did just save him from getting stabbed, Trimmer doesn't seem to have any exit options for this backwater town, and holy #&$^ the bar's on fire. (The Sympatico burns to the ground that night, to the betterment of the world at large.) rollerskatinglizard: You have no idea how much I'm enjoying this But you should totally post it Splick and Roach would both scream in glee theunvanquishedzims: Rich and Trimmer get out while the getting is good, and it's nearly dawn before they finally hash out details. Rich offers to drop him off at the next town, but they're still pretty close to the epicenter of the mass exodus so the next few hundred miles are probably not going to be safe for Trimmer. By this point Trimmer has found a bunch of the old textbooks Rich bought secondhand to study in his free time and come to the conclusion that [this nerd is a nerd] his story checks out. Just a college kid trying to scrape together the cash to get an education and make a decent living. Reminds Trimmer of Trimmer. (Reminds Trimmer of Joey.) rollerskatinglizard: ;u; <3 Beautiful theunvanquishedzims: So now Rich has a little traveling buddy! Helps him stay awake on the long hauls, lets him use the carpool lanes, even reads to him out of the textbooks sometimes, with commentary. Trimmer is really smart and surprisingly easy to get along with. They nap in the cab, eat in diners, and share motel rooms. Trimmer unclenches a little. Rich is good about not asking personal questions. They definitely watch Athena's fights on tv more than once, much to Rich's chagrin and Trimmer's loud encouragement. He started fanboying over it to annoy and embarrass Rich, but it is surprisingly cathartic to watch someone get trash-talked and respond by just BODYSLAMMING their opponent. ("Why are you rooting for her, you're the biggest trash-talker I know," Rich mutters into his beer, face bright red as Trimmer whoops and high-fives the waitress he got to change the channel in the sports bar.) theunvanquishedzims: ("She would wipe the floor with me," Trimmer responds with a smirk, watching smugly as Rich tries to figure out if Trimmer is having impure thoughts about his baby sister) theunvanquishedzims: (They have already established that Trimmer does not have impure thoughts about Rich, that Rich DOES have impure thoughts about Trimmer, but as long as he stays in his own motel bed that's fine.) (Trimmer still sleeps with a knife under his pillow but doesn't bother in the cab, where their co-naps occasionally verge on snuggling.) rollerskatinglizard: <3 <3 <3 *perfect* theunvanquishedzims: They finally reach their destination. It has been [days to drive a rig between NJ and CA] and they make it there slightly ahead of schedule. Rich drops off the delivery, Trimmer comes face-to-face with the reality of the trip ending. He'd been hitchhiking for months and felt like he was going nowhere, and now a few days and suddenly he's crossed the entire country, and almost kinda maybe had fun doing it! And California's as good a place as any to stay, at least he won't freeze to death if he doesn't find a place to crash for the night. theunvanquishedzims: Then Rich comes back and hands him a wad of cash, pocketing a stack of his own. "Got a cash bonus for finishing early! And since you're the reason I made it here this fast, I just figured part of it is your share..." he peters out, trying to explain his reasoning. They sit in silence for a while, both thinking about Trimmer in California, far away from anyone who would want to hurt him, with a few hundred dollars in his pocket. theunvanquishedzims: "...Let's get lunch," Trimmer finally decrees, and Rich can't keep the relieved smile off his face. They renegotiate some things over lunch, and then go to pick up the next load to haul cross-country. Together. rollerskatinglizard: AWWWWWW!!!! *YES,* I love it!!! theunvanquishedzims: And then eventually they go to college together, and get their degrees, and good jobs, and meet the families, and Trimmer absolutely drags Rich to as many of Athena's fights as they can manage on the road. It's just to save money, things are cheaper when you split the rent, Trimmer hollers on the phone. You put a ring on that boy's finger, y'hear?! Hellbender hollers back. I am so glad the word moirail exists rollerskatinglizard: YES God yes Also this AU pleases me greatly rollerskatinglizard: Blessings upon you for it theunvanquishedzims: ...technically the Michigan Fleet takes place in a post-Homestuck world, so theoretically it could have time to enter mainstream lexicon. It's better than "bromance" theunvanquishedzims: JUST THROWING THAT OUT THERE >.> rollerskatinglizard: Yeah, totally different feel than bromance!

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theunvanquishedzims: Speaking of Homestuck! Wanna hear the Helmsman AU? :3 rollerskatinglizard: YES PLEASE theunvanquishedzims: Okay gimme a minute to get my notes, it's not based on One of Our Submarines but I can't remember the fic title. Have you read the one where the kids redesign the helmsrig and use that to garner support for Feferi as Empress? Lots of political drama, Sollux-centric, [spoiler], and in the end they win *but at what cost* (((If someone knows what fic I'm talking about please link me, I can't find it.))) rollerskatinglizard: No, I haven't theunvanquishedzims: It's good, if you like the nitty-gritty of rebellions. The piece I'm cherry picking is the new Empress introducing a new way of helming that allows more freedom. Instead of a single enslaved lowblood being hung up in tentacle wires until they drop dead, it's something you can unplug from, allowing psionics to swap out, take shifts, etc. So Empress Clearwater (yay seadweller name) is dead, long live Empress Clearwater, and she shakes things up by introducing her new helmsrig and orders it implemented Fleet-wide theunvanquishedzims: I don't think this universe is as bad as canon but it's still pretty rough on the bad ships, and the Sympatico is a very bad ship theunvanquishedzims: Angie is still a security officer, probably fairly high-ranking as a greenblood. Athena is a pro wrestler. Sports are probably a bigger part of life in a Fleet that doesn't center around conquest. The three probably grew up in the same neighborhood, maybe dabbled in quadrants before settling on hatefriends. Oooh, or ash, Athena setting them up to talk out their issues over lunch and then heckle each other over their other quadrants could fit in that quadrant. theunvanquishedzims: Rich is, of course, a helmsman. It's rare for someone that close to jade to be so powerful, he was actually planning on a career in tech, but when he got called in for psionic testing he basically crushed it. Possibly literally. And olive is still technically a lowblood, so off to the helm with you. theunvanquishedzims: His first posting is the Sympatico, and it's a nightmare. The one bright spot (dark spot? How do trolls even. *insert rant about Kanaya being pastel goth not goth-goth*) theunvanquishedzims: The one bright spot is Trimmer, a technician whose survival method is to lock himself in the helm dock and stab anybody who tries to mess with Rich when he's piloting. It's basically how things work in the superstorms, but 75-90% of the time instead of a few times a year theunvanquishedzims: Rich can barely talk most days, they communicate via chat client, and even that requires a lot of brainpower so they can't do it when the Sympatico has to fight something or do difficult maneuvers in space, which is pretty frequently. But Rich keeps an eye out for Trimmer, directing him through the ship to help him avoid people and fights, and tweaking things like hall lights when things get hairy. I think at least once he turned off the gravity, it cost him but it got Trimmer out of a really bad situation and gave him an excuse to hole up in the helmsdeck for a few days until things cooled off theunvanquishedzims: But all that is in the past! There's a new Empress, a new crew, and a new way of helming! theunvanquishedzims: The Sympatico is one of the flagships to roll out the new helmsrig. The original crew was disbanded, culled, reassigned. Trimmer was allowed to stay (at Rich's request) to ease the transition. It's a big day, lots of media attention documenting the new helmsmen, and Rich is doing his best to keep calm. He had to do some physical therapy to stand upright and be able to walk from the big speech to his shiny new helmsrig, but as a fairly young recruit he's not nearly as bad off as some older helmsmen whose bodies have atrophied. He's still pretty skinny though, especially when compared to Angie and Athena, who he reunited with (for the cameras) #helmsmenaretrollstoo, #greenc3<green, #omgishipit, see things are much better now, people can reclaim their lives and quadrants, helming is something to be excited for not scared of, etc. Lots of propaganda, lots of attention, lots of pressure to get this right theunvanquishedzims: And then he walks into the helm and Trimmer is there. Rich would probably have had a meltdown if he hadn't been, but no one can tell because they're so calm and professional. They're both cleaned up and impeccably uniformed, the plugging in goes smoothly, and the Sympatico comes to life and lifts off into the sky into a sunset that would make a Hollywood director weep. The cameras turn off, great job everybody, and things return to normal. Except Rich and Trimmer have no idea how to handle normal. For the first 8 hours it's fine, it's good, it's a little weird that Trimmer looks so tidy and that Rich is sitting in a padded chair instead of being flesh-jacked by tentacles, but it's fine. They chat over text, a little stilted but plenty to catch up on theunvanquishedzims: Rich spies on the new crew and gossips about how boring they are and how weird the ship looks with everything cleared out and well-lit, and wow where did that section of storage come from? Oh right that used to be a hidden smuggling nook. Haha nook. See they're fine, they're laughing at the same old jokes. DEFINITELY weird that Rich is physically laughing. And then their relief shift comes on, with the new 2nd shift helmsman, and it's time for Rich to get unplugged for the day and go. Go to his room, which he has now, or to eat, which he can do now, or any one of a million things that normal trolls do, because he's a normal troll now. (This is turning out a little different from in my head but I like it.) He makes it about two hallways, walking silently side-by-side with Trimmer, before he breaks down. Or rather Trimmer breaks down. Or maybe they both simultaneously break, there is a lot of breaking happening, and it's not great that it's happening in the hall where anybody could walk by and where the new helmsman is almost certainly seeing them and possibly reporting them, and Trimmer's flight instincts are to run back to the helm where it's safe but Rich isn't there, RICH was the reason it was safe and he's not at the helm, he's right there in the hall. Rich, I know not how, picks up Trimmer and gets them to him room. It' close by, thank goodness, and it has a lock on the door, how weird, and Trimmer is there. He missed Trimmer so so much. rollerskatinglizard: ;u; <3<3<3<3 theunvanquishedzims: [The following scene contains content too graphic for wigglers under the age of seven sweeps] rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Hardcore conciliation!!! theunvanquishedzims: From Trimmer's POV: Merrill requested him to remain a tech on the Sympatico. Makes sense, he was the only one who treated the guy like an actual troll and not a drooling mass of computational power. They got caught up, it's weird how clean and quiet the ship is, no fights to report beyond a spat in the cafeteria that turned out to be pitch flirtation. His shirtcuffs itch and he wants to roll them up but it's day one of the new empire and he doesn't want to get culled for being untidy on the Empress's pet project ship. There's so many other things to get culled for, anyway. And then shift is over. (Weird, he's used to working 16-hour days and sleeping in the helmdeck half the time.) And he has to unplug Merrill (double weird, he's not used to touching Merrill unless it's for a physical repair. Very aware of Rich as a physical person, especially when he's standing up and not obscured in a mass of tentacles.) And then they leave, together, which is WEIRD, because for sweeps Trimmer has been sneaking out of the helmdeck to go on a food run with Merrill texting him directions, and there's no Merrill on screen providing guidance to avoid fights, but there's not gonna BE any fights, and everything is the same but different and looks weird and shiny and there's a giant troll right next to him, stalking him, why didn't Merrill warn him?! rollerskatinglizard: Oh NO, ahaha, oh these poor doofuses theunvanquishedzims: From Rich's POV: he's been seeing these hallways for sweeps, but not from this angle, the ship is so familiar but so foreign to him, and he can't hear her, can't feel her, and he keeps reaching out for her even after all that training he did to get used to the new tech, there's still an absence and some part of his brain that says not being linked to the ship means something has gone catastrophically wrong and everyone onboard is going to die, TRIMMER is going to die, Trimmer is freaking out and hyperventilating next to him, Trimmer's running out of oxygen and the ship isn't responding to him to tell him what's wrong with the oxygen, and then Trimmer goes to bolt back to the helm but that's full of strange trolls and a new helmsman, and that knowledge is enough to shake him back to the situation at hand. He doesn't know where he finds the strength or the presence of mind, but he manages to grab up Trimmer and get them back to safety. It's just that safety is now his berth, not the helm. They're alone in his berth. And Trimmer is still freaking out. Sh-shoosh? Shoosh. Shooooooosh. theunvanquishedzims: Everything is diamonds and snow and beautiful shining crystals (in the movies that will someday be made about this day.) In the moment there's a lot more hyperventilating and snot. Basically, culmination behind the entire fic: do they actually have feelings for each other, or was it just about mutual survival the whole time? rollerskatinglizard: INCREDIBLY ADORABLE AND INTIMATE COMFORT, *YESSSS* Thank you yes, I'll have a dozen God that's splendid theunvanquishedzims: And they're both freaking out, Rich is hungry and physically tired and needs to do a lot of stretches, Trimmer is not used to Rich being huge and mobile and right next to him, and they both have crazy big trust issues, but...yeah, they're pale. They're so pale for each other, and it was so hard during the transition not seeing each other and not knowing how the other felt, not knowing how THEY felt, if they really had feelings or if it was all a bad situation. And now they know. They have feelings. And because they're trolls and not humans, they can flop on a pile and talk about those feelings in a non-platonic way, and Rich can pet Trimmer's hair and tell him how pretty he is and how Rich is glad that Trimmer got it properly cut instead of just hacking it too short for someone to grab, and how much he worried in the hall about not being able to see farther than his own field of vision to keep Trimmer out of harm's way, and how this whole thing is so weird and Rich is so scared but he's just really, really happy that Trimmer took the posting on the Sympatico, because he pities Trimmer and he wants him around and he was so glad that Trimmer wanted to still be around him too theunvanquishedzims: The media always depicts piling as either the traditional fairytale highblood freakout, or an extremely mellow ASMR-ish chillout with lots of hairpetting and horn polishing. Not two midbloods looting a mostly-empty room for enough junk to make a large enough pile to sit on, shrieking at each other about their feelings and how weird this is and why didn't you SAY something, me?! why didn't YOU say something?! Three SWEEPS we've been dancing around this! Well I didn't know if you felt the same way or if you just needed me to survive! Etc etc etc. Lots of getting up and stomping around , pacing the floor while ranting, trying to scavenge more stuff to throw on the pile. Rich owns basically nothing and it's the first time he's not judging Trimmer for keeping his room a garbage heap, even empty pizza boxes would be better than trying to make a pile out of two sweaters and a toothbrush. rollerskatinglizard: XDDD TuT aaaaah, YES theunvanquishedzims: Rich definitely rips off a wall panel and pulls out some wires, Trimmer doesn't even question it, they've lived and breathed this ship long enough to know what every wire does and which are nonessential to ship functioning. And with the wall panel crunched up they can pile stuff around it to make it seem less sparse, and wow it doesn't even matter that he pulled a panel down, this is HIS wall in HIS room now, he can "redecorate" as he sees fit, cue more yelling about how he doesn't know what to do with himself or his newfound freedom. The whole thing is just yelling and cussing and grabbing and shaking. It probably looks black from the outside, but they are swimming in palest cream. theunvanquishedzims: Eventually they give up on the pile. They go through Rich's entire perigee of snack rations to avoid having to go to the cafeteria, halfheartedly make fun of Rich's chewing, then crawl into the recuperacoon together. Thank goodness there was such a big push to show off how great helmsmen's lives will be, Rich scored a blueblood-huge 'coon and he's still skinny enough that they can both fit in it together. They sleep together, in sopor like proper trolls with proper lives as opposed to surrounded by pink tentacles and misery. Tomorrow they'll have to venture out for food, and do Rich's stretches and physical therapy, and head to their shift like the galaxy hasn't flipped upside-down, but they're handle that together. rollerskatinglizard: Oh help, my heart!! TuT It's SO CUTE, AAAAAAAH theunvanquishedzims: Okay my computer has been trying to shut down for the last three paragraphs so I think it's time to log off for the night, but I hope you enjoy the AUs, I will tell you more tomorrow rollerskatinglizard: Thank you so much!! Have a good night! theunvanquishedzims: (In the original version Rich and Trimmer came face-to-face for the first time since the Sympatico was busted up and Rich pulled out for rehab, and basically had a giant pale meltdown right there against the wall. There was purring, and crying, and confessions, all caught on film. Athena and Angie definitely saw. It had to be censored out of the broadcast. Someone uploaded it to Troll Pornhub and it won a Troll Pornhub Emmy for Truth in Journalism, which was not a category the Troll Pornhub Emmys had before, so congrats Merrill and Trimmer) rollerskatinglizard: *dying* oh my GOD Rich would blush so hard he'd keel over

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theunvanquishedzims: I woke up to the idea of Rich as Fezzik and Trimmer as Inigo Montoya (book version.) rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Oh man, delightful theunvanquishedzims: Soft-hearted giant and stabby little friend rollerskatinglizard: Yesss theunvanquishedzims: Only problem is Trimmer's grudge seems to be against the entire world, not any particular murderer theunvanquishedzims: But they could definitely take on the Zoo of Death together rollerskatinglizard: It could be both, in the AU! Specific grudge and also he hates everyone theunvanquishedzims: Instead of not being left-handed he pulls his feet out of his boots and surprise! More hands to stab you with Makes the acrobatics on top of the cliff more exciting rollerskatinglizard: *dying* YES Perfect! theunvanquishedzims: I don't know who the Man in Black of most beautiful woman in the world would be, but Rich catching them jumping out a window to whisk them away on horseback is lovely rollerskatinglizard: *strokes chin thoughtfully* If Rich is Fezzik, I think Basil might as well be the beautiful love interest, and Mitch is his farm boy turned dashing rogue theunvanquishedzims: Mitch and Trimmer sword fighting rollerskatinglizard: YES theunvanquishedzims: Mitch going through hell and back to save his lady love, then Rich shows up with the horses and says "hello pretty lady" and Basil is just swooning over him rollerskatinglizard: Mitch is pretty chill with Rich by then, he can handle sharing Rich didn't try *hard* to kill him, after all theunvanquishedzims: He even made it a fair fight instead of ambushing him He put down the rock and Mitch put down the sword and they tried to kill each other like civilized people rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Yes, exactly theunvanquishedzims: Rich even helped bring him back from being mostly dead rollerskatinglizard: They're practically best buddies now! theunvanquishedzims: Which I imagine is 1000x funnier because Trimmer hates this guy and doesn't want to help him but he has info Trimmer needs rollerskatinglizard: Rich just being reprovingly like Come on, buddy, he's cool really I KNOW you bonded over your sword fight with him Don't lie Trimmer: HE'S STILL A DIPSHIT theunvanquishedzims: Trimmer: It was a little fun to take the boots off I guess, I don't get to do that often rollerskatinglizard: Hahaha yes theunvanquishedzims: Downside of being the best swordsman in the world, nobody can touch you. UNTIL NOW. Trimmer: I killed the guy but now I have nothing to live for. Mitch: Have you considered piracy? Stabbing people all day and all the rope ladders you can climb rollerskatinglizard: *dying* theunvanquishedzims: Now Trimmer's life goal is to reclaim his title of Best Swordsman, which means fighting Mitch a lot rollerskatinglizard: Which they both enjoy Sometimes Trimmer wins, sometimes Mitch does rollerskatinglizard: Roach points out that Liam would be Miracle Max theunvanquishedzims: I was just about to type that! rollerskatinglizard: Heee! Good brain wave theunvanquishedzims: You need a cure for death? Nope, sorry. You need to it humiliate my mortal enemy? Coming right up! rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: Slipping Rich the holocaust cloak "because it fits so nice" rollerskatinglizard: Pfff yes theunvanquishedzims: Which is said with a million more winky faces than the movie rollerskatinglizard: XDDD Naturally Liam is a much higher-libido mad scientist-substitute theunvanquishedzims: He doesn't have a wife he has like six boyfriend minions hanging around in various states of undress. He got fired for banging the king when he was the royal miracle man, he did a good job but the prince found it icky. rollerskatinglizard: *dying* YES theunvanquishedzims: Basil as Buttercup tho. Basil: Mitch is a good friend. :) Just a great buddy. :)) Kind of smelly but a nice boy. :))) Someone: *might possibly find Mitch attractive* Basil: What? Why. No. Why would she. I mean yeah he's smart and muscular and tan and broad-shouldered and has perfect teeth and his sweat glistens in the sun as he does his chores shirtless, but c'mon, he's not THAT much hotter than her middle-aged husband. No way. rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* rollerskatinglizard: My cowriters very enjoy this AU concept, btw, thank you theunvanquishedzims: Excellent theunvanquishedzims: Trimmer: I told him I was there to kill him and he just...ran away? Mitch: Who does that? rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* theunvanquishedzims: Basil being a slobby peasant until two minutes after Mitch leaves, then realizing he has to take care of himself if he wants to keep Mitch's attention, and only then starting to regularly bathe and brush his hair and work on his figure. rollerskatinglizard: Snirk! Sounds about right, doofus nerd that he is theunvanquishedzims: Then he becomes a princess and has two servants per limb to keep him clean and shining, so when Mitch sneaks into the wedding announcement crowd his first view of Basil is 1. clean 2. shiny hair 3. dressed like a queen

