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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years ago

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personal jesus* frank castle x reader

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I don't usually add these disclaimers but this fic is nothing really close to anything I've written before so we'll add 'em anyway. And usually my stories are between 800 and 2500 words but I've exceeded that on this one so I'll add that too.

Wc: 2741

Warnings: canon level blood and gore mention, stitching him up, bad words, smut, and the likeness. It's very vulgar.

*- this is nothing but smut. Porn with a little bit of plot basically. Thigh riding, nipple play, not really a blood kink but like maybe if you squint, dick riding, unprotected p in v (please use protection in real life), and I think that's it. Enjoy 🥴

Song: joker and the thief by wolfmother

tag list: @cynic-spirit

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I sat on the couch reading, enjoying my late Saturday evening, the coffee sat under the lamp next to me long forgotten. I was all but consumed and was ready to ignore my alarm telling me to go to bed in the next couple minutes. It was almost midnight but I was determined to finish this book. After all, I only had twelve chapters left. Work could wait.

I flipped the page, new chapter, alarm began to ring. I turned it off and kept reading. Turned my attention to the next page and there was a knock at my door. I rolled my eyes. It's midnight, it couldn't be anyone that important. I flipped the page. Then the banging on the door started. Once, then another time, then another.

"Alright, I'm coming."

I mumbled under my breath, setting the bookmark in the spine and setting the book next to the mug on the side table. There was another slam of a fist against my door as I peaked through the peephole. It was frank and he didn't look great.

"Shit."

I mumbled under my breath as I fiddled with the door chain quickly. In a matter of rushed seconds the door was open and he was stumbling forward into my arms.

"What the fuck frank?"

I inquired a little annoyed, kicking the door closed and walking him to the kitchen table.

"I was gonna go home but your place was closer."

He groaned as I set him in the leather chair.

"And if I don't get this taken care of I'm gonna bleed out."

His voice was gruff, head dropping back against the back of the chair as I assessed him. He was covered in blood and I couldn't tell if it was his or someone else's. But knowing him it was probably a mixture of both. But as my gaze traveled up his torso and to his neck I noticed something.

"How far down does this go?"

I asked, touching the cut lightly with my finger tips and he jolted upright, grabbing my hand tightly in his own.

"I can't fix it if you don't let me at least see it."

I said and he let out a long shaky breath.

"Start with something else first."

He demanded, voice deep and strained like he'd been yelling. I shook my head.

"I'll be right back."

I look over him one last time before disappearing down the hall. I got in the closet first, getting everything I needed out of it before going back to the kitchen and filling a bowl with warm water.

"So, how much of this is yours?"

I asked, pulling up a tv tray and setting the bowl on it, soaking a wash cloth. He sent me a look, resituating in his seat to get comfortable, legs spread wide and one hand resting on each thigh.

"No, answer, per usual. That's fine."

I mumbled under my breath as I got to work wiping the blood off his face. I was careful not to push on the bruises I could see, taking extra care around the cuts and scrapes. There was a small one under his left eye, another deep into the brow bone. That One he hissed at when I went over it. I shook my head.

"I need to see this at a batter angle."

I stated boldly before straddling his left thigh and tilting his head up and to the side for more light. He looked at me for a moment, holding his breath as I rinsed the rag and got back to work. It took him a second to let the air back out, when he realized I didn't care what he was doing beneath me.

"This must've been some fight."

I mentioned more to myself than anything. He stared back ahead of him, swallowing hard.

"You should see the other guy."

He said quietly and I snorted, wiping the remaining blood off his face.

"Something tells me he'll be in the paper later this week under that section in the back titled 'obituary'."

He side eyed me, tightening his jaw as I moved to open my kit. I started with q-tips and rubbing alcohol, and setting out a few small butterfly bandaids.

"This is gonna hurt."

I said and he huffed a laugh out, as if to say sarcastically 'and you think it didn't hurt when it happened?' But I just ignored it. I dipped the first q-tip into the alcohol and pressed it to the cut under his eye. He hissed and jerked away and I sent him a look.

"Sit still or it's gonna get infected."

He drew his brows at me before going back to where he was before.

"If it hurts that bad, just squeeze here."

I said, grabbing his hand that had been situated under me on his thigh and placing it against my hip.

"But don't move."

I said firmly, holding his jaw tightly with one hand and getting back to work. His breathing was unsteady as I ran a new qtip dipped in alcohol over the cut. It was still trying to scab so I was getting more coagulated blood than I had originally bargained for. He kept his jaw locked in place as I added the bandaid to the cut under his eye. Now onto the brow bone. It was deeper, still running blood down and almost into his eye. It was a race between me and it and luckily I was winning. When I touched it with the qtip he squeezed my hip so tightly i made a pained noise.

"Shit."

We said in unison and I shook my head.

"Sit still."

I said annoyed, grabbing another bandaid and positioning it around his eyebrow. When it was on I moved his head again via his jaw to make sure there weren't any more. I had cleaned all the blood off already and the only traces of the fight that were left were the deep purple and yellow bruises littered under his left eye and across his nose and right cheek. I nodded once in content before pushing his head to look up and inspecting the deep cut that started at the base of his jaw and got thicker the further under his shirt collar it got.

"I need to look at this now."

I said and he sighed.

"Fine but don't do that shit you just did to my face."

I rolled my eyes.

"Big baby."

He glared at me before letting his death grip on me go and lifting his shirt. My eyes went wide as his shirt hit the table in a wet heap. The cut went all the way to his sternum and was all but gushing blood.

"Why the fuck didn't we start with this?!?"

I said in a loud, angry tone, looking from the cut to his face.

"Didnt want you to worry."

He managed and I shook my head, getting my stuff out quickly.

"No, you don't get to do that. All this time and you could've been dead in my kitchen."

I said a little more pissed off than I meant. I started again by wiping the blood away, holding a dry wash cloth to his chest to stop it from bleeding more.

"Hold this, lots of pressure."

I instructed, his right hand coming up and doing as told. His left hand went back to my side as I started cleaning the small part of the cut at his jaw.

"What did you do frank?"

I inquired, again more as a 'thinking out loud' than looking for an actual answer.

"I backed up before he could run me all the way through. Damn ninja. Sliced up, almost took my fucking ear off."

I sent him a look, one he returned as I cleaned the thinner part of the cut, adding butterfly bandaids; two on his throat, one on his collar bone, one just below it on the edge of his peck.

"That's gonna need stitches."

He sighed, sinking further into the chair and his lower stomach pressing against my thighs.

"Alright. Let's get it over with."

He complied and i bit my tongue. I quickly got everything out, sterilized the needle and he moved his hand. It was still bleeding and I knew this would be messy. I leaned forward to get a better look and his hand went with my hip.

"Why don't you just sit."

He said and I looked up to him, brows drawn.

"What?"

I asked and he rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips but it was barely there.

"Sit."

He said, grabbing my waist and pushing me down onto his leg. I made a surprised noise and he laughed, groaning a bit.

"fine, but don't move, I don't want to make it worse."

He stared down at me intently as I got to work stitching him up. His gaze was intense and he kept his iron grip on my hip the entire time. I would be flustered if I weren't so focused. The stitches were barely helping as I sewed against his chest. It was still bleeding a lot. And when the stitches were done it seemed like I had more work to do than when I started. I moved to clean it and he caught my hand.

"Is that really necessary?"

He asked and I deadpanned.

"Yes frank now let go."

I said sternly and he did, brows drawn as I poured the alcohol over his chest. He hissed, throwing his head back as he bruised my hip more. The blood ran freely down his torso as he breathed heavily, it rippling against his abs as they tensed. I took another dry rag and wiped it off. The bleeding was starting to slow now that the cut was together and I was more relieved. He looked back down at me, his chest rising and falling quickly.

"Shit woman you sure know how to do a number on me."

I smirked at him as I leaned over and put the stuff back on the tv tray.

"I've had a lot of practice."

I said a little cocky and he smiled.

"Good thing too."

He said and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"You're a menace frank castle. But I wouldn't want it any other way."

He just stared at me for a second and then I realized I was still sitting on him and should probably get up before it gets weird. I placed my hands at his shoulders and tried but he still had a grip on me that was prohibiting me from doing so.

"Frank?"

I asked and in a second his lips were against my own. It was then that I'd realized he had a cut on his lip. He tasted like iron and hissed through his teeth when I ran my tongue across it. I smiled against him but he kept going. It was needy and rushed and everything I had imagined it would be. Not that I had thought about it often but he wound up in my apartment covered in blood a couple times a month so I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind once or twice.

"Frank."

I moaned against him as he kissed the side of my mouth, then my jaw, then across my neck. My arms were around his shoulders now, holding on for dear life as his hands roamed my body. I adjusted against his thigh and he growled against my ear, his hands guiding me to do it again. I did it without even thinking, pressing my core further against him if that was even possible. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter and before I knew what was happening my own blood soaked shirt was off and sitting next to his on the glass table.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while."

He confessed through staggered breaths as he undid my bra, his mouth traveling across my collar bone and down my chest. Then my nipple was in his mouth and I was moaning again. I scratched lightly at the back of his head with one hand and trailed my finger tips down his torso with the other, being careful not to touch the cut. As I got further down his motions slowed, and when I began palming him through his jeans he rested his forehead against my chest and breathed heavily.

"Shit."

He breathed out and I laughed, his hips pushing up to meet my hand. He was already hard and I could tell he wanted more. As I undid his pants he sat back upright, kissing me again like his life depended on it. It was just as harsh and sloppy as before but he froze when I took him out of his pants, stroking him lightly. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open and I could feel his hands at my thighs trying to push into my pajamas shorts. I kissed across his face, feeling his hot breath fan over my jaw and neck.

"Need you. Now."

He said, finally looking at me. His pupils were blown out and his eyes were black with lust as he pulled my one leg over his right one so I was sitting on his lap properly now. I kissed him again as he pushed my shorts and panties to the side, holding me against him. I looked down long enough to line him up and sank down onto him. I moaned at the new feeling, watching as he dropped his head back against the chair, his brows knitted together as he screwed his eyes shut. I kissed across his exposed neck and chest as I moved on top of him. His legs were still spread wide beneath me, helping me out as I rode him.

"Shit. Faster."

He managed, looking back to me as his hands gripped my ass tightly.

"Yes sir."

I said playfully, and he groaned. As I did as told he slapped my ass and I squealed in surprise, clenching around him. He screwed his brows together, watching my every move with intent as I bounced on top of him quickly.

"Frank."

I moaned, reaching down to circle my clit as he kept me steady on top of him.

"Keep going beautiful."

He encouraged and I dropped my head back, feeling the knot build in my stomach.

"Frank."

I whined again, my legs beginning to shake.

"Just a little bit more."

He grunted out, thrusting up to meet me as my movements got slower.

"Oh god."

I said panicked, as I felt closer, him pounding up into me.

"Oh my god."

I yelled as my body shook, my orgasm ripping through my body, pussy clenching around him. He held me close as I shook on top of him, riding out my high as he chased his own.

"Y/n."

He moaned, his thrusts getting harsher.

"Y/n."

He said a little louder and I could hear the chair creak. I lifted up and dropped to meet him and he moaned loudly against my neck, hand placed firmly at my back as he came in me. I could feel him twitch against my walls as his pace slowed. We both breathed heavily, sporadically, as we calmed down. We still had a death grip on each other, my arms around his shoulders, his arms around my waist, our heads pressed against one another. It was like the aftermath of a hurricane.

"Thanks."

I said through a breathy laugh and he sat up, brows drawn in confusion. His hands were at my hips now and I could feel him going soft in me.

"For what?"

"For the great ride cowboy."

I said with a wink and he smiled, shaking his head at me.

"Is that a fair trade off?"

He asked and I shrugged.

"I stitch you up and you cum in me, I don't know if that has the same affect."

He laughed, kissing my cheek.

"Would it make it better if I helped clean up?"

He asked, gazing up at me, an innocence to him that I hadn't seen before.

"How about this. We go take a shower to get this blood off both of us and then we'll see where that takes us."

He kissed my jaw, tracing his fingers lightly up my back.

"Sure thing doc."

#wattpad #x reader #smut #frank castle #the punisher #the defenders #marvel #imagines #one shots #336

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wheelofmeta · 3 years ago

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The Androl Problem

So! Something I’ve been meaning to get around to for a while.

Androl original appeared in Winter’s Heart with a few lines, reporting to Logain. Toveine had a point of view where she looks at him, thinking about for all he’s wearing a signet ring (traditionally something on nobles do) he looks more like he’s an apprentice who shaved off his mustache. It’s during a scene where the men loyal to Logain are reporting to him on things. That’s the only time we see him before Towers of Midnight. And easy enough moment to miss.

Excluding that moment he’d been named, everything else was a creation of Sanderson’s.

So, you may be staring at me. Then what’s the problem?

The problem is Sanderson quite literally gave Androl too much to do.

Androl was the result (in part) of Sanderson wanting to do something with a character who actually was, for lack of better term, a true teleporter. Someone who actually took full advantage of how to use Traveling. So Sanderson took a canon Asha’man (Androl) who’d had limited screen time and could serve as a blank slate for his writing purposes. Which is exactly what he did.

Okay, neat, great. Honestly gotta agree a character like that needed to exist because wow. Was Traveling underutilized when it came down to it. Taking advantage of named character who had limited affect on the previous storyline to do that made sense.

The thing with Androl is that in many ways Sanderson used him to fill in basically any hanging plot threads that Jordan hadn’t given to a previous character. So things like the fight for the Black Tower, he used Androl to lead that. He used Androl to save the Andoran forces. He used Androl to get the seals. He used Androl to do the double bond shit with Pevera.

Androl, Androl, Androl.

Androl, a character who basically had no previous affect on the plotline now has an absolutely massive one. And we know, per Sanderson’s own words, that Androl and everything he does is his own creation, though he is filling in the blanks for certain plot threads that remained from Jordan’s writing, such as the Black Tower stuff. So yeah, Sanderson deciding to use what’s basically his OC to fill some of that makes sense.

What’s aggravating is how much that then meant Androl overshadowed previously introduced Asha’man, such as Narishma. It’s heavily hinted early on that Narishma is going to be important in the future (he’s fucking mentioned in the Prophesies of the Dragon), but during the Last Battle we see him maybe twice, and he doesn’t do anything distinct beyond heal Lan post his fight with Demandred. On the other hand, Androl seems to have his hand in everything *but* the fighting at Shayol Ghul. Yes, that’s an exaggeration, but not as bit of one as it really should be.

Seriously. I understand the desire to have your OC do things, but you can’t over do it.

The other thing is, that in Androl’s ‘backstory’, Sanderson also had him have too many adventures. Seriously though, it seemed every time he and Pevera spoke, he brought up a different thing he did and none of them where anywhere near each other. She does too, but she’s also a hundred plus year old Aes Sedai, so she’s had the time to do a lot of shit. The issue there is, per Toveine’s point of view in Winters Heart, Androl should be only in his twenties. Based on her mental description of him (looking like he could be an apprentice), it means he looked young. Almost every apprentice who appears on page is implied to be under thirty. But if you don’t remember Androl’s original appearance, based on all the things he tells Pevera it would be fair to think he was closer to his late thirties, early forties. And men generally start channeling on the later side of things, so he shouldn’t even be slowing that soon (I think Androl may even have been specified as not starting to channel on his own but needing to be taugh, in contrast to Logain or Taim).

On top of that was a pretty common issue of Sanderson’s; namely, his habit of dropping and adding random character aspects (hello the fact apparently Mat can’t fucking write a letter that isn’t full of grammar and spelling errors, even though we’ve seen him write on-page before and it was just fine; obviously this is a major pet peeve of mine). Like, a really interesting thing he could have done with the original bits? Explain why Androl was wearing a signet ring, especially with the explanation that apparently he was a leatherworker. Was he pretending to be a noble? Was he actually a noble? Who the hell knows because Sanderson never followed up on that detail.

I would have much preferred it if Sanderson had actually allowed the previous appearing Asha’man to play more major roles during the Last Battle rather than over using Androl (and he was overused). Narishima, again, should have played a bigger role. We never get an explanation for the ‘he will follow after’ stuff; is that supposed to hint he’d eventually lead the Asha’man after Logaine? Again, who knows since Sanderson never wrote anything about that.

(And before someone asks, at some point I will be doing meta about Sanderson’s penchant for dropping character traits/apparently forgetting certain plot threads. Like it wouldn’t be so aggravating for me if I didn’t like Mat so much and found Sanderson to just not be very good at writing him.)

#androl #pevera #logain #the black tower #asha'man #wheel of time #wot #unreasonably attractive fandom

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jingabitch · 4 years ago

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Asmodeus

SUMMARY: While trying to summon a demon, you have an encounter with Namjoon.

PAIRING: Namjoon x witch!reader

GENRE: smut

WARNINGS: demons and witches and stuff, dirty sex in a graveyard, oral sex (f receiving), plot twist, kinda dark-ish?

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: banner by @kookspierogis, beta-ed by @hesperantha, inspired by an ask by @wwilloww. Hope you guys enjoy it (and appreciate that I actually managed to get this out well before my scheduled deadline!).

You pulled your jacket more tightly around your body and hitched your backpack up slightly, looking behind your shoulder to make sure you weren’t being followed. This graveyard gave you the creeps, and you really didn’t know why you’d agreed to do this in the middle of the night. Was joining this coven really that important? Couldn’t you have attempted to summon a demon somewhere indoors and, most importantly, warm?

Sighing at your earlier self for making such poor decisions, you watched as your breath fogged up in front of you. “Jesus,” you muttered. Maybe you should just get this done as quickly as possible, so you could go back home and snuggle up under your warm duvet.

Finally reaching the small clearing in the middle of the cemetery, you stared up at the imposing griffin statue for a second before walking up to it and putting your backpack on the ground, leaning it against the base of the statue and kneeling down to take the necessary items out. Your grandmother’s grimoire, the candles, the ceremonial dagger.

It was so cold that your fingers were frozen, making it difficult to get the candles out of their plastic wrapper. Cursing, you blew on your hands and rubbed them together before picking up the package to try again.

Placing the five candles in a circle, you stepped into the middle and opened the book to the right page. “Why are all the summoning spells in ancient Latin?” you wondered to yourself, before kneeling on the ground and placing the book down in front of you.

As you chanted the first line of the spell, you felt the power start flowing through your veins, hot and electric, and placed your palm against the ground. As soon as your hand made contact, you clenched your teeth against the strange feeling of the magic leaving your body, shooting into the ground in the direction of the candles, which lit up immediately.

It was a windy night, but that didn’t matter, because the flames were fueled by your magic. A pentagram with the five points marked out by the candles began to glow on the ground, enclosed within a circle.

Lifting your palm off the ground, you refocused your attention on the spell in the book, picking up the knife by your side for the blood sacrifice. You would have to slice your palm open and drip a few drops of blood into the middle of the pentagram to bind your soul to the demon.

Before you could start chanting again, however, you heard the telltale rustling sound of leaves crunching underfoot, and whipped your head around. As you turned, you caught sight of someone standing behind you, staring down at you.

“What are you doing here?” you snapped, trying to hide your panic and shock.

He shrugged. “I could ask you the same question,” he pointed out, drawing closer.

Your mind kicked into overdrive, trying to find some rational explanation that wouldn’t lead to you being kicked out of the graveyard or arrested or sent to a mental facility.

“Giving a prayer to my grandparents,” you offered. It was a piss-poor excuse, and you knew it, but it was too late to do anything but double down. “They were really spiritual.”

He raised a brow at you.

“Anyway,” you continued defensively, “what are you doing here?” By which, of course, you meant, how had you missed him?

He stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, and your breath caught in your throat. Holy hell, how had you missed the fact that he was beautiful? Tall and broad, wearing a long black coat over a black turtleneck which contrasted against his ash grey hair. The coat wasn’t buttoned up, and you could see the YSL logo next to the buckle of his belt.

“Paying my respects,” he said vaguely. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

You stood up, compelled somehow by his gaze. “Y/n,” you introduced yourself against your better judgement. When it came to creeps in graveyards at midnight, you could never be too careful, you’d always thought, and yet your mouth had betrayed you before you could think it through.

He was just so beautiful it was disconcerting. Growing up around other witches, you’d never really been around men all that much, and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself

“You shouldn’t be hanging around places like these late at night, you know,” he cautioned. His voice was soft and low, pleasing to the ears. You strained to hear more of it.

He stepped closer still, until he stopped right outside the circle you’d marked out with your candles. “You never know who’s going to be around.”

“Like you?” you shot back breathlessly. The moonlight reflected off his fair skin, making him all but glow in the darkness of the night.

The half-smirk he gave you was sinister, dark and dangerous. It should scare you, but instead you felt arousal coil in your lower belly.

“Exactly like me,” he agreed easily. He smiled at you, showing off his dimples.

“You don’t look very dangerous,” you observed.

“Well, maybe you should take a closer look, then,” he invited with a shrug.

Step out of the pentagram? You hesitated for a moment. One of the first things you’d been taught when you started learning magic was never to do that – the pentagram was the only thing that protected you from the demon you were summoning. Outside of it, the balance of power shifted dramatically.

But Namjoon raised his hand, palm out, for you, and before you knew it, your hand was in his and you let him pull you out of the pentagram. “You mean like this?” you asked as you slung your other arm around his shoulders.

You thought you saw his eyes flash, but dismissed it as a trick of the light in the second before his lips descended on yours. “No, I meant like this,” he growled.

Your eyes snapped shut immediately as you lost yourself in the feeling of his lips moving against yours. It had been so long since you’d been kissed, and never like this. Never with such skill and dexterity. His hands crept up your abdomen under your shirt, and even though they should have been cold, his fingers were deliciously warm, making you want to press yourself against him like a cat.

He backed you up into the base of the statue, crowding close and pressing the hard rod of his erection into your belly as he towered over you. It should have been menacing, but everything was, instead, endlessly titillating.

“You like that?” he said in a low, raspy voice that tied your stomach in knots. “You do, don’t you?”

You didn’t have it in you to answer, but he certainly didn’t need you to reply verbally. Not when the way you mewled as you tried to get closer to him, sliding your hands greedily into his coat, told him everything he needed to know.

Witches were always so easy. These closed communities of all-female witches meant it was difficult for them to have their needs met, and they were consequently easy pickings for any man who happened to set his eyes on them. Really, he thought, you’d think that after so many years, they’d have wised up to the pitfalls of the coven structure, but it appeared not.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he promised darkly, the sound making heat pool in your lower belly as you clenched on yourself, uncomfortably aware of how empty you felt. His fingers trailed down your abdomen now, in the opposite direction from before, headed for the button on your jeans.

You barely registered the fact that he was pushing you back gently until your back hit the base of the statue, knocking the air out of your lungs. He crowded close, pressing you back into it, towering over you with his broad frame. One of his hands pushed your sweater up, bunching the fabric under your arms, while his other undid the button on your jeans, sneaking his fingers into your panties.

He didn’t bother to hide his satisfaction, letting out a small noise and lifting his head to smirk down at you. “You’re so wet,” he purred, running his fingers along your slit. With a precision that seemed almost inhuman, he found your clit, rubbing his slickened fingers across it.

A choked moan forced its way out of you as you threw your head back against the cool marble of the statue’s base, your eyes fluttering shut as you rocked your hips into his fingers.

The feeling of him withdrawing his hand from your panties was so objectionable that you opened your eyes, making a sound of indignation. All fight automatically left you, however, when you saw him sucking on his fingers, staring you down with hooded eyes. “I want to taste it from the source,” he told you, his voice deep.

Holding back a shudder, you nodded. “Yeah, we can definitely do that,” you managed, your voice shaky.

He leaned down to kiss you, then started trailing kisses down your neck, before kneeling. Your eyes wide, you watched him get on his knees as you started pulling your sweater down, back over your body.

“Don’t,” he said, a steely undercurrent in his voice that sent a little shiver down your spine. The glint in his eyes let you know that he meant business. Still, despite being mid-hook up with a random stranger in a graveyard – you stared down the neat rows of tombstones – you hadn’t taken complete leave of your senses.

“It’s cold,” you protested with a pout.

“Don’t worry,” he told you. His voice oozed with confidence. “You won’t get cold.”

