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yuri-is-online · 1 year ago

Note

ooohh 500 already?? it feels like the 300 special was just a few weeks ago ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧ can i get prompt 6 with ace and deuce together?? hehe congrats again, more milestones to come!! (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

6. Crowley has decided to put together a murder mystery for the whole ball and you've been the first one "killed." Whoever is playing detective seems really upset about that.

So I was uncertain if by together you meant Aduece + Yuu or Ace + Yuu and Deuce + Yuu. As it stands, I had an idea for Aduece + Yuu and requests for Ace and Deuce separately, so this post will contain Aduece + Yuu. I'm confused just writing that, but I hope it makes sense. If this is not what you wanted, you are more than welcome to make a second request. There is no time limit on that.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, what's worse than one angry guard dog? Two angry guard dogs! Or is it two and a half if you count Grim I guess. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Aduece

"And our first victim for tonight will be the prefect! I would have expected them to be the last victim how very odd." Crowley almost sounds sympathetic and you almost sound interested, you even let out a little "oh no" almost relived whoever was playing the murderer had decided to give you such a nice excuse to sit the next rounds of what you are certain is going to turn into a massive dick measuring contest. Grim does not share your gracious nature.

"This is bullshit!" He thrashes around in your embrace making grabby paws at the gathered crowd as if he is really going to make Mr. X regret killing you. "Just my hench human's name got pulled, why's that mean I gotta go?!"

"Aww, Grimmy, it's ok, we all know you'd be next." Ace laughs but there's a strange strain to it. He's run his fingers nervously through his hair several times now, and now that you've noticed he tries a more familiar smile, dropping his hand to tap his thigh instead. "Don't wait up for us, ok? Juice and I aren't going home anytime soon." You roll your eyes at the joke before giving both your friends a quick hug.

"For luck." You say with a quick wink before shuffling yourself and Grim up to the balcony soothing him with promises of food that you're sure will still be up there.

As soon as you are gone all pretense between the two drops as they both look at the identical cards they had been bickering over just a few moments earlier.

"I still think we should tell the headmage." Is what Deuce says, but he's missing his usual determination Ace finds so cute and yet so annoying every time he suggests the three of you cut class. "When he was explaining the rules he clearly said that there was only supposed to be one ca-"

"Then he can just deal with looking stupid." Snaps Ace. "It's not like he ever does anything else. Look can't you hear what they're saying about Yuu?" It's a low blow, they both can hear the snickering of the usual suspects, but Deuce grinds his teeth particularly sharply to find so many new people joining in. "They think it's funny." Ace says, voice dropping low and deathly serious with what he tells himself is just the intention to rile Deuce up. They both look up at the gallery, Yuu looks.... happy. Content with their lot as if they never expected any other outcome. It's beautiful, that carefree smile that turns into a pure beam once they notice the two of them looking up at them, and there is something breathtaking about knowing only the two of them can bring it out.

That seals it. Lovely as it is, the sight is wrong. You should be down here between the two of them laughing at the loosers who thought they were good at hiding themselves among the masses. Surprisingly, it's Deuce who takes the lead, turning away from Yuu and placing a firm hand on Ace's shoulder to convince him to do the same.

"It's probably one of the guys from one of the other classes." Class 1A wasn't completely loyal to each other, this was NRC after all, but all of them like the three of you. And they all knew better than to do anything to you when Ace and Deuce had you sat snugly between them like you had been all night. "If I had to make a guess, it's probably one of the guys from Leona's class."

"What makes you think it's an upper classmen?" Whispers Ace, shaking himself together and yanking Deuce back to the center of the ballroom to get a better look at the crowd.

"They wouldn't be afraid of us. And any Savanaclaw students in Leona's class would have a bone to pick with Yuu after that whole incident with Azul." It's surprisingly solid reasoning from Deuce, real proof he could probably hack it as a Magic Marshal, and Ace makes sure to take note so he can tease him about it later. But he's not entirely sold on it being pure skill that's gotten Deuce this far.

Seriously Ace thought beastmen were supposed to be good at hunting.

"Hey there, buddy." Ace throws an elbow into the Savanaclaw extra's side (partially to throw him off by annoying him but mostly to keep Deuce from jumping him immediately). "Having fun tonight? I'd have thought a big guy like you would find this whole thing boring."

"What's a fresh punk like you know about that?" His snort would be low and intimidating if Deuce wasn't so angry. "It's always the weakest links that get picked off first, I don't have to worry about shit till later."

"Oh you mean like Epel?" The upperclassman stiffens at Deuce's question, line of sight snapping away from their oblivious friend and back to the now maniacly grinning freshman who has decided to forcefully elbow his other side. Ace gives a laugh that would make Floyd proud as Deuce continues. "Cause I know you wouldn't be planning on him being your next victim, unless you really are as dumb as you look."

"What the hell are you!"

"Oi headmage!" Yells Ace, making sure to flourish the detective card in a way he very smugly thinks only he could. "We got your guy, bag him and tag a better one in next time, yeah?"

A general groan comes up from the crowd with how quickly the game is over, with Crowley quickly agreeing to another round as you once again find yourself sandwiched between your bickering friends.

"Oh come on there's no way the headmage intended for you to be the detective." Ace huffs, head firmly rested on your lap so he can glare up at Deuce resting on your shoulder. "I'm the one always taking care of you two, clearly it was intended for me."

"I'm the one who caught the killer though." A kinder version of that manic grin is firmly fixed to Deuce's face as you sigh and check the time on your phone wondering if they'll get in trouble with Riddle if they stay up here with you longer.

"Boys Boys, you're both pretty." That shuts them up, but maybe not for the reason you think. "But won't you lose your heads if you stay here much longer?"

"Eh I'm sure Riddle will understand." Ace smiles and though Deuce sputters in hesitation he makes now move to leave. "Besides, if he does not, we'll just bunk with you tonight."

"You're worth the trouble." Says Deuce, with a bit more force than usual and you sigh.

"Honestly, I should be saying that to the two of you." And though it should be said with a bit more meaning, instead you say it with a laugh.

A laugh that's quickly returned.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #500 followers celebration #adeuceyuu

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 11 months ago

Text

Best and worst of both worlds (part 35)

Tw: not that i know of for now, short chapter its basically just fluff between Yves and you

Part 36

You woke up to hushed whispers. You deduced that it was between your nurse and someone else.

Your arm moving up to rub your eyes silenced them. Soon after, a shadow loomed over you. The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Only when your bleary eyes opened did he say something.

"Hello, my beloved (name)."

Yves's ethereal countenance appeared before you. His raven black hair received a refreshed blowout, looking healthier, shinier, silkier and bouncier than ever. He was donning an adoring smile while he had his arms stretched out, his nails weren't painted crimson, but it was neutral pink with ivory french tips.

You blinked multiple times before shooting up to give him a big squeeze. You buried your head in his hair, greedily taking in his scent that now smelled of lavender. Not overpoweringly so, but undeniably pleasant and comforting.

"Oh, how I missed you..." He murmured in your neck before giving it a light kiss. His almond nails carded your hair, sending tingles down your spine.

Yves is gentle. So gentle. His touch is nothing like that monster's, it felt... purifying, cleansing and safe. You know that you will never cry out of pain and agony from his love.

But you're shedding tears onto his expensive, cashmere blouse. Sobs were muffled by his shoulder as you pour your gratitude out through your eyes. You're happy that he's back, you missed him too.

Your fingers gripped onto him tightly, causing temporary wrinkles and twists. Yves didn't mind, all he did was hold you tighter and soothingly rubbed your back.

Yves lets a stray tear slip out of his eye and no more. It landed onto your hospital gown and left a small stain that spread for a bit. He's elated to kiss you, to smell you, to hold you again.

You kept shuffling deeper and deeper into him as if you were trying to merge flesh. Yves understands that you're subconsciously trying to hide from the world, his heart skipped a beat when he realized that your brain sees him as a safe haven to do so. That is why, he wasn't bothered in the slightest that you were suffocating him. He can handle it, he needs you not to worry.