_______________________________

General book chit-chat, no specific AU

theunvanquishedzims: I saw the post about the Sympatico crew having a very different view of Rich than his friends and now I am consumed with the idea of Rich being seen as scary by anyone who knows him for more than a single minute. Like, he flinches at the sight of a uniform, he can't stand to be in a room with more than one other person in it, and he's so busy working he doesn't really have time to go around carving out a territory rollerskatinglizard: Right? You'd think it'd be tricky, but apparently no theunvanquishedzims: And now there's video of him covered in kittens, and doing cool board tricks, and pretending a little barbel is too heavy to lift, and also he might be in the news for taking down a murderous conspiracy at the Mall. rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Indeed theunvanquishedzims: Where did big scary monster Merrill go, who is this marshmallow rollerskatinglizard: What scam is he trying to run?!? theunvanquishedzims: Oooh, I pity the fool who is assigned to a boat with Officer Merrill. Double flinch response rollerskatinglizard: RIGHT? *OH SHIT, THERE'S ANOTHER ONE* And she's ARMED theunvanquishedzims: Try to blow off some steam by watching some wrestling, A THIRD ONE rollerskatinglizard: Some poor dumbass who sneered at Trimmer once ends up hiding out on a penny boat bc there's MERRILLS EVERYWHERE, IT'S NOT SAFE OUT THERE theunvanquishedzims: *dying laughing* I imagine a non-terrible Sympatico crew member meeting reformed Rich is like those Very Special Episodes where the hero's high school bully or childhood bad influence friend comes to town, and they're so nice and friendly and apologetic about what happened back in the day rollerskatinglizard: We actually have an encounter something like that planned! theunvanquishedzims: The hero's friends are all charmed and the hero can't convince anyone that it's all an act, he's secretly still terrible, look I'll prove it *does something that makes the hero look bad and the reformed guy look like a victim* Yaaaaaaaaay!!! Outside perspective is the BEST rollerskatinglizard: Rich and this random dude, both acting like the other one is a total menace Meanwhile, anyone who's known either of them since is like ....No?? He's a fine guy, perfectly reasonable Merrill, stop growling theunvanquishedzims: Two Spider-Men pointing at each other rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Yes theunvanquishedzims: Also the fact that Rich has gotten BIGGER since leaving the Sympatico is probably a shock rollerskatinglizard: OH yeah theunvanquishedzims: Richard "Cranky Because He's Slowly Starving To Death" Merrill rollerskatinglizard: I mean, it's a shock to Rich When he hits another growth spurt So it's definitely a shock to anyone else theunvanquishedzims: Oh yeah, he was like 17 when he was first assigned there, nowhere near done growing yet Richard "My Shirts Rip When I Flex Wrong" Merrill rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* He'd look so sheepish and disgruntled if someone gave him that "I flexed and the sleeves fell off" shirt theunvanquishedzims: I am so glad Trimmer got to him before, like, a gang could figure out he's easily bribed with food. Things could have gone so much worse, corruption-wise rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: I just finished Athena and the Midnight Chicken and WOW Rich was actually kind of close to giving in to peer pressure there, if Athena hadn't thrown herself towards the proverbial sword he might have let himself be talked into something he really didn't want to do. rollerskatinglizard: It's possible! Baby Rich is very weak to peer pressure theunvanquishedzims: If they had been smart and manipulative and laid the groundwork first it would have been even easier, not just "here's a knife let your ingrained killing instincts do the work" rollerskatinglizard: Yeah! It could've gone much worse theunvanquishedzims: In the wrong hands Rich would make a very good, very sad soldier But like, deep down inside sad where no one could see it. rollerskatinglizard: That was actually close to his original story when I came up with him

[I’ll check with Skates to see if it’s okay to post that bit]

theunvanquishedzims: I'm already nervous about those two Horrible Old Men rollerskatinglizard: Which two? theunvanquishedzims: My face went D: at the idea that there's more than two rollerskatinglizard: *pats u gently* theunvanquishedzims: The werewolf guy with the boys on leashes is the one that makes my instincts scream KILL IT WITH FIRE, but there's also the one with the scar on his face? I wanna say Arthur Carroway rollerskatinglizard: >u> Gosh, Zims, idk WHY you'd be worried about him Just bc my tablet keyboard knows how to spell Carraway That's no reason to be concerned! rollerskatinglizard: Maybe Splick made him the [tarot] Devil bc he's devilishly handsome! Did you think of that?? theunvanquishedzims: I am terrified of him showing up, I know I'll be cringing too hard to keep reading right away. Men who abuse positions of power are so squicky, I couldn't even stand to watch the Office and Michael Scott is like, the most benign example of the trope But yeah a guy like that getting to Rich as a younger more mallable person, fresh-faced and eager to please. Ugh. Such a bad ending. rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: William Sandgren is the other one, I think rollerskatinglizard: Fortunately Rich did get rescued originally! I don't do sad endings theunvanquishedzims: He looks cool, I don't immediately want him dead for my own safety rollerskatinglizard: <u< theunvanquishedzims: ...I will ignore that face and continue to think of him as the lesser of two evils for now rollerskatinglizard: Absolutely feel free! ^u^ theunvanquishedzims: When I thought about this earlier I imagined Liam actually being the one to start a pissing contest with Arthur. Rich guy vs criminal guy, my grandmother bedazzled the skulls of her enemies, your teeth would make a lovely necklace, etc etc "Well I'd love to get them around your throat" ;) rollerskatinglizard: You know Liam QUITE well theunvanquishedzims: I'm a visual learner, so all the illustrations are helping me flesh out characteristics. Liam smiling like a psycho while his face drips blood is very telling. rollerskatinglizard: Hah!!! Right? God, he's SUCH a little firebrand theunvanquishedzims: (Also, AU where Liam is the babydoll heir and Rich is the soldier mod bodyguard he climbs like a tree) rollerskatinglizard: We have definitely discussed that AU thoughtfully >u> It's good, v tasty theunvanquishedzims: Rich is all THIS GOES AGAINST THE RULES and Liam is all oh you like being told what to do hmm? >:3~ rollerskatinglizard: Rich: God this is SUCH a bad idea, I'm gonna get so fired Liam: Not if you're good enough at it! theunvanquishedzims: I imagine without a pregnancy they'd be able to keep it under wraps slightly longer than grandma Beaker rollerskatinglizard: True! theunvanquishedzims: "Under wraps" like everyone in the house can't hear them rollerskatinglizard: Pffff YUP theunvanquishedzims: Ugh now I'm remembering Trimmer being scared of Rich getting drunk and pushy and I'm sad again rollerskatinglizard: No one likes Rich's drinking except Rich rollerskatinglizard: It's okay tho, Trimmer trusts Rich more after that theunvanquishedzims:I think he'll figure it out given enough time. Rich: Well everyone drinks because work sucks. Basil and Mitch: Nope! Rich: Well I'm a soldier mod so it just LOOKS like I'm drinking a lot. Angie and Thena: Nope! Rich: Well I have trauma from the Sympatico so I need alcohol to deal with that. Trimmer: Nope! Rich: ...well I guess I have a problem then. :< Everyone: Yep! rollerskatinglizard: Indeed theunvanquishedzims: I am so curious about their origins, how the relationship developed, how apparently they had half a handjob between them and went NOPE NEVER AGAIN, how they wound up co-sleeping, if they ever cried on one another, etc etc rollerskatinglizard: I'm 100% certain that Rich cried on Trimmer at least once, while Trimmer awkwardly patted his hair and gently called him a wuss or something If Trimmer ever cried it would've been in the middle of the night, and none of them would ever mention it in the light of day theunvanquishedzims: Was that Trimmer's first posting? I know it was Rich's, so he kiiiind of didn't know any better, but Trimmer is older by a bit rollerskatinglizard: It definitely wasn't Trimmer's first, no, the latest in a long string of postings that went from okay to bad to worse theunvanquishedzims: Oh nooooooo No wonder he finally said screw it and got a solo boat rollerskatinglizard: Yep

#michigan fleet #boat boys #AUs are still my favorite thing #long post #richard merrill #joseph trimmer

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agapaic · 4 years ago

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tianshan drabble. 💞 created for Fay @nightfayre following her matched donation to Communities United Against Police Brutality. see here for more information. thank you so much to @fantasiapegasus for proofreading! 🌸 synopsis: guan shan receives an unexpected birthday present.

‘We’ll be late,’ He Tian says, the reminder only a little impatient.

Guan Shan’s lip curls. ‘I’m not rushin’ anywhere,’ he says. ‘Not today.’

He Tian holds his hands up, like catching his fingers on a burner, and says nothing. He’d bought them both bubble tea from the café in the apartment’s lobby that morning, and now he watches Guan Shan finishing his, which is cold and sweet. Guan Shan gives it a shake. Small tapioca balls drift around at the bottom, the colour and shape of pomegranate seeds, strangely tacky on He Tian’s tongue when he accepts the proffered remnants of the cup and tips his head back. He Tian puts the empty cup on the side of the kitchen counter.

‘Now can we go?’

Guan Shan narrows his eyes. ‘You know I fuckin’ hate birthdays.’

‘I know.’

‘You know I fuckin’ hate bein’ told what to do.’

A wry smile. ‘I’m very intimate with the concept.’

‘Bein’ told what to do or me hatin’ it?’

He Tian says, ‘Yes.’ He hands Guan Shan a light jacket; the day will be warm, but the mornings are still cool, and He Tian had bought the jacket for Guan Shan’s twentieth birthday a few years ago and still admires its fit.

The café they’re going to for brunch doesn’t take bookings, but they’ve made an exception for He Tian, and Guan Shan’s mother will be meeting them there. Ordinarily, they would spend the morning fucking and He Tian would fetch a box of hot sweet bread and fresh baozi from a breakfast stall down the street. They would watch Li Ziqi on Weibo for half the day, pretending they were somewhere beautiful in Sichuan, and Guan Shan wouldn’t mind if He Tian got crumbs on the sheets.

‘We can go there,’ He Tian would say. ‘Right now—I’ll take you.’

And Guan Shan would explain, in his own way, that there was no real desire in him for it; the want was brief and insubstantial. He wanted to live Li Ziqi’s life like he wanted mushroom jiaozi instead of shrimp, a bland preference. He wouldn’t mind either way which he got.

Today, He Tian hasn’t allowed for the simple pleasure of sex and food. Today, after a year, he can offer something more. He checks his messages on his phone as they ride the elevator down to the lobby, and Qiu has sent him a thumbs-up emoji. They’re good to go. He Tian feels a little sick, and his smile feels warped on his lips when Guan Shan catches his eye in the ceiling mirror.

‘What?’ Guan Shan murmurs. They’re alone in the elevator, but the need to lower their voices is instinctive. ‘You look funny.’

‘I’m just happy,’ He Tian says. ‘It’s your birthday.’

Guan Shan looks away. ‘Fuckin’ weirdo,’ he mutters, but the corner of his mouth is tight, like he’s holding in a smile.

‘You’re not excited to see your mother?’

‘We see her every week for dinner.’

He Tian shrugs. The elevator dings; the doors slide open. They walk out into the complex’s underground car park, and He Tian’s black sports car bleeps as he raises the keys. It doesn’t fit his emaciated salary of being a nightclub bartender, but the car is an element of He Tian’s family wealth to which Guan Shan doesn’t object.

Guan Shan argued once that it defeated the point of the underprivileged image He Tian has been working on cultivating since his father struck him off—which is true, in a fashion—but money still leaks from somewhere, and He Tian wears the marks of it like an oil stain.

They get in the car, and He Tian pulls out from the car park and into the bright mid-morning air, busy with gnats and birds and the muted twang of far-off city construction work. A blackbird flits across the windshield, and He Tian is careful as he eases onto the street.

‘So,’ he says, ‘if you could have anything—’

‘Have we gotta do this every fuckin’ year?’

‘—anything, Mo Guan Shan, what would it be?’

Guan Shan sighs. ‘A pony. Buy me a fuckin’ pony.’

‘Where would we keep it?’ He Tian asks, laughing.

‘I dunno. Where do the rich fuckers in this city keep them?’

‘In stables out of the city.’ Grimacing, He Tian adds: ‘They go riding on weekends, but hire an ostler for most of the year.’

Guan Shan’s expression is comical. ‘Tell me you haven’t.’

He Tian laughs again. ‘I haven’t, I swear. I only know ‘cause friends of the family used to have horses. Still do, I suppose. It’s the kind of thing you never leave, right?’

‘Like working for the mob?’

There’s a collective pause, and then He Tian says, ‘Wow, you really do hate birthdays.’

He catches Guan Shan wince, a token of regret. He hasn’t lashed out in a while, and they don’t talk about He Tian’s family—or its business—unless they can help it. Usually, it’s He Tian remarking on some old pastime he had to endure on his father’s orders. On even rarer occasions, Guan Shan mentions it when he's indulging in a particularly foul mood and their disparate upbringings become a tool only to set them further apart.

They drive for ten minutes in silence, and Guan Shan chews on a hangnail and flicks through radio channels before switching the system off entirely.

‘You know why I hate them,’ Guan Shan says. And then: ‘Sorry.’

He Tian knows. It was only revealed to him on a night out for Guan Shan’s eighteenth birthday. Guan Shan had been drunk, and cried in the taxi on the way back to his mother’s apartment, then threw up onto the pavement with his head hanging out the doorway after the driver stopped the car.

The story went like this: it had been his birthday when his father was arrested for fraud and associated gang activity; his parents had planned to close up early and make him a cake together in the kitchens, which they’d eat slice after slice until they felt sick. Instead, police had swarmed into the restaurant in riot gear, and Guan Shan had hidden under a table in a cleaning cupboard, memorising the labels on bottles of bleach until he had a headache from the chemical fumes and a uniformed woman with a face visor pulled him out by the wrist. He’d been five, and didn’t see his mother for four days. After everything, she’d known nothing.

‘Seriously,’ He Tian says. ‘Tell me what you want.’

‘Brunch with you and my ma.’ He Tian doesn’t look at him; he sounds frustrated. ‘I’m not gonna say I want him there ‘cause he’s not gonna be there.’

He Tian checks his mirrors. ‘Guan Shan—’

‘Yeah, yeah. Don’t wish for things you’re never gonna get. I’ve learnt my lesson, whatever.’

‘Actually, sweetheart, I was going to say we’re here.’

Guan Shan blinks. Gravel crunches beneath the tyres as He Tian eases the car into a parking space in the city hall’s car park. He pushes the pedal for the parking brake, and the engine turns off automatically. Obviously, they’re not at the café.

‘I don’t understand,’ says Guan Shan, and then he looks at He Tian. ‘I swear to fuckin’ god, if there are marriage papers waitin’ in there…’

He Tian laughs loudly, startled. The thought hadn’t occurred to him, but now he wishes it had. ‘No,’ he says. ‘Not today.’

Guan Shan glowers at him, and He Tian opens his car door. ‘Come on,’ he says, nodding his head. ‘Quick detour.’

He can hear Guan Shan muttering in furious debate with himself as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out the car, slamming the door a little too hard. His grip is white-knuckled in He Tian’s hand when he reaches his side, and He Tian smooths his thumb across Guan Shan’s knuckles.

‘You’re sweating,’ He Tian says.

‘I don’t like surprises,’ Guan Shan grinds out, then swipes at the sheen on his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. ‘What the fuck are we here for?’

‘I told you—’

‘That was bullshit.’ Guan Shan only looks ahead, approaching the steps with a vague grimace of contempt. A woman and man stand at the entrance in bullet proof vests, cradling guns in their arms. ‘Sorry, but it’s bullshit.’

He Tian shrugs. He flashes a badge to the officials standing at the main entrance, and says, ‘Magistrates’ hearing.’

They’re allowed in.

‘What the fuck,’ he hears Guan Shan whisper, and then pulls him through when the officials step aside, wearing sunglasses and looks that are equal in severity. Inside, the glossy hallways are cool, and He Tian becomes aware of the swiftness of his own pulse, a staccato metronome. Guan Shan looks sharply at him as they head towards a part of the building that is marked out by signs on polished chrome stands that read ‘Magistrates’ Court & Legal Offices’. Everyone they pass wears a suit; the click of women’s heels on the marble tiled flooring is loud.

Eventually, they walk through a final hallway and out into a brightly lit atrium. Mid-morning sun filters down like they’re in a church, and it makes Qiu’s hair look bright and see-through.

‘The hell is he doin’ here?’ Guan Shan asks, voice wavering with nerves. ‘He Tian—’

‘It’s alright,’ He Tian soothes. ‘Trust me.’

He Tian nods at Qiu, who is standing before a huge set of closed wooden doors with metal rivets studded down each side. Briefly, He Tian entertains the possibility that Qiu is the gatekeeper to some celestial doorway, and he squeezes Guan Shan’s hand tighter.

‘They’ve just made the ruling,’ says Qiu. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’

He Tian nods.

As a three, they stand in silence. It is the silence of men who know that something is about to happen, but don’t know exactly what. Beside He Tian, Guan Shan is shaking. He Tian has lost some of the sensation in his hand, and his pulse aches at his wrist. When he glances at Guan Shan, he can see a bead of sweat run from the crop of red hair at his temple, and down the soft slope of his ear.

Please don’t throw up, He Tian wants to say, jokingly, but then he thinks that might trigger it.

Eventually, there’s sound behind the doors, like the scraping of chairs, and a man’s voice. The three of them stand to one side as they eventually open, and a strange breath of air flows from the room, cool and hot all at once. Inside, the courtroom is disappointingly small, and there are only a handful of people: a jury, the judge, the necessary legal representatives, and a man in a suit that might once have fitted him.

He can take the jacket off, He Tian thinks, and roll up the sleeves. It’ll do for brunch.

‘Oh, you fuck,’ Guan Shan says, the words an exhale. He’s not looking at He Tian. Really, the words could be directed at anyone. There’s a bubble of hysteria welling in He Tian’s throat, and he’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. He does nothing, and lets Guan Shan’s hand fall from his.

‘We got him a lawyer,’ he tells Guan Shan, standing at his shoulder, speaking quietly. ‘A better one. They won the appeal.’

Guan Shan nods, but He Tian knows he’s only half listening. His mouth has fallen open. There’s a taut line between his brows where they’ve drawn together and made a ridge. He looks like he’s in pain, and He Tian supposes he probably is. How many years has he looked at his father behind a grate, or smeared glass? Fifteen? Sixteen? He Tian knows it’s more.

He watches the moment Mr Mo’s gaze meets his son’s. There’s fear there—shame, too. Mr Mo’s lawyer whispers something in his client’s ear, pats a hand to his shoulder, then walks from the hall with his briefcase and a courteous nod in He Tian’s direction. His job is done; in an hour, he’ll send an invoice. Alone, the space between them some unchartered territory, Guan Shan takes an uncertain step forward.

Like a child, He Tian thinks.

After a moment, Guan Shan takes another, and another. He’s started crying. When they’re only a foot apart, he and his father stare at each other. It lasts a few seconds, until they both smile at the startled realisation: they’re the same height. Staying where he is, He Tian watches the embrace; he can’t hear the words that follow. Their mouths move the same; their eyes are deceivingly soft. He Tian presses down his envy. He catches the words birthday and red. Mr Mo’s hands gesture to Guan Shan’s hair, appraise his clothes with pride and something like fear.

He Tian waits a few minutes before he begins to move forward. He expects Qiu to hold him back, but Qiu doesn’t. Up close, the similarities between them are unnerving.

‘Dad, this is He Tian,’ Guan Shan says when He Tian reaches his side. He Tian doesn’t touch him, but he wants to.

‘I know,’ says Mr Mo, his voice gravelly with disuse and too many cigarettes. ‘We’ve already met.’

🌸 in the footsteps of @nightfayre ‘s wonderful initiative, i’ll be filling any drabble requests following a donation to help the fund for george floyd, the black lives matter movement, or any similar cause. please read here if you would like more information! ✨

#19 days #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #please REBLOG #old xian #george floyd drabble

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gyromitra-esculenta · 3 years ago

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Misery is the Drug in Your Veins 1

Dead Dove Mob/Yakuza AU

Hanzo has a problem threatening Shimada-gumi’s working relationship with Reaper’s organization: the altercation between his shit-for-brains men and Reaper’s kid’s bodyguard that ended with blood spilled. It’s his responsibility to smooth things over and offer an appropriate apology.