You were about to say more, but he silenced you with a stern look. With a sigh, you acquiesced, lifting the shirt back up as you leaned your head back against the statue. You were going to catch your death out here, you thought mournfully, staring up at the full, round, white moon. Hopefully he’d at least get you to the little death first.

He ripped your jeans and panties down your legs, knocking off one of your sneakers carelessly as he did so. Your clothes remained bunched around the other ankle, in what surely was the most undignified position you’d ever been in.

Then his tongue touched your body, and as you stiffened and squeaked in surprise, all of those thoughts flew out of your head. The only thing that mattered to you was how talented he was with the appendage, and you adjusted your stance to give him greater access.

Namjoon lapped at your slit with long, broad strokes, bumping your clit every time. You rocked your hips slightly to get more friction, and he reacted by holding your hips still with his strong, big hands, making the thought that he must be the devil flash across your mind in frustration. Then he shifted closer, using his broad shoulders to open your legs wider, and placed his mouth on your pussy, and that last shred of coherent thought left the chat.

The hand holding your sweater up drifted slightly, your fingers ducking into the cup of your bra to circle your nipple as your thumb stayed hooked under the cozy knit material. Your other hand slid down your bare abdomen before your fingers threaded themselves through his hair just to have something to hold on to as he relentlessly attacked your clit.

“Mmf, fuck,” you mumbled around a lock of hair that had fallen into your mouth with all the thrashing around you were doing. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered but Namjoon and his wonderful, awful tongue. Tears squeezed out of your eyes, which were tightly shut, running down the sides of your face.

“That’s it,” he encouraged you as he detached for a second to catch his breath, using his thumb to rub over your clit as he fucked you with his fingers. “You’re close, aren’t you? Come for me like a good girl,” he said slightly breathlessly before once more ducking his head to your core.

Helplessly, you obeyed, your entire body seizing up as you clenched around his fingers, rocking your hips against him as you rode out your orgasm.

When it was over, you slumped limply against the marble statue, blinking up at him with slightly blurry vision as he rose to his full height. In the pale, weak light of the full moon, his cheeks and chin gleamed. He didn’t bother to wipe it away, instead grinning down at you as he braced his weight on the statue, his hands on either side of your shoulders.

“Good girl,” he purred as he leaned in to kiss you. You tilted your head up automatically to receive his kiss, uncaring of the fact that you could taste yourself on his lips. As he slid his tongue against yours sensuously, you eagerly reached to unbutton his trousers. With a chuckle, he leaned back to give you more space, but didn’t otherwise help you.

You were so distracted trying to get into his pants that you didn’t notice how warm your fingers were. You still had full mobility, contrary to your expectations that you’d be frozen solid by now, after his insistence that you expose yourself to the elements the way he’d ordered you to.

Then your hands were full of dick, and you moaned in unison. You would have been more embarrassed about that had your body not been thrumming with arousal still. It had just been so long since you’d touched a man. Training to become a witch didn’t leave you with much free time or access, after all.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he continued praising you, his voice gone raspy as you stroked him. You were about to get on your knees to return the favour, but he stopped you, instead hoisting you up and pressing you against the statue. There was a vague sense of being pinned like an insect, but the thought vanished like so many had tonight the moment you felt him pressing, hot and hard, against you.

Then you felt your softness yield to him as he pushed into you, sliding deep into you with a grunt. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase along his shoulders, but the solid wool coat resisted. The cashmere of his sweater brushed against your skin, and although it was the softest, most luxurious sweater you’d ever felt, it was almost abrasive, reminding you that although you were pretty much fully exposed, he was still completely clothed.

Your head tipped back helplessly. You felt so incredibly full, the stretch riding the line between pleasure and pain. Namjoon, in response, bent his head to the exposed skin of your neck, pressing soft, wet kisses to the sensitive flesh that turned into sucking.

“Namjoon,” you gasped, and he lifted his head to look down at you. For a split second, it seemed like his irises were glowing red, but he blinked and then it was gone, and you dismissed it as a trick of the light. Your paranoia and discomfort from earlier must have seeped into your subconscious somehow. Ridiculous, really, since as a witch, you were probably the thing to be feared the most in the graveyard tonight.

His hand came up, long fingers stretching around the column of your neck.

“You’re mine,” he snarled. The unexpectedly possessive statement should have alarmed you. After all, he was a random stranger you’d met in dubious circumstances, even if you were currently getting to know each other on a very intimate level. Instead of uneasiness, however, his declaration only served to egg you on more, the rightness of it all settling deep within your bones.

Simultaneously, he pulled his hips back and then thrust into you again, bumping your clit with his pelvis.

“Yesss,” you groaned, although you weren’t sure if it was in response to his words or his actions. How was it possible for a man to be this good with his hips? The few sexual encounters you’d had before this had been fumbling, awkward and ultimately, you’d thought after, not worth it. Namjoon was like a whole different species.

He seemed to enjoy your enthusiastic approval, if the satisfied smirk he shot you was any indication. His body moved like a lithe, well-oiled machine, his arms hitching you up slightly higher to adjust the angle as he slammed into you. There would definitely be bruises on your hips from where they were hitting the marble, but it would be so worth it.

Helpless moans and yelps filled the air. As wrecked as you were, the only indication you had that he was feeling the same way was the way his breaths puffed against your neck. He seemed completely composed otherwise, keeping up a stream of filth murmured into your ear, so lewd it made even you blush.

There was no way, you thought, hurtling towards your second orgasm of the night, that he was a regular man. This level of prowess… it had to be something else.

As your moans reached a crescendo, Namjoon growled again, a delicious sound to your ears. You felt his mouth open slightly against your neck and felt the press of his teeth, but you were distracted and dismissed it as him taking in a gulp of air.

A second later, he struck. His teeth sank so deeply into your flesh that blunt human teeth couldn’t have done it. You should have been terrified, should have pushed him away and run screaming, but instead – completely bizarrely – the searing pain pushed you over the precipice. You came harder than you ever had in your life, the sensations so strong that they teetered on the fine line between pleasure and pain.

When the wave finally ebbed, you sagged against the marble of the statue, your arms loosening around Namjoon’s neck. He was approaching his own orgasm, you could feel it from the way his hips stuttered against yours. Thankfully, he’d removed his teeth from your neck, although he continued lapping haphazardly at the wound.

Exhausted, you marshalled the last of your strength to straighten up. “Come on,” you urged, stroking the back of his neck. Sweat was dripping down it and into his collar, you noted absently. When he finally released into you, it was a relief for the both of you.

In the wake of everything, you both slumped against the statue. The air felt almost eerily still and quiet after everything that had transpired before, and awkwardness started setting in.

Slightly uncomfortable now, you wriggled to be let down, and he acquiesced, stepping away to give you some room. You immediately began tugging on your clothes, trying to put yourself back to rights and studiously avoiding eye contact with him.

“Well,” you said in a voice that seemed entirely too loud, piercing through the silence that had settled over the graveyard. “That was fun.”

“Yes,” he said in a slightly amused voice. “I hope you don’t make a habit of this, though.”

Frowning, you raised your head to glare at him. “And what if I do?” you asked slightly irritably. You weren’t really in the mood to be judged for a random hookup by the man who’d just been railing you into next week.

He shrugged, raising his hands up placatingly. You turned away from him and bent to pick up your things. There was no way you were summoning a demon tonight, you thought. Your concentration was shot to hell, and your energy was all over the place. You’d have to try again tomorrow night.

Namjoon perched on a gravestone nearby, the disrespect of him sitting so cavalierly on someone’s headstone making you cringe internally. “I’ll see you around, I guess,” he said, watching you pack your things.

“Uh, yeah…” you said, your voice betraying your confusion. Who was in the habit of continuing to meet their random hookups? You knew it was probably one of those polite platitudes people exchanged, but the way he’d said it was different, like he really did mean it.

Namjoon laughed at your tone. “You didn’t think you’d escape me that easily, did you?” he asked, standing up. His hands were in his pockets as he walked towards you, looking completely nonchalant. Leaning in, he raised his hand to your neck, running his thumb over the bite mark he’d left. His face was so close to yours that for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you again, but instead, he looked you directly in the eyes. “You’re mine now, after all,” he purred, as his eyes flashed red again.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart started pounding again, although for an entirely different reason this time. This was definitely not a trick of the light, and now that your brain wasn’t so clouded, all the little warning signs you’d dismissed earlier came back to mind.

“Who are you?” you breathed, trying to stop the tremor in your voice.

He chuckled and stepped away from you.

“My name is Namjoon,” he told you, shrugging. As he turned and started walking away into the darkness, though, he called over his shoulder, “But you might know me better by my title, Asmodeus.”

Shocked, you slapped your hand over the bite mark, staring at him as the fog swallowed his tall, lithe figure up. Asmodeus, the demon of lust. So you had managed to summon a demon after all. And, it seemed, a high-ranking one.

Running your fingers over the bite mark, you couldn’t stop the satisfaction from bleeding through you. As a disciple of Asmodeus, you were sure to rise through the ranks of the coven in no time.

#bts smut #bts fic #bts scenario #kim namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader

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stillness-in-green · 3 years ago

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I felt like the plf war was rushed

1.Plf advisors getting hype but no payoff

2.Only miruko, Momo, and Kirishma got time to shine

3.Machia got defeated to easily

4.The war felt more like a raid

I don't know if I feel like it was rushed, per se--it's by far the longest arc in the story so far by number of chapters, and would be even if you cut off the Tartarus jailbreak and the entirety of the hospital aftermath. What it absolutely does feel like to me is unbalanced.

You note that the "war" feels more like a raid, and you're right. As a caveat, it's worth keeping in mind that "Paranormal Liberation War" as a name for the arc in question is entirely an invention of the fanbase. To the best of my knowledge, the reasoning for the name was that big action shonen series like BNHA (Naruto, Bleach, Hunter x Hunter, etc) always have a war arc, so what we were seeing in the lengthy, mass combat confrontation with the PLF had to be HeroAca's equivalent. It's not a term that's in the manga itself, however, not called as such by the characters, not referred to as such by Horikoshi or his editors, not even namedropped in chapter or volume titles. If it feels like a raid, that's probably because that's what it was intended to be.

And that's the problem, really. This arc shouldn't have been about a couple of raids; it should have been about a war.

(Below the cut: a bunch of fired-up complaining. Uses some harsh language, and talks about both injuries and deaths we did see and some we logically should have.)

From the outset, we were told that the resources Shigaraki had amassed were "on par with, or even stronger than" the resources of the hero-saturated society. Yet, we're expected to believe that a force that strong is so easily taken down by a single coordinated set of raids? Yes, the heroes had the benefit of surprise, but there's just so much that doesn't work for me.

First off, and to get this out of the way, it's ridiculous that the heroes even had the benefit of surprise. The MLA had an unknown number of hero double agents. They had people in the government; they had people in the infrastructure. This is an organization that had been living undercover completely unsuspected for multiple generations--how did the HPSC ever manage to carry out a massive, country-wide investigation on such a secretive group and coordinate multiple simultaneous, comprehensive raids without a single person finding out and alerting the higher-ups over a period of only three and a half months?

When exactly did Hawks have time to go and revive Best Jeanist--which he tells us he did personally--such that none of the bugs and micro-cameras he was covered with picked up on it, and both he and BJ could be back in the positions they needed to be in for the raid to begin?

How did Skeptic find out about the raid such that he only discovered it at the last possible second and not minutes, even hours, before it kicked off? How did hundreds of heroes (and even "hundreds" is being conservative, given the fact that they had seventeen thousand people to detain) close in on the villa without anyone from the PLF noticing, either Skeptic with his information network or mundane precautions like people on watch?

Even granting the heroes their surprise advantage--which I don't want to--if the advisors were all supposedly "stronger than the average hero," why didn't we see any of them winning? Okay, yes, Hose Face beat Midnight, but he had every possible advantage in that "fight"; I hardly count it as some big impressive defeat that shows us that the villains were holding their own.

Here's another thing: the MLA styled themselves as an army--they were demonstrably trained in troop tactics. When we saw them in Deika, even their nameless on-the-ground people were capable of coordinating with each other on the fly in response to the movements of the enemy, as we saw come up repeatedly:

Yeah, they were off-guard at first, but as soon as the advisors made the front line (which, you'll note, was immediately), that disadvantage really should have begun eroding. Certainly once Geten--Geten! The number one MLA member most willing to disregard collateral damage! And there he was being a proper leader!--got to the front and started yelling orders, we should have seen the PLF rallying, and I can't imagine any sensible justification for the tides not turning when a) Re-Destro showed up to occupy the highest-ranked hero on the field, b) a bunch of heroes peeled off to try to stop Machia only to get trampled for their efforts, and c) Trumpet got dug out.

You know who don't style themselves as an army, though? Heroes. Oh, they get some basic lessons in cooperation as students, but the extent of such lessons we see is stuff like "why it's important for heroes to have signature moves"--so that on group missions, their reputations will precede them and fellow heroes will already know their shtick. U.A. teaches the odd lesson plan that involves the kids fighting in groups, but there's a huge difference between you and 3 to 6 of your buddies fighting a similarly-sized group in a practice fight, or a handful of heroes teaming up to take down some criminal low-lives, and the mass combat scenario that was the raid. For heaven's sake, look at our closest other equivalent: the raid on the Hassaikai base. At every turn in that encounter, the heroes let themselves get split up and picked off, winnowing down their numbers. It's even explicit in the narrative that hero team-ups were, in the age of All Might, uncommon, and heroes are only just beginning to adjust to fighting in teams. The erstwhile MLA should have had the advantage there.

As to Machia's defeat, I think the big problem with it is not how it happened, per se, but the timescale involved. The plan itself was sound enough, and even with all the kids' efforts, it still took Machia reaching Shigaraki and not getting any new orders to follow to really do him in. Given what we can extrapolate about his movement speed, though, I just don't think the kids should have had time to set all those traps, especially given how much of that equipment would have had to be fabricated by Momo on the fly. I know she's gotten stronger and all, and good for her, but you're telling me that in the four months between Joint Training and the raid, she went from passing out because she created a bag of goodies and one (1) cannon to being totally fine and still able to coordinate her fellow students while cranking out 23 jars of sedative, dozens of feet of rope/cable, multiple fire-resistant coats, explosives they somehow had time to bury, and three cannons?

For fuck's sake, Jirou gave Machia's ETA as under ten seconds. Yeah, Mount Lady slowed him down, but "only a little"--how much time could she possibly have bought them, that the kids were able to to coordinate and enact everything that plan involved?

You guys, go read this post by @codenamesazanka. Machia is so fast. So unbelievably, incredibly fast. "Twice as fast as the fastest train in the world" fast. "Horikoshi clearly did not stop to think about the distances involved here" fast. Three miles in ten seconds fast. It would have been hard enough to square with the needs of the plot that the kids were sufficiently far from the villa to have the kind of time they needed to swing Momo's plan at all, but Horikoshi explicitly letting Machia get right on top of them before the kids even start just makes it completely impossible for me to credit. Machia clearly being slower aboveground than he is when burrowing does not make that much difference to my suspension of disbelief.

My other big complaint? More people should have died, for real. The PLF warriors would not have been holding back. They were ready and willing to kill anyone they came up against. The heroes did have to hold back, because heroes, as we're told over and over again, are not supposed to kill, no matter how dire the circumstances. That difference in ability to exercise force should have been yet another significant advantage for the PLF. I could write an entire list of characters that I think could have reasonably been killed during the raids. That wouldn't be to say that I think any individual, specific character on that list should have died, just that, based on the parameters as they were presented to audience, some number of them should have.

I mean, honestly. How did Horikoshi wanna show us Gang Orca's unmoving claw in the wake of Machia's passage and not have Gang Orca on the list of the dead? How did Fat Gun run right into a mass melee and still have enough fat left over afterward to survive getting trampled by a walking mountain? How did Thirteen survive not getting pulled out of the hospital basement when Shigaraki's Decay hit? How did Trumpet survive getting a staircase dropped on top of him? How did Gran Torino survive a fist through his tiny old man chest cavity?

I could go on and on, but it's not just about the deaths, either. I'm not saying that Kamui Woods necessarily should have died by swinging himself face-first into a blast of blue fire, but I am saying that he should have been out of commission for longer than three goddamn days. You bet your ass I'm saying that after telling us that Hawks' weak point is fire, making us watch him spend at a solid minute or more with his wings wholly enveloped in Dabi's 2000 degree flames, and having Dark Shadow exclaim that his back is completely burned away, Hawks should never have grown his wings back, much less so quickly that they were already visible under his shirt a single day later.

More deaths, more maiming--heck, even more retirements. I'm not saying I love that kind of thing in my fiction--I don't, actually. I think an overreliance on it is a sign of edgelordy nonsense. But the scenario that we had demanded to be treated with the kind of gravity that would have led to such an outcome. To set up a conflict like the raid and have the villains only barely be able to scrape a partial escape, to try to tell us that Shigaraki's victory in Deika granted him such a terrifyingly powerful force only to have them lose every battle they got into, to tell us this was a blow that shook Hero Society to its core, only to be so unwilling to kill or retire any heroes the audience cares about that Midnight is literally the only significant loss… It doesn't work. None of it works.

I don't have much to say on which characters did or didn't get a highlight. I think there were a few more people than you listed that got some good scenes--Tokoyami and Uraraka both got material I liked quite a bit; Dabi famously out-trended the U.S. presidential election on Twitter when he (literally) came clean, and Mr. Compress gave us some wonderfully interesting and characteristically opaque material to chew on. On the whole, though, adding more character moments would only have been dragging out the problem: the scale of the PLF's threat and the HPSC's chosen method of dealing with it are simply incompatible with the feeble "neither side truly won or lost" resolution we got.

And that's my rant on that--thanks for the ask!

#and yet #i still hate it less than the shitshow that went down with lady n and overhaul #inkbuckets #paranormal liberation front #meta liberation army #bnha #stillness has salt #stillness answers

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story {12}

Chris Evans x Reader Series

Warning: Lots of Cursing, Plot, Angst, Slow Burn, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 6.2k

Note: Okay, so this ask/request came in and I was all prepped to write it as a one shot, but I had so many separate ideas that sprang to mind for it and from it. As of right now, I am going to play this one by ear. Hell, I might just keep writing it as long as we’re all in our quarantine/self-isolation. So, it might be one part every week, or I might change it. I honestly have no idea, so let’s start with calling it a mini-series and see where it goes. Thank you anon for the request, hope it’s cool I tweak, twist and stretch this out.

I hope you guys enjoy this. Thank you for reading as always!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive & Pic Heavy***

Previous Chapters: Q1 | Q2 | Q3 | Q4 | Q5 | Q6 | Q7 | Q8 | Q9 | Q10 | Q11 |

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Quarantine: Day 54-

-Chris-

He’d thought about kissing you for years. He’d had countless dreams about it and umpteen daydream about how it would happen, how it would feel, and a slew of other things. In three years, the thoughts were always different. He never imagined it would have gone the way that it had. He expected something accidental, or even awkward like a stupid caught under mistletoe thing or even the midnight new year’s kiss you’re suckered into because you’re standing close. That was not what happened. From the day when he’d admitted to you being a temptation, he’d been overcome with the desire to kiss you. The day at his hideaway, that desire had turned into a need. It was now three days later, but he could still taste your lips. Still.

Groaning, he rubbed his face and walked over to his window. He had to find a way to get a grip. He felt out of control like he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t see you, talk to you, touch you, kiss you, making love to you. With that thought, he hit his forehead into the window and groaned.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

The coolness of the glass was only a slight relief until he opened his eyes and saw you sitting beside the pool in yet another sexy bikini. Slowly he looked along your legs that were glistening with what he suspected was coconut oil. You smelled like the stuff every time he was around you, coconut oil and every tropical fruit known to planet Earth. He loved it more and more with each passing day. You smelled good enough to eat, and he’d thought about several ways he’d like to devour you.

“Get a fucking grip, man!”

When he was about to walk away, you changed positions. He watched as you got onto your knees and peeled off your cover-up to then flip over and bend over, giving him the perfect view of your ass. He felt his face press against the glass, and all he had to do was stick his tongue out to look like the horndog he felt like he was. He always knew you had the perfect ass, but now looking at it practically in all its glory, he realized he didn’t know shit. You had curves his palms were itching to explore. You bent over to the table near your lounge chair and picked up a glass then brought it to your lips. He couldn’t look away. He literally had to forcibly pull himself from the window. Temptation was a horrible thing, a dangerous thing.

It was temptation he’d battled over the last three days. It was a battle that fluctuated every hour. One hour he was winning the war, and the next, he was the weakest man in the world and damn ready to kick down the guesthouse door and burying his face between those sinful thighs. He literally had to force his mind onto other things. It was hard three days ago, and it was hard today.

For the last few hours, he’d been trying to make plans in a world that was shut down. Businesses were closed, venues closed, restaurants closed, everything had come to a standstill. That meant he had to get creative. He went through the plan in his head one more time and took up the freshly sealed envelope as he walked to his door. He’d missed this morning’s breakfast on purpose. He knew that if he faced you so soon after last night, every single thing he was feeling would be painted across his face. He also knew that if he came face to face with his family, then he’d go round and round the situation yet again.

When he got in from walking you back to the guesthouse, he was restless. He couldn’t sit still. After a shower, he still hadn’t exhausted himself. He was wide awake and wanted to do a lot more than go to sleep. From the light on in the guesthouse, he suspected it was the same with you. Every time he laid down and tried to close his eyes, they popped right back open. He went around the last few hours with you, then the last weeks since quarantine began, and he even went as far back as the entire three years he’d known you.

His first instinct was not to waste any more time and plan that date for the next day, but by the time the sun came up, and he’d gone two miles more than he usually would have, he was in his head. He came up with countless reasons to nip things in the bud.

It began with you being too young for him. He was two weeks away from being thirty-nine, and you’d just gotten to thirty. He never saw himself doing the whole older man/younger woman thing. The two of you were at different stages in life. He’d made a promise, an important one. He never went back on promises he made; he was always as good as his word. That was just the kind of man he was. You had a type, and it was one he didn’t fit the criteria for. The two of you led and lived two completely different lives.

This went on all day, for three days straight. The day would begin with him going through countless reasons to end things before they began, or he crossed a line, and by the end of the day, he was right back to where he began, wanting to cross all the lines. He stayed at his hideaway knowing that you wouldn’t show up there again without the okay, and it was a fact he took comfort in. He ate there, slept there, and kept to himself for the most part. When he went back to the main house, it was to make sure you didn’t take his absence in the wrong way and to make sure he didn’t take ten steps back in the progress that was made.

Every time he saw you, it didn’t take long for your eyes to meet. Once they did, it was the most intense experience. It always felt like your mental brainwaves reached out for one another, and when they synced, it was better than every connection he’d ever thought he had. It was an indescribable feeling but one that reverberated throughout him. He always wanted to get closer. If you were across the dinner table, he wanted to push everything off and kick everyone out and slam you on it. If you were across the pool and your eyes met, everyone disappeared, and the two of you went on this mental trip together, one that had him panting like a dog and sweating by the time either of you looked away.

The one thing that tripped him up was the night before when he caught you openly ogling him. It was another night of drinking around a bonfire on the beach with the adults, and you were unusually quiet while nursing your glass of wine. He noticed little looks throughout the night, but it was while everyone was enthralled in conversation. When he did notice you outright looking over him, you started at his neck and went lower along his torso and arms. When your eyes dropped to his waist, he was having trouble breathing. Under the intense heat of your eyes, it took everything in him to stay seated and not throw you over his shoulder and run with you down the beach to the tall grass where he knew he could have his way with you. That was when he knew he had to leave, so he did. Once in his bedroom, he was trapped with his thoughts and imagination, and the entire process began again.

By the time morning came, he was right back to square one, wanting you more than he’d ever wanted any other woman and knowing he had to back away from this. Now he was at the point of saying fuck it. He was only so strong, and three years of continuous strength was impressive enough.

“Where’ve you been these last three days?”

His mother stood before him with her arms crossed as she leaned against the front door.

“Uh, well—around.”

“Around?” Her eyes bored into him, and he knew it was a matter of time before she saw right through him.

“I was gonna--,” he began before she cut him off.

“Let’s take a walk. The others can handle the restocking of supplies.”

“Ma, it would go faster--,” he began.

“Walk with your mother, Christopher!” She didn’t even wait for him to respond before she walked out the front door. He knew he had to follow, so follow he did.