However, he had to pull away momentarily when your crying wasn't showing signs of stopping or slowing down. He held your puffy, blubbering face in both of his soft hands. You're now hiccuping and hyperventilating due to overwhelm.

"(Name), that's enough now. I will not be leaving anytime soon." He wiped the tears away from your eyes with his thumb. "You will suffer from a headache if you cry too much."

His tranquility wasn't enough to stop you from bawling, you gripped onto his sleeve tightly. Yves scoots a bit closer and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

He cupped your right eye, blinding it while he left your other one uncovered. You were caught off guard by this strange move, your heart rate slowed and you eventually breathed normally without tears dripping down your chin. There were a few sniffles here and there, but the warmth of his palm onto your eyelid miraculously calmed you down immediately.

He released his hands from your head and went ahead to retrieve a packet of facial tissues from his brand new opulent handbag. It's of course, black in colour. But it has a different structure, gold accents and material.

You looked at him quizzingly, wondering what he just did to hack your brain. All Yves did was smile and praised you.

"Well done, my love." He lovingly dried your face with the tissue. You had no idea what he was praising you for, but you're not complaining because it made you feel fluttery inside.

You noticed the nurse has given you and him privacy, allowing you to be as shameless with him.

You basked in his rapid shower of kisses, enjoying the unconditional attention and affection while he covered you in his rouge lipstick prints. You closed your eyes and smiled as he did all the work, your body slightly rocking back and forth for every kiss he gave.

In the end, Yves had to forcefully restrain himself from giving more. He wouldn't want history repeating itself again. However, his anxieties were quelled when he saw that you were glowing in contentment once he's done.

"M-my apologies, dear. Y-you look..." He tried to contain it, but he laughed gleefully in the end. You looked absolutely adorable with thirty-two pairs of lip prints on you. Yves couldn't even complete his original sentence, he could only pull you into another hug and nuzzle his nose into your hair.

He lets out an extremely hushed, almost inaudible squeal before pressing one last kiss on the crown of your head.

You let yourself jellify in his arms, taking in all the love, affection and attention that you've been owed for the past five days.

"I brought you souvenirs." He mumbled lowly on your head.

You waited for him to present it to you.

"...But I want to hold you for longer. Will you please grant me the pleasure?"

You said yes. To which he replied with another kiss on the temple.

"Thank you, (name)."

Yves slipped his feet out of his black heels before laying on the bed with you, tucking himself under your blanket and trapping you with him. He was careful not to affect your leg cast and bandages.

You snuggle into his chest as he envelopes you in his warmth, creating a bubble of protection. You felt safe, secured and most importantly, at peace.

His unyielding embrace reminded you that there is someone that you could always retreat to in times of need. And that is Yves.

"I love you."

He whispered before resting his chin on the top of your head. He ran his nimble fingers through your hair.

You grinned and relaxed into him, feeling unburdened with the events that happened over the past week.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #oc yves #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc Montgomery #oc evangeline

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captain-mj · 2 years ago

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can we have graves giving random trinkets to price like some sort of stray cat as like his love language and price is like "??? what do i do with this" and he doesn't know what to do until someone points it out that maybe, just maybe, that graves likes giving people he likes little items