Over two years earlier, working deep undercover in Reyes’ family, Jack finds himself with his cover blown and his very life a balancing act on a tightrope.

Warnings: Serious Dead Dove, ncs, dubious/coerced consent, ncs drug use, violence (like people buried alive at night in woods in future or mentions of necklacing), abuse, objectification, ptsd, cptsd, fawning, no-one is objectively good, etc - also Hanzo & Genji being bros.

He should have taken the coat, not just the scarf, Jack thinks, observing the falling snowflakes, big and fluffy. Probably the first snow, too, all poetic and shit. He just needed some space to breathe and clear his mind, if only for a moment - hitching a ride with Amelie and Jesse on their morning trip to the shore seemed like a good idea then, not so much now.

To his left, Amelie speaks into her phone in angry spitfire French. Jack sighs and closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the wooden post. Should've taken the coat, he's too fucking cold. Cold enough to shiver.

"Will you die?" Jesse asks and Jack cracks one eye open. He can hear the sirens getting closer - he also feels the blood seeping through the fingers of the hands he keeps pressed to his side - and he's so fucking cold.

"I don't know," Jack answers sincerely, "but Gabe's gonna be angry with me, for sure..."

Jesse nods solemnly and puts his own hands on his - Christ, he's what, seven? The kid's seven, Jack needs to remind himself, and asking him if he's going to die now, and no child should do that ever, but he's just tired and fucking freezing.

It doesn't even hurt anymore and the sirens are getting away.

The car ride through the early winter landscape takes over an hour. The serpentine road leading up the mountain mansion is cleared of snow - and at this point, observing the scenery passing by the window, Hanzo is considering making a damn PowerPoint presentation. If it will save him from this kind of headache in the future, it will be worth it. Maybe he will even delegate the task to Genji. Speaking of whom, as the car turns around and rolls to a stop in front of the mansion, Genji is the first out with a cigarette in his hand.

Hanzo waits for Daichi to open his door.

The air is chilly but not enough for the snow to linger for more than a few days unless the temperature drops further. Hanzo would spend a moment to appreciate it under any other circumstances.

The angry European woman, underdressed for the weather, leans on the banister of the balcony and glares death at them. Another variable Hanzo’s unfamiliar with.

"Get back in the car."

Genji waves his cigarette.

"I just light..."

"The car, now."

Genji swears in a protest but complies. Good. Hanzo needed him to only show his face around, anyway, so it’s known he’s taking the situation with all the seriousness expected.

The woman above raises her chin and turns away from the banister, disappearing from his sight. He's expecting to meet her inside.

Hanzo walks past the first car, nodding to his people as he passes them. The hall is hot, and Hanzo entertains for a moment the notion Americans have absolutely no moderation in anything. He lets Daichi take his coat and leaves him behind in the vestibule, following one of the two guards deeper into the house. Up the stairs, the mercenary lets him into the day room connected to the balcony. Through the glass doors, he can see it's far more spacious than it appears from the outside.

The woman from earlier sits in a wicker chair, drinking something warm from a cup. The kid, dressed more appropriately in a sweater and a cap, plays with toy cars on the floor, pausing once in a while to talk at her - by the movement of the steam above the rim of the cup he can follow her answers.

Hanzo sits down on the couch.

When he was much younger, he believed in all the tall tales of honor, whole-heartedly even, before he had realized it was just a pretty word for bruised egos and petty vendettas of the vain. And as such, the vulgar display of power before him is merely that.

"Shimada," Reaper raises his glass minutely without offering. The whore, half-sitting on the floor with face leaning on his thigh, bound and gagged - thankfully covered with a thrown on yukata - either pretends not to notice the audience or is completely out of it. Hanzo fixates for a moment on a darker patch on Reaper's trousers, obviously wet with drool and gods know what else. He's even marginally curious if the whore's going to be one of those he has to arrange for a discrete cleanup after, one of the obligations of the agreement negotiated by his father, both the supply and the subsequent removal.

"I've become aware of an... incident involving some of my men. I want to extend my sincere apologies and assure you they will be disciplined appropriately."

"Will they?" Reaper sips his drink.

They certainly are already very sorry, is what Hanzo would want to say, since your minder sent all three of them running, and two, in the aftermath, to the urgent care. He settles for the appropriate prostration.

"I will personally ensure a situation like this won’t repeat."

"My property was put at risk."

The negotiation stage, at last. If such a thing ever came to be, Hanzo dearly hoped he himself would never refer to his own child, or their mother, as his property, though he harbors no such futile delusions where his own future is concerned.

"We will offer the customary tribute."

"I demand the full retribution."

"It was a grave mistake but it would be a far too drastic action to undertake."

"I don't think you understand the severity of the situation, Shimada," Reaper smiles and inclines forward, setting the glass between them on the table while his other hand pets the whore's hair. He leans back against the couch, pulling at the gripped between his fingers hair, forcing the whore to straighten frantically to follow his movement. One of those gags, Hanzo notes in the back of his mind, watching the man's throat as he seizes and tries to fight for his breath with his changing position. The cloth slips off his frame, revealing the stitches on his left side and the reddened flesh underneath.

It's the distinctive scars that make Hanzo realize he had read the situation wrong, right from the very start. Whatever Reaper sees in his face is enough for him to let go of the man's hair and allow him to fall back against his thigh with a small sound of distress.

Hanzo was never in a position to negotiate.

"I'll arrange for the place and the time."

"See that you do, Shimada."

Halfway down the mountain, Genji finally asks.

"So, what's it gonna be? Fingers?" Hanzo holds his hand out to him and Genji, sighing, gives him his flask. "What, their balls and dicks?"

When Hanzo drinks more before passing the flask back to him, Genji grimaces.

"They just pestered the chick and knifed the hired muscle, that's a bit much."

"Only he wasn't a hired muscle."

"What, some family?"

Hanzo looks out of the window.

"Genji, do you remember, when the old man sent us to pick up the kid from the airport?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"The junkie."

Standing outside of the terminal with the kid in his arms and a backpack, with a duffel bag full of money on the ground. Obviously lost and confused, suffering from withdrawal if one knew what to look for, and ready to bolt if anyone as much as tried to approach him - with months-old scars slashed across his face, and another one along the left side of his head, barely hidden under the hair.

And he would run if Hanzo didn't have the foresight to instruct his men to surround him; even made a panicked move before a strange resignation took him over and he quietly followed them to the car - not letting go of the kid even as he tore into the packet Hanzo provided him with and swallowed the pills dry, high as a kite already when they finally arrived at their destination and made the exchange, staying long enough to see him and the kid escorted to the mansion.

"Yeah, what about that one?" Genji flippantly takes a swig from the flask.

"It was him, and he's his woman."

"Shit." Genji meets his eyes, then continues in an unfamiliar display of sympathy. "I'll get everything ready, you just pass the word."

"Thank you." And Hanzo means it.

It's not the first time that Hanzo considers Genji would be a much better fit for the position, if not for his rambunctiousness, and some other quirks seen as weaknesses and not the strengths they were. Nevertheless, it was far more likely it would be Genji providing the heir, either by design or by accident, Hanzo idly thinks by the way of distraction from his current task, which is delivering a signed death warrant on his own men. They were foolish and young, their deaths superfluous, and yet...

The Chinese were good partners if one traded in lives - and Shimada-gumi partook in it - but drugs and firepower were a whole different matter altogether. The triads were unwilling to part with the total control, so if the man who provided the connections and his network wanted a blood tribute, he got the damn blood tribute. Too bad he never got to know what the old man paid for the deal they've inherited, but merely seeing him squirm over it was sure worth the price.

Hanzo sits on the couch just as the maid – Filipino, if he were to guess - finishes pouring the tea into what appears to be his designated cup out of the four on the table. The host is absent, as is the angry European woman; he can put the time it affords him to some use.

The indirect source of his headache is half-lying, half-sitting on the cushions on the floor. The kid, working on a picture, is sitting between the table and his legs. Hanzo observes for a moment, trying to look past the preconceptions and circumstances skewing his perception. The man is relaxed and definitely under the influence, be it painkillers or something else altogether, and except for the initial glance, he ignores Hanzo completely, staring off into space. Hardly frail, in a physical sense of the world. His physique is maintained. A wide bruise that wasn’t there before is circling his neck.

"I don't believe we were introduced," Hanzo clears his throat, extending his hand over the table. "Shimada Hanzo."

The man flicks his eyes at Hanzo's palm before returning to looking at an unspecified point in the air.

"...Jack."

But his lips were forming a different sound at the beginning before Jack apparently caught himself.

"I see," Hanzo puts his hand back on his thigh. "Can I ask you something, Jack?"

Jack shrugs noncommittally, with the accompaniment of subtle clinking.

"Thank you." Hanzo spares a glance to the kid busy adding copious amounts of red crayon to the picture. "This might be an inappropriate discussion for a child."

Jack shrugs again - there's the metallic sound once more - and answers without looking.

"I shot his mother in front of him."

That's... definitely, one way of saying it doesn't matter what's discussed. Hanzo purses his lips, mulling over how to proceed, when the kid puts the crayon back on the table and looks at him.

"Mom killed dad and wanted to kill Jack," the kid smiles and grabs the black crayon this time. Jack at first just stares at the boy, then Hanzo feels his surprised attention on himself as if, somehow, Jack had consciously noticed him only now, biting his lip in what could be apprehension or anxiety. Intriguing, how his focus wavers immediately, prompting Hanzo to continue with caution, to sustain it.

"Can you tell me, Jack, how you got the scars on your face?"

Jack mulls the question over.

"Glass. It was... a window, and the bomb went off..." His voice trails off. Fair enough. The cuts must've been clean and deep, missing both of his eyes by a close margin.

"Jack." The man's wandering gaze snaps back to Hanzo at hearing his name, again. "And the burn on your neck?"

"...gun." Jack doesn't elaborate on it. Hanzo keeps the momentum up and does not push for the information that is not provided freely.

"The scars on the chest, Jack?" As soon as Jack parses the question, the additional nervousness builds up in his shoulders. The metallic clinking is back. He answers with a barely perceptible stutter.

"...Afghanistan."

Either military or mercenary, might be both. Running convoys, possibly; maybe this is the connection Hanzo's looking for to sate his personal curiosity, but the further line of questioning is best saved for later.

"Jack," Hanzo calls the man's wandering attention back to himself, again. "And the scar on the left side of your head, Jack?"

Jack freezes for a moment before both of his hands fly up to cover his hair there - handcuffed and used to it, judging by the flawless coordination - the reddened skin around the wrists has an oily wet shine to it.

"No, it's not visible, Jack," Hanzo finds himself trying to placate him with his open palms showing and reaching over the table. The unexpected manner of an animal gulping air and ready to lash out reminds him of all the times he had to talk Genji down from whatever bad high he'd been on. "I've seen it before. Before. There's nothing to see now, Jack. Nothing."

The change is gradual. Jack's expression settles back into an impassive mask as his hands slowly return to their previous position. Hanzo lets the matter rest, sparing a glance at the kid unperturbed by the incident and happy to be left alone working on his picture.

"I failed to blow my brains out," Jack delivers in a flat voice bereft of any inflection. There's something disturbingly familiar in his words and eyes Hanzo cannot pin down, not now at least, but the impression of the fact that he had seen it somewhere before remains. Puzzle pieces to be assembled together later - if he finds enough of the missing parts to create the image or at least the idea of the image.

"That's all that I wanted to ask, Jack," Hanzo focuses on the cup he reaches for, still feeling the uncomfortable stare of blue eyes bore into him.

Over time, he grew accustomed to the western idea of what tea is - made with much too hot water and too many leaves - and marinated. The one in the cup has a lovely red coloring and smells deeply of tannin. The taste is tart and bitter, with a smidge of sweet fermentation. From the corner of his eye, Hanzo can still see Jack observing him with unnerving intensity. He tries to remain unbothered by it while sipping his tea, idly noting it would be acceptable as a sweetened drink when watered down.

The uncomfortable moment lasts until Jack shifts his whole posture, best described as a scramble to prop himself up on his hands - the reason obvious when the host enters Hanzo's field of vision - the whole of it a ridiculous approximation of a pet reacting to its beloved owner.

As ridiculous as Hanzo's own refusal to refer to the man as 'Reaper' in the confines of his own mind, but the fact some of his people took to calling him 'Shinigami' is even more preposterous, and he will take no part in this absurd game unless otherwise required. And, even being in a position of a supplicant - again - he will not vie for the attention that at the same time he is owed as a guest. The whole situation leaves Hanzo with a substantial quandary to navigate while he goes through the mental list of all the interdependencies. Not for the first time, he's more than curious what the old man had offered his current host in the introductory package - but definitely not the mansion itself. Hanzo had discreetly investigated all the details of the acquisition of the property and nothing came up, except for the fact that it had been allowed to be bought out by a foreigner. If he were to hazard a cautious guess, it almost looked like a cozy retirement plan.

Hanzo sips on his tea, watching the interaction before him play out: at the same time put off and fascinated by it. Jack strains, the corner of his lips Hanzo can see from his vantage point twitches. The position he put himself in must be forcing pressure on the stitches that punches through whatever pain medication - or anything else - he's on. The host takes ahold of his jaw - definitely not a gentle grip but probably not bruising - and pulls him up even higher, enough that Jack now has to brace his palms on the table to keep balance and minimize the strain on his side. Hanzo has the unsettling notion he's being privy to something far too intimate to be displayed during what is basically a business meeting. While he does understand the difference in the sensibilities, this is too much, with how Jack keeps his eyes trained on the man. As soon as the so-far hidden from the view pipette is raised, he opens his mouth obediently.

Hanzo counts three drops, a pause, and then the fourth one like an afterthought. Free from the grip, Jack remains at attention until the host pats his cheek in dismissal. At this, he eases off slowly, sinking down until he rests his forearms on the edge of the table and reaches for his teacup, downing it in a fashion that makes it clear he's trying to get rid of a displeasing taste in his mouth. All things aside, on its own, it is an impressive maneuver to be pulled off while being impaired both by the cuffs and the sustained injury, not to mention the medication. Hanzo makes a note of it, moving Jack up several rungs in his personal risk assessment. He's dangerous, maybe on par with the angry woman, who, at the moment, seems to be absent from the meeting.

"Don't worry about your little earlier chat, Shimada."

Ah. Hanzo had been caught snooping for information, not that he really counted on it to go unnoticed. The question, how much his host, now sitting in front of him, cares about this perceived invasion of privacy.

"He won't remember it."

Apparently, not as much as Hanzo would expect, but another possibility opens: a warning that Jack won't recognize him as an ally down the line. He might be overthinking it. Probably is, and, feeling the warning bells of borderline paranoia, Hanzo glances at Jack now reclining back on the pillows with his eyes half-closed.

The kid remains unbothered by it all, focused fully on his artwork.

"I understand," Hanzo begins, reaching into his front pocket for a card he places face down on the table - keeping his fingers on the laminated paper. "Regarding our previous discussion..." He slides the card towards the host. "I hope the time and the place are acceptable."

The man observes him with the most irritating smirk on his face, barely noticeable but definitely there. It's his frayed nerves, Hanzo decides when the host finally leans forward and he pulls his hand away from the piece of paper, straightening his posture. Only, the man picks up his cup.

"I'm sure there will be no scheduling conflicts for this event."

'Event'. Hanzo will murder his own people in cold blood. Idiots of mythological proportions, true, but still his people. Business oiled with blood, like any other. The loud clack of a crayon put down with force on the table startles him - Hanzo hopes his face doesn't show it. The kid gets up and steps over Jack's legs, going for the cupboards on the other side of the room.

"Did you finish your classes?" The host asks, not breaking the eye contact.

"In the morning," the kid answers as he retrieves what looks to be a handheld game from the drawer before making his way back to the table.

"Okay then." The host smiles, almost fondly. Nodding at that. "Children," he adds as a means of the explanation that's unneeded. "Now, where were we?"

"I believe this was all, unless..." The man sets the cup back - untouched - and rises from the couch. Hanzo mimics him, struck by the sheer rudeness of it: another garish display of the imbalance between them and their respective organizations. At least, until there's a hand extended towards him over the table. He takes it. The grip is firm and does not ease, making it uncomfortable as silent seconds pass.

"Gabriel. I'm looking forward to our continued partnership."

They'd never been formally introduced before. Hanzo feels the balance shift imperceptibly with the name slotting into the appropriate spaces in his mind.

"Hanzo."

"See that it doesn't end too soon," Gabriel releases his hand with finality. Hanzo nods, feeling like he has just, how the western saying goes, sold his soul to the devil.

"I will definitely keep it under consideration."

"Good."

Gabriel sits back down and Hanzo more than feels it's his cue to leave. He turns, with one last glance to the kid: he has managed to place himself between Jack's arms, with his back leaning against the man's chest. If not for the cuffs around the wrists laying across his lap, it would appear as nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it wasn't, really, with how the kid was now engrossed in his game like everything was in perfect order.

Hanzo spends the ride back ruminating on the meeting.

The puzzle pieces do not want to fit together - he gets two or three to connect but not more - different bits of information suspended in the void of unknowns. When Daichi opens his door, one memory strikes him randomly. Hanzo sends him away with the wave of his hand.

Still sitting in the car, he takes one cigarette out of the case and lights it.

Hanzo doesn't smoke. It's rather a sympathetic nervous habit he had picked up from Genji: holding a burning cigarette between his fingers and the disagreeable smell help him focus and calm. He has been right. He knew the expression, or rather the lack of it, that Jack wore on his face when asked about the scar. He had seen it before, had heard the same flat voice, all from some of the used merchandise, the ones that were broken in, or just simply broken.

Two and a half years ago.

He wakes slowly, with pain lacing through his body at every minute motion. Tries to sort his memories out, what was real and what has never happened.

The room is oddly familiar. The slid shut curtains remind him of something disturbing.

It's probably morning.

Over the hum in his head, he can hear someone moving downstairs.

He works the courage up to shift and sit - then stand on unsteady legs - his tongue feels swollen and sticks to the roof of his mouth. It makes sense for it to be morning, somehow.

The first door he tries is the bathroom. The light comes on by itself - he barely registers moving before he's gripping the sink with both hands and drinks straight from the tap. When he finally looks up, there's a baggie stuck with yellow tape to the mirror's surface.

He rips it off and stills, staring. His reflection is a sorry sight - but it's not right - the bruises and scrapes are healing, his lips are scabbed. It's days, not hours. Tentatively, he reaches to his cheek and winces at the sharp pain.

But it's not right, not when his wrists are rubbed raw fresh and stinging - and there's nothing in the air but the smell of gasoline - and if Gabriel comes any closer, his hair will catch on fire too...

He flinches away from the mirror and the specter lurking in the reflection. But Gabriel is still standing in the doorway. Blocking his way out.

He knows.

Gabriel knows.

The fragments of the last few - two? three? - days come together into a mismatched tapestry of metal, gunpowder, and gasoline. He tastes blood and breathes in the sand. The edge of the sink digs into his back as Gabriel steps closer and crowds his space, hand reaching to his palm and freeing the still-gripped in it plastic bag.

With his fingers, Gabriel forces the pills past his lips; a drop of blood trickles down his chin from an open again split lip.

But he's only interested in finding what hides behind those eyes that observe him with the knowing superiority: what’s the verdict?

One phone call, he needs but one call, and 'Jack' will be wiped from existence, and he will be safe and away from all this.

Away and safe to lick his wounds. He’s good at that.

"Swallow." The command comes with a pressure to his jaw and a palm covering his mouth - he does. "Good doggie. Wash up, change, and come downstairs. Dinner's ready soon."

Gabriel lets go of him and leaves.

'Jack' needs to die.

He spares the last long look for his own reflection and wipes the blood off his face with one of the pristine towels hanging by the side. He throws it to the ground.

Hot water in the shower stings and hurts, but his lips and fingertips tingle with numbness. The steam makes it hard to breathe; the towel still comes away tinged pink with a few darker spots scattered around, stark in the contrast to the glaring white. There's still some grime under his nails he can't get to; he's not sure he cares, not now.