They walked through the front yard along the graveled path in silence for several moments. The chirping of the birds and gentle breeze in the air said summer was on its way. It was a beautiful day, and he hoped it would remain that way to produce a beautiful night.

“How are you handling the shift in dynamics in your life with this quarantine?”

“What do you mean?”

“With what you’ve been doing.” The way she looked at him had him paused, thinking maybe she knew. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

“Normally you’re working twenty-three hours of the day and have little to no free time. It’s been opposite, right?”

Relieved, he sighed and nodded. “Yeah. It’s been—different, a real change, but honestly, I think I like it more than I should.”

She smiled and patted his back. “Good. I’ve always told you that you need to take the time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. It is important to have some time to yourself to reflect and recalculate your life choices and decisions, time to see what has been working from what is a massive failure, and make the necessary changes that will impact your life positively. It is important to listen to recognize the signs of life and listen to them. If you go against them, you end up in situations that quickly flutter out of control, and then you’re worse off than when you began.”

He felt like she was hinting at something very discreetly, and it drove him crazy. She spoke like this when she knew something no one else knew that she knew. When he looked at her, she looked to him with slightly raised eyebrows.

“Uh—okay.”

“Have you recognized any life signs within the last—seven weeks?”

“Ma, what are you talking about? You only go on these deeply philosophical rants when you’re holding on a piece of information that can throw a monkey wrench in something.”

“I have no such piece of information.”

He didn’t believe her but decided to let it rest. They took a turn toward the path for the beach and fell into a comfortable silence before she began talking about current events. This was where he got his outspoken nature. She had no problem giving criticism of government policies and officials, and neither did he.

Soon the sand was underneath their feet then she spoke again.

“So getting to spend this time with Y/N has been great, right?”

He scoffed and laughed. “So this is what this walk is about? What did I do now, ma?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but since you brought it up, do you have to be so cold?”

“Cold? I’m not cold.”

“I know that. She doesn’t.”

He looked to her and knew the two of you had talked. “Has she said something to you?”

“Do you care?”

He sighed and focused on the sand beneath his feet. If he said yes, then she could read into it, and if he said no, then he knew she’d know he was lying. His mother could always tell between his truths and lies. It was infuriating.

“Maybe just be nicer, that’s all and maybe stay away from dropping that you think she makes shitty decisions.”

He snorted but cringed at the same time. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He was in his feelings, and it popped right out.

“Yeah, that was bad,” he agreed.

“Get to know her a little.”

“Ha, I think that would defeat the purpose. Don’t you think?”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer. There was no need to.

“Who says I don’t know her?”

“Learning things about someone on the surface is different than really getting to know someone and all the nuances that make them who they are. She’s a real catch, Chris. I liked her when Scott first brought her around, but these three years—she’s an incredible woman.”

Her words were not helping his internal struggle. They were only making him sway to the side he shouldn’t even be on. It was getting impossible to keep his distance from you, impossible to let another fifty-something days pass where he didn’t bury his face in your neck.

“Isn’t it funny how the universe brings things and people into your life at the most opportune times? Often it’s times when we need to make a change—when we’re ready to make a change,” she said in her Obi-Wan Kenobi wise one teaching tone.

He would have said something about how she was as subtle as a train, but he agreed with her on this one. For the last few days, he’d began thinking it was meant for you to be quarantined with him and his family, it was meant for the two of you to be trapped this close. His mind went back to something his mother said years ago, something that made even more sense now. He nearly laughed out loud.

“Just be the amazing man I raised, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve and spoke from his heart and did everything with light and love. Remember him?”

He nearly threw up in his mouth.

“He wasn’t so bad,” his mother continued.

“Everyone seems to love this guy a lot more.”

“They never knew the other guy. I understand that not everyone deserves to know that you, but I’m sure some people might deserve to see him.”

She looped her arm with his and reassuringly patted his forearm. She knew she was right, and even though he hated to admit when she was right, she was. When they climbed the last step leading to the backyard from the beach, you were no longer at the pool.

“I’m going to make sure everything is packed away where I like. You—enjoy the sunshine,” his mother said with a smile and an almost unnoticeable head nudge toward the guesthouse before she walked away toward the house.

He stood there for a few moments going over his own thoughts. This was supposed to be one of the easiest decisions. It was, but it was also a decision that would cause a domino effect. It was like he had to come to terms with flipping the first domino, come to terms with everything he would end up doing as a result of this date. Digging in his back pocket for the envelope, he slapped his palm with it and walked toward the guesthouse. Once at the door, he wedged it in the crack and released the anxious breath he held before he walked off to prepare for the night.

-Y/N-

You’d been staring at the envelope for the last thirty or so minutes. When you’d come back from the bike ride with the kids, you didn’t expect to see it wedged in the door. At first, you thought it was mail that was forwarded to you, but then you realized you hadn’t given any forwarding instructions. It was then you saw your name scribbled across the front of it, and you immediately recognized Chris’s handwriting.

You were enjoying the agonizing stares and wayward glances of the last few days. You were grateful for the space he was giving you. You didn’t know if he was doing it for you or if he was having second thoughts. Whatever it was, you were glad about it. You were able to go over every single word that was spoken the night at his place, analyze every action, and even daydream about that kiss. You’d never been kissed like that in all your thirty years. None of your crushes, school boyfriends, adult boyfriends, Charles included had ever kissed you like that, and none of them had ever had you feeling what you felt in those two minutes.

For the last few days, that was what was fucking you up. You’d kissed plenty of guys, you were in no means promiscuous, but you enjoyed having freedom of your body and did what you pleased with it. While you were ultimate level exclusive with who you allowed close to you, you had no problem claiming your pleasure. You’d kissed men who loved to use too much tongue or drown you in saliva, or peck at you like they were a bird and you a worm. You’d kissed men who knew what they were doing and those who were entirely clueless, but with him it was different.

He didn’t use too much tongue; it was the right amount, and he had a thing where he rolled it around yours that sent goosebumps down your spine. The level of saliva was perfection; the only thing that was drowning was your underwear. Then the way he nibbled at your bottom lip and sucked; it took your breath away. It was clear he knew what he was doing. He was at expert mastery in the art of the kiss, and because of it, you were ready to risk it all, and that was a first—a first that scared the shit out of you.

You’d never had this reaction to a man before, and you were enjoying prolonging it though it was absolute torture. Every time you caught him watching you, you played whatever you were doing up. If you were walking, you’d swish your ass a little more, swimming you’d lean against the pool wall and pretend you’re stretching your back, which sent your breasts out even more. It was amusing to see his reactions. You thought you’d been stealthy with checking him out, but on the beach last night, you realized you were the opposite of stealthy. When your eyes met, it sent you entirely over the edge. When you went to bed that night, you couldn’t help but bring out your bullet vibrator. Your finger was no longer cutting it.

“Open the goddamn envelope, Y/N.”

You trailed your fingertips over your name that he’d written and flipped it over, ready to rip it open. You unfolded a sheet of white paper and smiled at his messy but strategic handwriting.

-Y/N-

I’ve been trying to figure out the best day and the best way to go about this. You mean that much.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

Will you have dinner with me tonight?

If your answer is yes, please meet me at seven at the house in the woods. God, I hope your answer is yes.

-Chris

Your smile was so wide, your cheeks hurt. You could imagine his cheeks were flushed as he wrote this. Such a dork, you thought to yourself.

“A sweet dork. Huh.”

You took notice of the butterflies fluttering around your belly and dropped back on the couch with a loud groan.

“Get a grip, Y/N. It is just a date. One date, one meaningless date,” you drilled with your eyes closed, trying to slow your racing heart.

After a few minutes, you sprang back up to a sitting position with panic coursing through you.

“Fuck, what do I wear!?”

You leaped to your feet and ran into the bedroom to rifle through the closet and drawers. When you packed for this quarantine, you packed sweats, leggings, tanks, swimsuits, cover-ups, underwear, sleepwear, and even lingerie. You didn’t even want to wear actual fabric, so nothing was adequate for a date. After twenty minutes of searching, your entire floor was covered with clothes, and you were sitting in the middle of it full on panicking.

“What do I do?” Closing your eyes, you fell back onto the pillow of clothing and berated yourself for not thinking to pack anything nice.

After a long, while you got up and looked around and decided you just had to improvise and cross your fingers it looked good together. It took you almost an hour to find something you were remotely okay with that wasn’t overtly sexy or way too chill. You wanted his jaw to drop when he saw you, but you didn’t want him thinking you were some easy piece of ass. After putting it together, you hopped in the shower. When you eyed your hair remover lotion and thought if you should bother. After barely fifteen seconds of decision making, you slathered the lotion on. Better safe than sorry, you thought.

By the time you got out of the shower, you had forty minutes to get yourself put together to get to the house. It wasn’t enough time; you knew that. You wanted to give him the full date look. The full glory of a put together you. It probably didn’t matter seeing that he’d seen you without make up these last seven weeks anyway. Something in you said to carry on as usual. By the time you were finished, you slipped on your slides, refusing to dwell on the fact you didn’t have not one pair of heels. You probably looked a hot mess.

When you opened the door, there was the bike Chris had found you for the bike ride with yet another note in the basket. You smiled, and as you were about to take it, your phone went off.

MSG Scott: Coming to dinner?

Fuck, you thought as you wracked your brain with a response. You couldn’t very well tell him you weren’t because you were going on a date with his brother. You groaned and took a deep breath as you tapped a response out.

MSG: No. Somehow, I have three zoom meetings tonight about a serious project. I’ll be doing this all night. I’ll come by and grab something when I’m done.

MSG Scott: Okay. I’ll even leave a bottle of wine in the fridge for you. I think you’ll need it.

You smiled but felt like an asshole. Chris was probably going to be balls deep in you in a few hours, and he had no idea. The thought of it had you excited. Grabbing the envelope, you opened it and read the note inside.

-Your chariot awaits-

You smiled rolled your eyes as you walked the bike toward the wooded area of the property. Once on the path, you wrapped the hem of your skirt and climbed onto the bike and set off. You did your best to not think about the many ways this night could go. You wanted to stay present because you knew that if your mind wandered, then you’d put yourself in a state of anxiousness for the rest of the night.

Before you knew it, you were in front of the gate, and your heart was racing, and it wasn’t from the exercise. You climbed off the bike and leaned it against the gate before you pushed through it and nearly fell on your face at the sight before you. The path before you was trailed with lights that made a path toward the house. As you took in the house, you couldn’t help but say, wow. It was covered in twinkle lights that lit up the property with a warm and romantic glow.

When you looked back to the path, you saw Chris standing there. From the distance you were at, you couldn’t fully make out his face. You hesitated taking your first step but pushed away the uncertainty and walked on. It felt like the longest walk you’d ever taken. After what felt like five minutes, you stopped in front of him. He looked a little shocked and something else you couldn’t decipher.

“Hi,” Chris whispered. You smiled small at first, but it spread in seconds.

“Hi. I’m sorry I’m late. It was a task and a half getting to this,” you said, signaling from your face to body. Chris then slowly looked over your figure before he returned to your face.

“You look—wow incredible.”

You smiled and released your nervous breath and the worry that he wouldn’t like how you looked.

“Yeah? I wasn’t sure. I literally had nothing to wear.”

“You could have come in sweats and a t-shirt, and you’d still look incredible.” You tried to keep a straight face, but it was impossible, your blush took over.

“Thank you,” you bashfully whispered.

“These are for you.” Chris held out a bouquet of sunflowers and daisies to you. You couldn’t believe your eyes, and he must have sensed your hesitation.

“Sunflowers, they mean happiness, adoration, and even loyalty while the daisies mean innocence, purity, and new beginnings,” Chris explained with his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t need to speak loudly, you heard him loud and clear, and the wat his voice wrapped around you and coxed you closer was not missed.

“Innocence and purity, huh.” You reached out and took the flowers from him and brought them to your nose.

“What don’t think you fit the criteria?”

“Ha, innocent and pure, nope. How did you get these?”

“I picked them. I think my mother will be very upset tomorrow, but this was an emergency.” You smiled and shook your head. He had game.

“Thank you.”

He led the way to the house then stopped to let you walk up the steps and across the front deck before him. As you walked, you could feel his eyes on you, and you were glad you’d chosen this mix and match outfit. Just as you were going to walk inside, Chris took your hand, stopping you in your tracks. When your eyes met, he came closer then looked at your hands. His fingers softly grazed yours, and goosebumps flew up your arm. When he was inches from your face, he looked back into your eyes.

“Close your eyes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Close your eyes. This is your first test in trusting me.”

You cocked your head to the side and took him in. He was being serious. Scoffing, you shook your head and closed your eyes only to snap them open again. He hadn’t moved an inch. He just stood there patiently waiting. Sighing, you closed your eyes and kept them shut. You didn’t know what he was doing, and the fact that you had no control over this set you off. After a minute, your anxiety was at its peak.

“Hopefully, by the end of the night when I ask you to do that again, it’ll be easier for you.” His lips were close to your ear. You could smell his cologne and picked up the hint of mint and basil that came off him.

He took your other hand and led you.

“Keep coming; you’re doing great.”

After a few more steps, you stopped. You wanted to open and look, but you fought the urge and instead waited for him to tell you to. Again, it felt like an eternity of silence.

“Open them.” You took a deep breath and opened your eyes and slowly blew it out when you took in what he’d been doing. Before you, the limbs of the trees were draped in twinkle lights that hung down, mimicking the limbs of a weeping willow tree. In the dead center of the dangling lights was a table set for two with lit candles to finish off the décor. You were blown away to the point of speechlessness.

“Wow.” It was a whisper. Chris stepped out before you and held out his hand for yours. When you placed it in his palm, he led you across the deck down to the scene. You looked around and took notice of a movie screen that was on the exterior wall, and a setup area with candles, cushions, and flowers. You smiled to yourself.

Chris motioned to the seat for you, and you wasted no time sitting with a plop. Your head was spinning looking at everything he’d done. This looked like he went through a lot of trouble.

I’m going to check on dinner. I’ll be right back.” You nodded and watched him walk toward the house. For the first time, you took in his crisp white shirt and tan colored pants. It was casual, but he looked good. Your eyes dropped to his ass and smiled. He looked really good, you thought. When he disappeared inside, you took in your surroundings again. Taking out your phone, you snapped a few pictures, so you could reminisce later as you reflected.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize when he’d returned. When he touched your shoulder, it scared you half to death.

“I’m sorry, I thought you heard me.”

“Oh god, no. I’m sorry I zoned out.”

“Everything okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you slowly released it and nodded. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I was just—admiring what you’ve done here,” you informed.

“Do you like it?”

“What’s not to like? It’s beautiful, really beautiful,” you said with a smile before you looked at him. when you did a relieved look washed over him, and that was when you saw he was nervous too.

“Wine? I know you prefer white, but I have some red too.”

“But you prefer beer, I can drink beer,” you countered.

“I’m much more than a beer drinker. We’ll start with the white.” Chris began opening the bottle, and your attention dropped to his hands. He had his cuffs rolled up just enough to show his forearms. As he gripped the bottle and the opener, every single vein bulged in his arm and hands, and just like that, your mind was in the gutter.

Clearing your throat, you straightened, “Actually, let’s start with the red.”

“Red?”

“Yeah, red wine is more potent.”

“Potent. Uh—do you think stronger is a good idea?”

You studied him and smirked. “What do you think if I drink red wine that I’ll try to jump your bones?”

His smile was boyish and adorable. “I never said that. Just thought you’d want a clear head.”

“I can more than hold my liquor,” you finished. Chris nodded and switched gears and began opening the red wine instead. When he filled your glass halfway, you eyed him, which made him snort before he poured a little more.

“What should we drink to?”

You thought about it for a few moments then crossed your legs. Chris’ eyes dropped to your exposed thigh, and you thought this was almost too easy.

“What do you want to drink to?”

Chris looked up from your thigh with just his eyes, and you were stunned silent yet again.

“No masks,” Chris proposed holding his glass out to you.

“No masks,” you repeated, tapping your glass to his before you took a hearty gulp of the semi-sweet but tart liquid and moaned.

“Nice choice,” you commented. You could taste the berry and hickory undertones in it, but it wasn’t overpowering.

“Of course, you’d think so, the wine collector.”

“Hey, if you like to drink, you better get a hobby that correlates.” He smiled warmly before he sat adjacent to you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you from the guesthouse. I wanted to but--,” Chris began.

“No, no need to apologize. I understand. Honestly, I think meeting here was a better idea. Cute message, though.” Again, he smiled, and you took another hearty gulp of wine that turned into quite the mouthful.

“Thirsty?”

“You have no idea,” you answered. Chris just watched you, and the longer he did, the more your nerves were playing tricks on you.

This was insane, you thought. No man had you this nervous and anxious. In all the years of first dates, this was a first. You were usually calm, cool, collected, and completely detached and objective. It was all to ensure you analyzed the night correctly down to your date’s words, body language, and efforts with planning the night. You were struggling with remaining objective.

Your knees nearly buckled when you’d walked through the gate. Then when you stood before him, you nearly panted out to give away just how breathless he made you. When you saw what he’d done to the back of the house, you almost let loose an “aww,” and now you were barely keeping it together to not melt right into him, and it hadn’t even been an hour yet. He was already presenting completely different than he had in the entire three years you’d known him. Your head was still spinning.

“Are you hungry?”

Keeping your fresh ass in check, you nodded and took another long sip of your wine. Chris stood and walked back into the house, and you used the time to find your chill.

When he laid down the trey, he carried he arranged the plates and assortment he’d prepared across the table. The scents coming from the plates had your belly grumbling.

“Wow, this smells incredible.”

“You sound surprised. I can cook, you know.”

“I’d heard stories of you being able to do a little somethin’.”

“I do more than a little somethin’, I can throw all the way down in the kitchen,” Chris bragged. You nodded as you laughed.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Chris sat and waited for you to take a bite. You sliced your meat and put a piece in your mouth. Instantly the juices of the steak washed over your tongue, and you couldn’t help but moan.

“Uh-huh, told you. Chef Evans!”

“All right, it’s good. No need to brag. Cockiness in men is unattractive.”

“You’re a liar, and you know it,” Chris dryly responded which made you laugh loudly.

The two of you ate in silence for a few moments.

“I’ve always liked your laugh.”

Your shock was evident. He smiled as he finished his mouthful.

“Ah, that’s right, you thought I hated everything about you. Got it,” Chris teased.

“Wow, this is surreal,” you added.

“I always thought I was doing such a horrible job hiding how I really felt, thought I was so see through. Either I was better than I thought, or you’re not as good at reading people as you thought.”

“Hey, not cool. Don’t come for me, Chris.”

He laughed again and continued to eat. Your head ran to New Year's Eve. “New Year's Eve, that comment you said. Was that bullshit?”

His smile was soft as he finished chewing. “Complete bullshit.”

You busted out laughing then and squealed. You really thought he was throwing shade at you.

“Oh my god. You asshole. The rest of the night I was in my feelings, I was so salty. Wow, Chris.”

He laughed some more as you shook your head.

“Wait, is this what Sebastian meant?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“As I was making my way over, Sebastian and I chatted, and he said he liked my dress and that no wonder he’s so conflicted,” you divulged.

“Wow, he said that?” You nodded and waited for him to answer.

“Wow. Um, yeah I guess. We’d gone out drinking before, and I must have had too much, and I think I may have let something slip,” Chris explained.

“Wow. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not, you saw what I wanted you to—what I needed you to,” Chris slid in.

“I was so salty that I was so determined to have fun and ignore you. When Charles approached me, I said, fuck it why not to leaving with him,” you confessed. Chris’s eyes bugged as he leaned back.

“You’re kidding.”

With a yikes face, you shook your head. “Hand to God.”

“Woow. You’re telling me I drove you to him?” His disbelief was evident; you juggled your head from side to side, not wanting to say yes or no.

“Wow, I’m about to flip this fucking table.”

You laughed out loud again and covered your mouth, trying to hide just how amused you were. This was perfect comedic irony. Chris finished his glass of wine, then shook his head.

“Guess I am the asshole.” You shrugged and continued eating.

Thanks to the laughter, your anxiety had decreased, but you were now wondering if he was thinking about you sleeping with Charles on New Year’s. When you glanced at him, his expression was unreadable, his brows were knitted, and it looked like he was in deep thought, but you couldn’t read if his thoughts were angry ones.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

You smiled fondly as you nodded. It was one of the few pleasant outings with him.

“God, that lake was beautiful,” you reminisced.

“It was. I thought you were gorgeous; your smile was the first thing I noticed. Then your laugh,” Chris began with a soft smile on his lips. “I remember watching you cannonball over and over into the lake. You had endless energy, and you never looked more beautiful. You were so full of light and joy. I don’t know; there was something about you that just made me feel like a firefly drawn to you like you were a flame. Then when you began telling your story, I was hooked. You were funny, charismatic, silly, and just carefree. That is one of my favorite memories of you,” Chris finished.

You didn’t know what to say to that. You had no idea he held that day or memory close at all.

“We talked for two hours straight that night, right?”

He nodded, and the two of you just stared at the flame of the candle, both lost in the memory.

“I remember thinking that night that Jesus Scott’s brother is hot, but he’s smart,” you admitted. When Chris looked at you, you regretted opening your mouth. You gulped down the remainder of the wine and blew out.

“That was the night I realized I liked you.”

“Liked, liked?”

“No, liked, liked was later,” Chris said.

“When?”

He studied you for a minute then finished his glass before he reached for the bottle to refill your glasses.

“It was the fourth of July. We all went to the firework thing in the Hamptons, and the whole night, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. I watched guy after guy approach you, flirt, and with each of them, I felt something that was unfamiliar to me—jealousy.”

“You’d never felt jealousy before?”

“When it comes to a woman or men who talk to her? Never. The way I lived my life back then—there was no reason or room for it. I felt it that night, though, and it was unsettling. You talked, and I was hanging off every single word. When the fireworks started, the first burst in the sky lit you up in this amazing light, and the happiness on your face hit me harder than a Mack truck ever could. It was the most uncomfortable I’d ever felt, the most insecure and fearful. It terrified me, but like a firefly, to the flame, I had to get closer. Then when you looked back at me something felt different in that moment, I saw something in your eyes that was unsettling.”

“Was that when you disappeared? I remember I reached back for your hand and got your fingers. Then they were gone. I looked back, and you were walking away in the crowd.”

The emotions that came back with the memory surprised you. You’d buried that night so deep, but having it resurface now was unexpected. You took a long sip from your glass and tried to work through the feeling of nakedness.

“I’ve regretted that night for a long time,” Chris quietly admitted. You studied him and waited for him to continue.

“Some nights, I thought I regretted walking away, others I thought I regretted everything else.”

“And tonight? What do you regret?”

His eyes met yours, and it was there they remained. The longer he stared at you, the louder your heartbeat. You were sure he could hear it, but he didn’t say anything about it. His eyes dropped to your lips and stayed there for quite a while before sadness washed over his face, and his eyes dropped to the table.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” he softly whispered. You couldn’t help but feel like there was something behind all of that. Something had just happened.

Before you could bring it up, he changed the subject and asked you about work. For the next fifteen minutes, you explained what you did and your goals and hopes and dreams when it came to your craft. Chris happily listened and never looked bored by a thing you said. He genuinely looked interested.

Dinner was delicious, and the conversation was flowing and the worries of earlier that you’d have nothing to talk about dissipated. You talked about a wide range of things that didn’t stop at work or interests. You even ventured into the hard-hitting things such as politics. When he went into a spirited rant about his beliefs, you sat there happily listening.

When he spoke like this with conviction, you found him most attractive. You loved an educated man, a man who had a brain and was not afraid to show it. It was clear he wasn’t his vocabulary was on point, and with every three-hundred-point Scrabble word he dropped, you drank more and more of your wine, hoping it would douse the fire in the pit of your stomach. It did nothing.

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but watch his mouth. It moved beautifully as if he were speaking the most creative prose. You loved the way his mouth formed the words and letters. He had your undivided attention. Four bottles of wine later, you were still sitting at the table talking, and you didn’t mind at all. You couldn’t help but think how you’d misjudged him all these years. You’d put up a wall after that fourth of July, and with each interaction, you just added another pane of glass to make it thick enough that he could see you, but he’d have no effect. It was clear to you now that he was shattering each pane of glass. His effort into tonight took half of it. He was easy to talk to, the way your brains played off of each other was something you’d expected.