This is such a fun idea!

~~~~

Price sat with the majority of his team after a mission, all of them drinking. He noticed Graves slip something in his pocket but he waited a minute before seeing what it was. A small coin, probably from the country they had just come back from, sat in his hands. It had been cleaned and shined slightly.

Odd. He couldn’t exactly use it now. He slipped it back in his pocket and didn’t comment on it.

The next gift was a couple weeks later after another mission. This one was set on his desk. It was a flower. Also from the country they just came from. It looked like it had been pressed, dried and very fragile to the touch.

“I found it while doing recon.”

Price nodded. “And you kept it?”

“Yes.” Graves nodded before leaving. He didn’t make any other comment on it, so neither did Price. The flower was kept in the drawer with the coin.

Graves gave him a bullet casing. He had stared at him for a while before moving on. Then a cigar holder. And most recently, a ring that was way too small.

Price had stared at that one a while. It didn’t fit any of his fingers and was clearly from someone Graves had shot in the last 24 hours. Any blood that might’ve been on it had been wiped away. Slim gold band, probably from a woman from the looks of it.

Price didn’t get it. None of the things particularly made sense. None of them could be useful at this time so they just stayed in his drawer at his desk. Sometimes, he looked at the flower, a bit worried it would break into pieces.

He held ring in his hand while with Ghost and Gaz. Soap was going to be joining them for a card game later but he was getting whiskey first.

“What’s that captain?” Gaz shuffled the cards.

“Uh... a ring?”

Ghost quickly looked at him. “Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of proposing.”

“Jesus Christ, Simon. No. Graves gave it to me and it definitely wasn’t a proposal.”

“Oh. Cute gift.” Gaz looked at it.

“Yeah, he keeps giving me random stuff. I don’t get it.” Price put it down, noticing they were both looking at him before they looked at each other.

“John. I know you’re not this dense.” Simon laughed, stealing a puff of Price’s cigar that he had sat down.

“What?”

“He never gives us little gifts.” Gaz pointed out, trying to coax him into the right direction.

Price was lost. In his defense, it was less being dense and more denial. Graves giving him gifts was strange enough. Giving him gifts as some sort of courting thing was even stranger.

“Alright. Let’s say you guys are right. What should I do?”

“Give him a gift back.”

“Like what?” Price looked between them. “A ring feels like too much.”

“A book? He keeps staring at mine. Might be worth a shot.” Ghost hummed. “I think he mentioned being a horror fan.”

Price nodded. “Alright. I’ll try.”

The perfect item ended up falling in his lap. They raided a building belonging to Makarov’s men and one of the guys was a horror fan. Under his bed, there was a book.

“Scary stories to tell in the dark”

It looked old, a few of the pages dog eared, but it looked cool.

Price went back for it after everything had been cleared. He hid it under his gear until they were safely back at base. The pages had gotten the slightest bit of blood on them but he thought it added to the charm.

Graves stood next to him, handing him a dog tag with a bullet through it. Price gave him the book.

Graves stiffened as he looked at it before slowly opening it up.

“Used to love these stories as a kid. My older cousin read them. She went all out for all of them...” He didn’t look up, just going through the pages quietly.

“Might have to borrow it some time.”

“It’s more for kids.” Graves blushed. “But anytime John.”

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #Phillip graves #John Price #Captain John Price #Price x Graves #Graves x Price

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vatofsulfuricacid · 5 months ago

Text

SENORITA - (G)I-DLE

CHAPTER 1.

“No. Our casino doesn’t allow that, Miss.”

Tags: SONADOW, fluff, sfw, gambling au (sonic is the gambler shadow is the dealer but theyre playing blackjack so they kinda play against eachother), amy is there! Not for long tho, implied angst A/N: trade with @houdinicalvini, HE MADE ART FOR MY SHITTY SONADOW FIC WHO CHEERED!! i fully allow criticism, including MEAN criticism, under my stuff. but be specific don't just say "sucked shit" like WHY did it suck shit specifically.

“Are you serious…?” Amy tried to appear unaffected. “I can’t surrender? You gluttons won’t be fine with half my bet?”

“No.” Shadow eyed her with indifference.

Amy slammed her hands against the table, everything on the table rattling as she stormed off.

Shadow rolled his eyes before turning to Sonic, who was waiting to sit down. “She’s not normally like that. She’s… pretty good, too.” He returned his eyes to the deck before resting his chin on his hands.

“It’s alright.” Sonic sat down in the now-vacant chair, holding his briefcase on his shoulder. He then pulled his bills out and handed them to Shadow, smiling.

“I wanna buy in for 1,000.”

A look of shock fell across Shadow’s face. “Are you… an experienced gambler?”

“That’s one way to look at it!” Sonic smiled.

“I legally have to kick you out if you’re drunk.”

“I’m as sober as you are.” Sonic leaned into the table, grinning and mimicking Shadow’s pose. Shadow didn’t match the grin, looking suspicious of Sonic’s antics.

“What’s your name?” His eyes narrowed.

“Can I buy in or not?” Sonic interrupted, crossing his arms on the table.

Shadow’s eyes narrowed in annoyance before he took the money, passing over a hefty stack of chips. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Sonic took the chips, still smiling as he replied. “You won’t have to know it anytime soon.”

Shadow chuckled under his breath. He leaned back in his chair, unconsciously mirroring Sonic’s position. “What’s your bet?”

“All of them.”

Shadow’s eyes widened. “All of them?”

“Yes.”

“I—Fine. It’s your money. I’ll match your bet.”

Sonic’s childish grin grew as he pushed his chips into the center of the table.

Shadow shuffled the cards, eyes still fervently locked on Sonic. “This is called a dovetail shuffle.”

To his surprise, Sonic didn’t reply, deciding rather to keep smiling as he shuffled the cards.

“The Jokers are already gone. I removed them last round.” Shadow pushed a card towards Sonic facedown, and took himself one from the stack. He then repeated the process, giving another to Sonic and one to himself.

“Hmm… what a tough one!” Sonic proclaimed, eyes panning over Shadow’s cards. 4 of Hearts, and one facedown. Sonic, having an 8 of Spades and 9 of Hearts, had 17 points total. Sonic tapped the game table, indicating that he wanted another card.

Shadow bit the inside of his mouth, forking over another card from the deck to Sonic.

4 of Hearts. 21 exactly. Sonic’s grin grew as he leaned into the table again. “Alright, your turn.”

Shadow, not saying a word, flipped over his last card. 9 of hearts. 13 points total.

“You know, 13’s an unlucky number!” Sonic replied, taking the chips for himself. “You wanna play again? I love this game.”

A look flashed upon Shadow’s face.

“No. Not with you.” Shadow slammed his cards against the table, using the other hand to fix his quills.

“What, afraid you’ll lose? You seem terrified right now. It’s all in good fun.”

“Not with you.”

#sonadow #fluff #gambling tw #gambling cw #cw gambling #tw gambling #tw smoking #sfw fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #light angst

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urmother17 · 5 months ago

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make me ~ c.sturniolo

a/n: ‘slut me out’ by nle choppa. FAVE SONG. also should i make a threesome smut story with the triplets? (matt x reader x chris)?? NO FUCKING USE OF Y/N!! also question, should i post once every two days? or would you like a post everyday? if everyday i will try and get them posted :) i will post them at 3:30 pst and 6:30 est, yes you guys cum fast and a lot in this but idk i got kinda lazy 😭 also i cannot spell for the life of me

warnings: oral (fem!receiving), p in v, SMUT, different positions (backshots, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, ) - hair pulling, slight choking, titty play, titty sucking, twt p links, squirting!!

wording colors: pink: you, purple: nick, orange:chris, blue: matt

dom!chris x sub!reader

me and the triplets have been bestfriends forever, but christ has chris been looking a little TOOO FINE lately, any eye contact, physical touch by chris gives me butterflies.

literally anytime i see him i want him to fuck me so bad.

im hanging out with all of them right now, we’re all watching a movie but i get bored cuz its a boring ass movie ‘baby boy’.

“you guys wanna play a game?”

“what game?”

“how about one of those funny horny games”

i giggle

“fuck yeah”

“im down, nick?”

“im going to sleep, yall have fun i guess”

i smile,

“goodnightttt”

nick flashes a smile before walking upstairs to his room, we play ‘let’s get naked’ chris picked the game.

“nooooo, im not playing that, you guys can but im not goodnight”

me and chris look at each other and laugh

“good night”

me and chris both say in unison

chris grabs the cards and shuffles them up then puts them faced down in the center of the table.

“go ahead you first”

“fine”

i grab a card, and it reads ‘remove one clothing item, your choice’ i smile and take off my shirt. why leave it boring when you can have fun?

chris chuckles slightly, he picks up a card and it reads ‘take off pants’ chris stands up and drops his pants, i can see his dick threw his boxers he has width to him. damn.

we continue playing the game until i am about fully naked, the only thing not off me is my underwear. chris took his boxers off, and i was right he’s huge.

“have you seen my bra?”