Opiates, this time, with something extra mixed in, he realizes when he overshoots with his hand at first try while reaching for the change of clothes lying on the bed. The loose sweatpants and the long-sleeved shirt, both in spruce - is spruce even a color? - hang off his frame. It's... a first. He remembers losing some weight, but this is ridiculous, as is the thought they're probably a set of pajamas. He chuckles and covers his mouth immediately, surprised at the sound.

He needs time and a place to lick his wounds and process before he crashes. He needs time away from 'Jack'.

He knows his way around the house as well as he knows someone outside will put a bullet in the back of his head if he runs.

He needs 'Jack' to die.

He steps barefooted off the carpeted stairs onto chill parquet.

On the chest of drawers by the wall lie his keys, gun, wallet, and the phone - the screen is cracked but as long as the other sim card is in it should dial the right number and 'Jack' will die either way. He almost picks up the phone and the gun but thinks better of it.

He's got a straight line to the outside. Baby steps. Just be quiet. He recognizes the jacket hanging on the coat rack, it's his own - looks back to the gun.

The sound of metal hitting on glass is too loud, almost like it's supposed to catch his attention.

"Oh, you're up! Just in time, too." Chipper and pleasantly surprised. He blinks and winces at the voice, turning to his right. She's there, in shades of pink, holding some spatula or some other implement. "Sit down, I'm just finishing up," Angela continues with a smile.

She can't not know. There's no fucking way she doesn't know at least that one thing. She shouldn't be smiling at him.

"...I don't want... to intrude."

"Don't be silly, Jack, I'm happy to have you. I tried something new tonight. I hope you like lamb in mint and black beans."

The table is set for four people. Jesse sits in his chair, elbows propped next to his plate, his cup of juice half-emptied already. Gabriel's not here. He can't decide if that's good or not.

Cautiously, he walks to the closest chair and sits with his back to the corridor.

Closest to the exit.

Angela busies herself with the pots. Jesse observes him with the fervent disinterest only children are capable of. He tries to smile; Jesse's not impressed and kicks the table.

"You must be hungry." It's bad. He had missed her moving.

Angela puts the meat on his plate first. It smells sweet. He is hungry - he must be hungry with how his breathing speeds up and shallows - or maybe he has just noticed it? She comes back with the beans; they're really, honestly, just black in black, and he laughs and chokes on it.

He wipes his lips with his wrist, barely noticing the blood.

The hand on his shoulder is not hers even if she's back again by his side, closer than before. Fingers move to his throat, a thumb rubs hard circles into the back of his head. She sees it, doesn't she? She has to.

"You'll be eating with us more often, won't you?" Angela coos, leaning in. She pets his hair and kisses his cheek. "You're family, after all. Well," she straightens and claps her hands. "Everybody, dig in. Dinner's served."

The hand on his neck lets go with one last shove - and only then he feels he's able to take a shallow breath. He focuses on the plate; the fork held between his fingers wavers. The beans glisten and he's pretty sure they are not moving, even if he would swear they do. He pierces one with the fork and brings it to his lips; somehow, it tastes numb. He almost recoils at the sudden pain when his tongue presses it against the roof of his mouth - and after a short pause, he moves the bite to the side of his mouth before swallowing.

That's... he remembers. That has happened.

He keeps his head low, forcing himself not to look anywhere but his plate, carefully gathering what is probably meat on the fork that hits the glass with too much force more than once.

He blinks.

The meat is on the fork.

The light is different.

The sickly sweet smell brings up bile in his throat. He lets go of the fork. The sound it makes when it falls is louder than a gunshot. He almost trips to the side together with the chair when scrambling to stand up, one hand pressed to his mouth.

"I need a smoke." Stained and high-pitched. It's not his voice.

He backs into the corridor until there's a wall behind him he can lean on. His breath comes in short wheezing gusts through the gaps between his fingers.

Little late to start panicking.

"Take the jacket. It's cold."

He turns to the left. The jacket.

He vaguely remembers he had a pack of cigarettes in there, one he only started on. He slides along the wall and tries - fumbles at it the first time; it feels too heavy - to pry the jacket off the hanger – stumbles to the door - forgets for a second it opens outward and pulls first.

The chill in the air hits him as he steps out to the porch. It's dark out. Shivering, he manages to slip the jacket on his shoulders and pats the pockets before he finds the cigarettes.

There are two SUVs with tinted windows parked in the front. He knows there are people in them.

He can't run.

The first cigarette is broken - he lets it fall next to his bare feet. The next, too. The third, too; he breaks off the dangling part and puts it between his lips.

He lights it off the offered light, noticing only after the fact Slim is standing next to him. And Slim is not slim, it's hilarious.

He drags on the cigarette. The smoke feels like nothing and burns the roof of his mouth, but quells nausea. Vertigo comes as he closes his eyes; a hand under his elbow keeps him stable for that fleeting moment.

His mind is clearer. Somehow.

He should be dead. He isn't. His cover is blown, and he has nothing. He's compromised. He throws the butt to the ground and takes out another cigarette. Slim lights that one for him, too.

Maybe, just maybe, he can go.

Walk past the parked cars with no one stopping him. Hitch a ride to the nearest gas station. Make a call and wait for someone to come and pick him up. With nothing of substance to show for the months spent.

Pathetic.

Run away with his life.

But...

No one else but him got this close. It almost feels like he's... being allowed to stay. Like they know - Gabriel knows - it isn't about him. The game's far bigger.

He can do it. 'Jack' can stay for a while longer.

He can do it. He still needs to make the call.

Jack takes the last drag on the broken cigarette and then tosses it away. He's still shivering. The hand leaves his elbow; Slim is still not slim, it's still hilarious, and Jack bites back a chuckle that sounds wrong even to his own ears.

"How's...?" Slim asks, almost like a concern.

Jack shrugs. Feeling the gaps in the wood with his soles, he takes a small step forward and breathes in the air.

He can stay a while longer. Jack is here to stay.

He turns around and sizes the door leading back into the lion's den. The click of the lock has a finality to it.

The only light in the corridor pours in from the kitchen. The familiar vertigo is back. Foot after foot, slow and careful, the thrum of blood rising in his ears, Jack makes his way to his phone left haphazardly in the open.

"What are you doing?"

He freezes with his fingertips trembling just above the cracked screen. Gabriel is behind him.

"I... need to make a call."

"You can do that tomorrow." Jack flinches when a clip of notes lands next to his palm. He flinches again when the jacket slips off his shoulders and falls to the floor. "You'll need a new phone, anyway."

"I really..."

The hand on his wrist pushes his arm down; Jack offers no resistance, his breath catching in his throat.

"Good doggie."

Fingers move over his shoulder and then knuckles brush against the hair on the nape of his neck. The touch follows the bumps of his spine - stops just below the shoulder blades with commanding pressure. He climbs the first step of the staircase. His grip on the handrail spasms. It was stupid, to expect the lion to lie meek in its own den.

Jack doesn't fight the hand at his back - doesn't fight it even as it pushes him later down under and keeps him at the bottom of the bathtub. In the morning, Angela fuses over him with the concealer. When she's satisfied with her handiwork, she drags him to stand in front of the mirror.

"See? It's all better now."

#sometimes i write #r76 #reaper76 #mob!au #dead dove #misery is the drug in your veins

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dongboner2999 · 4 years ago

Text

Strangers ch. 43

You go back to work, and come to terms with what’s happened.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: fluff, angst, idfk

Warnings: Tiiiny bit of cursing, a hint of depression

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

“Girl, he broke up with you? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you moan, clapping your hands to your ears. Her voice persists, echoing inside your head.

“He liked her more. You were never even together, and he still couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

“Stop it. Shut up.”

“Poor, traumatized Y/n, who’s been nothing but trouble. Y/n, who’s an anxious little nobody. Y/n, trying to drag a star like him down to your level.”

“That’s not true!” “He hates you. Why else would he do that? He knows what she did to you, and he’s with her anyways. He hates you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But you do, Y/n.”

“Fame, flashlight– gi-give it to me!”

Unlike most of your nightmares, for once you don’t bolt upwards in a panic. Your eyes simply open at the sound of your alarm and blink several times.

After a moment of stillness, you reach for your phone. It’s time for a change. Waking up to his voice every day used to be a delight, but now… you switch the sound back to the default alarm noise. It’s been all of one day since you awoke to his betrayal– twenty-four hours since the second of the two people you trusted most in the world was lost to you.

And I had to go from hearing one in my sleep to getting woken up by the other, you think humorlessly as you shove your blanket off and stretch.

Kang Seoyeon. You’ve spent so long thinking only of her attack, that flash of hair, that shove into the river, that learning her name feels like a punch in the stomach. She’s not just a nightmare. You don’t know whether you’re relieved or horrified.

Doesn’t matter. You have work today. The dark cloud that formed after Lisa’s disappearance, the same one that grew in weight when you saw Seoyeon’s picture on Lisa’s laptop and again when your mom cut you off– it overwhelmed you yesterday after you saw the news about him and Seoyeon. The feeling, the horrible, gnawing darkness got so intense that something inside of you seemed to break, and the pressure simply… lifted.

You survived an attempt on your life. You didn’t need him then, and you don’t need him now, especially since he’s made it clear that he doesn’t need you either.

And so you get dressed in more layers than you need, put on makeup, and walk to the subway station. You’d take an Uber but now, more than ever, you need to save money. Thanks, Mom. Maybe you can find a flat with lower rent further from the city? Or check with student housing? Right, you’re still a student.

As you approach, you notice a commotion around the studio. There’s a crowd outside, a mix of what look like fans and paparazzi. You tug your collar up in the hopes that you’re not spotted, but–

“Y/n! Any comment on Suga’s new girlfriend?”

“Just a quick photo, please!”

“Do you think Suga cheated on you?”

“Y/n! What do you have to say to Kang Seoyeon?”

“Are the rumors that you’ve been missing work true?”

“How did your relationship end?”

“No comment,” you say, the tidal wave of noise crashing down onto you as you fight for breath amidst the crowd. Despite the heat of all the bodies, you begin to shiver. “Please let me through.”

“Y/n!” A familiar voice rings out above the confusion. Avery, your director, stands tall in the doorway. “Let her pass. We will not be commenting or taking questions at this time.”

With Avery’s help, you manage to push through the mob, half collapsing once the large studio doors have closed behind you. Inside the studio, the cast and crew bustle about, almost busier than usual.

“Are you okay?” Avery asks, concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Avery, look, I’m sorry I haven’t been at filming–”

“It’s in the past,” the director says kindly. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But… well, Y/n, you need a manager. A real manager. I’ve been talking with some of my agency friends, and I think-”

“I have a manager,” you interrupt. Unless… you Googled the statistics of surviving a kidnapping for as long as Lisa’s been gone. The research alone made you feel nauseous. But Lisa’s alive. She has to be. Right?

Avery folds her arms, as though she can tell something’s off. “Really? Then where’s your driver? Who’s organizing your gigs, negotiating your wages? Who’s hiring you a bodyguard? ‘Cause the people outside are showing me that you need one.”

“She just-”

“Where’s the publicist managing your online presence? You shouldn’t have to do this all on your own, Y/n. And for god’s sake, where is the person who’s supposed to keep celebrities like you from going off the deep end?”

“I’m not a celebrity, Avery! I’m not him, okay?”

“I know. But you have to understand, no one has ever been in a position like yours. BTS have a powerful fanbase, and none of them have dated before, least of all dated a virtual nobody. I know your relationship wasn’t real,” she continues, seeing you about to protest. “But it’s what needed to happen to protect both of your reputations. You skipped a lot of steps on the way to fame, Y/n. You need an experienced manager to keep you on track.” Avery shrugs. “I can email you a list of people you should talk to. Now, have you talked to your professors about missing classes? Will you be ready to go?”

“What? Go where?”

Avery raises a brow. “We’re filming on location next week, remember? There’s been an on-set announcement every day this week, and the email was sent out a month ago.”

Oh. What? You’ve barely been onset this week, so overwhelmed were you with the terror that Seoyeon had managed to instill within you. But you’ve been checking your email and your phone messages almost obsessively after you’d learned that the university had messaged you about Lisa’s disappearance first. You won’t let anything like that happen again. And yet… “I haven’t, uh… I haven’t gotten any emails about that.”

“Check your spam folder, I’m certain you received them.” Avery says cooly. “Anyways, you’ve missed a lot of work. Can I assume you’re back for good?”

“Yes.” You reply immediately. “Absolutely, ma’am. I’m very, very sorry for not being present lately. I’ll work hard to make up for it.” Is the existence of Seoyeon, and the unknown connection between her and Lisa, still terrifying? Of course. Does his sudden relationship with Seoyeon, after seeing him only two days ago, make your heart feel like it’s being shredded into pieces? Maybe. But you’ve broken yourself back together; no one can hurt you anymore.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Avery says, satisfied. “Now, go on to wardrobe, it’s gonna be a long day. We’re filming three episodes’ worth of your and Yoongi’s scenes.”

You gulp. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Speaking of Yoongi…” Avery checks her watch. “He’s late. Whatever– go get dressed.”

With nothing more to say, you make for the dressing rooms. And of course, who has to exit in full costume but…

“Y/n.”

You nod, your usual irrepressible anger nowhere to be seen. No one can hurt you anymore. “Jeongyeon.”

“I heard about you and Yoongi.” Jeongyeon seems to attempt to muster her usual obnoxious sneer, but it falls flat. You suppose your expression is just pitiful enough to put off her bullying.

“Ah, yeah.” You don’t know what else to say. It was just a fake relationship, so you should be glad it’s over. After all, Bang PD had said the arrangement could end whenever you wanted it to… and clearly, he wanted it to.

“Well, whatever. How does he go from bad to worse, am I right? Did you see his new girl?”

There she is, you think, watching Jeongyeon slip back into the character you know so well.

“Anyways,” she continues. “I heard we’re sharing a trailer for when we film on location. Don’t even think about stealing my bobby pins.”

You salute your costar ironically before brushing past her into the dressing rooms.

Forty minutes later, you’re finally clothed in all your beautiful layers, your face perfectly made up. You’re an actress, a professional. Whatever is happening in your personal life, you have to put it aside for the sake of your work.

“So pretty~” the stylist coos as she expertly fixes your hair. You hear the door open, but you can’t move to see who entered as the stylist continues: “Doesn’t she look lovely?”

“Ah, yeah.”

Your eyes widen at his voice. The stylist still has a hold of your hair, and you can’t turn to look at him.

After an eternal silence, he clears his throat. “Anyways, Avery sent me here for hair and makeup?”

“Yes, Mr. Min, just one more second while I finish up with Y/n here…” after what seems like a lungful of hairspray, you’re set free. At last, you turn and look at Min Yoongi.

The shadows under his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, and his normally good posture has disappeared for slumped shoulders. Must be the stress of a new relationship.

“Y/n,” Yoongi starts. “Look, I–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, pasting a smile onto your face. “It’s whatever, Yoongi, alright?”

“Uh, right.” Yoongi fidgets with one of his rings, seemingly at a loss.

“I just…” you can feel your facade begin to slip, and shake your head. “Never mind. I’ll see you onset.”

~~~

Yoongi watches you go, clenching his fist. He wasn’t expecting to see you at work today, and he definitely wasn’t expecting… well, whatever that was.

He doesn’t know why he feels a little disappointed to realize how okay you are with this situation. Certainly far more okay than he is. Maybe you really were eager to get out of your relationship.

Shit. He wishes he could fix this, wishes he could tell you everything. A shiver runs down his spine, though, when he remembers exactly why he can’t talk to you.

“You go to the police,” Seoyeon said, holding out her phone so Yoongi can see, “you talk to the paparazzi, or your precious little girlfriend, and this one will be gone before anyone can find her.”

Yoongi gulped. “How do I know that’s not doctored?”

He received a shrug. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. Now, we’re going to do this my way. Want to keep Y/n safe? And the other one too?” She nods at the photo on her phone. “Follow my rules, and they won’t get hurt. But I’ll be keeping this one… for insurance.”

“You’re insane.”

Seoyeon winked. “Nope, just a fan!”

Faking a relationship with your attacker, seeing the insurance she’s kept, and knowing that he can’t tell you any of it, is almost too much for Yoongi. But he’s got D working to track Lisa’s phone, and Avery to suggest you hire bodyguards. Sure, he may be stretched thin enough to snap, but he’ll keep everyone safe. He has to.

~~~

You’re hanging around on the indoor set of what’s supposed to be a busy town market filled with extras. You’re always amazed at the movie magic that allows the simple set such versatility.

You can hear him before you see him: the cast and crew can never help but murmur at the biggest star in the show. And yet, you don’t turn to look. It’s not like you’re avoiding him, but… well, he has to have realized that he hurt you, right? And of course, now you have to play the brokenhearted ex, since all your coworkers think the relationship was real. Which means more lies.

But it’s okay. You’re strong. Stronger than him, stronger than his new girlfriend.

“Okay!” Avery barks, and the present company jumps to attention. “I know there’s a lot of excitement on set today, so I hope everyone remembers to keep things professional. Now, let’s get started. Episode 13, scene 6. The scene: Kim Ji-Woo has just returned from her trip to the countryside as she recovers from Mr. Moon’s sudden engagement to Mi-Gyeong, the wealthy Mr. Gang’s younger sister. They bump into each other at the market and Mr. Moon invites Ji-Woo to the ball held in honor of the engagement. Ready, and… action!”

You move quickly into the view of the camera, waving at the imaginary coachman behind you. “No, really, it’s alright! I can walk home, Father should have the carriage in any case– yes, goodbye now, good- oh!”

Not looking where you were going, you walk right into Yoongi. Your basket clatters onto the dirt road and for a second you feel the urge to stay there in his arms as you have so many times before. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr- Mr. Moon?” you allow your voice to tremble for a second. Here he is, the man who had promised himself to you, and then turned around and chose to love another. Here he is, and every feeling you tried to bury comes rushing back. But… no. There’s still your dignity to think about.

“My apologies,” you murmur, reaching down to grab your basket as you curtsy. Basket secured, you’re quick to turn away from the newly-engaged man who, only weeks before, had secretly asked you to marry him.

“Oh, wait, wait! Miss Kim!” Mr. Moon extends his arm, his hand barely brushing yours. Your skin prickles with equal parts excitement and pain.

You can’t ignore so blatant a summons. You look back at him slowly. “Is there something I may help you with, sir?” Sir. How long has it been since you were able to call him by his given name?

“Please, I…” Mr. Kim pauses, his jaw tense. “My father is hosting a ball tonight. In honor of my engagement.”

“Congratulations,” you reply, as drily as your good manners will allow. For what reason is he reminding you of his betrayal?

“Would you attend, as my guest? Your sisters are most certainly welcome as well,” Mr. Moon says, his voice just shy of pleading.

Is he out of his mind? No, he’s just pulling rank and expecting you to say yes. No sane country girl such as yourself could ever turn down an invitation from a man of such good breeding.

And yet, he led you to believe he loved you, and you him, before turning tail and running towards a much better match. All the good you saw in him then… where is it now?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, staring at him. “But my family will be unable to attend. I wish you the best in your life, and in a very… happy marriage. Good day, Mr. Moon.”

“Good– ah.” You can’t see Mr. Moon rub his eyes tiredly, for you’ve already walked away, full of determination. I don’t need him.

“Cut! Holy shit, guys!” Avery claps loudly, a wide grin on her face. “I think that was the best I’ve ever seen you two together. Keep it up! Let’s use that take. Okay, next, episode 14, scenes 30-33.”

The workday is long and brutal, but you’d never complain– at least you still have a job, after the absentee stunt you pulled.

Speaking of absentee… Lisa. It’s been a month now since she’s disappeared, and maybe you could have chalked it up to some quarter-life crisis at first. After all, she bought that plane ticket to America.

But a month? And the police are still looking for her. They must have a reason to believe it’s more than university angst, right?

You need to face the facts, Y/n. And the facts are that Lisa must have been kidnapped. And to stay alive a month after being kidnapped…

You can’t think about it. But you can’t not think about it. And if you’re moving past Yoongi, you have to move past your best friend, too.

“Avery?” You approach the director , who’s giving instructions to an assistant, after the cast has been dismissed for the day. At your voice, she glances up.

“Y/n, what can I do for you?”

“I’m…” You take a deep breath, knowing your nightmares will take revenge on you. “I’m ready to look for a manager. Can you email me your contacts?” Hopefully you receive them– the fact that you haven’t noticed any emails about filming on location is really concerning.

Avery smiles. “Of course, Y/n. I really do wish you the best.”