When he turned on a movie to fit across the screen of the makeshift movie theater, you were in a comfortable bubble. He handed you the remote, and that was how Netflix and chill began. You watched an action-comedy that had the two of you laughing loud enough to wake the animals in the woods. Neither of you cared. He laughed when you laughed, and you did the same. Every time he clasped his hand to his chest as he laughed, it pulled at your heartstrings, heartstrings you had no idea existed for him. This one night was fucking you up more than three years of his cold and frigid antics.

“Wow, I’m gonna have to call Helms and tell him what a fucking good job he did with this,” Chris announced through fits of laughter.

“Him? My god, that little boy. Shit with my luck that would be my son,” you admitted, which set Chris off on another laughing fit, one that you joined in on.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious. He’d be dropping all sorts of f-bombs and pussy talk.”

“In his Bostonian accent,” Chris added through laughs.

“Yes. You can see it too.”

“Yeah, like fugettaboutit sweetart now show me that pussy.”

You busted out laughing again and hit him on the shoulder.

“Oh my god, my son would be a badass kid, I can see it now.”

“Nah, I’d keep his ass in line,” Chris said.

“Whatever, you’d be laughing with him egging him because he takes after your ass with that dirty ass mouth,” you added. You laughed together for a few moments before you both slowly registered what you’d said and how it came off. You both had just referred to your future imaginary son as a son you would share. Oh fuck, you thought as you finished your wine.

“I’m gonna get started on those dishes,” Chris announced as he stood and walked off to the table still littered with dishes and utensils.

You sat there and grabbed the bottle before you, and took it to the head while you reflected a little. After a few minutes, you decided thinking was the enemy right now and took up the glasses to walk inside. Chris had already started loading the dishwasher when you approached.

“Hey, got room for two more?”

“Thanks.” He took the glasses and busied himself once again. You hopped onto the counter beside the sink and crossed your legs, leaving your thigh exposed.

“Why did you build a house on your property that already has a house?”

“This is usually where everyone comes to let loose. Often the house is always full, and it gets loud. I thought it would be a good idea to have somewhere I could hear myself think or even work.”

“This is really cool, and interestingly enough, it looks like you. There are so many details that just screams Chris,” you said.

“Like what?”

“The bed.”

You didn’t mean to go right there, but the wine was finally beginning to work.

“The bed?”

You nodded and brought the wine bottle to your head again.

“How?”

“It’s rustic, kind of, and the plaid on it. You have a lumberjack thing when you come home.”

He snorted and laughed out loud. “Wow, a lumberjack?”

“What’s there’s nothing wrong with lumberjacks. There are plenty of women who get hot for lumberjacks.”

“Are you one of them?” Chris glanced back at you with an eyebrow raised. You smiled.

“Maybe,” you muttered before taking another sip from the bottle.

“What do you get hot for?” He didn’t look back that time. He continued on as if he hadn’t heard you, but you knew he had.

“Not gonna tell me? Gonna make me guess? Okay, I can guess. Let’s see,” you began drinking down the wine.

“From the expert analysis of members of Lipstick Alley I’d say tall, slim, partly curvy by slim standards, hair color doesn’t matter not really, you can take blonde, red, brown, black, but beauty does, pretty eyes, slim nose, big boobs, nice ass by slim white girl standards,” you listed off as Chris dried his hands and walked to you. When he was before you, he took the bottle from your hands to raise it to his mouth.

“Sound about right?”

“Does any of that describe you?”

“Not at all,” you answered with a smirk as you uncrossed your legs.

“Then I guess that doesn’t make me hot. Only you have made me hot for the last three years,” he blatantly admitted.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “You’re full of shit.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been fucking all these years. So hence, you’re full of shit.”

You made a move to hop down, but Chris was between your knees in seconds, stopping you. “How do you know I didn’t have to think about you all these years?”

Butterflies filled your belly again.

“Uh--,” you began.

“Cat got your tongue? Is it really that impossible to be true? Impossible to think that all these years I’ve had you in my head while I was with anyone else, had you in my head every night where I stroked myself, had you in my head every night for the last fifty-two days?” You were speechless as you searched his eyes.

“Welcome to my prison, Y/N,” Chris whispered close to your ear before he walked away back toward the back deck.

You couldn’t believe your ears. Had he really just admitted to using your image to fuck the thots he had all this time? Had he really just called it a prison? You hopped off the counter and walked out back.

“What kind of shit is that to say?”

“It was the truth,” Chris calmly said as he leaned against the table to then cross his stretched out legs.

“You’re telling me you thought of me while you fucked every girl over the last three years? You thought about me as you had sex with other women? How am I supposed to take that? Is that supposed to feel good?”

You felt jealousy like you’d never felt before. “Wow.”

“Does it feel the same way I felt seeing you parade around with every Thomas, Randall, Trevor, Harry, and Charles? Hearing the stories from our friends, sitting there?”

“There is a huge difference there. You knew how you felt. I--,” you snapped your mouth shut and turned your back to him.

“You what?”

“I didn’t know how I felt,” you quietly responded before you spun to him. “You knew how you felt but still chose to fuck them. You still chose how the last three years happened. Now you tell me this. Why?”

“I made a promise, Y/N.”

“To who?!”

“It’s not important,” he began before you got fed up and got closer.

“The hell it isn’t. who did you promise, Chris?!”

“You!”

You lurched back and looked at him as confusion filled you.

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

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@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @disneysdarlingdiva @bellaamor88 @toniilaney @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @titty-teetee @evemej @areubeingserved @theskullgoddess @caramara3 @champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @dumbchick @behindthesehazeleyes27 @blackmissfrizzle @nervousninjatheorist @dangerouslovefanfic @surmya1907 @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @thinkxlovexloud @chris-butt @swinchestersgirl @momobaby227 @alyxkbrl @angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official @twinx007 @a-dizzle777 @ab-baybay @patzammit @kreolemami @aysha1447 @cutewylie @disaster-rose @wondersofdreaming @lo-cheu @livinglifeformemyselfandi @magdelen69 @snowpiercer21 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @mery-be @hakunalive4eva @anandalambert @youurkryptonite @mizcaptainphoenix @bobbdylann @emilykjhgsj @littlepreciousangel @ssaarroonn @thummbelina @sweetlittlegingy @art-estrange @torntaltos @rynabarnesrogers @rororo06 @anotherblackfangirl @bernie-k @theonewithherheadintheclouds @hista-girl @coldmuffinbanditshoe @jennmurawski13 @deathstroke-terminated-deez-guts @maxcullen @shadyskit @someone-really-bored @thejemersoninferno @itsallyscorner @cristinagronk16 @shakemeupthanks-blog @acciolove724 @straightforwardly @zsuzstyina @acevansss @evansgirl7 @jovanaprime @deadlymistress24 @sunkissedebony97 @turn-thy-paige @amelatonin @nerdybitchpudding @amennariee @likesfairytales @maverickabull @est1887 @periodtcevans @thotti3par7on @vintageembrace @produtofchina @jd-now-jq @winchwm @jesseswartzwelder @pivictorious @anat2507 @euh-say-what-now @raveviolet @rdjparker @actorinfluence @sadishdelray @041802 @ljstraightnochaser @priya212 @evermcfearless @tashawar @dwights-new-plague @renfrewscorner @baby-iyania @euphoric05 @thelilbutifulthings @winterboobear11 @awaywithtime @problackasfwilson @brownskinafro @miss-jackson500 @siempremamita @theladybiers @evermcfearless @ibe-erynn @marvelatthis30 @kailyndavillier @literaturefeen @richonne4life @ani808 @scifi-fantasist @mizzzpink @creolemimi @cessamjrmr @disconectedswift @i-lie-here-charmed @bamakakechick @captainchrisstan @martinafigoli @almosttherebunot @letsdothemostermash @spxcecxramxl @queenwinchester27 @chrisevansfanfic @thejeneralvicinity @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @imaslutforcaptainamerica @redhairedfeistynerd @mirmirmur @nico-diangelo-grey @ibe-erynn @amazonian-strap-queen @cookinggurl43 @jasmindaughteroftheworld @letsdothemonstermash @almosttherebutnot @munteanhore @blackgurlkillinit @madixii @smediumsmeatbae @shar74nett @live-laugh-love-ki @deadpixie22 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison-00 @timotheessoleil @guardian-tn @rynabarnesrogers-reading @blackmissfrizzle @queenoftheworldisdead @patzammit @reveviolet @madixii

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

#quarantine: a love story fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #Q12 #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic #black fanfiction #quarantine fanfic

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makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 278: MOMO IN CHARGE

Previously on BnHA: Deku and Kacchan were all “SIR, THAT’S OUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SENSEI” and got really ferocious and made a very passionate attempt to blow Tomura up and it was great. It basically did nothing, but it was still great. AFO was all “COME HERE LIL BRO”, and Tomura was all “silly Sensei, you can’t just take over my mind and body just like that”, and he was very confident of this despite there really being no evidence to back it up, but okay! Gran was all “time to make the fandom mad at me” and grabbed Tomura by the collar and yelled at him about Nana a bit, and then Bakugou and Endeavor made an even MORE passionate attempt to blow up Tomura, which may or may not have done some actual damage. The chapter ended with Gigantomachia battling Mt. Lady, just kinda out of the blue, which is FINE, but she had better be all right, though!

Today on BnHA: Everyone is all “WAUGHH IT’S GIGANTOMACHIA” and running around freaking out about it. The U.A. alums all kick some ass, and pretty much everyone else not from U.A. does jack fucking shit. Mt. Lady, who I plan on naming all of my future children after, does her best to stop Machia but he keeps flinging her aside. Kamui Woods is all “here I come with Midnight to put Gigantomachia to sleep!” and is PROMPTLY FUCKING MURDERED!? by Dabi because he’s a flammable tree man, and so Midnight falls all the way to the ground and is badly injured. So then she’s all “well I better call the most competent person I can think of to fix this mess” and dials up YAOYOROZU FUCKING MOMO, who proceeds to take charge LIKE THE BOSS SHE IS, and mobilizes the rest of the kids. And honestly I have more faith in them than in any of the adults at this point, so yeah, you know what? Let’s do this.

so I am possibly a bit spoiled on this chapter because I did a “top five predictions” post earlier this week, and someone replied to that yesterday on Thursday saying that they were mostly correct. I don’t know exactly how close to the mark I was though, and in any case most of the predictions were just “so-and-so shows up, probably”, so it’s not too bad. we’ll see how it goes!

OH THANK GOD MY BABIES ARE SAFE

I mean, CLEARLY they’re all about to be in horrible danger, seeing as Jirou is about to inform them of the whole “THE BIG GUY EVERYONE WAS AFRAID ABOUT WAKING UP WOKE UP” thing, but in the meantime at least Kami and Toadette and Honenuki made it back to the group safely

also Kaminari’s use of “Jirou-Jack” here is fucking inspired and I want him to teach a class on nicknames. isn’t he the one who coined “Yaomomo” as well? this boy has a gift and it needs to be appreciated

so Jirou is all “SOMETHING REALLY BIG IS COMING”, and actually she says “INSANELY HUGE”, which if anything is still an understatement, hard as it is to believe

WOW

“A BAD GUY IS HEADING THIS WAY?? SOUNDS LIKE IT’S TIME TO ABANDON THE CHILDREN IN THE WOODS” kjlfakh okay you know what?? fine!! you weren’t even going to do anything anyway so let’s not pretend!!

holy shit it’s like Mt. Lady isn’t even there

look at those speed lines!! goddamn. I just felt this huge rush of empathy for Mt. Lady though. like can you imagine growing up with this super-destructive quirk, and managing to become a hero with it against all odds, and having to put up with the manga making fun of you all the time just because sometimes you have a tendency to DESTROY A LOT OF STUFF, but it’s not like you can help it!! but the upside has always been that when your quirk is on, you are fucking UNSTOPPABLE though. so even though it’s been a hell of a rough ride for you, it’s worth it because you’re a complete badass and the number of people who can beat you out in terms of sheer physical strength is probably in the single digits. and you’re working really hard too, and lately you’ve been moving up through the ranks and actually becoming a damn fine hero if I do say so myself (and I do), and it’s like, about time though?? like finally, finally it is all starting to come together for you. and then this snarling trashrock person suddenly comes stampeding along and you put your all into trying to stop him, and it doesn’t even do a damn thing. like, holy shit. that’s just not fucking fair and YOU DESERVE BETTER, MT. LADY

anyway so she’s still hanging in there for now though so let’s check in with our villain squad riding on his back

lmaooo they’re all “I don’t even understand what is going on here”

YOU GUYS, THIS IMPLIES THAT THEY WERE ALL PLUCKED OFF THE GROUND BY THE SCRUFFS OF THEIR NECKS AND THEY HAD ABSOLUTELY NO SAY IN THE MATTER OMG. like I’m picturing Spinner being held by his cape pinched in between Machia’s thumb and forefinger, and awkwardly trying to lecture him like a mom with his hands on his hips all, “BAD GIGANTOMACHIA! NO! NOOOUAGH -- !” and cutting off with a yelp as he’s dropped onto his back

and I am glad they got Toga some clothes! I like to think Gigantomachia grabbed those for her as well. so thoughtful

wow Skeptic actually wants to go back to Re-Destro??

color me legit impressed. I underestimated your loyalty my dude. and let me also just take this moment to extend my gratitude toward Horikoshi for leaving the rest of the MLA out of it because good fucking riddance to them, goodbye forever hopefully!!

I guess they’ll be needing Skeptic’s quirk down the line for some reason? maybe he is meant to be like a new, less out-of-control Twice. smdh y’all out here trying to replace your dead buddy like a pet goldfish

who is this “they” Dabi is referring to

do you mean the heroes? lol yeah I guess they’re pretty distracted by the literal fucking kaijuu you’re currently piggybacking on

SIGH

“the Jakku team must’ve made a mistake” BOY, I’LL SAY. you know what, don’t even talk to me about that yet. it’s still too fresh. suffice it to say that your suspicions are correct and things in Jakku are not very daijobu right about now

anyway here’s a closeup of this bubble person just cuz

they are everything and I want them to be my friend. also there’s a squid person a few paces behind them who can probably do anything a squid can do. or they might actually be a shark person, actually. I don’t know. either way I love them

GETEN PLEASE GO AWAY

WE ARE PHASING OUT THE MLA!! MOVING FORWARD IT’S ORIGINAL LOV ONLY!! I’M SORRY BUT YOU DIDN’T MAKE THE CUT. we already have an ice character so shoo

OH DAMN MY MAN CEMENTOSS HAS HAD ENOUGH OF HIS NONSENSE TOO AHHHH YESS

1) hey so Cementoss is legit terrifying who’d’ve thought

and 2), did Cementoss always have a mouthful of gigantic perfect teeth each the size of a slice of bread, or is this just something I’m only noticing now because I’m behind the curve. either way, let me just say sincerely, DKJDLKFJLSKJG

RE-DESTRO YOU GO AWAY TOO!!

@waywardfacegarden you asked the other day which are the characters I actually dislike, and this is one of them lol. he’s just a big ol’ prick, and on top of that has the audacity to not even be interesting in any way so as to balance it out. anyway so apologies to any Re-Destro stans out there but I basically spend every panel he’s in hoping that someone will punch him in the face hard enough to finally make him shut up

anyway so my man Edgeshot is here though, finally!! but of all the people for him to fight! this is a real predicament for me. the most soothing character in the series contrasted with the character who grates my nerves the most. Edgeshot’s sexy ASMR voice is gonna be drowned out by all of RD’s punching and self-important ranting in the anime and I’m lowkey devastated but I’m gonna pull myself together and read on

SPEAKING OF SELF-IMPORTANT RANTING

Edge, if you can liberate us from having to put up with his insufferable ass once and for all I will be so grateful to you. can you do this. please. for me

and it looks like some other boring MLA villains are following along behind Machia so I’m gonna need someone to kick their asses as well. please

-- YESSSSSS

okay so now I see what that comment on my prediction post was referring to lol. I did indeed have my fingers crossed that these two would show up again, and sure enough! THE GANG’S ALL HERE YAY

and Mt. Lady is being sumoed aside!

anyone want tonight’s lotto numbers. during this brief fleeting moment of having my predictions be actually credible, I would just like to say that Hagakure is the U.A. traitor. thank you and goodnight

OH NO KAMUI IS WORRIED

HE LOOKS SO PANICKED?? OUT OF THE BLUE I SHIP IT SO MUCH?? I keep forgetting they’re on the same team and stuff and wow, I need to calm down

LOL MIDNIGHT IS ALL “NO TIME FOR SHIPS!!”

I wonder if her quirk will actually be enough to take him down? this is something I’ve been itching to see for a long time, actually. just how powerful is she? we know her quirk is more effective on males than females, but is anyone actually capable of resisting it? imagine if she really did just knock Gigantomachia out after all of this buildup. that would be some god-tier shit omg, DO IT

(ETA: I am just going to assume that since Horikoshi had to go to elaborate lengths to take her out of the fight, this means that her quirk really was capable of knocking them all out. another tragic case of Too Badass For The Plot. y’all better respect Midnight.)

YESSSSSSSS

is she stripping. you know what -- don’t think about it. I won’t let you ruin this for me Horikoshi. Midnight’s gonna be a badass because the ladies are fucking ruling this arc and that’s all there is to it

NOOOOOO

DABI GET BACK HERE I JUST WANT TO TALK!!

oh thank god, she’s all right. BUT KAMUI ISN’T THOUGH DLKJSFLKSJDG??!

did Kamui Woods just... die

(ETA: okay but for real, is there an actual curse in effect on the Billboard Top Ten right now, though?? did one of them accidentally disturb the tomb of some ancient king??)

...

( ･ั﹏･ั)

oH MY GOD!?!

NOOOOOOO WHY ARE YOU SO QUICK TO SLEEP ON MAJESTIC, LET’S SEE IF THEY CAN DO IT!! GIVE US MAJESTIC GOD DAMMIT

(ETA: Horikoshi is seriously just yanking our chain at this point. when Majestic finally does show up, he or she better have the coolest fucking quirk of all time, that’s all I’m saying.)

okay how badly injured is Midnight here, though?? she just fell all that way?? DO I NEED TO BE REALLY MAD. I CAN WORK MY WAY UP TO IT PRETTY QUICKLY, JUST SAY THE WORD. I’M ALREADY HALFWAY THERE HONESTLY. WHERE’S KAMUI WOODS

!!!!!!!!!!!

AND JUST LIKE THAT MY ANGER EVAPORATES INTO THE NIGHT, YESSSSSSSSS!! MOMOOOOO

holy shit. “a quirk that can stop that thing,” she says. and goes and calls YAOYOROZU FUCKING MOMO y’all I am barely holding myself back from SCREAMING right now I...

you guys

you guys. if Midnight and Yaomomo team up to take down Gigantofuckingmachia using some sort of MOMO MADE A MACHINE TO SPREAD MIDNIGHT’S QUIRK strategy, or whatnot?? I will fucking die on the spot. you can end the manga right there. Kacchan you can keep your quirk I don’t even care

“IT MIGHT BE AGAINST THE LAW” lmaooooo insert John Mulaney “WE’RE WELL PAST THAT” gif here. holy shit. listen, that is fine. if anything it’s even better

WHAT THE FUCK

DO I NEED TO START GETTING REALLY MAD AGAIN!?!?! FUCKING WHIPLASH, IS WHAT THIS IS, BUT YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT SORT OF OVER-THE-TOP REACTION IS NEEDED HERE AND I’LL GO FOR IT

(((( ;°Д°))))

[GRABS HORIKOSHI BY THE COLLAR] listen, you. if you only just now, for the first time ever, gave us a lady hero actually mentoring another lady hero, which we have somehow NEVER HAD BEFORE in almost three hundred chapters, only for you to then KILL OFF THE MENTOR IN THE MIDDLE OF HER GODDAMN SPEECH TO THE MENTOREE, I will... there’s... I’ll... okay, listen. DON’T. THERE WILL BE A RECKONING. CAPSLOCK SUCH AS THIS WORLD HAS NEVER WITNESSED!!

ヽ(#ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ┌┛

I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO REACT TO ANYTHING IN THIS CHAPTER AND I’M LOSING MY MIND OVER IT

so the other kids are all “what the fuck” and “so Momo’s in charge??” which, YES!!! IT’S THE ONE GOOD PART ABOUT ALL THIS SO DON’T YOU DARE QUESTION IT

MOMO NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE CRIPPLED BY YOUR ANXIETY, YOU CAN DO THIS GIRL I BELIEVE IN YOU

hell, it’s not even just an “I believe in you” thing, because it’s not just belief, it’s fact. you motherfucking can do this, you are the most capable and brilliant student in 1-A, you just gotta have faith and let yourself shine!!

so now there are some more panels of Machia running and the villains and heroes fighting, blah blah blah. and Momo screwing up her face as she makes her decision...

YESSSSSSSSS

my baby girl is all grown up and TAKING THESE MOTHERFUCKIN REINS and MOMO I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU JUST SAY THE WORD!!

lol she’s all “Jirou use your ears and scientifically calculate how long it’ll take him to get here”, and Jirou is all “I can literally fucking see him, he’s gonna be on top of us in like two seconds” WELL OKAY THEN

thank god there are no adult pros left to fuck this up. is that weird that this is a real and honest and completely sincere thought that just ran through my head? like, at this point if any of the adults were around I’d just be afraid of them dying honestly. but with the kids I actually feel real hope that they’re somehow gonna do this. of course it helps that unlike the adults they’re pretty safe from being killed off

also! way to represent the entirety of class 1-B there Honenuki lulz. sorry, The Rest of Class 1-B

OH MY GOD

MT. LADY I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU AS WELL!! YOU HAVE MY LOVE AND FEALTY!!

I’M STANNING HER SO HARD I’M GONNA EXPLODE SOMEBODY HELP!?!

JIROU SAYS THAT MACHIA HAS SLOWED DOWN!! YOU GUYS I’M ABOUT TO GET “MT. LADY FOR PRESIDENT” TATTOOED ACROSS MY FOREHEAD

lmao at Shouji using his power of “putting some extra eyeballs on my arms” to inform everyone that Gigantomachia is Right Over There and Very Big

good job Shouji

oh my glob I have so much love for Momo right now that it can’t even fucking be contained. brb wildly flailing my hands around a little to try and release some of this excess excitement

maybe Momo can be president instead and Mt. Lady can be the vice president

NO THE CHAPTER IS ENDING I’M NOT READY

AND JUMP IS ON BREAK AGAIN NEXT WEEK TOO, FML!!

okay!!

Kaminari is so fucking brave right now I just want to crush him in a hug?! we know he’s still scared!! look at his eyes!! and he was freaking the hell out earlier too, and now the situation is much worse! but he doesn’t give a fuck because his friends need him! he is ready to be a hero, my little baby boy is all grown up and I’m so proud??

Mineta’s face in the bottom right corner is everything. I know, I know, boooo Mineta, but that’s still the best face anyone has made in the entirety of this manga

Tetsutetsu’s out here all “I humbly request to also represent class 1-B” and Momo is all “okay fine I guess we can have two of you guys”

can we all just stop for a moment to appreciate how KamiJirouMomo is alive and well. like, we had interactions between all three of them in this chapter, in all possible permutations? do you know how happy this makes me?? I am vibrating with joy??!

I really can’t stress this enough -- I have no clue at all what these little soda can things are (anesthetic, I guess??? you know, like how you sometimes buy cans of anesthetic at the supermarket?? what do you mean you don’t do that??), or what they’re gonna do with them. I have like negative clues. but DAMNED IF I GIVE ONE SINGLE FUCK. the next chapter can be them all fucking hurling them at his face for all I care. THE DETAILS OF HOW SHE KICKS HIS ASS DO NOT MATTER!! GOOD MORNING TO YAOMOMO AND YAOMOMO ONLY!! MY MOMO ACADEMIA

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impaladolan · 4 years ago

Text

Capture - Grayson Dolan [8/-]

summary: y/n is quick to plot revenge.. but does she get away with it..?