“no”

chris said that with a cheeky grin, i knew he was lying. i stand up and i walk over to him.

“please chris give it to me”

chris chuckles

“make me”

i lean over him my boobs slightly dangling in his face. he’s leaning back and if i lean any further i am most likely going to fall onto him, embarrassing.

chris stands up and his hight compared to mine, well let’s just say it’s not fair.

“chris! please”

chris chuckles

“you have to get it”

i jump up to grab it from his hand which is reaching in the air, and that’s when chris drops my bra and throws me onto the couch, chris then climbs ontop of me

“what are you doing”

“i have to teach you lesson for teasing me ma”

chris then starts kissing up on my neck, my breath hitches and the feeling of him nibbling and sucking on my neck. i let out a soft moan just at the feeling.

i can feel chris smirk against my skin he slowly kisses down to my shoulder then to my breasts, he shoves one titty into his mouth and sucking on it while massaging the other one giving the same attention to both.

he then kisses down your stomach and he moves to your inner thighs kissing all the way up to your pantie line. there’s a literally puddle in your panties

“your so wet ma”

“chris please”

chris smirks and slides my panties off revealing my arousel covered pussy. chris kisses my clit causing me to moan out, chris reaches up and covers my mouth muffling my moans. he sucks on my clit then dives right on into eating me the fuck out. the way he’s eating me out causes me to squirm. chris then takes two fingers and plunge them in and out of your wet walls.

“chris! f-fuck im close”

“cum for me ma”

at chris’s words the knot in my stomach snaps, chris’s hand still muffling my moans, my back arching off the couch and my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

chris pulls his digits out of me and licks my juices off with a smile.

“mm you taste so good ma”

chris flips me over onto my stomach and pulls me up onto my knees and my front half getting holding up by my elbows.

he pounds into me, im a moaning mess into his hand, he starts yanking my hair and pulling it, its painful but the pleasure he’s giving me takes over and makes me moan more.

“chris- not gonna last long”

“cum ma”

his words once again, causing the knot in my stomach to snap once again. my back arches down and once again my eyes roll to the back of my head, i start seeing stars.

chris pulls out. and i drop onto the couch

“you don’t think we’re done do you?”

i look at him confused.

“oh ma your riding me frontwards and backwards.”

he smiles and i just look defeated.

chris sits back onto the couch, and i stand up and straddle his lap. i guide his still semi-hard cock to my entrance, i slowly sink into his cock and moan i start bouncing up nd down chris’s hand’s instinctly move to my ass massaging it. i dig my face into the crook of his neck moaning into it.

chris groans at the feeling of your walls clenching tightly around him letting him know of your inpending orgasm.

“cum”

at that the knot in my stomach snaps once again. cumming all over his cock for the second time. third time cumming in the night.

chris then picks you off him and turns you around.

he then places me onto his hard cock but im backwards and can’t look at him, again i start bouncing hard and fast causing chris to groan slightly.

“fuck chris- gonna c-cum!”

“fuck yeah ma, do it”

the knot in my stomach snaps, i cum and squirt all over chris and his cock.

chris pounds into me one more time and then he busts his hot seed deep in me.

•¥•

p links

#Spotify

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ajwrites52 · 1 year ago

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BATOBER 2023 DAY 2-TORN

“He’s ready for you sir.” said the Arkham Guard as Commissioner Gordon stood before him. Jim took a deep breath and entered the interrogation room to meet with his person of interest.

OCTOBER 31st 11:30 PM

DING!

There it was, the sound of the silver coin as it flew through the air before landing in his right hand. Jim just grimaced as he saw Harvey sitting at the table with his face hidden in shadows, nothing visible but his unmarked hand and the silver coin flipping around in the air.

“Happy Halloween Jimbo.” Harvey caught the coin during its last toss in the air. He then placed it on the back of his scarred left hand and looked at Jim with his two different colored eyes. “Heads or Tails?”

“I’m not gonna answer that Harv, we both know that the house always wins.” Jim takes a seat across from Harvey/Two-Face and places a deck of cards from his pocket and shuffles them.

Harvey chuckles at Jim’s response as he relaxes in the chair, “So… where’s the big man?

Jim deals his hand and smirks as he deals Harvey’s hand before starting the game.

“He’s running a bit late, friend. But by my estimate…”

CREAK!

“Sorry I’m late.” Batman emerged from the door, the two men took notes of the scarring on his suit and that part of his cape was still on fire. Jim dealt Batman his hand, as the caped Crusader took his seat. “Who’s dealing?”

DING!!

“You know the rules Bats, heads or tails?” Two-Face caught the coin and held his fist outwards towards the two men.

“Heads, Harvey.” Two-Face chuckled as he opened his palm to show the unmarked side of his trademark coin.

“Fine. It was Jimbo’s turn anway, now then… who got you roughed up batboy?”

“Firefly. Was trying to blow up Gotham with a series of exploding Jack-O-Lanterns. Hit me.” Gordon slides Batman a card, Harvey speaks up after rubbing his chin.

“Hm. Lynns could be tried on acts of domestic terrorism with that. But it would never stick, not if he pleads insanity like the last time.”

“That was a different degree of crime, last time we booked him on nothing but arson charges.”

“So he escalated, going after bigger fish I guess.”

DING!

“You can’t miss any fish if you blow up the whole pond I guess. Hit me with another card, Jimbo.”

Jim did just that as they continued their game of Blackjack for the rest of the night.

NOVEMBER 1st 1:00 AM

“Alright gentlemen. Warden says Two-Face is to be returned to his cell, pronto.” announced the guard over the speaker. Inside of the room, Two-Face grumbled as he tossed his cards down onto the table before standing up and stretching.

“Dammit all. One more card and I would’ve won that last game.” He cursed. Batman and Gordon followed his lead and began to gather the cards and the three headed in opposite directions of each other. “Till next year you two.”

“And… Thank you guys for doing this. It means a lot to have a simple night to ourselves.”

“Anytime Harv. Just make sure you stay on the straight and narrow, maybe next time we can have game night in my kitchen.” Two-Face laughed at the notion before turning to the stern cowl of Batman.

“Listen. Firefly is a pyromaniac who loves building bombs, but it does seem suspicious that he set them all up to detonate in those specific areas of Gotham.”

“I was thinking the same thing, all four of the main bombs were located in areas approved for renovation by the Wayne Foundation. Someone told him to target those places, maybe I’ll give Garfield a visit before heading home. What do you think?”

DING!

“Hrrm. The coin says yes, have fun, Bats.”

The doors lock behind them as they begin to walk down the hall and back to the entrance of Arkham Asylum, Jim waited till they were outside to light a cigarette. Batman didn’t stop him, it was the one night a year where they would all indulge in a little vice to cope with the pain.

“You ever wonder what life would’ve been like, if Harvey never did what he did? Or if we didn’t choose these lives we live?”

“Every year Jim. Every year. I find it’s best not to get torn up about it.”

THE END

#fanfiction #batober #batman #comics #short story #batober2023 #two face #creative writing #dc superheroes #dc comics

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grumpygirlblog · 3 months ago

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A Story About A Criminal (I have more to share if you like)

If I Were Hanged On The Highest Hill, O Mother O’ Mine

My sister babbles as she straddles her new wooden horse. Stroking its mane, she releases small hiccup noises that hardly resemble “neigh.” I admire her gentle love, so innocent and undisrupted. My mom is laughing from the couch. Her arms wrap her legs as she tilts her head in awe. My mother had saved portions from her last few checks to gift my youngest sibling, Emmy, an F.H. Ayres. This is the newest rocking horse model; any child would be lucky to call one their own. They come with glass eyes that sparkle in the light like real animals. Their manes are authentic horse hair falling silky smooth down the neck. Both my mother and I provide for the family. It is just me, her, and Emmy. Someone married my mother and had her children, but he doesn't exist in the realm of family. I scoop my sister up from under her arms and swing her around the room. Kissing her on the head, I place her down, say goodbye to my mother, and head to work.

I sit upon a cotton cloud, resting on nothing but open air. My mother sits beside me, knitting a shawl. My nails catch the metallic strings that hum remnants of the notes I sing.

“If I were hanged on the highest hill,

Mother o’ mine, O Mother o’ mine!”

We sing. Tum—tang—tum tum—tang. I pluck the strings of my wooden guitar.

“I know whose love would follow me still,

Mother o’ mine, O Mother o’ mine!”

She swings her chin from side to side. The empty breeze pulls hair in front of her brown eyes. My brown eyes watch hers.

“If I were drowned in the deepest sea,

Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!

I know whose tears would come down to me,

Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!”