“Thank you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi wander your way. Avery seems to notice him as well, and manages to disappear before you can blink. The set has cleared out for the most part, with only some cosmetologists and stylists packing up.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet him. Yoongi’s eyes dart back and forth nervously.

“I’m sorry.” He finally blurts out.

“What?” Your voice remains neutral. Is he apologizing for knowing Seoyeon without telling you? For dating her?

Yoongi reaches for your hand before freezing. “I don’t know how this is going to end, Y/n, but in case something goes wrong, I need to tell you that I’m so, so sorry.”

Yoongi… “You can’t do that,” you say eventually. He can’t hurt you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you won’t tell him the truth. “You can’t play with me like this, Yoongs. You can’t tell me that I’m safe and then turn around and hold her hand. You can’t come back and apologize for your actions after what she did to me. What she might have done to Lisa! Do you even hear yourself?” You’re half-shouting before you realize it, but you can’t stop. “Christ, I knew celebrities were selfish, but this is god-tier bullshit. She could have killed me, Yoongi! Would you still have loved her then?”

“I don’t–” Yoongi stops short before shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

“So teach me.”

“I… can’t.”

You breathe in sharply, gripping your bag. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you. And, Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

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mysterioh · 5 years ago

Text

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 10

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

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

Masterlist

My Shining Knight in a Tom Ford Three-Piece

"I'm doing good," he chuckled awkwardly.

"Is this your friend, Stevie?" Nat asked innocently. Like she doesn't know a thing about the world.

Stevie.

"We've met a few times," you told her, slightly affected by the nickname. "Here and there."

"Oh, cause he's never really told me about you," she said.

"Nat," Steve warned. She turned to him with a wicked grin. "How about we order?" He suggested through gritted teeth and opened the menu.

"Good idea," she followed.

The two gave you their orders and you scribbled them down on your little notepad while shooting a few glances in the blonde's direction.

He kept his nose in the menu as if he was hiding from you and when you take them back he quickly pulls out his phone.

You walk away with a smile and a very bad case of confusion. Steve waited until he saw you turn the corner to speak.

"Alright, what're you up to?" Steve questioned.

"Me?" Nat asked, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play stupid," Steve jabbed. "You can't fool me."

"How was I supposed to know your girlfriend worked here?"

"Don't call her that!" Steve whisper-shouted, looking around to make sure you weren't around.

"I thought you said you were over her?" Nat mused.

"I am," Steve sat straight, with a firm look. "Just don't say weird stuff like that. Someone might hear."

"Oh look there's your girlfriend right there," Nat pointed.

Steve huffed in defeat as he took a quick glance. You were walking down an aisle with an empty tray in hand and a high ponytail bouncing behind you with free strands shaping your face. You looked cute, very cute . Steve's quick glance turned into a lingering gaze and a small smile making Nat chuckle in amusement.

"Excuse me, Miss?" A young man called you with a pointed finger.

You turned back to him. "Yes?"

"I'd like to make an extra order."

"Sure," you pulled out your notebook. "For?"

"That ass" he grinned and his friends roared in vulgar laughter.

You rolled your eyes annoyed while turning on your heel to walk away, your hair whipping behind you.

"Hey baby," he drawled and caught your wrist. "I didn't say you could leave," he shook his head, smiling wide for you to see his tacky gold tooth.

"Let go of my hand," you hissed, trying to pry from his grasp.

"C'mon I ain't causing no trouble, right guys?"

"Yeah, baby, why don't you sit with us?" One of his friends asked. "We'll show you some fun."

Steve's jaw clenched at what he was witnessing. His eyes narrowed onto the man, onto the way his hand was wrapped around your gentle wrist. Burning rage hissed through his body like deathly poison, screeching a demanding release in the form of unwanted violence. He stood up abruptly, banging the table as he walked towards them.

Nat raised a brow at him. "Steve, where are you going?" She turned in her chair to see him stalk towards you. "Steve?"

"I said let go of me," you stated coldly, but it wasn't enough to mask the fear racking inside.

"No can do, princess," he shook his head, bringing you closer. His eyes avert from yours to see Steve steaming towards them.

You turn to see what he's looking at, but it's only for a split second. In a matter of seconds, the man's grip on your hand loosens as Steve yanks him up by the collar and slams his fist right into his jaw.

Heads turned and raised at the sound. Everyone stopped doing what they were doing to see what was happening.

"Who the fuck do you think you are touching her like that?" Steve hollered, pulling him back up by the collar.

You caught him by the arm. "Steve, it's fine." You were more afraid of what he'd do to the man. "Just calm down. Let him go," you asked slowly, tugging on his arm gently.

"No," he snarled. "Guys like him deserve to get beat. I oughta punch his teeth out for touching you like that," he growled.

"Yeah?" The guy chuckled in pain, blood trailing down the side of his lip. "Acting like a saint, are we, mob king? I heard what you did to the Gambinos." Steve's jaw ticked. "Don't act so righteous when you're not."

Steve pumped his fist back to punch him again until Nat interfered.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" She hissed.

"Do you hear what the hell he's saying?" He snapped at her.

"There are women and children here," she warned.

"That never stopped him before," the guy guffawed.

"Shut the fuck up you piece of shit," Steve punched him in the nose and he fell backward onto an empty table. Nat slapped her forehead.

"What the hell are you doing in my restaurant?" May shouted as she stormed down.

"Steve, you have to leave," you ordered.

"What?" He asked incredulously. He just saved you from a scumbag and you're telling him to leave?! Shouldn't he deserve something better? Like a kiss or a hug. Hell, he'd even take a smile.

"I said leave," you stated. "Now."

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Nat beat him to it.

"C'mon, we're going," she pulled him by the arm.

"But-,"

"No buts. Now move it, Mister," she led him like a mother. Steve looked at you as he passed by, but you looked away.

He grumbled. Why must I ruin everything?

"I'll call you for the damages," May hollered at Nat.

Nat waved her hand at her as everyone looked on in confusion. What the hell just happened?

"All I wanted was a nice lunch date," Nat nagged. "But you just had to go and ruin everything."

"Sorry," he mumbled as she unlocked the car. He reaches to open the door but she stops him.

"No, you're staying here," Nat stated. "And you're going to talk to her."

"What?" Steve asked puzzled. "No, never. I'll die first."

"You're a damn coward."

"Why are you leaving me here?" Steve complained.

"Because you need to apologize," Nat replied, getting into the car.

"This is bullshit," he groaned.

"Watch your fuckin language," Nat warned. "And don't you dare go home without doing it."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Steve whined.

"Trust me when I say it's for your own good."

With that, Nat drives away, leaving a sullen Steve in the dust. Her phone dings and she checks what it is.

A message from a hired henchmen.

I'm taking extra for that punch.

"Y/N," Wanda cooed, face pressed against the large window of the now empty restaurant. Her hot breath steaming onto the window.

"Yeah?" You asked while sweeping the floor, thoughts elsewhere.

"He's still there," she said with a giggle watching Steve leaning against someone's car. His back facing them.

"And what am I supposed to do about that?" You countered coldly. "I didn't tell him to stay."

"Oh come on!" Wanda yelled. She turned around and placed her hands on her hips, eyeing you down dangerously. "You can't be this heartless!"

"I am not heartless," you retorted. "All he ever does is make a mess out of everything."

"He saved you!" Wanda exclaimed, ready to rip her hair out.

"I never asked him to," you shrugged with a grumble. "I can take care of myself."

Wanda groaned exasperatedly while sinking into a chair. "I just can't with you," she exhaled deeply. You rolled your eyes but kept on working as she should have been.

"Hey, Y/N," May called from the register.

"Yeah?" You turned to see her motioning you to come to her. You obeyed and reached over the counter with the broomstick still in your hand.

She gives you a warm motherly smile while leaning over the counter.

"Now, listen to me and listen to me well," she said with a smile. "A guy like that" she points towards the window, "is hard to find. Not every guy's gonna defend your honor, only the special ones do. So listen to your sweet old boss and don't mess this up? Go out there and say thank you."

You swallowed what she said with a bright blush.

"Cause I know you like him." You opened your mouth to retort and she chuckled. "You can come up with any kind of excuse you want, but you can't hide what's in here," she pointed to your heart with her pen. "Why don't you give your heart a break and just give in? I mean what's to lose right?"

You nodded mindlessly, heat rushing to your head.

"Well?" She asked with a chortle. "What are you doing here? Hurry up and get out there before he freezes to death!"

"But I still have to-"

"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it," Wanda assured, shoving your things into your arms. "Now go, go, go," she urged, excitedly.

"Okay, okay," you hissed and they chuckled at the way you pouted in embarrassment. You put on your coat and slung your bag over your shoulder. You walked over to the door and were about to leave when Wanda called you back.

"Here," she threw a small bag of cookies into your face, "say it's on the house. Good luck!"

"Uh-thanks," you gave her a lopsided smile.

You walked out into the nightly winter air. You see him standing across the street, back to you, leaning against a midnight black car with a thin trail of smoke dancing in the air.

Your heart is soaring, livelier than it's ever been before, and it feels strange. Heavy but light, scared but wanting.

Alright, Y/N, there's nothing to worry about it's just Stupid Steve.

You turn back to find May and Wanda both pressed against the window to see the drama. Way to be subtle.

They gave you big thumbs up and smiles; you can't help but chuckle at them.

"Okay," you whispered to yourself. You rubbed your hands together and slapped your numb cheeks. "I got this," you affirmed.

You crossed the street and stepped onto the curb. Steve turned his head to see you and stood up straight. He drops the cigarette in his hand to the ground and crushes it under his shoe.

"H-hey," you stuttered. I thought you said you had this!

"H-hi!" He replied, quickly.

"Uh- um- I-uh," you lost the words. Then it came to you. "Here!" You threw- chucked the bag of cookies and he caught them. "Uh those are for you! They're not from me, so don't get any ideas," you stated flatly.

There's that irresistible charm.

He smiles wide, the smell of freshly baked cookies making the moment all the sweeter. "Thanks," he replied.

You crossed your arms with a pout and walked by him. You turned back from the waist up, using every bit of power in you to not to smile at him. "The bus stop is a block away and you're gonna come with me. You're my bodyguard for the next ten minutes cause you've got a good arm."

Steve chuckled. "That's fine by me," he grinned, catching up to you with wide footsteps. He pockets the bag of cookies in his coat as a snack for later and tucks his hands inside his suit pants.

The night whispered sweet nothings, luring the heat packed under layers of clothing out. It was a cold, moonless night. The sky was dark and low with a rolling blanket of ash grey.

The cold came like the spell of an enchantress. Earth to iron. Water to stone. Green grass to frosted white. There was no hint of warmth left, the autumn, or a kiss of the vanquished sun.

Every step becomes a prayer to home, streaking the chilly silence settled into the streets of Brooklyn. As the cold air nipped at your cheeks, your thoughts scattered in a frenzy of what to say and what not to say.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that you weren't good at these kinds of things. You failed at it. Failed so bad that the gods of love would cry on your behalf.

"So…" you spoke up. "That girl."

"Hmm?"

"The redhead," you elaborated. "She your girlfriend or something?"

"Nat?" Steve asked. "Oh no, she's just a friend. One of the guys, y'know?"

"Oh, I see," you replied, a strange sense of relief settling inside.

"Why? You jealous?" he smirks.

You snorted. "As if," you stick your nose in the air. He chuckles in reply, making you smile.

"I'd like to say thank you," you said, your breaths turning into puffy white clouds. "For what you did back there."

"Oh," he blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was nothing."

"No, really, no one's ever really stuck up for me like that," you said playing with your hands. "Well, maybe just Quentin."

"I mean he's your boyfriend," he said, sounding close to a snarl. He looked away with a disgruntled frown.

The stinging thorns of a white lie pricked into your skin.

"Quentin isn't my boyfriend," you confessed and he whipped his head towards you. You bite your lip in embarrassment and keep your eyes on the path. "He only said that so you'd leave me alone."

"But why?" Steve asked, completely lost.

"Are you kidding me right now?" You asked, stopping to look at him. "You're kinda clingy. Not even kinda, you are clingy."

Steve tried to retort, but it only came out like a garbled mess of words. “But lying is bad,” he stated with a triumphant smirk.

“Wouldn’t you lie if a guy you met once followed you around?” you countered. Steve’s jaw went slack and he didn’t have a reply.

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” he mumbled.

“I am right,” you said with a sigh.

“You are right,” he echoed sadly. “I’m sorry. I guess I came off a bit too hard?”

“Just a tad bit,” you said with an amused grin. “But it’s okay, I forgive you.”

He beams in the dark of the night. “Yeah? Does this mean you’ll go on a date with me?”

"No,” you deadpanned, resuming your trek.

“Right, sorry,” he replied, following behind. “How about a very platonic coffee break?”

You groaned in exasperation. “I just don’t get you,” you placed your hands on your hips. “Why do you like me so much?”

“That’s a really weird question to ask someone,” Steve laughed.

“Well, it’s my question,” you retorted. “I mean what do you find in me that you can’t find anyone else? I’m not special or beautiful. No one’s ever liked me before, so why do you?”

Steve stood still, the playful grin splayed on his face slowly fading. You searched his eyes for an answer. They say the eyes are a gateway to the soul, yet when you look into his they’re clouded with mystery.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I just do. I just like being around you. You’re funny and smart. But I guess that’s not a good enough reason.”

Suddenly, you don’t feel very cold anymore with heated blood rushing through your veins. His chest rose and fell with even breaths, his slightly chapped lips curved into a half-smile. He takes a step closer and into your space, but this time you don’t mind.

“But sometimes you don’t need an answer. I certainly don’t need one.”

When he looked at you it’s as if every ounce of breath was taken from your lungs, floating into the air like midnight smoke. You bite your lip, your breathing becomes softer, the pensive look melting into a smile as soft as the morning light. You squirm just a little as your muscles relax. There’s something about his gaze as if at that moment your souls have made a bridge.

You chuckled lightly. “You are crazy.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” he chuckled along.

Heads turned at the sound of the bus zipping down the street and you gaped at it.

“That’s my bus!” you yelled, running after it. Steve followed behind. You barely made it to the door and quickly got in, heaving deep breaths as you climbed up the steps. You turned around towards Steve. He waved goodbye with a soft smile. You took a step down and leaned out of the bus to give him a kiss on the cheek, setting a sweet fire in his soul.

“Don’t be a stranger, ya hear?” you flashed him a smile.

“You know I won’t,” he grinned wide.

You got in and the doors closed. He stood for what felt like an eternity, relishing in the sweet aftermath of a simple kiss, feeling hopeful for the future.

“Yes,” he pumped his fist towards him. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” he exclaimed while doing a victory dance.

You watched him from the window of the bus and giggled. He was such an idiot.

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281 notes · View notes

thewritewolf · 5 years ago

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Kitten Love

Hello! This fic was written for @anotherblog1234, who you’ll find more on instagram or deviantart than on tumblr! Psyclopathe, I hope you enjoy this fluffy one shot! :D

@mlsecretsanta

Marinette isn't complaining when Adrien suddenly asked her out, although she *is* very worried about their first date... Meanwhile, Adrien - who hadn't thought this through - is struggling to come up with a good first date idea.

Enjoy!

Read on

Ao3

Adrien paced back and forth in front of the windows in his rooms. His face was a mask of determination and his hands were folded behind his back as he put all his focus into the task at hand. He suddenly stopped and stood straight, turning on his heels to face Plagg as he put his fist in his hand. Naturally, the cat kwami was simply watching him, bored out of his mind.

“Okay, I’ve got it - Imagine this,” Adrien began, “A candlelit dinner at the most prestigious restaurant in all of Paris. I hire a violinist to accompany us. The perfect, classic romantic date.” Adrien put his hands on his hips and grinned.

To his annoyance, Plagg just yawned and scratched behind his ears. After a few moments he looked back at Adrien. “Oh? Was that all? I assumed there was something more than that.”

Crossing his arms, Adrien pouted and asked, “What’s wrong with a classic candlelit dinner?”

“‘Classic’, huh? Unoriginal, overdone, cliche.” Plagg shrugged. “I mean, I don’t care either way, but if you’re gonna bother me about this, at least make it something new.”

“Yeah, okay, fine.” Adrien rolled his eyes and got back to pacing, ignoring the gross eating noises Plagg was making. If two years wasn’t enough to help him tune it out, nothing would be. His eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. “What about a theater production? Or maybe an opera!” A grin spread across his face. “She’s gone to plays before, so I’m sure she’d love this one!”

Frustratingly, Plagg remained unmoved. In a deadpan voice, he said, “Right, staying quiet for hours at a time in the dark, surrounded by strangers. Ideal stuff for talking and getting to know each other.”

“We know plenty about each other!”

“Kid, look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to spend the whole date learning about her.”

Adrien struggled to meet his kwami’s face and folded immediately, his shoulders hunching forward in a sad slouch.

“Besides,” Plagg continued, ignoring his chosen’s distress, “I know you and you’d probably take her somewhere way too high class.”

“It is what she deserves,” Adrien said, glaring at Plagg.

“But isn’t not what she’s used to. For someone like Marinette, it would all be too overwhelming. Think something simpler, more down to earth.” Plagg pulled out his second cheese wheel. Adrien was running out of time with Plagg being even moderately invested in helping plan this date.

“Down to earth… What about a trip to our cabin at the Alps? That’s pretty earthy, right? And it’d be just the two of us for a weekend. Well,” Adrien conceded, “and maybe the Gorilla stopping by to check up on us.”

Plagg stared at him. “This is a first date, young man. Not a honeymoon. You’ll give her a heart attack if you do something like that.”

“Plagg!” Adrien whined. “What should I do! You’ve shot down all of my ideas.”

“Jeez, kid, just go somewhere that you’re both together and having fun.” The kwami gulped down the last of his cheese and zoomed into the air. “Now leave me out of this!”

The last thing Adrien saw of Plagg as he vanished under the bedsheets was his ears and long tail. He put a hand to his chin.

“Together… having fun…”

Adrien’s face brightened. This idea was bound to be a winner!

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

“Marinette, you look fine. You can stop that now.”

She paused in the middle of another brush stroke and shot her kwami a desperate look. “I can’t just look ‘fine’, Tikki! I have to look perfect!”

“Somehow, I don’t think Adrien will be able to tell the difference between your tenth and your fiftieth time brushing your hair.” Tikki glanced toward the pile of clothes on her bed. “Or, for that matter, your second or tenth outfit.”

“But I need to-”

Tikki zoomed in front of her face. “Relax, Marinette. He already cares about you. The fact that he asked you out is already proof of that. And besides,” she added, landing on her shoulder, “didn’t he say to dress casually? Surely you won’t need to worry too much about your hair if that’s the case.”

“I… guess,” Marinette said, biting her lower lip. She stood up and started pacing her room. “But this could be my one and only chance to make sure he falls for me. I have to really nail it. Otherwise, I might lose him for good.”

“Marinette… I know for sure that he thinks the world of you. There isn’t anything you can do to scare him off now.”

“You can’t know that! I don’t even know what I’m going to say when he gets here!”

Tikki seemed like she was about to respond when her antennae twitched and she glanced toward the trapdoor. She smiled and said, “You’d better figure it out fast,” before phasing into Marinette’s purse.

There wasn’t any time to puzzle out what she meant before there was a knock on her door.

“Hello?” Came a very familiar voice. “Your parents said you were up here. Can I come in?”

A surge of panic filled her as she glanced around her room at the many Adrien posters and she dove for the door, blocking it with her body. Her drastic measures weren’t necessary as Adrien didn’t even try to open it.

“Are you okay? I thought I heard something fall.”

“Y-yes! I’m fine! Just, um, just finishing getting ready. I- I’ll meet you in the living room?”

There was a pause from just below her. “Okay. Take your time!”

She listened to him trudge downstairs before letting out a sigh of relief. Tikki emerged from her purse and crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at her chosen.

“What? I can’t have him see all this!” She gestured to the pictures of Adrien modeling and the pile of discarded clothes. “Now I just… sit here for a minute and go into the living room.”

“You know,” Tikki replied while looking at one of the larger posters, “you probably can take them down soon.” A smile warmed her tiny face as she turned her attention to Marinette. “Then you can start replacing them with pictures you take on your future dates.”

Her heart raced and her head felt light as she stood up. “Future… dates…?”

“Mhm. The ones I know you two will have.” Tikki returned to her purse, poking her head out as she added, “Now go get that boy!”

Marinette nodded resolutely and marched down the stairs. She could do this! All this time, she’d been getting better talking to Adrien. Getting to understand him as a friend. They knew each other, they had a great foundation to build a relationship off of. Adrien wasn’t anyone to be scared of.