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, and smut :)

a/n: i seriously love you

Anonymous said:

Ooohoohohoh I’m excited for her to steal his Rolex haha omg maybe she wears it and doesn’t give him it back when he asks for it OMG u know what would be cute!! if one day she goes snooping in his bedroom and tries on his chain necklace n rings and he walks out the shower n he’s like ummmm ok ily

Anonymous said:

i want y/n to ride gray’s thigh in his office, like he’s just got in still fully in his suite w his gun on his belt and she just walks in and strips 👀👀

Anonymous said:

I have an idea hehe!! WhYi f y/n gets drunk like she f inds alcohol in graysons office or kitchen or something and shes being really bratty but it’s so cute and she’s giving him nose kissies and hugging up and telling him stuff and he’s just listening and loving her

Relaxation.

That's how you'd explain the certain state of euphoria I'm embezzled within. Young love is a treacherous trap that can either end in favor, or be torn to shreds in only mere moments. To feel so passionate and fervently invested in someone you've only ever known and loved is such a thrill, and you could never forget those memories embedded in your mind.

Like right now, laying in bed while the sun's first shine leaks through the window and gleams down upon the two of us, nuzzled under the covers. His leg was wrapped over mine and his arms hung loosely around my hips, sheltering me from ever possibly leaving his grasp. I was the first to wake, but I dared not to move an inch.

The world around me was motionless, so peaceful and calm. Nothing could bother or disrupt the atmosphere around me. Everything felt so perfect, embraced by the one I love and the man I admire. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could ever unsettle me in this moment.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself...

A darkness warped over my newly sunken eyes, shielding the world around me. I called out his name, but nothing came out. The warmth I once felt upon my body, vanished into the air and seemed like it'd never return. The world became cold and useless, all the positivity and tranquility that once surrounded me was blown away and now, I sit in darkness;

All by myself.

Him.

It seemed too early in the morning to be awake at such an hour, but you had crashed shortly after making it back to your room last night. You were so mortified and embarrassed, for all those men to see you so vulnerable and being punished. Though, the crazy inside you kind of liked it, but still, it pushed boundaries.

Initially, you had wanted to sleep in all day, and hopefully never leave your room ever again. Although, today's forecast decided otherwise. A ground shaking rumble of thunder made you awaken and the shoestring lighting bolts strung across the darkened sky had drawn you in. Since you essentially have no concept of time, whatsoever, you had to believe it was early in the morning, unless you really had slept in all day...

It's been presumably an hour or so since you first fluttered your eyes open. By now, you had plotted a sickening revenge to his outrageous acts he had committed only a day ago. Of course, you had created horribly ill plans that even you could never pull off. Such as vandalizing his expensive vehicles or even trashing the entire house. You had even gone as far as to planning an "accidental" fire in the kitchen.

But something inside you had put a halt to those thoughts.

Other than not wanting to be known as a malicious arsonist, you had some sort of pull towards him— but what that pull was, you couldn't figure out. The phrase; " Darling, I may be a stranger to you, but you're no stranger to me," has been left in your mind ever since the words first left his mouth. You couldn't possibly help but wonder what that even meant. You felt like you've known him from a past life somehow, and that could potentially explain the affection you have towards him. All of that aside, you have to remember that he isn't who your brain morphs him in to be. He's a felon who's abducted you and has pulled you away from society and everything you've ever been a part of.

For some reason, that's hard for you to mentally consider.

Aside from criminalizing yourself too by creating a fire or becoming a vandalizer, the best option is to state your assertiveness and trespass the "laws" that he has forbidden you ro break. Unlike yesterday's escapades of you ruining the dining room table, today you were up for higher anticipated endeavours. You had it all planned out and you knew what you'd do in order to complete your vengeances.

And he's not going to be very happy...

The atmosphere above and around you still rumbles with the loud, crackling thunder and the strikes of lightning flooding certain increments of light through the surrounding windows pave your path to the daunting door. You were still dressed in the white shirt that could barely pass as acceptable in the public eye, and your feet were frozen at the first touch of the wooden floor. You kept on like you have done in the previous times you have left your room for mischievous reasons. You silently open the door, leaving it wide open as you crept out of your assigned room and into the hallway. You knew that the very first place you would go would be the kitchen. No, you aren't creating a fire or any of the sort, but you were going to raid the fridge and have your fill with what it has to offer.

You walk straight past the opening and right into the glorious establishment of cookware, like it was your very own home and you were just up for a midnight snack. In all honesty, you could get used to living here.

If only it weren't forced onto you, that is.

Your fingertips soon collide with the long, frigid handle of the refrigerator door and pull it wide open, marveling at the large display of different beverages and foods strategically set up. Of course, it was mainly veggies and several healthy-looking meal options. Which didn't surprise you whatsoever.

He has a nice physique for a reason...

You couldn't find anything that made your stomach growl with hunger, until you opened up the freezer drawer and spotted a nice looking ice cream container. Still, it looked healthy and it'd make you all the more frozen, but it would manage to subside your aching sweet tooth for now. You pop open the lid and fish around the drawers for a utensil. With a content sigh, you plunge a huge spoonful of the solid liquid and empty it into your mouth, savoring every last flavor like it would be the last time you'd ever eat the sugary treat again. It was delicious, the absolute best ice cream you've ever devoured in the entirety of your life.

You almost ate half the jar until you decided you were parched and needed a nice drink to soothe your throat. Luckily this time you were familiar with where the glasses were kept and already had your hand wrapped around a large wine glass that was a little bit higher up than the rest of the glassware. You set it down quietly, trailing your eyes upon the clean and prim counter.

A tall, fancy upscale bottle of what looked to be whiskey was settled in the corner, nicely organized with the other alcoholic beverages that were of the same importance.

Now, you weren't exactly a "drink-whiskey-out-of-a-wine-glass" type of gal, but as they say; desperate times call for desperate measures— and you were on the search of something to loosen you up a bit, and that was that.

You brought the glass over to where you had stationed your cup, not even flinching when you uncork the liquor and pour its contents out. With improper proportioning of the said liquid, you put the whiskey back how it was.

"Fuck, here we go." You inaudibly groan to yourself, just knowing that you'll regret every decision you've made in the near future. Raising up the plum-full glass, you tip it back into your mouth and down a whole gulp.

Nasty.

It's definitely an acquired taste, but the barely detectable taste of vanilla made it hardly feasible. You dared to not put the glass down until you were finished with it and had that sour taste submitted through your fiery throat.

The least you could say was that it's pretty smooth, but not something you'd drink in your free time.

In your head, you knew you'd feel a bit wonky, considering your nearly empty stomach and your abstinence from alcohol for the last month or so. It'd be easy to feel the side effects and overall feel much better, like you were aiming for.

Once you drained the glass of every last drop, you held your breath and rushed to the sink. The overwhelming want to just regurgitate what you ingested had drawn upon you, but you refrained from doing so. Waiting out the sickly feeling, you run a bit of cold water over your hand and press it against your forehead for a moment. Everything became hot, even with the freezing temperatures, you felt like breaking a sweat.

All just the side effects of alcohol, I'm sure.

Within the passing minutes, the faintness flew away and the sounds of the thunderstorm filled your ears. A large banging of the clouds above frightened you and you knocked over the glass you had just rested your lips on.

You didn't even feel bad about all the shattered pieces on the floor, it actually brought a smile to your face and you were ready to begin the fully planned extravaganza.

First stop; his room.

You skipped back the hallway, still quiet but not as careful as before. You weren't afraid of any consequences and whatever he was going to do to you wouldn't be too harsh. It's not like he's embarrassed you enough already anyway.

You easily find his door, pushing the handle down as slow as possible, just in case he was asleep in his room. His door didn't creak as you opened it, and nor did his floorboards as you walked straight into his marvelous bedroom. It was extravagant, but yet it still felt homely. You check the bed, no sign of him or anyone for the matter. He probably at a meeting, or something.

Not that you care..

You continue your stroll, glancing around his room for anything that could spark your immediate attention, considerably his desk. It held a lot of his more—fashionably inclined belongings. Such as his masculine jewelry and expensive watches. There was even a small, purple ring that reminded you of something you had worn a long time ago. You brush that off, it brings up sore wounds from a time where you were a lot happier and everything was simpler.

I wish I could say that now..

You began to pick up the neatly placed objects, slipping a couple of heavy necklaces around your neck and the large rings upon your fingers. You laugh at the size difference of your hand and how they barely stay on your fingers.

The stationary mirror attached to the desk caught your eyes, and you begin to make funny faces at it. Which sends you into a hushed giggle fest that makes you double over in your seat. Still caught up in your laughter, you take off all of the rings, just leaving a couple on the desk and tossing a few over to his bed. You do the same with the necklaces, except for the two that you threw into one of the drawers.

That’s when your eyes caught the nice watches, stuffed in clear pouches with the brand labeled across them. Rolex is the first you saw, and the first one you picked up. You weren’t thinking clearly. Hence the reason you tore it out of it’s protective packaging and brought it up above your head, throwing it down to the ground and watching the tiny glass fragments splatter everywhere.

It’s not like he can’t buy a new one, right?

Feeling content and a little less frustrated, you left the messy scene and followed your footsteps back into the hallway. He didn't seem to hear you, so the determination to find out his name came across your mind and you became dead set on finding it, so you basically sprinted into his ominous office and delved into his comfy chair without care.

Your motor skills were altered and it seemed to take for ever to lift yourself out of the chair and tap on the computer keyboard for it to wake up. While it began its process of turning on, you led your hand down to the drawers and pulled at them. And that’s when you found the very first locked up thing in this house.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing in here darling?” His alluring voice blasted through your ears and made you leap upward. “It’s not been a day and you’re already back to being a brat?” You couldn’t see what he looked like, but his silhouette looked suited and enticing.

Very enticing, actually...

“M’trying to find out your name, Daddy.” You spoke before you could think, crossing your arms over your chest while your lips form a pout. His body leaves from the doorway, and you’re barely able to see him as he strides over towards you. Suddenly, a light flips on and you’re met with his beautiful frame, a smile daunting his face as he looks down at your innocence.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He moves closer, wrapping his hand under your chin while his other has his blazer hung on his finger and thrown towards his back. He looks cute in a smile, until it forms into a confused frown.

“Have you been drinking, Y/N?” Your eyes widen and you quickly nod. You knew you’d be in trouble with him anyway, so might as well be honest now. “I c-couldn’t sleep and I- I just wanted a sip of somethin’.” You shrug, looking downward as you give him an okayish explanation.

“You know what helps me sleep?” He lets your chin go, dropping his jacket and beginning to roll up his dress-shirt’s sleeves. You shake your head, chewing your bottom lip as you take in his appearance. “A nice cocksucking does.” Thunder crackles loudly outside as his husky voice deepens and makes a cool wind run down your spine.

“Then let me help you..” You wrap your arms around his neck, twisting him around and forcefully pushing him down in the chair you were once sitting in. You were about to fall to your knees to “help” him, but he pulls your hips towards him and sets you on his lap. You replace your hands around his neck, sinking your fingertips into his hair and massaging the silky softness of it. He sweetly sighs, readjusting the leg you were sat upon.

And that’s when you feel the sensation you’ve been craving for however long you’ve been here.. you think..

“M’hm, do that again..” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. He actually obliges, his brows furrowed as he watches your face contort. “Like riding my thigh, huh?” He asks as he placed his large hands around your waist. You nod, moving your hips in the same direction. You eyes shut, your head falling back a little as you smoothly move against his muscled thigh.

It felt so good, everything felt so good actually. He somehow looked so much more attractive, the beard dotting his face and his hair styled nicely. Even what he was wearing had you wanting more.

You open your eyes for a moment, watching his pleased expression as he watches you needingly thrust yourself upon his warm, clothed thigh. He even steadily lifted his knee in the correct places, aiding in the pleasure that him alone could bring you. Your eyesight seemed foggy but visible enough to see the gun at his waist side, and you almost froze when you saw it. Even in your intoxicated state of mind, you knew that just the weapon could possibly help you escape and make it back to your own home.

You didn't think it through thoroughly..

You lean in, your lips next to his ear as you practically collapse upon him, though your movements to further yourself towards releasing didn't halt. You slipped your left hand down to his waist band, sensually gliding it over his tented groin. He shutters under your touch, clearing his throat as his heads falls back slightly. As quick as your body would let you, you grab for the handle of the gun and raise it up towards his forehead, stopping all your movements and gaining his attention.

"Y/N—" He starts, gliding his hands up your bare thighs.

"Don't fucking move, or I'll— I'll shoot you." You sounded clear as day in your head, but your words became slurred as they left your mouth, and he smirked at your innocence. Just as quickly as you pulled the gun, he took it away.

He grabbed the barrel and snatched it from your grip, placing it back into its holster at his side. You yelp as he grabs your wrists, twisting them around your back and slamming you into the table with an evil chuckle. "Better keep those hands pretty little hands to yourself, princess. You're too innocent to commit murder anyway." He continues his hoarse chuckles, licking a stripe up his hand before striking your slick pussy. "D-Ahh!" You hiccup, pressing your legs as close together as you can.

“Better fuckin’ pray that you can walk tomorrow, darling...”

to be continued...

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murdereraisuha · 4 years ago

Text

I wrote this for myself to try and organize my current theories on TWST, but I might as well keep this blog going even though I’m out of ideas for card maker memes.

This is basically a rant that starts out with theorizing about RSA, the Cater=Cinderella theory, and Split Card, but then spirals into a Cater character analysis.

For anyone who doesn’t know the Cinderella theory, it’s basically just Cater might have something to do with Cinderella because he has two bossy sisters, and during the ghost marriage there was this whole thing where Riddle needs to rescue Cater before midnight because of some Queen of Hearts rule.

Spoilers for Cater’s personal stories (including his halloween outfit story) and chat, and chapter 4 of the main story. Okay now let’s get into it. Over 1,800 words geez what am I doing with my life

Aight so Ace and Deuce don't have their unique magics yet and there is obviously Something going on with Cater so it really makes me think that we're gonna return to Heartslabyul somewhere down the line. We know there's gotta be more stuff with RSA, so that might tie into the Cater = Cinderella theory. Maybe we have a chapter focusing on RSA and Cater will be the main focus or ally for that. IDK man, I'm still kind of eh on the Cinderella theory cause it makes a lot of sense but we already have Mozus being the evil stepmother. Him and Cater are from the same hometown (?) but my concern is that if Cater is a main focus and he gets connected to Mozus then Mozus would also be in the spotlight which would be odd given how nothing seems to suggest that the teachers (except Crowley) getting bigger roles in the story. However, it could always be a situation like with Farena where Mozus is there and some sort of connection is briefly discussed but he isn't important and maybe someone else takes the role of evil stepmother in the story.

Ok idk so we're gonna go back to Cater. If the Cinderella theory is true, we gotta consider how exactly Cater represents Cinderella. Does he represent Cinderella in the way that he's twisted from her (ex. Azul & Ursula) or that he just takes the role of Cinderella for a chapter (ex. Azul & The Genie)? The fact that he uses dark magic points to it being the latter, that he really is twisted from a card soldier. However, we gotta consider 1. the nature of his unique magic 2. the plot of Cinderella. Though we know he has the ability to clone himself, we don't know how exactly this works. Are the clones identical, or do/can they have differences? In episode 1-15, the Cater clones all have slightly different responses ("はーい" "まかせて！" "おっけー♪") to getting ready to paint the roses. Given how clones don't exist in real life, it's impossible to tell whether this variation indicates actual differences in personality, is just due to the clones' slightly different experiences (like a sort of butterfly effect), or if it's just a decision by the writer so they aren't repetitive. Another thing to note is that in that same episode Cater claims that cloning himself is tiring. If this is the only source for this information, there's the possibility that it just was a lie to let him manipulate the 1st years into helping him paint. Finally, Cater's ability makes me think of Twice from BNHA. Can only the original Cater create clones? Or is he like Twice in that his clones can also make clones, therefore making it impossible for anyone, including himself, to tell who is the original?

What I'm getting at here is the possibility of Cater having clones that 1. stick around permanently and 2. are significantly different than him. This would create the possibility of him being twisted from both the card soldiers and Cinderella, but he is able to use his clone ability to split up those aspects of himself. One Cater is the card soldier one normally walking around NRC and who has dark magic, but then there's another Cinderella Cater who has light magic. Assuming this is what is going on, it would kind of connect to his two-sided personality, where he presents his bubbly, social-media addict personality to the world but has another, depressed, more private personality underneath.

Now, getting into what I mentioned before about the plot of Cinderella, Cinderella normally looks like a humble servant. However, with the aid of the fairy godmother, she completely transforms herself into a breathtaking princess so she can go to the ball. However, once the clock strikes midnight, she transforms back. Basically, Cinderella has the ability of transformation, to have two completely different versions of herself. One version is her true, plain self, while the other is a flashy deception. This information strengthens what I just said about Cater's personality and clone ability.

Actually, just going into Cater's personality for a bit (yeah, “a bit” lol)... He has a big focus on always being presentable. In his lab coat, he seems pretty desperate to hide all evidence of his true self, claiming that he just failed at putting his magic in the depressed mandrake and then hiding all his other mandrakes aside from the fun ones. This desperation is similar to Cinderella's, with how she flees the ball in a hurry once it reaches midnight so no one will see how she truly looks once the spell breaks. Now, why do Cater and Cinderella behave the way they do? I don't remember Cinderella's exact motivations for attending the ball, but wikipedia says that she had to flee the ball because if the spell broke there she could get caught by her stepmother & stepsisters. What is Cater's "ball"? Well, because of his strong social media presence, his "ball" is basically everywhere, all the time. If something happens on social media that exposes his true self, breaking his "spell", not only can other students see it, but his sisters can also see it.

Cater hates sucking up to his older sisters, which implies that he has had to suck up to his older sisters and put up his happy front around them too. Just like how Cinderella can't afford to let her stepsisters realize her true identity at the ball, Cater can't afford to let his sisters realize his true self. It's honestly kind of sad; unlike Cinderella, whose stepsisters only showed up later in her life, Cater's older sisters have been around him and making him miserable for all of his life.

Kinda unrelated, but looking though Cater's chats, in the one he has with Trey they talk about the Queen of Hearts and her love for sweets, Cater remarks that he wants to have tea with her too, leading Trey to say that Cater would be unable to befriend her since they're in different social classes. Isn't this basically a genderbent version of Cinderella, just a commoner, wanting to go to the ball where the Prince is?

Now going back to Cater's personality. Even if he does fear his sisters, that doesn't seem to fully explain his 24/7 pep and focus on being magicammable. Now, what if we say that happiness=nobility. In Cinderella, she dresses up like nobility so she can remain in the ball where the actually rich people are. What if Cater is acting happy so he can fit in with the people around him, who are naturally happy enough that they don't need to fake it? Is this a fake it until you make it situation? At the end of his ceremony robes story, after he says he's tired and doesn't care about the ceremony, he says he's just kidding and goes back to talking about the selfies he took that day. Even though he's alone and wouldn't really get hurt for dropping his performance. It gives the vibe to me that his situation is not like Jamil's, where he's fully aware he's unhappy, deliberately acts otherwise in front of others, and tries to eliminate the cause of his unhappiness. Instead, Cater is trying to eliminate his unhappiness itself. He grasps onto magicam because if he fills up his account with pictures of a happy life, it's like he's actually living a happy life.

This idea I have of Cater trying to fit in also goes along with his focus on the current trends, like in one of his gym uniform voice lines where he panics at the idea of not knowing about a new popular game. Rather than making his own aesthetics or trends, he goes along with the crowd. Sweets and desserts are trendy? Then he'll take tons of pictures of them and say they're super delicious even if he actually hates sweet food. He disregards or evades his own preferences to create the appearance that he's just like everyone else, and he puts effort into staying up to date so he can maintain that appearance.

Moving on, I reread his halloween outfit personal story. Something that stuck out was the end, when Cater thinks that Lilia wouldn't understand what he's going through. Specifically, Lilia wouldn't understand his 下らなくてどーしよーもない feelings. According to jisho, 下らない can mean trivial/not worth bothering with/worthless, and it can also mean stupid/absurd/silly. Then, どーしよーもない (どうしようもない) means something that can't be helped, that has no way out of it. Doesn't this seem kind of odd? That he claims his feelings are just trivial then but also he can't help having them? Is this a contradiction? Or is it something like he believes that most people wouldn't have these silly feelings but he specifically is too weak to push past them?

For self-esteem though, he seems to at least be trying to boost it. Like in his gym uniform story, when he decides to just clone himself and have each one run 1 lap instead of him running 5 by himself, his clones all praise him for the idea. However, this could be a fake it until you make it thing again. The praise does seem a bit heavy-handed.

There's also the whole thing in the 2nd part of the story where he talks about all the shallow friendships he has made. He notes that he'd rather have a casual time with people rather than get attached. That plus his family situation... means he's really never had anyone to trust. Anyway, he then goes on to talk about how magicame is amazing for helping him maintain all these casual friendships. So there we have another reason for his social media addiction: not only does it let him create a picture of happiness, he can get tons of feedback affirming his happiness and serving as proof of happiness. How can he possibly be lonely if he has so many friends?

Both in his ceremony robes and halloween outfit stories have a moment where Cater is tired and admits he's tired but then downplays it. Yeah, the ceremony was tiring, but he got tons of great pictures out of it! Yeah, dealing with guests was rough, but at the same time all the halloween stuff was exciting! This sort of thing is a pretty common strategy for increasing the persuasiveness of an argument. By first agreeing (yes, he's tired) with the opposing view (he is not happy), he can then push his own view (he is happy) and point at his earlier concession as proof that he has looked at both sides of the issue instead of only looking for evidence of his own belief.

So basically what I'm getting here is that Cater Is Not Okay. Prevented from building close bonds with friends or family, he's reinforcing his isolation himself through his fervent efforts to never let anyone close and never let his mask drop. He's gone so far as to try and convince himself that he's happier than he actually is through self-deception and social media.

Alright that’s all I got for now see ya

#twst analysis #twisted wonderland #cater diamond #twst

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heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago

Text

What is this witchcraft? Me? Not posting after midnight? I’m shocked to my very core. Anyways, this is one of my longer chapters. If you have any feedback, do not hesitate. As always, previous chapter (and next when applicable) is at the bottom.

Chapter 5

“Dude, hear me out here.” You are vibrating like a kid on pixie sticks. You slide your hands apart as if to display written words. “Lightsaber.”

“What’s a—”

“Donnie.” You put your hand up before he can continue. “Imma stop you right there. I am going to take your hand and kindly ask you to tell me that you know of, or at least have heard of, Star Wars.”

“I do not.”

“That is a fucking crime.”

You have been sitting with him for approximately an hour, watching him dismantle a “Kraang bot” as you register for school and start ordering supplies. You are quickly starting to realize his knowledge of anything outside the bounds of science is limited to whatever he read by virtue of his father, which consisted of one book on Greek mythology, one on the Italian renaissance, one on ancient Japanese history, and one on Japanese folklore, or anything he learned via the interests of his brothers. Because of this, he seems to know exactly jack-shit about things you consider common knowledge, such as the concept of foreshadowing or Poptarts or Hitler outside of a general association with the name and emotion of some sort, leading to interactions like the one you’re having right now.

“It’s not a crime,” he defended. “It's just I was never really interested in that kinda stuff.”

“But it’s Star Wars!” You throw your hands up. “How do you not know of Star Wars, at least?”

“Look, you’re saying it’s really good, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Your voice lowered.

“Why would somebody throw out a good movie?”

You sigh. “Yeah, that’s fair. But!” You point at him. “But I need to watch it with you, if only out of principle. Besides,” you settle down, “it’s a very… traditionally plotted story. I still have to give you that lesson.”

“Yeah, but after I finish this.” He pushes his laptop to the side, picking up the soldering iron and moving back over to the pile of metal you know will become Metalhead.

You nod in agreement, leaning forward in your chair to watch him fuse wires. “You know what?” You smile. “I may give you shit, but it is really cool watching your whole process.”

“Hm?” He looks up at you from his lean forward.

“Well,” you shrug, folding your legs on the chair, “I just mean that it’s cool seeing how you go about building all this junk that is just… what’s the word?”

“Untraditional?”

“Revolutionary.”

He has a funny look on his face. “You think so?”

“Oh, totally.” You nod eagerly. “I told you that I thought you were one of fiction’s greatest minds, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t.” His face is turning red.

“Really? I swear I did the day I met you…” Your eyebrows furrow as you try to remember.

“You said something about inspiration.” He smiled softly, voice airy.