I finish wiping grease from each table's surface and place my name tag in its box on the counter. I should be paid more for this. Many days, I attempt to approach my boss to have a conversation about pay. A wrinkly hand shoos me away before any words can escape my mouth. I would tell him about my mother and sister and how much I wish to provide for them if I could.

Alby sits in his usual spot behind the bar in a small room. Busy shelves hug the walls around him as he shuffles through paperwork, his face scrunched. I decide he is too moody to ask for anything now.

“See you tomorrow, Alby.”

He doesn’t respond.

I grab my coat and walk out the door.

Tonight, I will be spontaneous. I deserve a break. Besides, Mom and Emmy won’t need me anytime soon. It is far too late. They are fast asleep in their beds, dreaming of skies, mountains, and adventures we have yet to go on. I walk straight for three blocks and then right for two. I glance up and see a hanging sign lit by a dull lamp. Excitement leaks from the cracked stable door. The wood is warped, revealing layers of rotten bark and mildew. I enter the building.

Another gust of wind brings mist up and around my mother and me. Swirls of clouds encapsulate us like shells. We are the pearls. But my mother seems to be growing thin. She starts to pray. I fear she may disappear. She looks at me with weariness on her face. I begin to play.

“If I were damned of body and soul,

I know whose prayers would make me whole,

Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!”

Soon, the cotton cloud turns grey, and my mother, growing so thin, fades into the dark. I am left here with the strings of my guitar that no longer sing my song. They buzz and flap and try to scream, but the thick walls that surround us absorb their sound.

Men surround pool tables and bar tops. Balls fly and clack together, soundtracking the gentle hum of conversation. I glide past each person like I am made of cellophane. Another door is at the back of the shadowy room. I walk through, and the chatter, clacking, and clinking of glass transition into soft trumpet melodies. Five men are sitting around a table playing a card game. I’ve never played cards, so I don’t know which one it was. I am interested, though. I watch their thick fingers feather and slap the cards together.

A big man with a beard and bald head summons me. As I walk towards the table, I fish in my pocket for cash. My clammy fingers find my tips from tonight's shift. I pull the twenty-six dollars out and hold them up. The men cackle. Their energy riles like a pack of hungry dogs.

“That won’t be enough for you tonight, kiddo.”

The same bald man says through a wheeze. I am summoned to the table.

“Sam Cardinella. I’ll help you out tonight.”

He shakes my hand.

“How can I repay you — I don’t have —”

“It’s on me.”

I place my newfound money on the table. Sam deals me in.

#literature #prose #short story #fiction #crime

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a-cloud-for-dreams · 2 years ago

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a sweet mistake

Summary: While getting a special breakfast with Jack, Aaliyah and Hotch get mistaken as a couple

TW: subpar writing? jk self love y'all

A/N: I know I literally just posted an Aaliyah and Spencer draft but shush I can write her with multiple people 😭 this is before she dates Spence anyways it's all good

"You should try something different, you must be bored of having coffee every day," Aaliyah comments as she looks at the menu while in line. She makes sure to glance back at Jack every few moments, who was on her phone playing a plane simulator game.

"No, I don't see that happening anytime soon," Aaron replies, pulling out his wallet. "Thank you for letting him play with your phone, by the way."

"Hotch, it's fine. What kind of Godmother would I be if I wouldn't trust my Godson with one of the most important devices I own?" she chuckles. "And it's not every day he gets a three-day weekend."

He smiles. "I suppose you're right."

"I always am," she says with a smirk. They shuffle closer to the front of the line, their arms brushing each other every so often. Eventually, she sees him pull out a credit card and sighs, "Are you ever going to let me pay for anything, Hotch?"

"Not in this lifetime."

Aaliyah ignored the fluttery feeling that brewed in her chest. She reasoned with herself; it wasn't love, just a deep admiration for someone who happened to be her boss. Wow, she really needed to set higher standards for herself. "Ever the gentleman, Aaron."

"I try my best," he hides his smile, checking his wristwatch. "We should drop Jack off with Jessica before-"

"Daddy!" Jack runs back to the two of them, who reached the front of the line, and politely asks, "Can I have a cake pop too?"

"Didn't I just help you make three trays worth for your bake sale, Jack?" she crosses her arms and interrogates jokingly.

"I..." his voice trails off, somewhat disappointed. "It's okay."

She looks at Hotch and he nods immediately. "Do you have a flavor you want?" Jack lights up again and points to one of the menu boards lit up above the counter.

"Birthday cake, solid choice firecracker!" Aaliyah gives him a high-five while Aaron finishes the rest of the order. He runs back to a table he saved for the three of them, leaving the two agents alone again.

"Your son's adorable," the barista says. "He definitely gets that from both of you, I just can't explain it."

Aaron, for what seemed like the first time in his entire life, looked flustered. Wait, no. It was more like embarrassed, and curious perhaps, as to how his co-worker would respond. Or as to how anyone would see the two of them together and think they were in a romantic relationship. But from an outside observer, it looked like his mind either went completely blank or was in intense thought.

Luckily, Aaliyah did the hard work for him. "That's really sweet of you..."

He's not my son.

"Um...we're not married."

She could see his pupils dilate ever so slightly, prompting her to continue. "But people always think we are. I told him I don't need a ring though, we're happy with our relationship without an official label, wouldn't you agree darling?" The more she spoke, the more confident she became, practically acting out her lies. The barista chuckled sheepishly.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. It wasn't my business to-" she started.

"Don't be, it was a harmless mistake," Aaron attempted to comfort her. The poor woman looked like she just saw a ghost. He accepted the receipt from her and walked towards the table. Aaliyah could barely hold in her laughter.

"It was a harmless mistake?" she chuckled. "Hotch she thought we were married."

"I'm..." he tried to choose his next words carefully while helping the three get settled into one of the cafe booths. "I'm sorry if my reaction made you feel uncomfortable, I wasn't expecting her to say that."

"Aw, and I thought you were an expert profiler sir," she elbows his shoulder gently. "I hope you're better at interrogating criminals or the BAU is in huge trouble."

"Not to worry, Dr. Hadid. I'm sure you will always be at my side to rectify my mistakes," he teases.

She pulled a curl behind her ear. "You can count always count on me. And I mean always." She pauses before continuing. "I'm sorry too, for the dramatics. I got carried away."

That was the last thing on his mind. The words the barista said ran through his mind over and over, and he didn't feel anything but pride. He couldn't exactly explain the feeling, it was almost like the two of them being associated with each other was completely natural. He makes eye contact with her once again, making sure she understood his words.

"You know what, I'm not uncomfortable at all."

#i'm so bad at writing romance i'm sorry 😭 anyways #aaron hotchner x female!oc #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaliyah hadid oc #hotchliyah 📚#jack hotchner

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everythingisromant1c · 2 years ago

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Spilled Secrets

johnny cade x fem!reader

summary: Everyone can't help but notice the signs--Johnny's been blushing more often than usual. He's more quiet around y/n than he usually is. Plus, the boys are clearly hiding something. All signs point to ... no, they couldn't. They can't, right?

type - one shot

word count [4.2k]

tags: Johnny Cade x female!reader, friends to lovers, achingly cute Johnny, shyness, poorly kept secrets and an accidental love confession. (no specific mention of appearance, race, etc.)

warnings: some swearing, outdated views on women, mentions of death, implied mention of sex

add. - i wrote this a couple months ago + it was originally posted on my ao3 and i haven’t proofread it since so just a heads up but enjoy my first one shot! :)

"If you could make one wish, what would it be?" The thought popped into my mind randomly, spurring up another height in the conversation between the whole gang. We're all lying around the Curtis living room like we usually do during those nights when we've got nowhere better to be. And for once, Dally isn't off somewhere with some girl or snatching stuff from some corner store with Two-Bit. It's all eight of us here, sitting spread around the room, laying on couches or leaning against walls, even lying on the floor, but we make it work.

"Easy," Two-Bit replied, chugging down some pop and crushing the can. "I'd wish for a lifetime's supply of hot babes and any food I want, anytime I want it." He let out a loud belch to match his obvious response, and Soda chuckles like a young kid.

"Really, Two?" I reply. "You'd ask for girls and food?"

"Why not?" He shrugs with a grin. My hand goes to my face, and I hear Johnny let out a snort.

"That's fuckin' stupid, Two," interrupts Dallas, to the gang's surprise. "Why not just ask for unlimited money and seal the deal? The broads'll be chasing after you with no problem, and you don't even gotta worry about the food."