That’s what she was telling herself as she turned the corner and entered the room. Adrien was seated on the couch facing away from her, but he must have heard her enter since his head whirled around to look at her. When she saw how his face lit up when his eyes landed on her, saw the bouquet of tulips (her favorites!) that he’d brought her, she realized she was right, even as her heart jumped to her throat.

Adrien wasn’t scary.

He was just very, very painfully cute.

...Marinette wasn’t sure if this was any better.

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

The walk to their destination was meandering and filled with light conversation. Questions about her latest designs, his photoshoots, classwork, everything to pass the time. Once she got into the groove of it, past her own nerves, it was almost like talking with an old friend. Which, she realized with a start, he was. Two years of friendship and now it was turning into something more. She couldn’t be happier.

...At least, that was what she thought until they finally arrived. She glanced at Adrien in confusion.

“...An animal shelter?”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I know it’s not the usual first date, but… they’re having a special meet and greet with kittens today,” he cleared this throat and added, “among other things.” He looked back at her bashfully. “...Is that okay?”

She clapped excitedly and hugged him. “I love it!” Her eyes flew open and she was gripped with panic for a moment. Was this too much too quickly? Was she invading his space? But those doubts melted away when he returned the hug.

“I’m glad,” he whispered. “Now come on! We’ve got baby kitties to pet!”

As he grabbed her hand and pulled her along, Marinette felt herself loosen up. Adrien spoke with the receptionist and was given directions to a room in the back. When they entered the room, they were immediately greeted by the sounds of over a dozen tiny kittens meowing at everything they could find. Including each other. The door opening attracted the attention of some of them, who immediately began trying to climb their way up the smooth waist-high wall blocking them from the only exit.

Marinette glanced over at Adrien, who almost looked on the verge of tears from happiness. She could understand the feeling as she stepped over the barrier and was immediately mobbed by kittens trying to climb their way up her dress. The kitten who had climbed the furthest found itself snatched up by Marinette and given kisses to the top of its head. It mewed in protest as she sat down.

After a few moments she noticed the one she was holding was the only one that was still near her. She looked up and immediately covered her mouth with her hand when she saw where they had all gone.

Just like her, Adrien had sat down and immediately began drowning in baby kitties. Almost all the kittens in the pen were drawn to him, clambering awkwardly over her date. A few were sitting in front of him, mewing as if to attract his attention. Others were making good use of his Agreste-brand jacket to get a good foothold as they climbed. Four sat all in a heap in his lap, purring contently as his hands briefly darted between them. One particularly intrepid kitten sat on top of his head and meowed in triumph… at least until Adrien picked him up and set him back on the ground.

Remembering what Tikki had said, she pulled out her phone and took a few pictures of the ridiculously adorable scene. Her giggling drew his attention and her breath caught when she saw just how happy he was. She was well acquainted with his model smile - it stared down at her everyday - but this was one that she had only seen drawn from him a few times before. She reflexively took another photo before setting down her phone.

His eyes trailed downward and his head tilted curiously when he saw what was in her lap.

There was amusement in his voice as he asked, “Is that the only black cat you like?”

She glanced down at the same time that the kitten looked up at her with big, green eyes. With her index finger she scratched it between the ears, coaxing a purr from the little guy.

“Well, at least this one doesn’t tell cat puns all the time.”

Adrien smirked. “Furreal? But cat puns are clawesome!”

“Sometimes, but there are other kinds of puns out there.”

“Hm…” Adrien tapped his chin. “So you’re saying Chat Noir should expand his act.” The black kitten meowed loudly, making Adrien laugh. “Not you, kitten noir.”

Marinette giggled despite herself. The time passed by quickly after that and eventually Adrien emerged from the pile of kittens, stretching his legs as he did so. They still tried to cling onto him and Marinette had to check him to make sure no determined stragglers were still hitching a ride.

“Are you sure we can’t play with the kittens some more?”

“We can come back later if you really want,” Adrien replied as they reached another door. “I just thought you’d want to see what’s in here.”

Curious, Marinette gently pushed open the door… only to see a glass maze filled with-

“Hamsters?” Suspicion bloomed in her gut.

“Yeah! I heard you wanted one when- um…”

“Adrien… When what?”

“When we… have a family together?”

A pit of dread opened up in her gut. In a small voice she said, “...What? How did you-”

Adrien was rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “So you know like two weeks ago when you left behind your sketchbook and Alya found it and gave it back to you?”

Her jaw dropped. “No…”

“I was the one who found it.” He wrung his hands in front of himself, unable to meet her eyes.

“Did you-”

“Read it? Yeah.” He looked as embarrassed as she felt and she buried her face in her hands. How was she ever going to look him in the eye again? “I didn’t mean to! But it was already open and I immediately got dragged off to a photoshoot and the designs were so good…” He looked at her apologetically. “I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.”

“But…” The word was said with such sly confidence that it made Marinette look up at him again. “For what it’s worth, I think Marinette Agreste doesn’t sound half as nice as Adrien Dupain-Cheng.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Plagg #Tikki #ml fanfiction #fluff #such fluff #ml sugar #my writing #Kitten Love #ml secret santa exchange #mlsecretsanta2019 #anotherblog1234

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sinner-as-saint · 5 years ago

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Want You Back (Mob! Seb AU)

Want You Back

Sequel to: Back For You

Run-through: After your quite steamy one night stand with the mob boss, it was rather clear via the note he left you; that he was not yet done with you. Despite the emotional turmoil you were caught up in, you were certain that he’d come back for you. But were you ready for that?

Themes: language, mob boss! Seb, smut, slight dark side of characters, Daddy kink, possessive! Seb, stalking tendencies, slight temperature play. A.k.a this gets pure filthy at the end so, hide your children.

A/N: The symbols “^^^” represent a change of POV. Don’t worry, it’s not confusing. Oh and, um, kinky shit ahead.

After he left your apartment, Sebastian drove straight to his hotel room for a quick change; given that he had left his shirt at your place as a souvenir. Then he drove to the airport.

Around 3 a.m. in the dark of the night, he boarded his private jet in his quest to France. There were certain problems which erupted there and he had to be there physically to get everything and everyone under control again.

Once he got inside the flight, he leaned his head back on his velvety seat and sighed out loud. He had a sly smile on his face as he remembered you; your face, your touch, the way you moaned his name under your breath and how your body moved sinfully under his touch.

Usually, he never gave the women that he slept with another thought. But you, you invaded his mind. You infiltrated his thoughts and he couldn’t fight back.

He felt bad for leaving you alone in your bed. And he couldn’t bring himself to wake you up before he left, because you looked like a literal angel, so he left you a note. And just so you wouldn’t get cold, he wrapped his shirt and your blanket around your sleeping frame carefully, placed a soft kiss on your forehead and left silently.

Sebastian thought about how you looked as you slept, your face prettier than before thanks to the afterglow, courtesy to him. Your lips were plumper than before, due to the amount of times he bit them. Your bare body was covered in the dark red marks he caused.

He smiled knowing that he would be the first thing you’d think about when you’ll wake up in the morning. He knew that you’d have a slight difficulty in walking and sitting down, his pride amplified as he’d happily take the blame for that.

He knew deep inside that you would soon find out who he really is. A cold hearted mob boss. But he also knew that you wouldn’t run away from him.

Of course you wouldn’t, he thought, you were his girl now.

He smiled at the thought of you being his, as he whipped out his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart.

“Chris! Hey man, long time huh? Yeah, it’s just real busy these days. Listen man, I need a favor. There’s a girl named Y/n who works at a pub called The Red Tavern, I need you to find everything you can about her. Family backgrounds, friends, ex-boyfriends, you know the drill,” he spoke, picking up the coffee cup the blonde hostess had just placed in front of him.

Through the phone came Chris’ voice.

“Sure buddy, I’ll get my people on it. By the way, who is she? A super hot stripper you simply can’t forget, huh?” he asked, followed by his signature laugh. Something which signaled that he was slightly drunk.

Seb shook his head, if this man wasn’t his friend, he’d have his head for his lack of seriousness in his work.

“Just do as I say, Chris. We’ll talk when you’re sober,” Sebastian spoke in a tired, monotonous tone and with that, he hung up.

Chris Evans, the Huntsman as many knew him, was exactly what he was titled as. A hunter, a man who could gather information about anyone and anything, anywhere in the world within the span of an hour or two. He was Sebastian’s closest friend and one of the very few people he trusted.

After the quick phone call, Sebastian took a quick nap; during which he dreamt of you.

By now he had memorized every curve on your body. He knew your weak spots, he knew that all it takes is a soft kiss right over the skin under your right ear and you lost all control over your own body.

Due to his…profession, he was required to be very observant. And he indeed was. He noticed how your back would arch off the bed sheets every time he dragged a finger down your clit, tracing your glistening entrance as your sweet slick coated his middle finger.

He noticed how goose bumps would follow the faint brush of his fingers along your skin. He took note of your scent; your slightly fruity scent– perhaps it was peach, and the faint hint of caffeine on your tongue along with the raw taste of your mouth. He loved it.

Your soft moans, his name sounded so sinful coming out of your mouth while you came undone under him.

He woke up due to the slight pain in his neck, because it was angled weirdly while he slept. And he woke with an excited member as well.

God… what is she doing to me?

He rubbed the sore side of his neck and had the boner taken care of by the mouth of the sultry hostess who was more than happy to assist him in his hardship. No pun intended.

Once he landed in Charles De Gaulle in the bustling city of Paris, he had his awaiting driver take him to the warehouse where those assholes who worked for him couldn’t even handle a bunch of other assholes who weren’t willing to let his cargo of weapons get through, and reach an ally.

The task was easy; talk to them in his ‘I-mean-business’ tone and see if they agreed to his demands, if they didn’t, he’d have his people ‘take care’ of them while he hired other people to do what he wanted.

Personally, call him crazy but believe it or not, he didn’t like easy things. Perhaps that’s what drew him to you; your ability to make him chase.

Fuck, there you were again. Invading his thoughts without any shame.

Once he had dealt with the men, he left.

In the car, on his way home; he received an email from Chris. He smiled as he clicked on it, everything one can ever know about you unveiling in front of his eyes.

Your full name, where you grew up, information about your parents, your school, your high school, college, the degree you pursued, your social media, your phone password, where you ever went on family vacation, some of your pictures as well. Basically, everything.

He sent a quick text to Chris thanking him as he scrolled through all your details.

The more he learnt about you, the more protective he got. You were his girl, and no one was touching his girl from now on.

He couldn’t risk leaving you his phone number, but damn he wanted to hear your voice. He wanted to feel you in his arms, he wanted to feel the soft brush of your hair on his face. He wanted you. And when the mob boss wanted something, he always got it.

^^^

You were freaking out, you simply did not know what to do.

Oh my good God, I just slept with the mob boss.

Those words repeated in your head and you were getting more and more worried. He said he’d come back for you. But would he really? Don’t powerful people like him have women around them all the time? Then why would he come back for a random one night stand?

Perhaps that was just his thing, maybe he left a note to every person he slept with. Maybe he went on with his life and forgot about them like a meaningless dream.

You still had the note in your grip, and your phone in the other hand.

What should I do? Should I call someone? You thought, but your inner voice didn’t reply.

You wondered if it were safe for you to stay here. Fuck, just digesting the fact that the notorious mob boss was here, in your apartment, in your bed, fucking you into your mattress just a few hours ago was crazy.

The thought of calling the cops rushed through your head very briefly, but what would you say? He was like fog, catching him was impossible because he has loyal people all over the world who covered his tracks. Even the police gave up on catching him long ago.

The thought which bothered you the most, was that you liked him. His mysteriousness, his broody nature, his…darkness. The way he touched you, the way he dragged his lips almost everywhere across your skin. The way his lips reminded you that you were his in that moment. You liked it all, but you shouldn’t.

He was dangerous, everyone knew that. But he was gentle, you thought.

There, you were losing your mind.

Mindlessly, you tapped on the screen of your phone and before you knew it, you were calling your dad.

You were closest with your dad, although you didn’t like his new wife very much, but he was still your favorite parent.

You didn’t know why you were calling him, but all you knew was that you had to reassure yourself that you weren’t alone in this.

“Hey honey!” came your dad’s cheery voice through the phone. It sounded as if he was somewhere very windy. A beach perhaps. Wait, there are no beaches in NYC…

“Hey dad, can- can we talk?” you wanted to get to the point straightaway. You obviously couldn’t tell him what happened, but you needed the support.

“Yeah honey, is everything okay? Are you okay?” his concerned voice came through, and a tear escaped your eye. You missed him terribly, and you tried your hardest not to sob.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about, uh, can- God, can I come and stay over for a day or two? It’s, I mean, being alone all the time isn’t that cool anymore,” you asked, hoping he’d say yes.

You didn’t quite like his wife, but she was never rude to you. You could easily deal with her for a few days until you got your thoughts in check and Sebastian out of your system.

God, even just saying his name mentally forced a shiver down your spine.

“Hey, peanut, are you sure you’re okay. I mean, of course you can stay over honey. It’s just that, Mariah and I are travelling at the moment. So, even if you come over, you’re gonna be alone for a long while before we come back, I-,”

“Oh that’s okay! I mean, maybe a change of scenery will do me good, yeah? I, uh, I have the keys that you left me. Can I go over, say tomorrow?” you asked, desperately wanting to get away.

“Of course you can sweetie, you’re always welcome to stay over! Just remember, there’s no food left so you’ll have to shop for some baby. We won’t be home for at least 3 weeks, feel free to have your friends over! Love you Y/n,” came your dad’s wife’s voice through the phone as she answered instead of your dad.

“Thanks Mariah. Love you dad, talk soon,” with that, you hung up, closing your eyes as you let a few more tears fall.

You finally understood why you needed to get away. It wasn’t because you didn’t feel safe, it’s because you still felt him in this apartment. His scent still lingered very faintly in the air, and knowing that he wasn’t coming back for you like he promised to – hurt. It hurt a bit more than you expected.

It was your own fault, you thought. You got attached too quickly.

You quickly booked a flight to NYC and started packing your bags. Hopefully being away from the apartment would help you get rid of the memories of the short-lived moments with the beautiful stranger.

You called your co-worker and let her know that you had to leave because of an emergency in the family, she was irritated at first due to the short notice, but understood nonetheless.

Before leaving, you debated whether or not you should call your friends and let them know that you were going to be in their city for a few days. And eventually, you did.

^^^

“What the fuck did you just say?” Sebastian barked into the phone, his anger getting the best of him as he couldn’t believe the words Chris just spoke.

“Dude, you’re really gonna make me repeat that shit? I said, your chick just left town. She booked a flight to New York just now and you’re not gonna like this part but she just called a number belonging to one of your rivals man, she might just be another bitch they set t-,”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! She’s not like that, she’s- look, just figure out where she’s going. I’m flying to New York within the next few hours. Keep me posted if there’s anything,” with that said, and receiving a sheepish ‘okay’ from Chris, Sebastian hung up the phone.

He paced around his room as the sunlight came through the windows, brightening the room. Yet, he thought, nothing matched the glow in your eyes as he buried himself deep inside you.

His thoughts raced, as he acknowledged every possibility of your sudden movement.

Could it be that you were trying to get away, thinking he couldn’t find you wherever you went?

That thought made him laugh, not in a good way.

Phone still in his hand, with the picture of you puckering your lips and your middle fingers held high up above you head, as his lock screen; he threw his body on his bed. Oh how would he like to have you here with him, right beside him.

But no, you decided to run away and make him chase you even more. Your unpredictability was driving him crazy, and for some weird reasons, he liked it.

His thumb hovered his phone screen, right above your puckered lips as he took in your appearance in the picture. Denim jacket, black pants and boots – you looked like a badass angel and it made him smile.

“Babygirl, I was coming back for you. I thought you’d accept me for who I am, but here you are; running away from me. Why did you have to run from me? But don’t worry, I still want you back. You’re mine,” he whispered out loud, to himself, as the thought of having you in his arms again was all he could focus on.

He chuckled darkly as he closed his eyes, thinking about you.

When he’d find you, he’d make sure you never run away again. And Sebastian was a man of his words, and he was coming to find his girl.

^^^

As soon as you landed in NYC at around 4 p.m., you hired a cab and had the driver take you straight to your dad’s house. It was a spacious home, planted on an equally spacious property. Your dad was a nature loving person, so needless to say, the front yard was impeccable.

You fished out the bunch of keys and unlocked the door, stepping inside. You smiled as you looked around. The colors, the décor, the house was very warm and welcoming.

After roaming around for a bit, checking out the mini library area and the kitchen. You desperately needed a shower and food.

You settled for the room with the view of the back yard and had a quick, hot shower then made your way to the garage.

You drove to a café, grabbing a coffee and a croissant then made your way to the very busy grocery store.

When you parked your dad’s car, which you borrowed for the trip, you couldn’t help but notice a slick, shiny black Audi parked only a couple slots away from you.

You sat still in the passenger’s seat and watched it intently. The windows were tainted, just like Sebastian’s. But it couldn’t be him, right? I wouldn’t be him.

So many people owned black Audis, it could be anyone.

You convinced your heart that it wasn’t him, yet you couldn’t silence the little voice in your head which refused to believe you.

You roamed around the unfamiliar store for a bit, admitting that it was at least 3 times the size of the one you had back home in your little town. And there were so many people, and they were all in a rush.

Caught in the fast flow, you somehow knocked against someone’s cart and were about to fall, if two strong arms didn’t catch you in time.

Once you were back on your feet, stable, you couldn’t help your racing heartbeat. You were much more scared to turn around and find a certain blue eyed man, rather than the fact that you were just about to fall in front of so many people in an unknown city.

Reluctantly, you turned around.

And your fear subsided once you noticed that your savior didn’t have blue eyes. Instead, he had brown, soft eyes. And, an equally soft smile.

“Hey there, you alright?” he asked, his voice deep and his eyes comforting.

You blushed in embarrassment.

“I- I’m, yeah, sorry typically out of town girl. Thanks for saving me!” you chuckled, trying to reduce the awkwardness.

“Oh that’s alright. Be careful though. I’m Anthony, and you are?” he spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. He was fit, given he looked like he was in his late thirties.

Weird, you thought, why did all attractive men have to be way older than you were?

Anthony flashed a gorgeous smile at you. His tawny skin shining despite the gloomy weather.

“Y/n,” and after that, you had quite a lengthy conversation with him.

He told you about his job, a martial arts instructor. He asked you how come you were in NYC and you replied saying you needed to get away for a while because you were trying to forget something.

You exchanged numbers and promised to get coffee before you left to go back home.

After parting ways with Anthony, you shopped for the basics and decided that it was only this much you could carry in one go. You’d come back for more stuff if you needed.

You had spent a good hour in the store and when you got back to your car, you noticed that the black Audi was still in its spot.

Paranoia got the best of and you couldn’t help but feel a shiver down your spine. Would he really follow you though, when he could have any other women, why would he waste his time on you?

You tried shaking your disturbing thoughts and drove back to the house.

Once you placed all your stuff in the pantry, the day’s activities took a heavy toll on you. And after putting together a quick turkey sandwich, you decided to call it an early night.

Only, fate had other plans…

^^^

He just sat there, in the dark, in her temporary bedroom. His trustee, shiny revolver was in his hand – not because he planned on using it, God no, he would never hurt his girl; but because holding it reminded him of who he truly was. And it was comforting.

He had followed her to the store, car parked not far from hers. She noticed, he believes, but she didn’t care. Why didn’t she care?

She looked good, he thought, she looked really good. He was proud that she was his, and he even had a smile on his face until he saw her talking to the tall dark dude.

He saw them through the glass panes and his jaw ticked. His hands itched as all he wanted to do was to smash that fucker’s face to the ground when he saw his hands on his girl.

He noticed that they exchanged numbers, and the fire inside him burned brighter, hotter with need. Need to get that fuck face out of the way. Need to have her under him and remind her who she belongs to. Need to remind her who he was.

But all he could do was wait. He waited for her to get out of the store and get back in her car. He noticed that she gave his car another puzzled look.

He smirked. His girl remembered him.

And now here he was, barged into her dad’s home and sat in the unlit bedroom, waiting for her. He toyed with his gun in his hands, the little light from the dark sky hitting the shiny metal as he sighed for the third time.

He was stalking her, he knew, but she was his. His alone.