“Oh, then I—well, it kinda is the same thing.” You rub the back of your neck, feeling your own face heat up. “Must’ve—uh—misspoke. I do that,” you trail off, “kinda a lot.”

“I think it’s cute.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. ‘Oh come the fuck on. Really?’ “See,” you hear your voice rise a register, “that is so not fair.”

“Huh?” The color drains from his face as he tries to remember what sounds just came out of his mouth. “What did I say?”

“You’re not allowed to just say shit like that.” You cover your face with your hands, feeling your heart swell. “You’re not my boyfriend or anything.”

“Wait, what did I say?”

“Nope. Shut up.” You try to calm yourself down. “You didn’t mean it, whatever it was. It’s fine.”

He blinks, very confused. “You sure?”

“Totally.” Your voice is tight. “One hundred and ten percent sure.”

“You can’t be one hundred ten percent sure.” He looks back down at his project, writing your behavior off. “It’s mathematically impossible

“You wanna bet?” You start looking around the room, prior embarrassment now replaced with a desire to win this artificial conflict. “Got graph paper?”

He scoffs. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding right now?” You lean across the table, tilting his head up to face you properly, determination burning in your eyes. Your voice lowers. “I am going to show you one hundred and ten present sure right here and now as a matter of principle.”

He swallowed, face going red again. “One moment, please.” He fumbles around for a piece of paper and hands it to you, along with a marker.

“Thank you.” You smile sweetly, acting as if nothing happened as you start to sketch. “Give me a bit of time and I will show you one hundred and ten percent sure.”

He rolls his eyes, a smile coming back to his face as he calms down. “Sure you will.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Go back to your transformer while I blow your freakin mind, kay?”

“What’s—”

“Don’t even.”

“Gotcha.”

You chew on your tongue absentmindedly, remembering how much you love spacing out pixels when you hear a notification on your phone. You pull it out, read it, sigh, slide out of your chair. “I’ll be right back,” you promise, heading for the door. “I gotta make sure plot shit happens.”

“You know where to find me.”

“Always do.” You shoot him finger guns as you drag the door closed. You walk over to the brothers, currently engaged in their digital hockey match. You watch, waiting for Raphael’s inevitable victory— ‘Wow, my life is getting pretty damn predictable.’—before clearing your throat to catch their attention.

“So,” you smile, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

They seem to not understand the question. “Yeah, Leo,” Raphael prompts, shooting a look at him, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

He paused. “Is there some sort of sport thing happening?”

Your heart drops. “Leonardo,” you ask again, voice lowering, “you have a plan for the thing happening tonight, right?”

“What thing?”

You grab his shoulders. “The spill,” you clarify, voice quiet and sharp. “The mutagen spill. The spill I told you about three days ago?”

His eyes widen. “You said that was happening Friday!”

“Today is Friday!” You let go, throwing your hands in the air out of pure frustration. “That’s why I told you today is Friday! What, did you think I just liked talking about days of the week? That it’s my hobby to keep track of how many days I haven’t died?” ‘I mean, it is, but that’s not the point.’

“Well, it can’t be that important if you forgot about it.” Raphael leaned against the machine. “We’ll just go in and bust some heads. No problem.”

You groan. “Do you guys just have something against planning? I swear everything with you guys has to happen at the very last minute.”

“We don’t need the time to plan. I dunno if you noticed, Y/N, but our ‘plans’ aren’t exactly plan worthy.” He shrugged. “You just have to beat the Kraang out of them and that’s the end of it. It’d be like planning to raid a trailer home.”

You sigh. ‘They’re teenage boys. This is only episode six. Deep breaths.’ “Just… please try to heed my warnings in the future, alright? The last thing we need is for something to sneak up on us.”

“Alright, alright.” Leo focuses his eyes on you. “When is the mutagen getting spilled?”

“Tomorrow. The show wasn’t very specific on times, but some time tomorrow.”

“Then let’s air on the side of caution and assume they mean midnight. What’s the time?”

You pull out your phone. “Seven forty-five.”

“That should be enough time to get there, scope out the place, and be home before dinner.”

You feel the ground shake under you as a metallic clang pierces the air.

That is your cue to leave for fear of getting hit with a laser. “You can’t beat Metalhead. Also, Mikey calls him Metalhead.” You start heading out. “I’d stay and watch you guys waste time trying, but I haven’t eaten today, so I’m gonna grab food and meet you there.” You run out before they can ask any more questions.

If nothing else, all the running has been helping you get in shape. You are not typically the type to take runs, but you also are not typically the type to be pressed to see people. Loneliness is one hell of a motivator, as it turns out, and you were starving in more ways than one. You stop by the first place you see, grabbing some food item with a name you already forget—some sort of burrito, you think—and climb a fire escape belonging to a building overlooking the warehouse in question. You sit on the edge of the building, dangling your legs over the side as you wait for them to get here.

‘Do I like him?’ You pause at your question, mid-bite. ‘I mean, I had a crush on him when I watched the show, but this attachment isn’t romantic affection, is it? I’ve had crushes before, and I’m acting too suave for this to be that.’ You swallow, taking a drink out from your nameless cup. ‘Considering my emotional state? It’s highly likely I’m just latching onto him for lack of anyone or anything truly familiar in my life right now.’ You sigh. ‘But, then again, if that were the case, this feeling what be more familial, wouldn’t it?’ You conclude, whether you are attracted to him romantically or not, it is entirely unfair to both of you to pursue a romantic relationship with him unless he makes the first move. You have more faith in his critical thinking skills than in your own, anyhow. Besides, he acted irrationally enough around April as is; introducing a proper romantic relationship into the mix sounds a bit too risky, especially at such a vulnerable time in his development.

You hear the distant sounds of mechanical joints approaching. ‘Already liking this better than ninja silence.’ You spin around, hopping off the ledge and onto the roof proper as you go to properly admire the metal wonder.

It looks infinitely cooler than the show would have you believe, if possible. Each piece of its hull has a past and you can see it in every scratch, every dent. It wasn’t anywhere near perfect; you can easily see where Donatello had hammered out the shell of the artificial terrapin, where he had had to settle for using concrete, even the faintest ghosts of the pennies making up its chest piece. It was a glorious collage.

You run over, going down on your knees to look it over. “This thing is so fucking cool,” you gush, shuffling around it. “Like, totally fucking awesome!”

You can hear the pride in his voice, the excitement. “I know, right?”

You hop back to your feet, keeping yourself from jumping up and down for the sake of pride. “That is the coolest shit ever!” You grin, sitting back down and taking a drink from your soda. “You never cease to amaze, Hamato.”

“You think?” He sounds almost like a puppy, excited as he is.

“Dude, totally.” You sigh, feeling yourself mellow out a little. “But, more importantly,” you continue, clapping your hands together once, “we should be properly watching the warehouse in case they need backup.”

“Oh, right!” The robot stomped over to you, standing slightly behind you as you dangle your feet over the edge.

You take another drink of soda, feeling the excitement in the air dying down as you look out over the buildings. ‘It’s oddly peaceful up here. Must not have started the attack yet.’ You swing your legs back and forth as silence settled between you two.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I meant to ask you before,” he said stiffly, “but how did you know this was happening today? You never explained it.”

You silently thank him for cutting the tension, turning around to face him properly. “Well,” you start, lacing your fingers together around your cup, “remember when I said that the show Leo watches shows up a lot in episodes?”

“Yeah.” You are not exactly sure why he sounds so interested in a detail like this.

“And you know how you watch on cable?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, as it turns out,” you dig into your jacket pocket, “they release television guides, telling people when certain shows are playing, what times they’re playing, shit like that. So,” you conclude, admittedly smug that you had reasoned this part out, “as long as I know what episode is playing during that episode, I can accurately predict any actions that happen during the periods in which you guys have cable access.”

“So, you map out what episodes are scheduled to play on what days and create a timeline around that?”

“Exactly. Not a bad plan.” You pull up a document, showing him the timeline you’ve created with this information. “As long as you guys are on the grid, and as long as Leo sticks to watching that specific channel, I’ll be able to predict the movements of every major player in the series, which means I’ll be able to determine who we can and can’t fuck with based off how they act later down the line, and I’ll be able to give you proper foresight when the situation—”

Your plan is interrupted by a section of the ledge directly next to you to gain a new hole. You leap to your feet, quickly backing up and almost tripping on Metalhead as you regain your senses and hear Mikey’s panicked yelling.

“That doesn’t look good.” You watch the machine starts backing up. “I’m gonna go in and help.”

Something strikes you. “Donnie, real quick, be careful not to run into anything. The technology you’re using is susceptible to Kraang influence.”

“Relax. I got this.” Metalhead gives you a thumbs up before running and leaping off the building, crashing through the glass roof feet first.

You sigh, getting to your feet. ‘Theme of today’s episode is not to rely on technology. Granted,’ you muse, starting to climb down the fire escape, ‘this probably could’ve been solved by adopting a more intuitive controller and having a bit more experience, but I digress.’ You hop the last few feet down. ‘In any case, I’ve done all I can. If that isn’t enough, so be it.’

You hear the explosion as you start walking back to your apartment. ‘He should be coming here in about three or so minutes.’

If you did not know how this would end, you would be much more concerned. As it stands? You know the score before the game is even played.

You wave hello to the doorman as you walk to the elevator. You tap your foot absentmindedly to the elevator music, walk to your apartment, unlock the door, and step inside, picking a large box off the ground in front of it before locking the door.

You walk over and set the box down on your bed, walking back to the kitchen. You pull a Tupperware box from on top of it, pulling a red velvet cupcake from the container and setting it on the counter.

You had died the first time you had made cupcakes. When you had tried making them again from your mother’s recipe, you had found yourself surprisingly unintimidated as you slid them into the oven. Of course, you had sat directly in front of the oven and stared at it during the entirety of the baking process, but you were hardly going to let the worst experience of your life separate you and the most nostalgic, joy-inducing feeling there was. Who else was going to make cupcakes?

You dry your hands, not realizing you had washed them as you pick the confection off the counter. You peel off a portion of the wrapper, biting into the savory and sweet bundle of joy in your mouth. You moan softly in satisfaction, licking the icing off your lips as you walk back over to your bed, sitting down and reaching for the knife under your pillow. You slice the tape, sliding your baby out of its packaging with a soft smile. You reach back in, taking another bite as you pull out a smaller bag. You set the box on the ground, tossing the now-empty wrapper into it and wiping the excess frosting on your jeans, pulling the instrument from its packaging.

Your father had taught you how to play a couple of years back. You never thought you would get weepy over a musical instrument, and yet, here you are, cradling a hunk of wood costing a little more than one day’s allowance. You purse your lips, running your fingers along the neck as you check for any defects in its construction. You crack open the bag and, after about half an hour of fiddling and research, manage to get the strings onto the violin bass without snapping it. It wasn’t an exact replica, but it was close enough that you feel comfortable holding it, feel joy hearing it come in tune.

You play a scale. It sounds like heaven to you.

You put the rest of the trash in the box, laying down next to the first item you have bought. A stand for it would be arriving tomorrow. That makes you smile.

This is the start of something healthy for you. Ironically, it has started with you eating a cupcake, but, still, you have begun to come to terms with your situation. Granted, you have a long way to go; you still have not deleted your social media, wanting to look out for photographs and clips from the funeral, but this is a step in the right direction. You have to believe that.

One small accomplishment: you have kept your apartment sparklingly clean. It is not as if you have much to do, but none the less.

You find your fingers playing an almost lullaby. You stop yourself, not wanting to fall asleep before getting yourself situated. You set your instrument to the side, getting up to close and shelve your cupcake box for future use. You wash your hands again.

You slide your jacket off and throw it onto a seat, knowing you will likely need it tomorrow. You make it a habit to at least get outside once per day, now. You understand that, even if it is not vital, you need to establish a routine. You must keep moving, if only for your sake of mind.

You check to see the curtains are closed, strip, put your clothes in a hamper. You take a shower, comb out your hair, brush your teeth. You do these things consciously, now. You change into a shirt for sleeping, crawling into bed and turning off the light. Tomorrow, you will have to go down to the laundromat to wash your few changes of clothes. You will eat three meals. You will drink eight glasses of water.

You set your phone on the nightstand, plugging it in. You reach over, fingers curling around the handle of the kitchen knife as you slide it under your pillow.

You close your eyes, feeling your heart pang again tonight.

“Goodnight,” you call to no one. “Love you.”

Silence.

It is better than it was. You do not cry tonight, wrapping your arms around your pillow.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” you mumble, feeling yourself drift into unconsciousness. “Love you too.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 4 Chapter 6 part 1

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axther · 5 years ago

Text

where the lord does not look

todoroki shoto/female!traitor!reader

In which Todoroki Shoto blackmails a classmate and pays the price.

warnings: blackmail, violence, questionable kiss

It felt wrong. It always did.

YN L/N watched Aizawa Shouta talk about the importance of pack thinking, of teamwork, of loyalty, and it felt cruel. The sun was shining through the door window, Sero and Denki were passing notes about something, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ochako casually glancing at Midoriya. There was the smell of spring in the air and the taste of hope on the tip of everyone’s tongues.

And YN wanted to scream at the top of her lungs.

She didn’t know how she got involved with the League of Villains in the first place. Her quirk, while powerful, wasn’t necessarily villainous. She was never teased, never abused for anything in her life except for insignificant bullies. She had no obstacle or hindrance. She just remembered asking for power to a man with no face.

And here she was. Helping plot the downfall of the pillar of the hero youth.

She knew it would crush so many. Midoriya was the first to come to mind, with how hard he worked to enter if the rumours were true. But everyone else who decided to throw their lives on the line for a job that fatal at worst and exhausting at best would be forced to relocate, reconsider.

YN held her head up a little bit higher when she realised that she was slouching. The last thing she needed was for anyone to ask her if something was wrong. She knew that she would burst like an overfilled dam.

The bell rang and YN almost shakily rose to her feet. Her bag was in her hand when Mina and Tooru grabbed her arms on either side, tugging her away.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mina yapped, poking a finger into YN’s cheek. “What’s got you so upset?”

YN felt panic rise in her chest but masked it with a concerned look. “What are you talking about?”

“You were all wimpy during class. What’s up with that?” Tooru chirped.

“I was thinking.” YN raised an eyebrow. “That’s you’re supposed to do in class. Though, I suppose you wouldn’t know that.”

“Hey!” Mina let a mock frown grace her cheeks. “That’s mean!”

“It’s true.” YN smirked, letting the panic start to flow away.

“Well, what were you thinking about?” Tooru began, a teasing tone on her voice. “Was it...Todoroki?”

YN jumped, nearly stopping the two in their tracks. “What? That’s-!”

“Ha! We were right!” Mina howled, puffing up her chest and thumping her fist against it. “Ah, young love~!”

“Mina, we’re the same age-”

“Doesn’t matter! So, where are you gonna confess?” Tooru pitched in.

They had a point, of course. YN had a crush (albeit a small one) on Todoroki Shoto. It was bred out of unspoken respect; he had every right to be a villain if what YN had heard was right. He had a terrifyingly powerful quirk, a terrible childhood, and little social skills. And yet, he did the one thing that YN could not. He prevailed and walked on the path of light.

YN sighed. “I’m not going to. I don’t stand a chance.”

“No way! He was staring at you all throughout class today!” Tooru giggled. “He couldn’t look away.”

“What?” YN stared wide-eyed at the space where she guessed Tooru was at. “Bullshit.”

“Nope! I even got a pic!” She pulled out her phone (with a cute Mount Lady charm on it) and showed a picture of Todoroki that was clearly taken underneath her desk. He indeed was staring at YN’s back, but it was more the look of glaring daggers than anything.

“That...doesn’t look positive.” YN murmured.

“He’s emotionally constipated! He’s probably head over heels!” Mina said, entering the cafeteria.

“Uh-huh…” YN was about to break off when she felt a tap on her shoulder. All three girls turned only to see the young man they had just been talking about.

“T-Todoroki!” YN yelped, literally jumping when she saw him standing there. He looked neutral, watching her intently.

“May I have a word with you, LN? There is something I’d like to discuss.”

Both Mina and Tooru squealed as YN nodded, clasping hands and jumping. Though they didn’t say anything otherwise, the message was obvious.

YN followed Todoroki through a side hall, keeping a bit of distance between herself and the student. Though she hated to admit it, she felt hope grow. All the talk of him liking her back was getting to her, and she just hoped that Mina and Tooru were right.

He stopped just outside, where no one was around, and YN nearly ran into his back. She stumbled as he turned.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I’ve been watching you.”

YN stopped talking, blinking up at him with wide eyes and a blush rising on her cheeks. “Pardon?”

“You take a lot of calls, late at night. And you send letters.”

YN froze. “I’m sorry?”

“One of the letters fell out, and I planned on putting it back in the mailbox for you. But there was no address on it.” Todoroki looked deathly serious like he would try to kill YN if she tried to move. His bangs made his face shadowed, and it was enough to make YN’s heart stop.

She felt bile and panic rising. The letters were shipped to the League, through someone they had in the post office. And the calls were given to Toga, who would change into someone else every time so that if anyone heard, there would be no vocal leads.

“During the USJ attack, you and I were placed in the same division. While, yes, the villains attacked you, they put in noticeably less effort, and you never made any attempt to actually hurt them. With your quirk, you could have easily put them all to sleep. But you made it hard.”

YN started hyperventilating, eyes flicking left and right in hopes of looking for an escape without having to hurt Todoroki. “What are you trying to say?”

“You’re the traitor.” Todoroki put it bluntly, and yet, YN felt as though he hadn’t said nearly enough. It felt like the world froze, with YN’s eyes glazing over in terror. Her breathing was laboured and she even felt a little faint. Her world was collapsing, she wasn’t ready to go to jail, she was terrified. There was a white-hot rushing in her veins, and she fell to her knees.

“I won’t sell you out.” Todoroki looked down at her like one would look at roadkill-intrigued, but disgusted. “For a price.”

YN looked up, tears ruining her vision. “What is it? I’ll do it.”

“I have favours. First, I don’t really feel like doing this week’s homework. I already know of all it.” He paused, looking neutrally cruel. “Actually, this entire semester. I don’t feel like doing it. Understand?”

YN mutely nodded.

“Good. If any one of the assignments fails, then it’s over.”

Todoroki left, purposing hitting her shoulder with his knee so she would fall over. She couldn’t get up, nor did she even move, until Mina and Tooru came rushing out.

“Oh my god!” Mina knelt, grabbing YN’s face with care. “Are you alright?”

“We saw Todoroki leave, and he didn’t look...happy…” Tooru started but trailed off when a fresh wave of tears overcame YN. “Oh, no...sweetie…”

All three girls stayed huddled together, the two cooing at YN until Mina paused.

“So...did you get...you know…?”

“Rejected?” Tooru finished. YN sniffled loudly, before nodding. After all, there was no way in hell that Todoroki would love someone like her, now.

“Oh my god...I am so sorry…” Mina wrapped YN in a hug, while Tooru was fuming.

“What a jackass! He should’ve accepted you! He has no taste!” She stood up, crossing her sleeves. “I’m gonna have a talk with him!”

“Tooru!” Mina called out. “Don’t. Not right now.”

Tooru relaxed, watching YN break down even more. “...You’re right. Sorry.”

“And we’re sorry...for telling you that…” Mina fell silent. “We’re sorry.”

“It’s not-” YN managed to get out, trying to talk past her sore throat and sobs. “It’s not your fault.”

And there they stayed, even with Midnight offering condolences for a rejection that never happened and offering the rest of the day off.

The sun set low, and Mina and Tooru had to leave as the stars came out. The cold came creeping up YN’s arms, and yet, she stayed.

And in the distance, a young man watched.

YN paced the length of her dorm, holding the phone to her ear.

“Himi...Himi, please, it’s me.”

“Oh? YN-chan? What’s wrong?” The voice was initially a deep baritone, a man’s voice, but it dripped into a sweet honey tone, that of a schoolgirl’s. “Were you crying?”

“Himi, they know. Someone knows. They...he isn’t telling right now, but…”

“What?!” She heard from the other side. “Someone knows?!”

There was more shouting from past the phone, some from Shigaraki, others from Twice. They were talking before Toga went back on the phone.

“How long can you shut him up? Who is it?”

“T-Todoroki Shoto. He...he’s blackmailing me into doing stuff for him in exchange for him keeping quiet.”

“Stuff?” Toga yelped. “What stuff is making you do? It’s nothing creepy, right?”

“Creepy?” YN heard Twice yell. “We can’t even let him touch her! If he tries anything then-”

“Oh, would you shut up?” Shigaraki sounded strained. “She slipped up. She has to pay.”

“The little bitch just exposed the whole operation! Fucking kill her!” Twice hissed. “She needs to be pulled out and saved!”

“YN-chan, what stuff is he making you do? It’s not talkin’ about us, right?” Toga said. She sounded worried, but coming from her, it wasn’t comforting.

“No...homework is what he’s starting off with, but I have a feeling he’ll go further. He won’t be satisfied. I know that I’ve already exposed the breach, so if there’s any way to hurry up the operation…” YN glanced at her door when she saw a shadow pass by, and lowered her voice to a whisper.

“Ughhh. This is trying to do a speedrun! This is unacceptable!”

“Shigaraki, it is only a matter of time…” Kurogiri said. “It is almost complete.”

“What, we rush the whole thing and fuck it up? No, no, no, no, no…”

“YN! We’ll come and get you and we can play a game together!” Twice yelled. “I hope you fucking rot, you slimy-!”

“How did they find out?” Kurogiri’s voice came clearly over the phone. YN took a deep breath.

“He said that one of the letters...the postman dropped it and saw there was no address. He…” YN stopped. She was already lying to save her own skin on both ends, so what was another lie in the wall that of half-truths and deceit that would save her? “He opened it and read some before accidentally burning it in anger.”

Kurogiri sighed. “Then I suppose it couldn’t be helped on your end.”

“Fucking useless piece of shit!” Shirgiraki bit. “I knew he’d fuck up!”

“Shigaraki, please.” Kurogiri’s voice had turned away from the phone before turning back. “We will try to speed up the operation. Can you give us two weeks?”

“I’ll try.” YN whispered. “Thank you.”

“Stay safe. Do not disappoint us.”

“Love ya’, YN-chan! Make sure to come back to us!” Toga yelled, probably from over Kurogiri’s shoulder before the line went dead. YN let out a shaky sigh before deleting the call log and moving to her desk. Both her homework and Todoroki’s was out, and that meant that she had to forge his writing in order to make it work.

She was writing away, late into the night, taking no pause out of fear that Todoroki would find some flaw and alert the whole school. She worked and she worked until the clock hit two A.M. She looked up, feeling almost woozy when there was a knock at the door. YN jumped in her seat before walking over and answering it.

On the other side was a wide-awake Todoroki, who glared at her through the crack in the door.

“The homework. Hand it over, while everyone else is asleep.”

YN nodded, sulking over and grabbing the sheets of work. He snatched them out of her hands, reading it over and checking that it was all done.

“Alright. Today, I want you to be the one to tell my father that I will not be seeing him this week, but instead doing such things as hanging out with friends and attending parties.”

“But...but how do I contact your father?” YN felt her head pound. Todoroki met her eyes with a raised eyebrow.

“Figure it out.”

He turned and left, and YN gave a heaping sigh. She turned to her bed, her own homework only half-finished. She was exhausted, rightfully so, and collapsed into the pillows. Regret pooled in her gut. Some part of her still loved Todoroki, but it was quickly dying.

It was dying, along with the rest of her.

The next five days were hellish.

She supposed the second day, where she had to approach Endeavour, was kind. While he was upset about his son not even bothering to talk to him, he didn’t lash out onto YN, nor send a message back. It could’ve gone much worse, she was well aware. The next day she was forced to make his meals, though it wasn’t that hard. And after, she was to do his laundry. All were relatively easy deeds.

But the day after that Todoroki ordered her to clean his room. And when she entered, it was so torn apart that she was sure he ripped everything out of the drawers on purpose. And the day after, she was told to take up all of his chores for the dorm, confusing both Sato and Midoriya.

Mina and Tooru took notice of YN’s behaviour but didn’t ask. Mina was still beating herself up for hyping up YN, and Tooru was still furious at Todoroki’s supposed rejection.

And for YN’s feelings for Todoroki, they were absolutely and completely quashed.