Two-Bit's face lights up at his response. "Ah, shoot, Dally. You're spot on!"

I find myself looking over at Johnny from where I stand, leaning against the wall. He's on the floor next to Two-Bit, by Dally's feet from where he's spread on the couch. He looks at me amusedly and shrugs. It's impossible to control Dallas Winston, especially when Two-Bit's involved, cheering him on like he does. Johnny knows this all too well.

I roll my eyes. "What a thoughtful response, Dal."

He winks and clicks his tongue in that cocky, Dallas way. "Thanks, hun."

Two-Bit snorts out laughter. "Fine then, shortcake," he begins with a grin and raised, expectant eyebrows. "What would you ask for then, Mother Mary?"

I glare at him and his ridiculously thick sideburns. "I don't know, but it wouldn't be a bunch of hot guys and a shit-load of money," I smirk. He guffaws. "Maybe," I start, "I'd ask for peace on Earth or something like that. Something to knock some sense into this stupid world."

"Ha!" He laughs out. "'Course, angel face here would pick world peace. What else's on your mind, Mary Sue?"

I send him a glare to leave him running.

"Calm down," he relents, "only joking." Yea, right.

"Well," I say, moving on. "What about you, Steve?"

He's sitting in the recliner Darry usually sits in, the oldest Curtis off behind the kitchen counter doing who knows what.

"Same thing as Two," he says, shuffling a deck of cards to play with Soda. "Broads and money sounds pretty sick to me. What else could you want?"

Ponyboy lets out a snort from where he sits, too, in between Dally and Soda on the couch. His nose has been ten feet deep in a book for most of our conversation.

"Alright," I start. "So you, Two-Bit, and Dally, all choose girls and money?" They all nod. "Okay... and me, I choose peace on Earth, a sensible wish, mind you-"

The gang of restless teen boys scoff and boo at me.

"Anyways," I stop them. "Would anyone else here wish for something different? Ponyboy?"

He looks up from his book again thoughtfully and shrugs after a moment, looking down at the pages of his book quietly.

"I, uh," he stutters. "I'd probably just wish for my mom and dad to come back, you know?"

The muttering of the rest of the gang comes to a steady silence, us having all heard him, even if he spoke softly. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis's deaths are still a fresh wound, even to the rest of us.

"Yea, me too," mutters Soda quietly, stopping his game of cards.

Darry comes over from the kitchen island and leans against the back of the couch, his two hands on Ponyboy's shoulders in support. "I would, too, kid."

No one speaks for a moment, but we all know how sensitive the subject is. It was stupid of me to ask something like that, anyway.

"Shoot, Pony," I say quietly. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright, y/n," he waves a hand. "Don't worry 'bout it." He looks up at me and nods assuringly, though it really should be me trying to comfort him.

"If it makes it any better," starts Two-Bit, "I'd wish for them to come back too, now that I think of it."

Ponyboy smiles, slightly. "Even over your hot babes?"

Two-Bit scratches his red-haired head with a laugh. "'Course, Pony. Even over my hot babes."

Ponyboy laughs, and Soda grins, and with his brilliant, movie star smile, things brighten up instantly.

"Hey," Two-Bit begins with that hint of mischief underlying his tone. "We all know what Johnny here would wish for, ain't that right, Johnnyboy?" He nudges him with his elbow a little bit, smirking at him like he knows something real funny. Johnny stiffens, piquing my interest.

"Huh," I butt in. "And what'd that be?"

"Nothing!" interjects Johnny, quickly. He realizes his loud tone and flushes pink. "It's, it's uh, nothin'."

The rest of the gang starts snickering like they know something good, too. Even Ponyboy's hiding a smile in the pages of his book and looking on with interest.

"Really?" I ask, not believing Johnny's hasty reply. "You wouldn't wish for anything, Johnny?" Two-Bit looks at him expectantly entertained.

"Sure I would," he gulps. "I'd, uh, I'd wish for a ton of money, like, um, like Dally." Two-Bit claps loudly with booming laughter.

"Pfft! Come on! We all know what you really want." He chuckles at me. "Well, maybe not all of us."

"What are you on about, Two?" I question.

"I'm sayin'," he gestures, "what he really wants is for- hEy!"

Johnny hurriedly shoves his hand in front of Two-Bit's mouth, making his voice come out all muffled as Two-Bit struggles out of his surprisingly firm grip. They're wriggling all over the floor like seaweed in the ocean, acting ridiculous, per usual.

"Ay! Knock it off you two!" Orders Darry from behind the couch, snapping at them like the responsible guardian he is. Two-Bit's reaction to Johnny trampling him is more amused than anything. He pushes the rather thin boy off of him with an easy shove, and both of their hair is messed up by the time they're back in their spots. Johnny's glaring up a storm at him from under his raven bangs.

"Alright, alright, sorry kid," Two-Bit agrees, putting up his hands in surrender. His sly face really says how sorry he is. "It's you diggin' your our own grave then, Johnny."

Johnny's eyes widen to show the black pupils that remind me of puppy-dog eyes so much, and he looks down at his worn-in sneakers, before looking back up and catching my eye. I wanna kick myself for having been laughing, just a tad, at the whole thing. He's flushing like crazy.

"Sorry 'bout all of uh, all that, y/n," says Johnny. I bite back a giggle.

"It's alright, Johnny. Don't worry 'bout it."

It's silent for a second if you don't count Sodapop and Steve's snickering from behind their hands. Darry sighs.

"Alright guys, I think we've had enough for tonight. Let's head off to bed, yea?"

Dally rolls his eyes. "It's not even midnight yet, Curtis. Who are ya, an old lady?" The gang snickers, but Darry isn't having any of it.

"No, Dal, I'm a responsible older brother who wants all of your asses to wake up for school tomorrow without me having to drag you out of bed, that's who."

Dally scoffs and mumbles under his breath quietly while getting up from the couch, and we all relent and start to do the same. "Don't even go to school..." he mumbles.

"Me neither," replies Soda, annoyed. But whatever Dally says, it goes, at least in this house.

The rest of us gather up our stuff, mostly just crushed up cans of pop and candy rappers, cigs, and other stuff like that. I let out a hand to Johnny to where he sits on the ground still. He doesn't notice at first, but when he does, he gives me a small smile and grabs it, hoisting himself up.

"Thanks," he says quietly. I nod in response with a sweet smile.

"Hey," Steve says, breaking through the noise of rustling, tired feet. "How're we supposed to fit everyone? We only got two rooms."

Soda shrugs. "Don't know. We'll make it work, 'always do."

Darry walks around to the hall and opens the closet, pulling out a couple of thick blankets and pillows. "We share, that's how." He nods to the pile. "Take 'em.'

We make a move for the pile, and he continues.

"Soda and Pony can sleep on the couch here, right guys?" He looks over at them and they shoot him a thumbs up. "Good. I can sleep on the recliner here, Two and Steve can get the main bedroom and sort out who's goin' on the floor, Dally and Johnny can figure out some space in the smaller room, and..." he looks around at the rest of us, or, as it really is, just me.

"Well, I'm not really sure how you wanna go about this, y/n, so, uh, it's up to you."

Ah yes, the awkward times when being the only girl gets in the way of me doing normal stuff with the guys. The boys look at me like I'm some two-headed alien, and Two-Bit starts chuckling, perfectly in character.

'I'm sure Johnny wouldn't mind lettin' y/n over here crawl into bed with him, right?" He nudges Johnny's arm, and his ears go red.

"Well, I, uh..."

"Don't be silly," I cut in. "I can just sleep over here on the floor, it's no problem." Johnny shakes his head quickly.

"No, y/n. You don't gotta sleep on the floor, you're just a girl."

I raise my eyebrows at him, and he hesitates. "... What I... what I mean is, we can figure out another way, can't we?"

"Hm, like what?"

"Well," he begins, playing with his fingers. "I could always just sleep at my own place, if it really is-"

"No," most of us cut in. Dallas shoves his shoulder.

"Don't be dumb, Johnny." Dally's tone is softer than it usually is, and I'd be surprised if he was talking to anyone other than Johnny, who he's always had a soft spot for.

"Yea, Johnny," I respond. "Don't be ridiculous. You're sleeping here."

He furrows his eyebrows. "Well," he starts, "then you're not sleeping on the floor."

I don't miss the look Soda and Two-Bit pass to each other from behind Johnny. I huff.

"There's no other way, alright? It's fine-"

"No y/n, you-"

"Shut up, the both of you, will ya?" Asks Dally. He takes the last cigarette of the night out of his mouth, and I have the urge to cough. Smoking's never been my thing.

"I can sleep on the floor out here, and you two can sleep together alone in the room."

Johnny blinks at him, and I spot the hint of a smirk creeping upon Dally's features. "There, problem solved."

The blinking continues, along with a wolf whistle or two from Two-Bit and co.

'N-no, you don't gotta do that, really," urges Johnny. Dallas isn't listening to any of it. He pats him on the back.

"Don't worry, Johnnykins," he winks. "It's my pleasure."

Two-Bit snorts, and then the hollering starts, with more whistles and hoots and whoops, and other animal-like noises coming from everyone else. Darry sighs.

"Alright you guys, that's enough of torturing Johnny and y/n. Time for bed."