A couple of minutes later, he heard her walking up the stairs, her soft thuds echoing off the walls of the empty house as his sinister smirk grew wider.

The bedroom door opened and in walked his babygirl. She hadn’t noticed him yet; given he was in the furthest and darkest corner of the room.

As soon as she walked in, she took her top off – closing the door with her foot. Then resumed to take her black jeans off as well, leaving her in her white set of underwear.

His eyes widen at the unexpected strip show, followed by a smirk as his pants grew tighter.

He watched as she picked up her clothes from the floor and threw them into the hamper and before she could turn around, she heard his voice.

^^^

You took your clothes of and threw them carelessly into the hamper, you didn’t know why, but you could never sleep with clothes on. As you were turning around, you heard a husky voice speaking from behind you.

“Well that was quite a show, can’t say I’m even the slightest bit mad though, babygirl,” it said, and once it finished talking, your heart sank as if it were dropped into a bottomless pit.

You turned around completely and faced him.

He sat on the antique, blue velveteen cushioned chair like as if it was a throne he deserved. He looked powerful, majestic and if you weren’t half naked in front of him, maybe you’d stare at him longer.

You hurried in grabbing the closest thing to you to cover your body, turns out it was a jacket you had taken off earlier during the day.

You held the jacket in front of you as Sebastian rose up from his seat, and only then did you notice the gun in his hand. And the sight knocked the air out of you.

“That’s- what are you doing, here?” you asked, your voice came out sounding way weaker than you imagined it would. You sounded scared, because you were.

He clicked his tongue, tossing the gun onto your bed and it bounced one time before settling right next to a pillow.

Sebastian walked towards your frightened frame, and with each step he took forward, you took one backwards. This pattern continued until your back touched the cold surface of the wooden door.

“Don’t hide from me. I’ve seen it all up close before, haven’t I? Now, I have questions for you, babygirl,” he spoke in a low voice; one filled with power and dominance and you looked up at him with your frightened eyes.

What do you do when a hot mob boss, also an one night stand from a day and a half ago suddenly shows up at your dad’s house?

Sebastian placed a hand right next to your head and looked you dead in the eyes with his blue ones. And despite your fear, you couldn’t help but be hypnotized by them.

“Once I was done with… my work, I was coming to find you again. But I was told you took off. Why did you run?” he asked and worry washed over you.

How the fuck did he know that? Who told him?

Seeing that you weren’t replying, he brought his lips to your neck. And lazily brushed them over your sweet spot, causing you to shiver at his touch. Involuntarily, you turned your head to the side and provided him with better access to your skin. He chuckled at your action as your face burned with embarrassment.

He placed feathery kisses all over your skin, no biting no teasing the skin – just his lips on your neck. The soft touches dragged breathy moans out of your mouth.

“See, your body remembers me, baby,” he whispered at the shell of your ear.

By now, your hands had let go of the jacket; which fell at your feet and your hands wrapped around his shoulders.

You shouldn’t be doing that, you thought. You shouldn’t like his touch or lean in for more. You shouldn’t be under his spell. But oh how you wanted to.

“You lied, you- you said you worked with influential people. But you don’t, you…,” your voice trailed off as he traced your trembling lips with the tip of the shiny metallic barrel of the gun in his hands.

He did that while staring intently into your soul, while your words came to a halt as soon as the cold metal came in contact with your body.

He wouldn’t, would he? He wouldn’t kill you, right?

“I’m what? Say it,” he urged darkly. His words laced with authority and lust.

“You’re the mob boss everyone talks about. You’re the Sebastian Stan, you’re…,” you words stopped again as you felt his fingers wrapped around your throat.

He didn’t choke you to a point where it was uncomfortable. He just wanted you to know that you were at his mercy, to a point where even your breath was his.

He smirked when he saw a damp spot forming at the center of your underwear, turning the white material slightly transparent.

So, his girl was kinky, huh?

Your wrists immediately wrapped themselves around his arm, involuntarily urging him to keep his hand there, at your throat. And he liked that.

“I’m what, babe?” he whispered again, resting the tip of the barrel against your left cheek. Indirectly causing to select your words carefully, very carefully.

“You’re…dangerous,” you simply said and he chuckled out loud. Despite the possible humor, you sensed the menace in his voice.

“Oh babygirl, I’m more than just dangerous. But you know I won’t ever hurt you, I can’t. I always protect what’s mine, and you’re mine. You’re safe with me. Just, don’t run from me,” he spoke, hand still gripping your throat lightly and the barrel of his gun still pressed to your cheek.

It could be the rush of the moment, or it could be fear, or the reflexive lust coursing in your veins; but somehow you sensed the presence of validity in his words. Although very much aware that it could simply be your delusional mind’s thought, your fear morphed into something else.

A familiar want. A raw desire which only seemed to surface when you’re with him. His mysterious aura, the electricity in his touch, the pure sin which dripped from his words – they all caused a magnetic pull which drew you to him. And despite it all, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you wanted him.

Memories of the last time he had touched your body resurfaced in your head and it accelerated the flow of passion which pooled into your underwear.

“Why?” it seemed like you directed the question more towards yourself than to him.

“Why what?” he asked back, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“You barely know me. Why would you follow me all the way here?” you asked, oblivious to the exchange which happened between him and Chris.

He let out a sigh and smiled.

“If only you knew, babygirl, if only you knew,” he spoke and released your throat, putting the gun by his side as he pulled you forward with one hand.

He dragged you to your bed and pushed you on it; onto which you landed with a bounce in a sitting position.

While you sat, weirdly calm, on the edge of the bed; he stood in between your legs and looked down upon you.

You wouldn’t lie, he looked better from that angle… fuck!

“I told you to stay safe. Daddy told you he’d be back for you, then why did you have to run? Do you know how angry I was to learn that my babygirl was disobeying?” he held your jaw gently in his hands.

It seemed like he wanted to be harsh on you, but something stopped him. He didn’t want to scare you; well he barged into your room with a gun, but you could tell that that wasn’t his intention.

His babygirl…

You were all for women not having to be treated like objects belonging to men, but damn did that turn you on.

It seemed like you could no longer control your body; because at this point, it listened to him just like your mind was under his enchantment.

You wanted to say something, anything. But you couldn’t. So you let him to the talking.

“And now she won’t even apologize! You really need to be put in line baby. Tell me, do you trust me?” he asked, bending down so he was on eye level with you. His thumb caressed your face gently as he spoke.

His stormy blue ones staring into your shining e/c ones. His eyes reminded you of a thunder storm over a rough deep blue sea; tempting but vulnerable.

Unable to speak, you simply nodded as anticipation occupied your mind. The mixture of recklessness, fear, lust and mystery made your heart race as you felt the heavy sexual tension in the air wrapped around the both of you.

“That’s my good girl, now lay down, hands over your head and close your eyes. Don’t open then or move until I tell you to, got it?” he instructed and waited for your reply, all while searching your eyes.

You nodded again and he smiled as he watched you follow the instructions he gave you. You almost immediately positioned yourself flat in the bed, closed your eyes and put your wrists above your head and kept them there.

Your other senses heightened instinctively and you could hear him walk around the room; opening drawers and closing them with a slam. Each sound made you jump a little but you didn’t dare to open your eyes just the slightest.

“You know, I’ve waited for a girl like you all my life. Won’t lie to you, doll, I’ve had a generous share of women in my bed. But none of them ever made me chase them like you do. When I first saw you, across the pub, for just a second a glimpse of our future flashed in front of my eyes. I saw myself coming home to you after a long day, I saw you with a beautiful bump, and my baby safe inside your womb. I saw us, doll. And from that moment I knew that you’d be mine, whatever it took,” he spoke, narrating his thoughts while he walked around the room, checking the drawers and closets.

He walked slowly, like as if he had all the time in the world and more, as he told you about his reveries. Part of it made you anxious and part of it didn’t.

A future with him seemed-

Your thoughts halted abruptly as you felt his hands on your body.

Sebastian ran his fingers along your thighs and left feathery kisses along your inner thighs. His mouth seemed so close to your heat yet so far.

Soon, he hooked his fingers to the seam of your underwear and dragged it down your legs until he got rid of it. Once done with that, you felt him straddle your lower body, trapping your legs in between his thighs and locking them in place.

“Your beauty amazes me baby,” he whispered as you felt him reach around your torso to unhook your bra and lift the material off your body.

Right after he did that, his lips found yours and caught them in a deep kiss. His skilled tongue found its way into your mouth as he occasionally sucked and bit on your lower lip.

His hand held your face while he assaulted your lips and bit around your mouth to mark his territory. You didn’t complain, not even once. Instead, you moaned into his mouth over and over again.

Your body squirmed, your back lifted off the bed just the slightest bit before he pushed you back into the mattress, breaking the kiss.

“Sebastian, please,” you moaned. Wrong move. And you learnt so by feeling a smack on your thigh.

You let out a whimper, but the burn felt good. And you wanted more but you wouldn’t tell the gorgeous man just yet.

“Somebody just can’t help but misbehave, right?” he spoke and right after he finished, you heard something click. Like a pen would.

After which, you heard nothing else. And Sebastian was silent as well.

Why would he do with a pen? You thought.

Moments later, a sweet, aromatic air filled the room. You took a deep breath through your nose to analyze the scent better and came to the conclusion that it was probably one of the Vanilla and white chocolate scented candles your dad’s wife wouldn’t stop talking about.

But why would Sebastian u-

Your rational thoughts came to a stop yet again as you felt a drop of a hot liquid fall right above your belly button. Instinctively, your back arched off the bed and you let an uncontrolled moan escaped your lips.

It burned, but it felt good. Again.

As another drop of melted wax hit your skin, you simultaneously felt the faint brush of cold fingers against your glistening folds.

“You’re always so ready for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl,” Sebastian commented and moved his hands faster against your needy core as the candle kept dripping on your skin.

He must have moved the candle upwards, because you felt the wax drip down the valley of your breasts and you couldn’t help but moan out loud.

“Daddy…please,” you moaned, your eyes shut, hands behind your head, legs trapped beneath his robust body and his hands all over you. You were the epitome of helpless. And he liked the sight of that.

He slowly traced your dripping entrance with his finger and chuckled.

“Please what, baby?” he asked as if unaware of the sweet misery he was inflicting upon you.

“I- I need you to touch me, daddy please,” you pleaded, with your eyes shut as you tried to pick up the sounds of his next movements but none came.

His fingers found their way in between your folds and into your tight entrance. And each time he pumped his two fingers into your wet heat, the filthy sounds it made caused your heat to drip even more.

“Daddy, please make me cum,” you whined again, turning you head to the side so your arm would muffle the sound of the moan which escaped your mouth.

He clicked his tongue.

“Not yet, babygirl. Daddy’s not done with you yet,” he spoke.

He rocked his fingers in and out of you at a pace so slow that it was almost painful. He was not gonna let you cum just like that; he wanted you to literally beg him for it.

He kept the candle above you, moving it inch by inch all over your torso and abdomen. It seemed like he was making a specific pattern but in the moment, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

Hot, melted wax dripped down your body; mimicking the drips of your desire as it flowed out of your and coated his fingers.

He adjusted his body as he straddled you and soon, you could feel a growing bulge against your thigh.

You lost all control of your senses when he allowed the melted wax to drop on top of your hip bone. A slow and passionate moan escaped your lips.

Hot, fiery; similar to your need to have him inside you.

“You are so beautiful, my princess. Daddy will always, always take care of you,” he spoke softly; a complete contrast to what he was doing to your body.

A few more specific drops of melted wax later, he seemed to have doused the candle and set it aside as he lifted off your body; for a brief moment.

You whined because of the loss of contact, and mainly because he got you so worked up only to not let you cum yet.

You heard the shuffling of his suit and a few seconds later, he brought his attention back to you.

His hands roamed your body, caressing your breasts, rubbing his hands up and down your arms while his lips attached to yours once again.

His kiss was slow and steady this time; he was in no rush. You felt each stroke of his tongue, each brush of his lips and each tug by his teeth. It was pure bliss.

He broke the kiss and dragged his lips down your body, until he reached your core.

He groaned as he allowed his lips to faintly brush against your wet folds.

“All wet and waiting for me, you’re very needy, aren’t you? Open your eyes, baby,” he spoke against your wet core, his warm breath hitting the damp surface and driving crazy with need.

You opened your eyes and noticed that he had dimmed the lights of the room, the air still smelled like vanilla and chocolate and as you looked down your body, you saw the now hard wax drops scattered all over your body; from your breasts to your hip bones. A sinful masterpiece created by the blue eyed man in front of you.

Sebastian had taken off his suit and shirt, leaving him in his black pants; which were now unzipped.

“Come here,” he said softly and you dragged your body until you sat on the edge of the bed once again. You knew what was coming, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“You’re gonna take daddy’s cock into your pretty mouth, yeah? You’re gonna let daddy use your mouth, aren’t you, doll?” he asked and you nodded in response embarrassingly fast, as you looked up at him with your glossy e/c eyes.

Once he placed his hand on your face, holding it gently – you got to work immediately.

You got on your knees in front of him and pulled down his pants while palmed his bulge through his briefs and he let out a groan and gripped your face tighter in his hand.

“Don’t tease me, babygirl, it’s not gonna end well for you,” he informed you as his hand moved to your hair, making a makeshift ponytail to hold on to.

You pulled down his briefs and his member excitedly stood in front of your face. You wasted no time in taking him into your mouth. Your tongue traced his slit a couple of times and you noticed that whenever you did, he’d buck his hips forward and let out a breathy moan.

You had never been with someone as big as him, so taking him completely into your mouth was slightly difficult. You took him into your wet cave inch by inch and as you did, his breathing got quicker.

You felt his length twitch inside your mouth and you felt the prominent vein press against your tongue as you bobbed your head up and down his member.

His tip reached the furthest part of your mouth and you realized that you managed to take all of him, and damn he was big.

“Fuck! Baby, your mouth feels so- so good,” he moaned as he tugged on your hair. Hearing him moan was the hottest thing you had ever heard. Of course, you had given blowjobs to past lovers, but this was different.

This wasn’t just a regular guy. This was THE mob boss; most notorious one the country had ever known. You knew people who were truly terrified of his power. He was a well-known, cold hearted criminal. His reputation, his pride and his dominance; they all preceded him.

Yet, here he was; a moaning mess with your mouth wrapped around him.

As he moaned, your core throbbed even more and you wanted nothing more than to just press your two fingers against your clit and alleviate your pain but you knew better.

He moaned your name a few times, and which each time; you worshipped his length more and more, hollowing you cheeks to suck him off better.

Within the next few moments, he held your hair tighter and bucked his hips against your mouth a little faster; fucking your mouth and also signaling that his orgasm was close. His cock twitched in your mouth again as you felt the salty precum trickle down your throat slowly.

Once his length throbbed again, you gave him one last suction and felt his load shoot into your mouth. The taste of him, along with your heat throbbing with need was a deadly combination.

You watched him as the feeling of pure bliss washed over him, his eyes rolled back and his head fell back as he came, hard.

Slowly, you lifted your mouth off him; giving his slit one last lick.

He groaned as his orgasm washed over him and pulled harder on your hair, looking down at you. You were on your knees, hands on your lap and a smirk on your lips. Lips which were wrapped around him just a few seconds.

God…you were a sight. And you were all his.

He pulled you up and threw you back on the bed.

“On all fours, baby. Now,” he instructed and you happily obeyed; your heat was clenching with need and nothing else mattered in that moment.

You got on all fours and waited for him. He stroked his length a couple of times as he watched you on the bed. So innocent, yet so sinful.

You waited for him to slide his length into you but instead came his hand, smacking you right on your ass.

“Ouch!” you yelled at the unexpected pain.

He smacked your left butt cheeks again and you yelled out again. It hurt, but it lowkey turned you on even more, although, your core was now throbbing even more than before. And Sebastian knew.

He gave you two more spanks and immediately massaged the skin. He smiled as he saw the stretch marks on your skin; it reminded him of how much more he would add when you’d be expecting his baby one day. The thought of you being thoroughly his was enchanting.

“Does it hurt, baby? Well now you know how much it hurt me when I found out you were running away from me,” he spoke as he spanked you one more time, followed by a bite on your ass.

You moaned out loud again.

“Daddy please,” you whined as another smack landed on your ass. It would probably leave a mark, you though. Maybe even a hand print.

“Beg,” he simply said and you groaned. He already had you completely at his mercy, what more did he want? Jesus!

“Seb, please! I’m sorry, just- just fuck me, daddy please. It hurts,” you moaned, accidentally calling him by a new nickname.

Seb… no one ever called him that. No one but-

He stopped himself before even thinking about that name.

Normally, he’d have the head of anyone who called him by that name. But since it came from you, he liked it. He liked it a lot.

He liked it so much that he decided that he had teased you enough for today.

“Come here, babe,” he whispered and pulled you up and rolled you over so you laid down flat on the bed with his body settled in between your legs.

When your sore ass made contact with the cotton sheets, it burned even more. But you didn’t care, you wanted him, and that’s all that mattered.

When you looked up at his body hovering above you, a tear escaped you eye. You didn’t know if it was because of the built up sexual frustration, the lust in your veins, or just the fact that your emotions were creating a ruckus inside your head.

Sebastian ran his thumb over your cheek and caught the tear before it fell further down your cheek. He hated it, he hated the sight of his girl crying.

But he knew he could make it better.

He captured your lips into a deep kiss and allowed your hands to wrap around his broad shoulders. You pulled him closer, until his chest pressed against your erected nipples and he moaned into the kiss. Nothing felt better than having you under him, under his control.

His tongue slipped through your lips and it stroked the top of your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss and he gently bit your mouth.

His lips travelled to your sweet spot and he assaulted the sensitive skin mercilessly; compelling you into becoming a whimpering hot mess under his touch.

While he left even more marks across your neck, he aligned his tip to your heat and gave it a slight push to slide it through your glistening heat.

Once your walls took him in little by little, the familiar bubble formed inside the two of you.

“Fuck, you’re so warm babygirl,” he moaned into your ear and your back arched off the bed once more as he filled you up entirely.

He kept still, not moving and you felt his cock throbbing inside of you. Your walls wrapped around him perfectly and as you moaned, he understood that you were well adjusted to his size now and took it as a cue to start moving in and out of you slowly.

He started out slow, and then gradually set the speed so both your body moved rhythmically against one another; giving each other a better angle at which you could feel all of him.

And you did.

He filled you up nicely and within seconds, you were a moaning mess.

“Seb! Fuck I- oh fuck, daddy please,” you whined against his cheeks, signaling that you couldn’t hold it much longer given your previous activities.

You felt his ragged breath right at you ear and he chuckled, rocking against you at a much faster speed now.

“I know, baby. I know,” he spoke and ended with a groan and he wrapped his arms around your torso and lifted your back off the bed a little bit.

You moaned as he hit your g-spot with each thrust in this position. A series of cuss words left both your mouths as you basked into each other’s presence.

You opened your eyes to look at him and his eyes were closed as he frowned in pleasure. You moaned out loud when one of his hand slipped in between both of you and rubbed your little bundle of nerves furiously.

“Cum for me, doll. Cum for daddy like the good girl you are,” he urged you and you happily obeyed once again.

You both knew you wouldn’t last long so as soon as he finished speaking, you let go. Yelling out his name and a few cuss words in the process; you came around him.

Your walls milked in relentlessly and soon, he came as well. His load shooting your warm walls and you could feel him leaking out of you as he slowly pulled out.

You were both breathing hard and fast, hearts racing and he rolled off you and settled by your side. A layer of sweat coated both your bodies; your ass cheeks were stinging due to the friction and the wax was still on your skin. And Sebastian just laid next to you, silently with his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly.

As you looked at him, a strange feeling took over. And the butterflies came back.

You inched closer to him and sheepishly rested your head on top of his chest. You placed your ear right on top of his racing heart and listened intently at the heartbeats.

Once he felt your head on top of his chest, he smiled and instinctively wrapped his arms around you. He discretely placed a kiss on top of your head and relished the feeling of having his girl in his arms.

“Not so dangerous now, am I?” he teased and you smiled, blushing.

I am naked in bed with a mob boss in my dad’s house, expect the unexpected indeed.

“I didn’t run from you,” you said out of nowhere and his silence signaled that he was listening.

His hand rubbed your shoulder and urged you to keep going.

“I ran from what I was feeling. I- it’s not you. It’s just, I don’t know, people talk you know. And even in the little town where I’m from, they talk about what you do. I’ve heard the stories about you when I was in college, a friend of mine cancelled her trip to Amsterdam only because she found out that you were currently there. People are scared of you, and I thought I should be too. So, I took off,” you explained and he listened without interrupting.