She had no idea he could be as heartless as he was acting. Anything positive that she had for him was gone, replaced with deep scorn.

And the only lifeline she had was calling the League every night. Toga, while crazy, did provide some comfort, with the promise of doing each other’s nails and hair when the attack arrived and YN was taken to the home base. The regret and fear she had of being a villain before was slowly disappearing with every night that she fell asleep to the sound of Toga and Twice babbling about video games.

On the sixth night, YN called to Toga specifically, venting left and right about the things that Todoroki was making her do.

“And then, he told me that I had missed a spot, and when I went to look, he went and picked up a tissue that definitely wasn’t there before!” YN hissed into the phone receiver.

“No way!” Toga barked. “What an asshole!”

“I know, right? He just wants to make my life hell. I can’t wait for you guys to get here.”

“Ugh! Same! Me ‘n’ Twice have been stocking up on the goods so that way when you get here, we can have loads of fun!” Toga laughed loudly, and YN heard Twice laughing, too. “We’re getting excited! It’s only a week away!”

“Yeah,” YN murmured, a soft smile on her face. “Thanks. I’m gonna go and get some sleep. You guys make sure to rest up, too.”

“Maybe~! Love ya’!” Toga hung up and YN felt the silence of the night draw in. She felt oddly content, and she let out a soft sigh.

There was a feeling of content that she hadn’t felt in days. With all the work that Todoroki had piled on and the stress of keeping it all under wraps, she could feel her eyebags during the day and wish for the sweet release of sleep during the night.

YN rested her arm on her forehead, letting the darkness consume her eyes and try to soothe the headache that was coming on from even thinking about Todoroki.

“Yikes,” She sighed, rubbing her temple with her spare hand. “I’m screwed.”

Meanwhile, Todoroki was no better off.

While he had no headache, he was staring at his ceiling with the covers of his bed pulled up to his chest. His arms were folded, but his eyes were narrowed in thought.

Before he had learned about YN being the traitor, he hadn’t thought much of her. She seemed like a meek girl, with a terrifyingly powerful PSI quirk. She stuck to her friends and stayed in her lane.

‘The perfect candidate for traitor,’ Todoroki thought. As far as he knew, she had no terrible history or actual motivations to become a villain. So when he found the letter and put and two and two together, he was shocked. He wanted her to vehemently deny it, to say that it was maybe a love letter or a secret note to somebody else.

But all she did was cry, and Todoroki had his answer.

He didn’t know why he chose to blackmail her, of all things. He should’ve turned her in, as a hero would have. But he didn’t. And at first, he didn’t know why he wanted to spare her so. Was in how miserable she looked while she was crying? Was it how she didn’t even look angry, but just scared? He didn’t have an answer.

Until he made her clean his room.

To be honest, he tore it apart just to see what her reaction was. He wasn’t a messy person but he wanted to make it tough for her. So, periodically throughout her cleaning, he would check up on her. At first, it was to make sure she didn’t throw away anything important, but once he realised that she was doing something so domestic, it made him feel warm on both sides. She had a broom and trash bags, and a bandanna to hold back her hair. She worked ferociously, determined to finish quickly. The hair came loose at times, and sweat grew over her as she lost herself in the cleaning and her thoughts.

He realised that it was exactly what she would look like if she was a housewife.

He realised that the entire time, he had her doing things a lover would do-calling the parents, helping with work, cleaning, cooking. None of them were dangerous, and she had them all done in three hours at most. And as Todoroki laid there, he started thinking less on the favours than it was YN herself.

She was a girl. That was the first thing that came to Todoroki’s mind. Even though no one was around, he nodded with confirmation. It was a safe thought. It was a fact.

She trained well, sometimes even out of school time. He had come across her in more than one situation where she would be using her quirk to make Bakugou levitate, with him howling the entire time. Her eyes would glow too, like changing lights in a pool. Todoroki always thought it was pretty.

That, too, was a fact. Her eyes were pretty.

Todoroki’s eyes snapped open. Yes, it was a fact, but it was not a safe thought. He imagined shoving it into a box and kicking it far away, into the depths of his mind.

He closed his eyes again, sighing.

She was strong. That was a safe thought.

She had nice arms. That was not a safe thought.

She did her best to take care of her skin, judging from the occasional skincare products he’d find lying around. Was that a safe thought? He wasn’t sure.

She was smart, but not terribly so. That was a safe thought.

She looked nice in her tights. That definitely wasn’t a safe thought.

And as Todoroki thought more and more about YN, he began realising that he thought most things she did were good, technically speaking. She helped Denki with school sometimes, was positively receptive when Midoriya wanted to write about her quirk in his notebooks, and always supported the girls in any of their endeavours. She was kind and pretty, and smart and strong and sweet.

And then, with wide eyes and a quelled feeling of horror, Todoroki thought, ’Oh my god,’

’I’m in love with the traitor.’

“What now?”

Todoroki stood in front of YN’s door, hands in front of him and looking strangely innocent. His hair was combed, which was weird, and if YN took a deep breath, then she would smell some sort of cologne.

“There is a girl in the General Course. Ai Suzuki. I want you to reject her for me.” He said it was a completely straight face, as though he was telling Aizawa that he couldn’t come into class the next day. YN blinked, processing the order, before jutting her head out in shock and recoiling again.

“What? That’s terrible! You need to reject her yourself, for her sake!” She looked appalled and was about to slam the door shut when he put his arm and foot in.

“Remember...YN.”

From behind the door, YN stopped, before groaning and opening the door again.

“Fine. And when the poor girl is miserable and goes around slandering you, don’t come after me. And we’re not friends. Don’t call me YN.”

She shoved past him and locked her door, storming down the hallway and making tracks for the General Education dorms.

“What floor, jackass?”

“She’ll be in the greens,” Todoroki called back, sounding ready to laugh. YN turned and walked through the doors, keeping an eye out for a girl standing alone.

Sure enough, a student who reminded YN of a doe stood with her hands in front of her, looking side to side. It broke YN’s heart that Ai would have to be rejected in such a cruel way, but it was her or YN’s entire wellbeing.

“Hey, are you Ai Suzuki?” YN approached the young woman, who jumped. Ai’s brow furrowed.

“Y-Yes. Where’s Shoto?”

YN sighed. “There’s no easy way about this, especially since he’s such a coward.”

Ai’s entire body seemed to slump, her eyes watering and hands shaking. YN felt the guilt bubbling in her stomach, but she continued.

“But he wanted me to tell you that he’s not interested. I’m really sorry that it had to be this way, but-”

Abruptly, Ai reached forward and slapped YN across the cheek. Tears were streaming down the young lady’s face.

“You-! You-! I…!” Ai seemed to be grasping for words while YN nursed her stinging cheek with her hand. YN didn’t retaliate but tried to help Ai sort out her emotions.

“I know it’s terrible, and if you want, I take you to him so that way you can work out what you need. I get that-”

“Just shut up!” Ai snapped, before flushing. “Please. I…” Fresh tears made their way to Ai’s face before she ran off. YN turned to head back, only to see Ai run headfirst into Todoroki. He seemed surprised, glancing up at YN before looking down at Ai. Ai stared at him, eyes wide before sobbing again and running to the General Education dorms. Todoroki watched her run with curiosity, while YN watched with pity.

“I see it went well.” Todoroki turned back to YN, about to say more when he realised the red mark on her cheek. “Did she hurt you?”

“Why would you care?” YN snapped, glaring at him. “You’re fucking terrible, and that’s bad, coming from me.”

She stormed off, letting Todoroki watch her leave. He seemed stunned, standing and blinking dumbly at her retreating figure.

“...”

YN held an ice pack to her cheek, staring at her ceiling, watching the blades of the fan spin. She wished that her mind was empty and aimless, but concerns surrounding Todoroki arose.

He had become more casual than he ever was, something that didn’t happen even before he found out about her ties to the League. It was as though he was trying to seem pleasant, but it all seemed like a trap.

“Fucking ice-for-brains.” YN pouted. “Bitchboy.”

YN’s phone abruptly rang and she jumped. It was several hours earlier than the League usually called, so when she picked it up and saw the contact ’L’, her brow furrowed.

“Hey, everything okay?” She asked, worry lacing her tone. She heard broad laughter, and then Toga giggling.

“More than okay! We can come sooner!!”

“Wh...what?” YN blinked, flabbergasted, before rushing to her door and locking it. She held the phone to her shoulder while stuffing towels along the bottom so no one could eavesdrop. “What’s going on?”

“Shiggy found a way to mass-produce the Nomu so we can get to you in, like, two days!” Someone spoke, but it was too distant to hear who before Toga started talking again. “Tomorrow! We can get to you tomorrow!” Toga was audibly jumping, and YN felt her shoulders go slack.

“No way.” She breathed. It was like the world was on her shoulders, and that it had been slowly lifted. “Are you serious?”

“Yup! I wouldn’t joke with you on this,” Toga said. “Probably.”

“Probably?” YN laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.”

“Well, we’ve got a bonus for you! For hangin’ on!”

“Yeah? What is it?” YN fell onto her bed with a grin.

“Well, according to Shiggy,” (Shigaraki, in the back, howled ‘Don’t call me that!’) “Had everyone accounted for except for one! And, well, he just so happens to have been doing some no-no stuff lately…”

“I get to kick Todoroki’s ass?” YN sat up from her bed, excitement on her face. A deep part of her felt disgusted at the glee in getting revenge, but it was quickly put down at the thought of Todoroki begging for forgiveness.

“Yup!” Toga tittered. “And then Kurogiri can take you back with us and we can do whatever! It’s not like we’ve got any parents to regulate us there, anyway.”

“That was a twenty-five cent word, Himi. I’m glad. What’s the time of the attack? I wanna set an alarm.”

“Hey!” Toga yelled over the phone, and YN winced. “Shiggy! When are we gonna see YN-chan and Deku and Ochako?”

“If everything doesn’t get fucked up, then we should get there by six in the afternoon. Don’t fuck it up.” The phone was clearly pointed in Shigaraki’s direction, but he still sounded a bit distant.

“Yessir,” Though he couldn’t see it, YN saluted. “You got it.”

“We’ll see you soon, YN! I looove you!”

“See ya, Himi.”

YN hung up, laying back down on the bed with a giddy smile. She rolled left and right, hugging the phone to her chest as she laughed. She knew she was being loud, and if Todoroki heard, then he would be suspicious, but she didn’t care anymore. She was so close to freedom, so close that she could taste it.

So close.

Classes were unbearable.

YN felt like a kid on the last day of middle school, right before they go to Disney or some other amusement park. The day trudged on, and no matter what Mina and Tooru did to try and get YN’s attention, her thoughts always returned to the League and the attack.

Sure, she was nervous. It was entirely possible that everything could go wrong and it all fail. She could be arrested for treason, Todoroki could decide to expose her, and the League could choose to leave her behind. It could end in absolutely disaster for her.

But YN had hope.

And that hope remained after classes had finished. YN was near skipping, waltzing past Todoroki on her way to her dorms.

She knew she needed to pack her things. It was all simple stuff; clothes, her toothbrush and toothpaste. She had to leave her phone behind, which was regrettable, but it had a tracker in it that her parents and select friends could see.

And speaking of friends, YN needed to get Tooru and Mina out of U.A. before the attack, and have them be gone for long enough that they would remain safe. There were ways, but YN knew she needed to keep discreet.

So, when she walked to her dorm, she eyed the clock. It was five fourty-three, which mean that she could have them take a relatively short trip and still be kept in the clear. YN caught Mina and Tooru on her way. Mina near jumped, nervously grinning.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been weird all day!”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, I have a favour to ask you two.” YN pulled them aside, taking out her wallet.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Tooru presumably tilted her head.

“Ehh, sorta?” YN faked a grimace. “I, uh...my period started.”

Mina blanched, and Tooru placed a hand on YN’s shoulder.

“What’dya need?”

“Yeah! We’ll go get it!”

“God bless, you two. Uh, you know that mart that we came across that had the best f/s? It’s like, fifteen minutes by the train?” YN shelled out the cash, making sure there was extra. “I’m craving that, to be honest. And you guys can get something else, of course.”

“Sure!” Mina took the money and shoved it into her pocket. “Let’s go, Tooru! We’ll see you later!”

YN waved as the two dashed out, knocking Todoroki on their way to the doors. Mina shot him a half-hearted apology before they were gone. YN gave a languid wave back, feeling almost sad. She wouldn’t see them again. It pulled against her heartstrings, but she knew that she was too far in to back out.

“They’re certainly energetic.” Todoroki walked up to YN, eyeing the doors with his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah. Whatever.” YN’s peacefully happy demeanour changed. She glared at him before walking away. Before she could successfully escape, though, Todoroki put a hand on her shoulder.

“I want to talk to you.”

YN glanced at the clock. It was ten before six, and she felt nervous. “Not right now. I’m busy.”

“Please, it’ll just take a second. I’ll come with you.” He took his hand off of her shoulder, and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine. But make it quick.” YN began speed walking to her dorms, not caring if she looks suspicious. “I have shit to do.”

“I wanted to actually ask you in private. It’s something...a bit personal.”

YN stopped walking, eyes wide. “You’re not going to…?”

Todoroki recoiled, shaken. “No! No, it’s not. It’s an emotional matter.”

“Oh, joy.” YN rolled her eyes again before almost jogging to her dorm. She eyed a different clock, and it showed five fifty-two.

“I’ve been thinking about it. About you,” Todoroki began as they walked into her dorm. YN grabbed a backpack off of her wall and began throwing whatever she could find in there that she would deem necessary. Todoroki shut the door, but stood by it as YN spun around.

“I know that I’ve been...complicated towards you.” Todoroki said, rolling his hands to help elaborate.

“Uh, yeah. That’s a nice way of putting it.” YN threw eyeliner and mascara into the front pocket of her bag. Todoroki huffed, upset that it backfired.

“I think you’re pretty,” He tried again, leaning a bit towards her and sounded hopeful. “And smart.” YN said nothing, but paused and gave him a look that was a mix of confusion, disgust, and ‘duh’. “And I know that I’ve been making you work because of circumstances that were out of your control.”

“What’s your point, Todoroki?” YN threw the last of her underwear in the bag and zipped it, spinning around with her hands on her hips and the bag over her shoulder. “Get to it.”

Todoroki faltered, eyeing the bag. “What are you packing for?”

“None of your goddamn business. Speak, or else I’m ignoring you.”

This snapped Todoroki out of his staring contest with a video game pin on your bag, and he swallowed. He was stiff, and anxious, and hid his face with a ninety-degree bow.

“Please be my girlfriend.”

YN froze, shock on her face. “What?”

“Please date me.” YN shook her head, snapping out of it, before her jaw dropped and mixed emotions came over her face. “You’re fucking…” She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

“I know that you must hate me. But I’m sure that you’re not the traitor by choice. If you choose to date me, my father and I can help you leave the League. We can protect you, and we can-”

“Protect me from what? Wait, wait, wait. You’re saying that they guy that fucking blackmailed me wants to protect me from people that have done nothing to me?”

“Done nothing?” Todoroki rose from the bow, looking both confused and hurt. “They’re villains, YN. They are absolutely going to hurt you!”

“Bullshit. They...they’re the only ones that gave a damn the whole time!” YN threw her bag on the ground, throwing her hands up in the air. “I fucking-! I can’t believe-!”

“And what about Mina? And Tooru? And I could have sold you out at any point!”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna go?” YN felt heat rise to her cheeks and her stomach turn in rage. “Yeah, okay. Mina and Tooru were great. And that’s why they’re not here right now! But you wanna fucking hold it above my head that you could have had me fucking arrested?”

“That’s not what I was trying to say!” Todoroki’s voice lowered from the shout, desperation in his tone. “No, I..! I was trying to say that I love you! And that I didn’t want you to get hurt. Please. We can get you out of this.”

Todoroki grabbed her shoulders, not forcefully, but intimately. He could feel her breath on his face, and the tears beginning to show in his eyes.

“You...unbelievable!” If Todoroki looked close enough, he could see traces of betrayal. “I have no idea what you think asking someone out is. You can’t just walk in an-and expect love!” YN voice rose with every word, until Todoroki leaned forward and placed a kiss firmly on her lips. She let out a muffled yelp, frozen, but Todoroki didn’t move.

He savoured it, because for just a moment, when he closed his eyes, he could imagine you loving him back.

But then a blaring alarm from YN’s phone went off.

YN shoved Todoroki off, coughing and rubbing at her mouth furiously. Todoroki stood still, a blush on his cheeks. YN licked her top teeth as the alarm sounded, hearing the constant, stinging ring, taking a moment before a sick joy rose in her.

“YN, please...We can work this out together. We can get you into the witness protection program, or something-”

“Too late,” YN hissed. Todoroki faltered, taking a step back.

“What?”

“I said, you fucking reject,” She muttered lowly, looking up at him with her head hung. “Too. Late.”

“W-What? Why?” Todoroki began to puff his chest in some indiscriminate mix of rage and sorrow when he felt something close around his throat. It was as though he was being choked, but no one was touching him. His hands flew to try and relieve the pressure only to be able to claw at his own neck. There was the sound of glass breaking outside, and people screaming. He could hear Present Mic calling for help.

“You really thought...” YN began as furniture began floating, along with Todoroki himself. He kicked his feet and struggled, but he was thrown back through the dorm door and into the hallway wall. YN was sweating, the alarm still going off on her levitating desk, and she looked thrilled, with her eyes pulsing out of her skull and her hair flying in front of her face. Her bag levitated towards her, and her jacket fit itself onto her shoulders before the backpack followed. Todoroki could only watch in pain as she approached.

“You thought you could control me forever?” YN wheezed. Todoroki turned to see Midoriya and Bakugou running towards them before a smoky, inky black portal consumed them both. His eyes went wide when he realised what was happening.

“I thought heroes were supposed to do the right thing, Todoroki.” YN spat, grabbing his chin so he could stare her in the eyes. They had begun sparking all sorts of colours, even ones that he had never seen before. More furniture in the living room and open dorms were floating and Todoroki felt his heart in his throat.

“You…” He choked, one eye closing from the pain in his spine. “You bid your time…”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely.” She grinned, eyes crazed, before using her quirk to pick him up again. This time, he wasn’t choking, but he couldn’t move. “And now, you must suffer the consequences.”

She waltzed from the dorms to outside, dragging Todoroki behind her. When he passed the doors, he had to look away from the heat and the light, but when he opened his eyes, he felt tears swell.

The main building of U.A. was up in crystal blue flames, with students and staff alike running out screaming and crying. Someone fell out of the windows, on fire and wailing the entire way down, and there was a sickening crack when they landed. The heat scorched his cheeks, and embers flew into his eyes and hair. When he opened his mouth to yell, he could taste the copper of blood on his tongue. He could see Midoriya and Ochako trying to fend off Toga, and Kirishima and Sero trying to restrain a Nomu, only to fail.

He knew that even if he could make any noise, if he could move, if he could use his quirk, he wouldn’t be able to. The shock set in his bones, and he felt the weight of the world.

“You know, they were supposed to come about a week from now.” YN waltzed across the burning grass, putting it out before she could burn her shoes. “But when they heard you were blackmailing me, they sped it up. Isn’t that sweet?”

“How could you?” Todoroki managed to spit out. He saw the gentle smile on YN’s face, and he felt his heart snap. “They were...our friends…”

“No. I mean, at first I was guilty. Actually, I really was guilty right up to when you found out. Then I realised that they didn’t really notice me.” She hummed, clearly in a good mood, with the terror and chaos around her. “Mina and Tooru kinda noticed. But they bought whatever I told them. They’re still good people, but they didn’t care that I clearly had something on my mind. Least of all you?” YN turned her head to look at Todoroki. “Did you know I used to have a crush on you? You didn’t so much as glance at me for the entire time before you found out.”

She looked back forward, making her way to the swirling black mass. Kurogiri and Shigaraki stepped out, and when Shigaraki saw YN, he took to scratching his neck. “You didn’t fuck up.” He sounded surprised.

“Nope!” YN chirped. “I’m ready to roll once this place is dust.”

Shigaraki let out a dry laugh at her choice of words before looking over at Todoroki, who was trying to struggle. “You already had him?”

“He was trying to ask me out.” YN crossed her arms. “So I just took advantage of the opportunity.”

“Cool. Dabi’s already gotten the main school-”

“Clearly.” YN piped in.

“So the damage has been dealt. I just need to recall everyone.” Shigaraki gestured at Kurogiri, waving a lackadaisical hand. “Originally, I was just gonna leave you, actually.”

“Wait, seriously?” YN grimaced, completely ignoring Todoroki’s squirming.

“Yeah. But then he found you out.” He turned to Todoroki, who froze and glared at Shigaraki. “When are you gonna fight him?”

“I dunno. I kinda wanted everyone to be here, but if we can’t make that work…”

“Get it over with.”

“You’re the boss.” YN shrugged, giving Todoroki only a moment to be afraid before crushing him against the nearest wall. His eyes were overshadowed by his hair for a moment when his entire body curled in pain, both against his will and YN’s quirk. He felt bile crawl up his throat, and spit came out when he coughed.

“Y...YN...please…” He looked up at her, tears flowing down his cheeks and crushing sorrow on his face. “I know there’s good in you…you’re not a villain…”

YN winced, and for a moment, she looked conflicted. Todoroki felt hope, his eyes widening, until the conflict was abruptly gone. In its place was rock-hard disgust and he was picked up again, before being smashed into the dirt. YN began throwing him violently, increasing the strength and rate of the hits. She didn’t stop until his head hung and he was panting. Blood was everywhere, and when he looked up at her, it was flowing into his eyes.

“It’s not about good or evil anymore.” YN whispered. It was potent, even amongst all the chaos and noise. “There is no good or bad anymore. Just power.”

YN looked almost deranged, eyes blown wide and panting heavily. Her hair had fallen into her face, and Shigaraki looked surprised, again.

“Wow. Didn’t expect you to go loose.”

“I hope it’s okay, sir.” YN let Todoroki fall, blowing the hair out of her face and composing herself.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. I don’t care.”

YN nodded and Kurogiri placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You did well. Welcome to the League.” He watched YN give a huge smile, as though she didn’t just help slaughter an entire school, and rather had just been given a star spot in a play.

“Thank you, sir! You won’t regret it!”

“I’m sure we won’t.” Kurogiri nodded, looking sagely at the destruction and the approaching forms of Toga, Dabi, Spinner, and Twice.

“I’m sure we won’t.”

a/n: hi this took WAY too fucking long i am so sorry 🥴 i sabotage myself but anyway!! this was interesting to do bc i never really did a traitor!mc but i am a sucker for angst 🥴🥴

#todoroki shoto x reader #traitor!reader #Todoroki/reader #angst! angst! angst!!#traitorreader #bnha x reader

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hypnoticwinter · 4 years ago

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole part 10

The door opens and the bell rings and Peter and I both look up; the lady I’d ran into earlier on my first day in Gumption walks in and nods to Peter. Through the course of the story we’d finished breakfast and then I’d walked with Peter down to the 7-11 and he’d clocked in and started his shift while I sat on a stack of beer cases and listened, turning the voice recorder to its highest sensitivity to capture everything he was saying. I could always go back and take a transcript later if I had to, if the audio was too loud or too distorted.

Her eyes stray over me but whatever she thinks she doesn’t betray anything with her expression. I’ve reached out automatically and covered the voice recorder with my hand as soon as I heard the door open; it was an automatic action, quick as a whip, no conscious thought required, and I slide my thumb down its ridged side, click it off.

“Hey, Michelle,” Peter says.

“Hey, Peter,” she says.

He glances at his watch and whistles. “I didn’t realize it was four already.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” she says, a slight layer of sarcasm flavoring her words. I can feel my hackles rising but I ease myself down. Peter’s eyes flick over to me.

“Well,” he says, and I feel my mouth drop open.

“No way. You can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“You aren’t going to finish the story?”

Peter grins at me. “I have to go get ready,” he says in a soft voice. “I’ll finish telling you later.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?” he repeats.

“What the hell happens to Makado?”

“She…” he starts, and then stops. I can see a flicker of pain cross his face like the dappled back of a fish beneath a sunstruck river. My heart falls within my chest and I realize that I’m becoming far too invested to be objective, I need to take a step back. “She made it out fine,” he tells me. I don’t believe him.