Dally clicks his tongue. "Y'know what? I'm gonna go get some more cigs." He grabs his brown leather jacket and heads out the door before Darry can say much more. With a tip of his head, Dally fades into the night. So much for Darry trying to control Dallas. He snaps his head to the side.

"Nope-" Darry says, looking over at Soda who's walking towards the door too. "Get to bed, Soda. All of you!" He starts clapping his hands together like a school teacher.

"Yea, yea," Two-Bit says tiredly. Then he turns towards me and Johnny grins. "Don't have too much fun in there, alright?"

"Did ya hear what I said, Matthews?!" Darry starts pushing him out of the room and motions us towards the hallway.

"'Night, you two," he says to just the two of us, with something glimmering in his eyes.

I nod. "Night Darry."

Even when we all start heading off to bed, Two-Bit manages to get one last remark in.

"And don't forget to use protection!"

Johnny starts coughing from behind me, at that, breaking out into a choking fit in the middle of the hall. I try and pat his back a bit, but he's still coughing a bit.

"You alright?" I ask shakily. He almost looks green, standing on wobbly legs.

"I," he starts slowly. "I think I just need to use the bathroom for a sec."

He looks at me quickly, stretching the collar of his shirt away from his neck. I shake my head in understanding and move to help him to the bathroom, but he practically jumps.

"I'm, uh, I'm alright. Th-thanks y/n."

He blindly searches for the doorknob leading to the bathroom before wobbling in and shutting the door quickly behind him. Sighing, I turn around, and the guys are all staring and holding back laughs. I give them dirty looks, but they just won't stop.

"You leave him alone, alright!" I tell them. "I don't know what's wrong with of you guys tonight, but if that's what's making Johnny act so sick and all, then you should cut it out. Seriously, I mean, I've never seen Johnny like this before!"

Ponyboy just shrugs. "Well to be fair, you don't notice a couple a' things about Johnny."

I frown. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Soda elbows him in the ribs. "Nothin'," he says through a gritted-toothed smile. Pony recoils and rubs at his side.

"Yeah well, I've been getting a lot of 'nothin's' lately from the lot of you." I tap my foot. "Just tell me what you're hiding."

When I look at them expecting something, Ponyboy's eyes widen, Sodapop and Darry clear their throats, Steve's jaw slacks, and Two-Bit just starts plain chuckling.

"What ... what do ya mean?" Asks Soda. He rubs at the back of his neck.

"I ain't an idiot," I say. "So what aren't you guys telling me? Am I missing something? Did somethin' happen?"

Steve starts laughing and scoffing like I've said something ridiculous. "'Course not. Hell, what could we possibly be hiding?"

"I swear, Steve if you're lying to me right now I-"

"Geez y/n," cuts in Two-Bit. "You're actin' like we're keeping something crazy from you! What could we be hiding? Nothing! Exactly! It ain't ... it ain't like Johnny's in love with ya or anything..." Two-Bit yells, exasperatedly laughing, wiping at his forehead. The rest of the guys turn to him with pure panic in their eyes. Suddenly, everything clicks. I swallow.

"Johnny's ... Johnny's in love with me?"

Their eyes snap to mine in an instant. It's like everything that's gone on between me and Johnny for the past few months playback in my mind. All the blushing, all the teasing from the rest of the guys. How could I have not realized it?

"How couldn't I have caught on?" I ask, almost yelling. Soda takes a step closer to me with his hands out like he's approaching something dangerous. When his eyes snap to something behind me, the same time as the other boys, I don't even notice, at the moment.

"How could nobody tell me?" I grab my hair, a hand on my forehead. "How could nobody tell me that Johnny's been in love with me?!"

A creaking sound makes its way to my ears, and I finally realize what everyone turned around at so fast.

Johnny's standing in the doorway to the bathroom, his jean jacket, which I assume he'd been holding in his hand, laying on the floor next to him. He's staring at me like I've just killed Pony or something, jaw slacked and eyes wider than I've ever seen 'em before. We make eye contact, and my heart drops low into my chest.

He licks his lips, thinking of something to say.

"Y/n..." he says softly. I don't even know how to respond.

"Johnny..."

Two-Bit sucks in a breath from behind me, and that's when Johnny turns from me to him, glaring at him like he wants to smack him over the head.

"I'm real, real, sorry Johnny, I swear it was an accident, I-"

Two-Bit stops talking when he realizes his rambling's no use. He looks at me for a second, tipping an invisible hat, and scrambling towards the door.

"Good luck!" He shouts. And he's gone, out the door just like that.

The rest of the gang looks over at us too, and then at the door that Two-Bit left from just a second ago. Then they're running outside the house, too, a tangle of limbs trying to escape whatever mess just started in the Curtis living room.

"See ya!" Soda yells over his shoulder, saluting the two of us and jogging away. Steve shrugs and follows, Ponyboy smiles meekly at me and does the same, and Darry, last of all, snaps his fingers at us and leaves too.

Now, it's just me and Johnny. Great.

No love confession I see in the movies ever looks like this. On the big screen, everyone starts trying to kiss each other and usually, the girl even sheds some tears. Right now, though, Johnny can't even lift his head to look at me, and we're both too scared to say anything. Real romantic, if you ask me.

I let out a puff of air from my lips. Nothing breaks the heavy silence. Not until Johnny clears his throat and looks up at me, starting to say something, but it's like the words die on his lips. I take a breath in.

"Johnny I-"

"Y/n-"

We both start speaking at the same time. I stop, and so does he, and then we're both chuckling under our breaths. The laughter makes this a little bit easier.

"Y/n..." he starts again, taking a sudden interest in his shoes. "I know how crappy this looks right now, alright? Sorry if I embarrassed you in front of the guys-

"Johnny stop-," I try to interrupt, but he puts up a hand determinedly.

"No, y/n. Let me just say this, okay? You don't gotta say anything, y/n. I already know what you're thinking and it's okay if you just think of me as some kid brother but I... I really need to just get all this off my chest 'cause it's been killing me, okay?"

He looks at me, waiting for an answer. I nod, and he takes a breath in.

"Okay well um..."

He pauses, shoves his hands in his pockets, and then sighs outwardly at himself.

"I can't think of a good way to say this, so here it goes. Y/n, I've ... I really like you. Yea ... I really, really, like you. I like everything about you. Your smile, your hair, you..., yea, just, you. And um, well, I've probably went and screwed up everything between us and our relationship and all, not that we're in a relationship, you know, but uh ... yeah, I uhm... yeah. I really like you and I just can't hold it in anymore.

"The guys only caught on a few weeks ago and it's been killing me that I couldn't tell you, but I just wasn't ready. Hell, I'm not even ready now. I don't know what the hell I've been talkin' about to you for the past minute and, shit, I really love you for not making fun of me- uh... not that I love you. I don't love you, wait, yea I do. Wait! Stop it, golly, I'm so-"

He stops. Well, he stopped cause I kissed him on the cheek, completely out of character for me. But I couldn't help it. He was rambling ... a lot. A blushing mess and everything with his fiddling fingers, I just couldn't help it. Johnny, yes, Johnny Cade, is damn adorable.

I have to stand up on my toes just to reach his cheek, but, I find, I really don't mind it. His puppy dog eyes go into shock when I pull away, and I have the urge to just wrap my arms around him right then and there.

He touches the spot where I laid a kiss on his cheek and looks down at his fingers as if something would be there. Then he looks down at me, the corner of his lips quirking upwards. I shrink into myself a little.

"Sorry, um, I don't know what got into me."

He laughs, calmer than I've seen him all night, but then he tenses up again and chews on his bottom lip.

"... Y/n?" he asks me.

"Yea Johnny?"

He shifts from foot to foot. On an impulse, I take his hand in mine. Surprisingly, he seems to calm down from it. He clears his throat and continues.

"You, uh, you wanted Two-Bit to tell you what my one wish would be, right?"

I laugh a little. That seems like it happened over an hour ago when it's really only been a handful of minutes.

"Yea, I guess, but it don't matter that much Johnny, trust me it's-"

"No-, just ... can I show you?"

I'm a little surprised by that.

"Show me?"

Johnny stammers a tad.

"Uh ... yea."

Looking up into his eyes, I notice that our hands are lightly clasping each other's. His eyes are like a pool of black, like the night sky. No wonder he likes looking at the stars with Pony so much. I grin softly.

"Sure Johnny. I'd like that."

He sighs a bit in relief and looks down at our hands, and then back at me. Leaning in ever so slowly, it seems like time slows for a few seconds, as he's nearing me, and then he stops. Our faces are so close, I can feel the soft, raven locks of hair on his forehead brushing the top of my head.

I give his hand a squeeze in reassurance and close the distance for him, pulling him in by his collar with more confidence than I've ever felt before. With parted lips, both of ours meet.

They move in a soft dance, back and forth. The kiss with him is gentle and sweet, the kind of kiss you'd expect from Johnny, without the awkwardness of it all. After a few seconds, he's the one pulling me in, lightly putting his hands on my waist.