“I won’t hurt you,” came his reply to what you just said.

You didn’t know what to say, or feel. So, you kept quiet.

After a while of just cuddling and listening to each other’s heartbeat, you decided to take a shower together. After which, you cleaned the room and got in bed for the night.

“You’re mine,” Sebastian whispered into your ear.

You smiled despite the mixed feelings about this whole situation. Right after he spoke, his phone rang. He picked it up from the floor and groaned when he saw the caller ID.

“I’ll be right back, doll, gotta talk to these a-holes or else they’ll turn my world upside down with their stupidity,” he explained and walked out the room, leaving you in bed.

As soon as he walked out, your phone rang.

Weird, you thought, who would call you at almost midnight?

You stared at your phone screen and it said that it was an unknown number. If it were a few days ago, you would have ignored the call, but now that you’ve slept with the mob boss himself – nothing scared you and nothing seemed dangerous anymore.

You decided to take the call.

“Hello?” you spoke and immediately froze.

“Hello? Honey, its dad! Listen, peanut, this may sound terrifying but trust me, please. Okay, honey, I need to get out of the house. Right now. It’s not safe. Get your things and get out, now. There’s a black Range waiting in the driveway, it’s unlocked and inside there’s an address. I need you to get to that address. Please, honey, get there and I’ll explain everything. Okay? I love you more than anything, my darling. Please be safe, I’m waiting for you,” and with that, he ended the call.

Your heart raced at his words. What could this mean? Did your dad find out about Sebastian? How?

What the fuck is happening? You thought.

You could hear Sebastian barking orders at someone in French yet again, and from the sound of it, it seemed like he was in the kitchen downstairs.

So, if you were to grab your unpacked bags and make a run for it through the bedroom window, he wouldn’t hear a thing.

Between Sebastian and your dad, you trusted your dad better. But why did it feel wrong to run away from him again?

Okay, fuck this shit. If dad said something’s wrong, then something’s wrong!

So you scribbled a note to Sebastian, slipped your shoes on, grabbed your bag and stepped out the window. The jump wasn’t that high, you would make it.

So you made the jump. Along which, you made a grave mistake.

The mob boss just wanted your attention and your love. He wanted you to know that you were his. He wanted to give you the world. But now, he’d have to hunt you down and make sure you never run again. Because like he said before; he will always want you back.

This series’ tag list: (feel free to let me know if anyone else wants to tagged in future parts)

@crawlingnightmares @derekxsammy @coffees-and-constellations @josie605 @someone-i-use-to-know @enigma-xlii @fromtheheartandsoul @docharleythegeekqueen @nostagicgrant @undiscovered-misunderstood @moowaa-us @flipflopasshat @finallysomegoodfuckingcontent @spideyxxboi @everything-is-awesomesauce @fangirl-writer-awesomeness @euphoricbuckys @keepcalmandsosayweall @naurin-of-the-east @hadou-queen @a-kiddo-with-a-doggo @theunknowinglys @toinfinityandbeyondaffection @nerdytarah @purplechipsblog @bxxbxy @loving-barnes @msruchita @abehn @varvarafromgr @thehuntress26 @nojerama1996 @namebydot @carlya65 @mattmurdocksbitch @mustbeaweasleyginger @otakushifter @parker-barnes-af @ladifreakingda @nerdeey @airloe @studentville-struggles @yikes-buckybarnes

sorry if Tumblr didn’t let me tag you :( and i apologize for any typos, it’s midnight but i posted because i love all my horny ballsacks!!

2K notes · View notes

wonderlandleighleigh · 4 years ago

Note

TimKon or anything from the Tuna Melt-verse, which is fantastic, by the way.

Thank you!!! Here’s some unfinished Tuna Melt Fic. Maybe one day it’ll get done. It’s called “His Day in Court.” The Joker origin referenced is lifted from Batman: Streets of Gotham.

“Mister President.”

Bartlet looks up from his desk and grins, before getting to his feet slowly. “Judge Walters.”

As they shake hands, Jed marvels, not for the first time, at just how tall, and just how green Jennifer Walters is. She’s a beautiful woman.

She’s just…

Well, she’s She-Hulk.

Well, she used to be She-Hulk.

Now she’s a United States federal judge.

Like Mendoza, getting Jenn appointed as a federal judge had been a nightmare. She’s green, she’s huge.

She’s hardcore leftwing.

“Please, have a seat,” he offers, gesturing towards the couches and chairs.

Jenn nods, and does, settling into one of the chairs carefully, always hyper-aware of her own body and its impact on the world around her.

“I assume you know why I’ve asked you here,” he says, settling onto the couch next to her, clasping his hands in his lap.

“I have a pretty good idea,” Jenn smirks, leaning back a little. “The Joker case?”

Bartlet nods. “The Joker case. The prosecution is putting everything together, and I’ve been informed you’ve been chosen to preside.”

Jenn doesn’t say anything for a long moment, watching the president carefully before speaking up. “Permission to speak my mind?”

“Of course.”

“This whole trial is bullshit,” she says.

“It’s the law.”

“It’s bull. Look, I believe in our justice system when it works the way it’s supposed to, but jesus, this isn’t a case of innocent until proven guilty, this is a case of the defendant boasting in a public forum about the very fact that he is guilty. He’s killed thousands of people. He’s maimed and mentally and emotionally scarred more. Why put the survivors and the families of the dead through this? And how the hell are we supposed to choose a grand jury? An enormous percentage of people in this country, and just about everybody on the East Coast has been affected, in some way, shape or form by the Joker.”

“So you think we throw United States law out the window and just kill him?” Jed asks, lifting his eyebrows. “You don’t think that might look bad to the rest of the country? That they’ll start pointing fingers at whoever the hell, and asking why those people haven’t been offed too?”

“I think the Joker is different,” Jenn says. “I think he’s this country’s modern day boogieman, and I don’t think he deserves a traditional trial. And anyways, it’s not out of the question that the Joker could die...other ways.”

“Jennifer.”

“Don’t you have the Red Hood on speed dial?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow. “Didn’t I hear that somewhere?”

“Like that kid hasn’t been through enough,” Jed grumbles. “The last time somebody tried to take out the Joker because they thought it was the right thing, it ended in an office full of dead FBI agents and an attack on this White House. We do this the right way.”

“The right way would have been lethal injection at Arkham twenty years ago,” she tells him. “Everything beyond that is just us cleaning up decades-old messes.”

“Jennifer, are you saying we should find a different judge to preside over this case?” Jed asks, looking at her seriously. “Because what you’re telling me is that you cannot possibly be fair-”

“I’m telling you there is no fair,” she interrupts him. “Mister President, the Joker has eschewed legal council. He’s defending himself, which means he will run around my courtroom like the damn lunatic he is before he gets bored and attempts to massacre everyone in it.”

Bartlet closes his eyes and takes a breath before opening them again. “Jenn, all we can do is prepare for the worst. But we don’t have any other choice.”

*****

“It starts tomorrow, you know.”

“Hm?”

“The Joker trial,” Danny clarifies.

Maggie nods as she steps past him and back into her cube. “And you’re pissed.”

“A little.”

“Because you’re not the one writing about it,” Maggie goes on. “Because there’s no way to be impartial when you thought he was gonna kill you.”

“There’s not an impartial journalist in the world when it comes to this maniac,” Danny points out.

Maggie sits and looks up at him. “You can still go to the trial you know. Take a few days off. Head up to New York. You could even write an independent piece and farm it out to the Atlantic or whatever.”

Danny shakes his head. “Not worth feeling that angry. How are you doing with all of this?”

“I...have to be fine,” she says, blowing out a breath. “So I’m fine.”

“What are you working on? Anything good?”

“Well…”

He frowns, tilting his head. “What?”

“I...it’s just...how does somebody like the Joker, become the Joker?” Maggie asks. “What drives a person so far over off the deep end that they become...that?”

“Does it matter?”

“Doesn’t it?”

“So you’re looking into who the Joker really is,” Danny surmises.

“I have some leads,” she admits. “The problem is that he’s killed so many people, it’s hard to figure out what was personal and what was just...his version of a good time.”

“But you’ve got a hunch.”

Maggie nods, looking troubled. “I have a hunch.”

“Well?”

She blows out a breath. “About five years ago, Joker cornered an aging Mob Boss named Guzzo.”

“That guy was no joke,” Danny comments, pulling up a chair and taking a seat. “My mentor did a write-up about him back in the day. The stuff he did was almost as bad as the Joker. This was a few years ago, right?”

“Right. So...Joker corners him on amusement mile and sics a pack of hungry hyenas on the guy,” Maggie says. “All that’s left are a few teeth, which is how they identified him. What’s confusing is that if you look at the interviews done of the for-hire goons back then, Joker and Guzzo didn’t know each other. And if you look at the way the city was split up before Guzzo died, Joker’s usual territory was as far away from Guzzo’s as he could get.”

“Like he might have been avoiding the guy.”

“Maybe…”

“You think there’s a connection?” Danny asks. “Joker kills Guzzo for revenge?”

“I think Guzzo hurt a lot of people over multiple decades,” Maggie tells him. “What if one of the people he hurt was Joker, before he was Joker?”

“So you think Joker’s got a sob story.”

“I think he was once something resembling a person,” Maggie corrects him. “And if you wanna take down a monster, you show the world its weak spots.”

*****

“Maybe you should come home for a few days.”

Jason closes his eyes as he listens to his older brother over the phone.

“All anybody is gonna be talking about down there is the trial,” Dick goes on. “Or hey! We could take a roadtrip! Load up the car with snacks and sodas and get outta town for a while.”

“Dick.”

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Dick admits.

“I’m not.”

“Fine. I don’t want you to be so far away from me that I can’t be there for you,” Dick adds. “And neither does Bruce.”

“Is he testifying?” Jason asks.

“Yeah,” Dicik confirms. “He’s showing up in full bat-gear and he’s testifying.”

“That’s nuts,” Jason points out. “This whole -”

“I know.”

“Fucking - why can’t I just kill him?”

“Because it won’t help you,” Dick says sadly. “Little Wing, just because the monster is gone, doesn’t mean the nightmare never happened.”

Jason goes quiet. “I wanna go to the trial.”

“Jay-”

“I wanna go. At least to the first one.”

Dick sighs sadly. “The last thing I want is for this to be the thing that breaks you. You’ve been doing so well...the job, and the girlfriend...you looked so happy at that wedding we all went to. What if going to that trial just sets you back.”

“What if he hurts somebody?” Jason asks. “What if he takes down an entire courthouse full of people?”

“Then it won’t be your fault,” Dick says gently.

“One of us should be there every day of that trial,” Jason argues.

“Maybe. But it shouldn’t be you.”

“The hell it shouldn’t!”

“Jay,” Dick says firmly, but worriedly. “Look, with what he did to Babs...I have a good excuse to be at the trial every day. I’ll go. I promise. But you need to stay home.”

“You don’t get to-”

“Jay.”

Jason goes silent, and Dick can hear deep, heavy breaths.

“I’ll be there every day,” he says. “I promise you, Little Wing. I’ll go every day. Whatever happens, I’ll be there to help stop it.”

*****

“You’ve reached the office of Jason Todd, Wayne Technologies Liaison to the White House. I will be out of the office until the end of the month. You can reach my fill-in, Luke Fox at the following number…”

*****

“He took the entire month off?” Leo asks, staring at Luke Fox, utterly bewildered.

“He did,” Luke nods.

“To do what?” Leo snaps.

“Not go crazy,” Luke says simply. “This Joker thing has him fifty shades of fucked up, Leo.”

“The DoD hate you more than they hate him,” Leo points out, relaxing a little.

Luke chuckles and shrugs. “I know it freaks those old farts out to have to deal with a black man who is younger, smarter and more attractive. That’s what makes it fun for me.”

Leo sighs but grins wryly. “It’s gonna be a helluva month.”

“Oh it definitely is,” Luke smirks back. “You want lunch? My treat?”

"It’s hard to say no to that.”

#The Tuna Melt-Verse #fic #au #Jason Todd #Maggie Rogers #OFC #West Wing Crossover #Anonymous

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1011

1. Five facts about your current relationship OR five facts about your single life.

a) I haven’t been truly single in...around 6 years, so it’s been a bit of an adjustment.

b) It was my last day as an intern yesterday (but they hired me, so I’m staying after all, haha) and since I’ve felt like I gained a family in the last two months, I thought it would be okay to give professionalism a break and share what had actually been going on with me on my first day on the job, aka when the breakup was still fresh and I was still figuring out how to function all over again. It unsurprisingly surprised everyone and my superior said something like, “Omg it’s the [company name] curse; it’s so strong it broke you guys up before you even got hired” which got a laugh out of me.

c) I’m not interested in seeing other people.

d) Probably wouldn’t be, for a long time. My trust has been irreparably broken.

e) Seeing couples in public has now become annoying. I’m happy for them, but it’s still annoying.

2. Five facts about a past relationship.

a) I’ve known her since kindergarten, but we didn’t become friends till 7th grade and didn’t start dating until junior year of high school.

b) We were legal with her family and her parents loved me and I them. On the other hand, I was never able to come out to my family because she broke up with me before I could be able to do so.

c) She introduced me to vaping.

d) We were never able to truly travel together, which we always planned to do after graduating. The farthest we reached was Batangas.

e) She never knew where she wanted to eat whenever we were out, so I was mostly the one who decided which restaurant we were going to have lunch or dinner in.

3. Five facts about your mother.

a) She has always worked in hotels, which is great because it has always allowed us to get room and buffet discounts, heh.

b) Her family (aka my grandparents, her, and my uncles) struggled financially for a little bit when my grandpa lost his job when she was in college. When her friends would go to fast-food restaurants, my mom would always decline, saying she had schoolwork to finish. In reality she just couldn’t afford anything, and the only money she held was for public transport.

c) She is a little childish considering her age, and I cannot stand her petty tantrums. She was childish even when I was a kid, and I believe my emotional well-being suffered because of that.

d) She has a high pain tolerance and the only time I’ve seen her struggle was when she was getting a tattoo on the back of her shoulder.

e) She is also extremely religious and it especially grinds my gears when she gets hypocritical about it, which is just about all the time.

4. Five facts about your father.

a) He has only ever dated my mom.

b) He grew up extremely poor and at some point his parents actually stopped being able to afford his tuition. Instead of being kicked out, a few nuns who served in the school paid my grandparents a visit and told them my dad would be given a scholarship since he had good grades and it would have been a waste if he got expelled.

c) He was a dancer in high school, knows how to play the guitar, and he also apparently knows how to draw very well. There’s a lot I don’t know about him, considering he has worked abroad my whole life.

d) He breaks or loses his reading glasses once every few months. I know which parent I definitely take after.

e) I have never seen him cry.

5. Five facts about your sibling. If you have more than one, pick one. Or do them all!

a) She had problems crying in school until she was in around 2nd or 3rd grade.

b) She’s in college and is currently taking up digital filmmaking.

c) She’s the biggest introvert I know. I’ve never seen her be willing to do anything silly; not even with her friends.

d) She can’t handle spicy food.

e) Her main interests have shifted from Harry Potter, to One Direction, to 5SOS, and now K-pop. I believe she’s into Seventeen the most.

6. Five facts about your town.

a) The upper part of the city offers amazing views of the Metro Manila skyline, which has recently made the place a kinda popular nightlife destination.

b) There’s a lot of hidden gem restaurants here but because most people spend more time complaining about how far my city is and how difficult it is to get to than actually just making the damn ride over here, the restaurants stay hidden and uncrowded. Their loss.

c) Used to be massively underdeveloped for most of my childhood and teenage years. Now there are several malls and I can easily go to a McDonald’s, Burger King, and Starbucks right outside our village.

d) Because you basically have to drive through a mountain to get to the upper part of the city, it’s not the safest highway and fatal crashes are unfortunately common.

e) The city is known for its suman, except I hate Filipino rice cakes and this actually doesn’t do anything for me.

7. Five facts about your house.

a) It used to have a balcony until we had that transformed into another bedroom. So technically it is still a balcony; it just hasn’t had that purpose for a while now.

b) My mom used a little cheat in our dining room and installed a huge wall mirror. Most people visiting for the first time always note how much larger it made the room (and thus the house) look.

c) I live in a neighborhood where the houses are of the same model and look (think the Squidville episode from Spongebob). That said, balconies are included in all properties. When my parents decided to renovate ours and turn it into a room, so many houses slowly followed suit as well. It was amusing to see it unfold, knowing the idea undoubtedly originated from us. It was like a revolution.

d) We don’t have a gate, which irritates me to no end because it allows noisy neighborhood kids to just march and run around our property. Sometimes they even make it to our carport and backyard, ugh. :(

e) Speaking of backyard, the landscaping for it used to be a pebble mosaic designed to look like a swan. But over the years the quality deteriorated, so my parents to opted to have the pebbles crushed into tiny rocks and embedded onto the ground. I don’t exactly know what this technique is called, but yeah.

8. Five facts about your niece or nephew. If you have more than one, pick one. Or do them all! Skip if you don’t have one. I don’t have any, but I do have a godson so I’m going with him as I don’t want to leave any section blank.

a) He was born sometime in December. I honestly don’t remember when, loooooool. Worst godmother ever.

b) He’s actually one of my first cousins, but I guess my aunt saw something in me and wanted me to be his godson. I’ve been a terrible one, though; I’ve never bought him gifts or money or anything – to be fair, I was made a ninang when I was like, 14 or 15 lmao. But I can definitely make up for it now that I’m starting to earn my own money.

c) He’s the calmer, sweeter version of his older brother. His kuya was a pretty naughty kid when he was his age.

d) He mainly speaks English, as how most younger parents raise their kids these days. He understands Filipino of course, but he mostly communicates in English.

e) The last time I saw him, he was in the middle of a ridiculously adorable interviewing phase where he’d approach anyone in the family and start asking them a series of questions: what’s your favorite color? What food can’t you live without? What’s your favorite subject in school? Would you rather win $1 million dollars or know how to fly? It typically got exhausting after the 25th question, but it was so cute nonetheless. None of us have any idea where it came from.

9. Five facts about your education.

a) I went to a private, all-girls, Catholic school from kinder up to high school, and then moved to a public, co-educational, non-sectarian university for college. It was the very epitome of culture shock, lemme tell ya.

b) Some classes I had in my first school that might be uncommon in others have included penmanship (because my school has its own brand of cursive), environmental education, and I don’t remember what this next class was called anymore but we were basically taught how to write professionally? Like how to write cover letters and resumés and all.

c) My first school is extremely homophobic and went so far as to ‘hire’ spies tasked to check up on who’s been in same-sex relationships, list them all down, and report them to the guidance office so that they can be called one by one and be interrogated, and for the most part, pressured to come out. I don’t know if they still do this, but the younger batches are definitely more vocal and woke now thanks to social media and I doubt those practices would still fly today.

d) My university education was a breath of fresh air. Suddenly people were wearing sleeveless tops, mobs and rallies were a common sight to me, and my instructors were now atheist and not shoving Catholicism and Jesus and salvation down my throat. I loved every single day of it.

e) The most interesting class I took in college was a course called Pornography in Electronic Media, under the broadcast communication department. Getting to tell people I take a class where we sit down to watch porn was such a fucking ride.

10. Five facts about your job.

a) I got hired last Wednesday, but I had been interning for the company for around two months before they extended the offer.

b) I’m pretty much gonna be doing the same things I did as an intern, except I’m now accountable for any boo-boos I make HAHAHAHA. Also, I’m gonna be paid a lot more, obviously, which is sweet. I really thought we interns were severely underpaid considering the work that we help with on a daily basis.

c) My role is going to be with another department which is a little scary because it means the things I learned with the department I actually interned at will be pretty much useless. I’ll be starting from scratch again, but I’m still excited.

d) It’s a work-from-home situation, which is a relief for me because I don’t have to wake up early and I don’t have to face traffic.

e) My job interview for the position was actually a bit of a bomb because I absolutely fumbled with and messed up the first question I was asked; and since first impressions matter, I really thought I lost the gig from the very start of the interview. I made up for it as the interview continued and fortunately was able to break the ice and build a rapport with the team members who spoke with me, and I guess I did enough for them to want to take me in anyway.

For those who are curious, I blanked the fuck out when they asked “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t in your resumé.” Slowest 15 seconds of my life.

#survey #surveys

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