Despite all of my efforts to cajole him he won’t tell me any more. He assures me that we’ll have enough time tonight, that it’s going to be a lot of sitting around and waiting while I film far-off dots moving around under the cover of darkness and that he’ll tell me then. It smells like a cop-out to me, like he just doesn’t want to get into what happened to Makado.

It’s unbelievable enough already, though, isn’t it? Amalgams and copepods and all of that stuff. I hear it and I think, oh, this is the plot to a movie. This isn’t real, it can’t be. Even though I’m only a few miles from it, even though I’m going to be going there tonight, it doesn’t feel like the Pit is a place that actually exists. It feels like somebody is pulling my leg.

Or it would, if it weren’t for the look on Peter’s face when he talks about Makado. That at least is real. Whether everything else around it is fake, I guess there’s a little kernel of doubt still sprouting in my head somewhere, the tiny eternal skeptic inside of me that isn’t willing to believe anything it can’t touch or feel or see itself.

We walk out of the 7-11 together and look at each other. Peter nods. “Same place as where you followed before. You know how to get there?”

I nod as well. “Line up the two rocks and the cactus with the setting sun and walk straight until I hit the three boulders in the dip of the hill.”

“Good memory. If you mess up you’ll be able to see us probably anyway, I’ll have my flashlight.”

“How many people are coming?”

“Besides you there’s three others, one guy from the cult for his initiation and two others who…well, you know.”

“Yeah. Was that what Erica was talking to you about the other day?”

“When she pulled up at midnight or whenever? Yeah, she was just telling me who to look out for. Because those guys want to be able to get back out again I have to give them different instructions, that kind of thing.”

I shudder in spite of myself. “Well, see you tonight.”

“See you,” he says. He turns and walks quickly away and then past the corner of the building and I am alone. I stand there for a moment and then lean up against the side of the building. The sun is hot but not terribly so and here in the shade it’s really quite a nice afternoon.

A car pulls up and turns into one of the pumps. It’s the second customer I’ve seen all day. The guy looks over at me but it isn’t anyone I know or have seen before, and after a moment he puts his card in and fills up the tank, then drives off.

I look round and, after a moment, let myself slide down the faux-brick façade of the 7-11 and stretch my legs out in front of me. My knee cracks like a gunshot as I do and I wince. I take my phone out of my pocket and dial a number and listen as the harsh buzzing tone drills one, two, three, four, five times into my ear, and then there’s a click and the answering machine picks up.

“Hi, you’ve reached Mark Dzilenski. I’m not able to take your call right now but if you leave me your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks, bye.”

“Hi, dad,” I say, and I feel a wave of emotion pressing at me that I refuse to confront. I swallow. “I’m sorry our call got disconnected the other night, I think there’s something wrong with my phone. It was good hearing your voice, I’m glad you and mom are doing okay.”

I lick my lips. Alright, Roan, you’ve been very glib so far. Spit it out.

“I, uh,” I start. Come on. “I got some news the other day that I wanted to tell you, I…”

“If you are satisfied with your call, you can hang up, or press 1 for delivery options. To re-record –“

I hang up the call, and then I stand up. I rummage in my bag for a cigarette and light it, and then walk slowly back to the hotel, taking my time. I’m meeting Peter at one in the morning but my nerves are already balling around themselves in a panic. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“So what?” I ask out loud. I look over and see my distorted reflection looking back at me in the thick glass window of a closed barbershop. I look tired. “So what?” I mutter again. I look at the me in the window a little longer but I don’t like the way she looks at me so I toss my cigarette on the ground and crush it out and hurry a little more. It feels like there is a cloud looming behind me but it’s just in the sky, promising rain.

When I get back to the hotel room I unfold my laptop, dump the audio files from the voice recorder back onto it, and then I connect to the extremely rickety wi-fi network the motel offers and I look up what exactly the penalty is for trespassing on federal property. It’s not that bad, actually; a misdemeanor in all cases, at least under federal law. I don’t know if the site around the Pit is solely administered federally or if state law would also apply, though. Or would it count as trespassing on a military base? Apparently that can be a felony, if it’s important enough or if you’re being malicious about it. I do more googling around but the information I turn up is cryptic and limited. I wonder, not for the first time, if I’m putting myself on some kind of list doing this sort of research, then shake my head. Whatever.

The evening passes slowly and my nervousness doesn’t fade no matter how many cigarettes I smoke, leaned over on the wiry metal bannister, staring off into the flat, unexciting horizon. I watch television just to pass time, let Baggage and The Price is Right and Family Feud wash over me like an ocean, like waves, like I’m drowning. Am I drowning? If I were sane I think I’d feel like I were drowning.

When the time comes I put some pants on, long ones this time, shrug into my jacket, make sure I have my voice recorder and my camcorder and my slim little folding knife, more of a letter opener than anything else. I laugh at myself when I tuck it into my pocket but I still do it.

“Alright Roan,” I say to myself, staring in the mirror, sounding braver than I really feel, tucking my hair back in a ponytail. “Let’s go commit a felony.”

* * *

Peter raises his hand in greeting as I crest the hill and I wave back at him, click the light on my phone off and move down, join the little circle. He’d said there would be three others; two are here so far. One is a small Asian girl, so skinny it looks like she’d burst into flame if she crossed her legs too fast, and the other is a tall, heavy guy, looking like he’s in his late forties, balding hard. He has bags under his eyes and he keeps reflexively running his hands together. “Hi Lily,” Peter says to me and I blink and almost look behind myself to see if there’s someone back there, but he winks at me and I realize I’m supposed to be Lily. I wonder if there’s anything else important he’s left out.

“Hey,” I say. The Asian girl glances at me and then looks away again. Her eyes are very dark and it looks as though she’s chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek, sucking it inwards and holding it between her teeth and then letting it go again.

“This is Bao and Rey,” he tells me, indicating each of them. I nod at them.

“Hey,” I say again. “You guys, uh…excited?”

Peter shakes his head minutely and I feel faintly embarrassed, like I’ve said something I clearly shouldn’t have without realizing the taboo.

To their credit, they definitely do not look excited; nervous is more accurate. Perhaps haunted would be appropriate as well. Rey keeps glancing out into the darkness as though he can see something moving around out there; I can see his eyes focus on something and track it for a while before slipping off like a thrown egg slipping slowly down a window. I look out into the darkness as well but even though my eyes aren’t as adapted now thanks to Peter’s big utility flashlight throwing enough light to make me squint, it is very clear that there is nothing out there, nothing large enough that he’d be able to see it and track it like that.

I want to talk to him, I want to take out my recorder, I want to pry my way into his head, but I restrain myself. This is clearly not the time. The camcorder is still in my jacket pocket, the bulky night-vision attachment screwed onto its snouty muzzle already, fully charged and ready to go, but clearly I am supposed to be pretending to be one of these people. While we lapse into another uneasy silence and Peter checks his watch, I consider my new existence as Lily.

These two people are clearly so far gone that they barely recognize me as a person, let alone the deeper distinction between Roan and Lily. The way Rey keeps seeing ghosts and watching them like he’s ready to bolt or to fight, the way Bao keeps jumping at sounds none of the rest of us can hear, clearly they’re the two who are – what even is the right word? Afflicted? Who are, at least in Peter’s estimation, beyond retrieval?

I look at Bao. She’s young, maybe about my age, maybe a little younger. Twenty-two or twenty-three? Very possibly. Bao…the name sounds more Chinese than Japanese or Korean but I don’t know enough about Eastern culture to positively identify her, plus obviously there are more Asian countries than just China, Japan, and Korea. And if I’m supposed to be one of these people then should I care? Should I be getting into character?

I look again at Peter and feel a faint spark of anger at the fact that he didn’t let me know, didn’t warn me, but then I realize he didn’t really have a way to – he doesn’t have my number, and maybe this was something that resolved itself later in the afternoon after we’d parted, this need for secrecy.

I’ll draw the line at aping those nervous tics. Just watching these two is making me sad, giving me a feeling like someone’s taking hold of my heart and squeezing. It feels cruel, knowing I can do nothing.

Clearly the reason I’m Lily is because the third person, the guy from the cult, will know I’m coming, or at least will recognize my name. I think back and wonder if anybody had had a chance to take a photo of me while I was out walking around the town, but I’d have given people so many opportunities to take one without me noticing that it’s pointless to dwell on.

Surely if there was some sort of danger, if the cult knew for sure I would be here and they were perhaps willing to prevent me from coming somehow, Peter would have contacted me. He knows the motel I’m at, he might not know the room but if Erica Walken could get the phone number to it, surely Peter could have as well…right?

I toss my head, work my jaw sideways. It feels like it wants to crack but it doesn’t; I can feel the tension in the bulgy little knot of muscles down the side of my cheek. It doesn’t matter. I’m here, and I’m going in with them, cult or no cult.

There’s a crunching of feet on the dry hard earth behind us and Rey and I both turn to watch the third guy, tall and dark, making his way down the hill to us. He’s young, with a trimmed beard, and close-cropped hair. His eyes are very small; they linger on me for a moment and then flick to Rey and Bao.

“Alright,” Peter says, “everybody’s here. We’re going to be going under the fence through a hidden tunnel. It’s going to be tight so you guys are going to have to drop to your stomachs and crawl. It was going to be a waste-drainage pipe but they didn’t give the contractors they hired to do it the right plans and so it turned out that they were digging right on top of one of the power lines for the electric fence. They just left the pipe in there and put a fake rock over the entrance.”

I almost laugh when I hear that. It’s too easy. There must be a catch, mustn’t there?

“The pipe is going to let you out on the side of the patrol road inside the fence,” Peter says, looking between us. He weights his words carefully. “There should not be a patrol moving at the time that we go through,” he says, “but on the off chance that there is, whoever is in front needs to just freeze and wait, you understand?”

He looks around at us until we each nod. It takes Bao the longest but she does acknowledge, at least, that he’s speaking. “You,” he says, pointing to the guy from the cult, “your name is Marcus, right?”

“That’s right,” he says. He has a slow, deep, purposeful voice.

“You’re going to be in front. I don’t normally come in but I will be this time, I have some business to take care of inside. Me and Lily here,” he says, pointing to me, “will be in the rear. You two will be in the middle,” he says, and Rey and Bao nod, a little quicker this time.

“Once we’re inside, you’re going to be going in through a disused emergency exit that they haven’t sealed up because the Pit uses it to breathe. I’m not going to lie to you, it won’t be pleasant. It’s going to be tight, hot, smell horrendous, and it’ll be pitch-black, but it’s a one-way trip without any side branches, so just push through it and you will get through and out into the old Bronchial section. It’s been a long time since I’ve been there but all of my information says that any damage is fairly minimal and you should still be able to get through. Once you’re in, you’re on your own. If you want to come back out, take the same drainage pipe that we go in through and be careful not to cross the road right in front of a patrol. This area that we’re in, there aren’t any cameras, there’s no other detection, so as long as you look out for patrols, you’re fine. If you get caught, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. If you don’t tell them anything, the worst they can do is felony trespassing and a $500 fine. It isn’t great but it also isn’t the worst thing in the world. Understood so far?”

We all nod. My heart is beating quickly; I can hear it in my ears, a little thump reminding me that I’m really doing this, I’m really going to do it.

“Great,” Peter says. “Once you’re inside, the deeper you go the less likely it is that someone will catch you. Flip side is, the deeper you go, the more likely it is something will catch you. Anything with a sign that says ‘LVC’ or ‘Main Gullet,’ don’t go that way, you will get caught. I don’t know what you want to do down there or how long you want to do it for, doesn’t matter to me, but try not to get caught. And one more thing,” he says, looking very seriously at all of us. “Do not, under any circumstances, try to go in or out any other way than the one we’re going to take. That means do not go down to the main orifice. That is the most watched area in the entire facility and it is completely open. I know that this way isn’t great but it’s safe, easy, and it is unobserved. Everybody good?”

Once again we all nod, but I wonder whether or not Rey and Bao have really absorbed the information. Rey keeps watching things moving around in the shadows and Bao’s eyes are unfocused and glassy, and her head rocks lightly to the beat of something none of the rest of us can hear.

Peter gives instructions on how to get to the entrance, which I can now identify as being the same way as he and Makado got out during the disaster, the same breathing orifice that they’d pushed their way through four years ago.

Something about the…the enormity of it, of the thing beneath us and ahead of us and surrounding us, is getting to me. I can feel my skin prickling and a flash of heat passes over me suddenly and I nearly gasp but I contain myself. It wouldn’t do to have a panic attack right now, I tell myself, and I slowly, gradually, get myself back under control. I can feel my hands shaking at my sides and I shove them deep into my pockets. I want a cigarette.

There is finally, it seems, nothing left to talk about, no more instructions or warnings Peter can give us. He nods to himself, going over some kind of mental checklist, and then shrugs. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later I’m already laughing at myself for getting so worked up over something so banal. Yeah, the other day when I followed Peter it had seemed like very serious business but here, actually making the trip myself, I can’t help but feel like it’s very small potatoes. It’s just a fence, I say to myself as we walk up to it, and then that turns into it’s just a waste drainage pipe, one that I have to shimmy through on my belly, grimacing as dust and grime gets on my nice coat, but it can’t be helped.

Peter’s behind me and Bao is ahead of me; Peter is staring at my ass, I’m sure, but then I realize that it’s pitch black in here so maybe I can give my ego a break and not assume it’s all about me. I keep having to prop myself up on my hands and knees to readjust the camcorder and make sure I’m not smashing it to bits on the hard floor of the pipe, but eventually we make it through and then we’re standing on an identical bit of hard, scrubby earth, except now we’re on the other side of the fence. As I watch, Bao, Rey, and Marcus all take off along the path, crossing it quickly and dropping down into the ditch below, and then they are just dark silhouettes making their way beneath the sharp half-moon. I get out my camcorder and flip it on and start filming them; the night-vision is really not that effective but it’s way better than just filming in the dark.

Peter clambers to his feet next to me and dusts himself off. “Well,” he says after a moment, “there they go.”

“They really don’t get caught?”

“Not usually. The ones who’re there to, you know, die to it, they go as deep as they can as quick as they can, far as I understand it, and the people with the cult tend to stay in the upper areas. There’s not very many personnel in the Pit right now so the odds of running into somebody is slim.”

I point ahead of us. “Can we go sit on that ridge? I want to get some shots of the Pit itself.”

“Sure. If a patrol comes we’ll have to duck down but it should be alright.”

We make our way across the road and down onto the ridge. I find a little flat section for us to sit on and then I pick out the three dark blobs making their way carefully up the hill. I whistle softly. “That’s the easiest way up there?”

“It is,” he says. “It doesn’t look like it but there’s a clear path, you just have to be careful of your footing.”

The figure in front stops for a moment. I can’t tell from this distance but I think it might be Bao. She stops and turns and looks across the great downward sloping crater of the Pit, and I pan the camcorder around and take a shot of it as well. I frown at the image. “That isn’t flesh down there, is it?”

“No,” Peter says. “They filled it all in with concrete. Do you see that little dark spot over there?”

I look where he’s pointing. “Yes.”

“That’s the orifice. They don’t keep it dilated as wide as they did during the park days, and the elevator is way smaller, too. There’s a little command center down in the gullet but it’s like, maybe a quarter of the size of the LVC. They’re all about minimizing impact now.”

Bao seems to be rocking unsteadily back and forth there on the trail and I turn the camera to record her. “So what happened to Makado?” I ask.

“I told you, she got out fine.”

“You know I don’t believe that.”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe it, it’s the truth.”

“Alright, can you introduce me to her, then? I’d like to meet her, or at least have a phone call.”

Peter laughs. “I really don’t think you’d want that.”

“Why not?”

He makes a little grunting noise. “I think you’d find that she –“

“Holy shit!” I blurt. Peter jumps next to me, looks around wildly.

“What is it?”

I’ve already gotten to my feet. “Bao just fucking ran back down the trail and someone else lost their balance and fell off,” I tell him, pointing at the dark object bouncing down the cliff face towards the white concrete below. Whoever it is they’re flopping like a rag doll, and I wince with each impact. “Jesus Christ,” I say, pointlessly. Next to me, Peter curses.

“Stay here,” he tells me before hustling off into the darkness. It looks as though he’s heading for Bao; I can barely see her but it looks as though she’s collapsed against a large boulder maybe a hundred yards away at the base of the hill, her shoulders shaking.

Well, Bao’s fine. I guess. She must have lost her nerve. I turn around, peer through the screen of the camcorder. Whoever she pushed, either Marcus or Rey, he’s reached the bottom by now and slumped into a huddled pile at the bottom of the crater. I can see one limb extended out limply like an exclamation point. I look back at Bao; Peter’s reached her and is hunched down next to her, trying to get her to move. She’s hugging her legs to her chest and I can see her shaking her head frantically. Did she do it on purpose? I didn’t see the whole thing but it looked like she just panicked.

When I turn back to Rey I can see him moving, trying to get up. “Oh fuck,” I say. He pushes himself up on his hands and then his arm gives out and he falls and lays there. I can just barely see, through the camcorder, his chest rising and falling. “Goddam it,” I say to myself, and then I fold up the camcorder and stuff it back into my jacket pocket, and then I get up and start to carefully pick my way down the heavy rocky incline of the crater lip.

* * *

I’m scared. I’m not ashamed to admit it, I’m terrified. I’m scared that someone is going to see me, is going to see whoever it is at the bottom, Rey or Marcus, and roll up with the black helicopters and take me wherever the Men in Black take you. It’s an insane, worthless fear but I still feel it. About half of me wants to bolt and run, scurry my way back into that drainage pipe and out and never look back, but I look at the lump ahead of me, hardly even seeming to be a person, no matter how beat up, and I see him again trying to rise and again falling and then I’m down there with him, my ankle aching from where I stepped wrong and very slightly rolled it, and I get down on my knees next to him. “Hey,” I say, “I’m here, it’s okay.”

He’s muttering in anguished Spanish to himself and I have to repeat myself a few times before he cracks his eyes open, his face dirty, blood from a cut above his eyebrow seeping down and stinging at his eye. He says something to me in Spanish and I trot out the little I know. “No entiendo,” I say, “Uh. Habla ingles?”

“Yeah,” he coughs. “You’re – Lily?”

“My name is Roan actually. Are you okay? Can you stand?”

“Rowan?”

“Roan. Like the horse. My parents were hippies.”

He looks at me like I’m speaking Greek and I might as well be. I put my hand out. “Can you stand?” I ask again, and he takes it. I help him pull himself up but his leg buckles beneath him and he lets out a cry of pain that echoes in the deserted Pit, bouncing off the soft white concrete expanse.

“I think I broke it,” he says. “Oh god.”

He’s staring around again, wilder than before. I look around in spite of myself but as I knew there would be there’s nothing there. I reach into my pocket and click the voice recorder on.

“What do you see?” I ask him.

“You don’t see them?”

“No, I can’t,” I shake my head. “What are they?”

That gets his attention and he tears his eyes from whatever vision he can see cavorting around us. He looks at me closely. “You don’t…you don’t see them?”

“No.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding disappointed. He tries to rise again but I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” I tell him. “Your leg must be broken, we can’t –“

“I’m so close,” he says. His eyes are wild now, and fixed on me. Before I can take a step back he’s thrown his weight towards me awkwardly and grabbed my arm. His hands are sweaty. “You have to help me.”

“Put your arm around me,” I tell him, crouching down. He’s heavy enough that I don’t know whether I’ll really be able to help much, but if I get on the same side as his hurt leg I can at least make sure he doesn’t have to put weight on it. The hard part will be getting up again –

Rey cries out again and I wince. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “This is going to be rough but we have to get you up.”

“No,” he says, leaning on me. His face is pale now, his mouth tight and drawn with the effort.

“No?” I ask. “Come on, we need to leave like right now –“

“No,” he repeats, one shaking finger extended out ahead of us. He’s pointing to the tall gantry of the elevator down into the Pit. “We have to go there,” he says. “I have to –“

“Absolutely not,” I tell him. “We have to go –“

But he is starting forward towards the gantry and I curse and walk with him, because if I don’t he’ll fall, he’ll cry out again, he’ll fucking crawl on his hands and knees over to the goddam gantry, I can see it in his eyes, I know he will without even wondering how I know, and even though the lurching pace we set is clearly causing him pain, he urges me forward without any regard for his leg, hanging uselessly at his side, the foot jostling along the concrete every now and then and making him groan, a low deep animal noise that makes me feel as though I’m going to be sick.

We make it about halfway before a deep, rumbling alarm starts somewhere and ratchets up to a screech and all the lights click on and turn the night to day. All the strength seems to leave my body; I almost collapse. “Oh fuck,” I say.

“Come on,” he says. I glare at him; I’m sweating, the tight grip he has around my shoulders is starting to hurt, and he isn’t exactly slim. It’s taking all of my effort to keep him upright and walking and I am so close to just dropping him. I give him a dirty look and try to summon up my willpower, every single ounce of meanness and cruelty in my body and just twist out of his grasp and let him fall, but I can’t do it.

“Goddam it, Rey,” I tell him. “It’s a fucking elevator, they won’t let you on, there aren’t going to be stairs you can go down.”

“Come on,” he says again. The closer we get to the orifice the deader his voice gets. He keeps looking over his shoulder but there isn’t anything there, at least not yet; a pair of headlights are cresting the ridge and I can see people piling out of what looks like a Humvee but they aren’t anywhere close to us yet.

I reflect, briefly, on how useless this venture is; we probably could have gotten away if Rey hadn’t insisted on coming down here to peer down an empty elevator shaft. And if I hadn’t had such a damn big heart I could have gotten away, at least. Felony trespassing; well, I have the money for the fine, at least, but that’s got to be at least a year in federal prison, nothing to sneeze at. Maybe they have special accommodations for sick people? At the very least once I tell all of the prison lesbians what’s wrong with me they’ll –

“YOU TWO DOWN ON THE EXCLUSION PLATE!” a tremendous voice yells down at us through a megaphone. I nearly jump out of my skin but somehow manage to keep ahold of Rey. “STOP WHERE YOU ARE OR WE WILL SHOOT!”

I stop but Rey keeps going. “Rey, stop,” I tell him, but he doesn’t pay any attention to me. We’ve gotten far enough now that the end is in sight, the gantry is maybe twenty or thirty feet ahead of us and the yawning hole in the concrete is visible, but I can’t see inside it, not from this angle. “Rey!” I yell, but he pushes me back and I stumble to my knees. Rey breaks into a shambling run, or tries to anyway, but his leg simply is too hurt for him to put any weight on it. He nearly falls but he catches himself and bounces back up.

The first gunshot is unbelievably loud, even though it seems to come from a mile away. I hear it crack and I scream and fall down to my knees, my shoulders cringing together without any conscious effort on my part. I can see a spray of concrete splinters rising at Rey’s feet like shrapnel, and I realize the shot missed. He’s nearly there. I don’t know what he wants to achieve. I throw my jacket off and wrestle with the pocket, pull out the camcorder as quickly as I can force my shaking hands to operate, and snap it open so quickly I nearly break it. I start filming just in time to see the third, fourth, and fifth bullets bury themselves in him, two in his shoulder and one in his thigh. I cry out again but Rey is utterly silent. He’s down on his hands and knees but he tries to rise, and then another bullet catches him, this time in the back of the head, and he is down for good, and I realize that I’m crying, even while I’m trying very hard to keep the camcorder steady to get the shot of Rey’s supine body, one hand extending forward, reaching for the edge of the orifice, just ten feet away from him, a shocking red spray of arterial blood staining the concrete ahead of him like a punctuation.

Then two pairs of hands catch me under the shoulders and haul me to my feet and someone takes away my camcorder and they shove my head into a hood and then I can’t see. They force my hands together behind my back and handcuff me and I want to say something witty, quip something vaguely salacious like ‘easy boys, get to know me first before you get out the handcuffs’ but I can’t make my voice work the way it ought to and I’m still crying and shaking and I realize as they half carry half drag me to some kind of vehicle and fold me into it that I’ve wet myself, and any sort of bravery I might have been able to muster disintegrates into a painful, sharp-edged mass of shame and fear and embarrassment and a feeling not unlike I’m falling, like what I thought was just a rabbit hole has turned into a bottomless pit.

Continue with Part 11

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#writing #mystery flesh pit #mystery #michael crichton #disaster #thriller #spilled ink #original writing #series

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