My hands tangle in his hair, and it feels like I could get lost in this moment forever. I almost do. I almost do, that is, until I hear a dreadingly familiar whooping and hollering from outside.

Jonny and I pull apart quickly, snapping our heads towards the window where, of course, the gang is all spread out, clapping and yelling with their hands to their mouths. They notice us looking, and yell even louder.

"Get some, Johnny!" comes the muffled voice of Two-Bit from outside the window. Having forgotten the fact that Johnny's supposed to be mad at him for spilling his secret, he's shooting overexcited thumbs-up at him.

Sodapop winks my way. "Atta girl," he says with a smirk. Now, I'm the blushing mess, a pile of mush in Johnny's arms. He's blushing madly too, like always, but this time, I have the pleasure of knowing why. Boy, this is a weird feeling.

The rest of the gang keeps clapping and cheering, and even Pony's laughing at me during some of the fun. He's always had a soft spot for making me embarrassed at times like these. This time, though, as I'm staring up at Johnny and his adorably bashful face, I don't think I mind.

A slam comes from the backdoor, shocking me and Johnny out of our momentary trances. And, perfectly on time, here comes Dallas Winston.

"Got the cigs," he nods curtly. When he sees how close Jonny and I are standing, he stops in his tracks.

"Woah..." he says. Then he notices the screeching laughter of the gang out front and the embarrassingly noticeable reenactment of me and Johnny's kiss that Two-Bit seems to be doing on the lawn.

His head snaps to us, quicker than I've ever seen it. Concerned, Dally?

He rubs his slack-jaw with his hand.

"What the hell did I miss?"

#the outsiders #johnny cade #one shot #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade x y/n #ralph macchio #johnny cade imagine #johnny cade fanfic #johnny cade x you #johnny cade x female reader #elixroflove

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superhero--imagines · 2 years ago

Note

I see your taking requests and I would love an angsty Percy Jackson x reader... Maybe unrequited feeling from either end... 🥺

I just love some angst 😅

And if you'd rather do Xavier x Wednesday

I would love to see him asking to paint Wednesday for portrait and her saying no, but is able to convincer her with help with edin

Oh honey, if you want pjo angst you can just read my waking up in pjo series lololol. I’m putting that on the back burner though

But that second one though? With (Y/N) instead of Wednesday? That SLAPS.

“Like this?” You ask, settling on the edge of a chair.

Xavier peaks from behind his canvas, hands already expertly blending in paints to make all the variations in your skin tone. “Yeah, but get comfortable, you’re going to be sitting like that for a few hours.” Immediately you shuffle until your back hits the chair.

“Thanks for doing this, by the way—you’re really saving me here.” You nod. Truthfully you figured Xavier would be the first one done with the art assignment, art was literally his reason for being born. But you suppose something as mundane as a simple portrait assignment might not be exciting enough for Mr. Tortured Artist.

“I figured you would ask Wednesday to do this first.” Despite his obvious fondness for your favorite apathetic peer, she also has that thing where she doesn’t really blink…or move?

“She told me to go to hell.”

“That sounds like her.” He snorts a laugh in response.

You watch as Xavier dabs pain across the canvas. A knee curls against your chest, your clasped hand and head balanced on top of it.

“What about Enid?” You can’t see her denying his request, and they are pretty close.

“Making out with Ajax.”

“Makes sense.”

You’re a second from asking him about Bianca, but restrain yourself at the last minute. Maybe it’s still too soon. Instead you say:

“Just two single teenagers doing homework on a Saturday night.” You say it with all the care you might give telling someone the temperature or what time it is. You’re taken aback when you meet Xavier’s eyes, a mischevious glimmer in them.

“What if I told you I was trying to change that?” His mouth quirks into a heavy smirk, and your eyebrows shoot up.

“I would say that maybe Wednesday had the right idea after all.”

He laughs in response.

You don’t see it until much later. It’s not until you’re walking back to class from the bathroom when you see it from the corner of your eye. A glimmer. Eyebrows thread together as you walk into a room full of canvas’ splattered with muted sepia, black, and brown—at the center of it all is you.

You’re on that scuffed chair, one leg curled against your chest and the other straight. Your hair falls in your eyes a bit, but your eyes twinkle. You’re giving the observer a half smile — a Mona Lisa smile — like you know a secret they don’t, and you’re not going to tell anytime soon. Underneath is a small white card with: “Go to Hell” by Xavier Thorpe and a double digit number on it.

You raise an eyebrow. It’s almost as good as the candids Yoko takes.

“At least he got an A.”

A/N: kinda wanna make this a series ngl

#xavier thorpe x reader #Xavier Thorpe #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thrope fluff #wednesday imagine #Xavier Thorpe imagine #pjo kinda #superhero—imagines

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blueathens · 3 years ago

Text

Your Secret Admirer

Summary: “I’ll get on my knees soon for Y/n,” he quickly answers, ending the video as he lets out another moan at the feeling of Y/n taking him all the way into her mouth. Her nails ran up his thighs, digging in to make her marking.

Song: Bed by J.Holiday Quote: “I’ll marry her any given day.”

TW: Smut - Not proofread

Requested by @bdemase

Masterlist//Main Masterlist//Agape Masterlist

“How’s your gorgeous girlfriend?” Mason read with a boyish grin, sitting up on the sofa and widening his legs as he sat. He pulled his hat off in doing so and ever so slowly the grin turned into a side smirk. He knew who it was from due to it being signed off with a little note of ‘your secret admirer.’ It was an inside joke that was formed on their first date and every valentines they would gift each other two valentines cards, but one would come with the mail along with flowers and it be signed by ‘your admirer.’

“She’s alright yeah.” Mason smiled, cheeks tinting a colour of bubble gum pink as he began to talk about her. His eyes glowed with an ounce of softness as he looked away from the camera as the shyness took over. He groaned slightly, throwing his head back as he looked at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face. “She’s perfect.” He whispered, as if he was telling the gods above him a quiet thank you for giving him the best person he has ever known.

The next video the pink in his cheeks remanded as he answered another one from a fan and then quickly moved onto answer another one from ‘your secret admirer.’

“You planning to propose to your wonderful girlfriend anytime soon?” He read out and he couldn’t stop the smile that made it’s way onto his face whilst reading it. “Would I want her with me forever is the real question.” He teased. “I’m going to have to think on that one as she said I would only answer the boring questions due to my ‘golden boy’ image.” He used air speech over those two words, almost mocking it. He didn’t know how that title came or if he really was one, but everyone called him that and he just grew to being used to it…except the mocking his girlfriend gave him.

His eyes re-read the question again, still smiling as he thought about their future together. “Yeah,” he says breathlessly, “I’ll marry her any given day.”

He was midway answering a fans question when he noticed Y/n walking into the living room, tying her hair into a ponytail as she shoots him a small smile. He once again automatically smiled as he tried to focus on answering the question.

The focus quickly went as his eyes darted back to her when he saw her kneeling down in between his legs. He quickly finished answering the question and stopped the video. “What are you doing?”

“You look nice,” she says as she rubs her hands up his thighs and back down and as stupid as it sounded Mason felt his dick twitch in his shorts. It felt pathetic of what this girl can do to him but truly he was just stupidly lovesick for her that a simple of touches can make him feel like he’s about to see a thousand stars. “Despite you answering the boring questions.” She mutters as she sits higher on her knees, fingers skimming the waistband of his shorts as she watched him shudder at her touch. “Such a golden boy,” she says, “why not answer the question from your secret admirer?”

“Which one,” he breaths shuffling in his seat.

With her hands she pulls herself up, lips brushing against his jaw as she made her way up, whispering questions ‘your secret admirer’ asked. “I want to fuck you,” she mutters against his jaw, teeth grazing it and her the simplest brush of her lips tingled at the feeling of his stubble. “Want to hear you’re pretty sounds as I fuck you,” he groans as she bites and pulls at his earlobe, “such pretty sounds.”

“And one we would all like to know: arse or tits?” she kisses his mouth, tugging at his hair before sitting back down on her knees, fingers jamming along the inside of his thigh as she awaited for his answer. “Be a good boy and tell me or I won’t give you a prize.”

He didn’t know how much harder he can get.

“M-mouth,” he stutters out, knowing exactly where all this be leading.

She was the one who broke the rules whilst he tried to keep up with them.

She wasn’t going to allow him keep to the rules now though.

“Good boy,” her right hand goes up to his bulge, palming him through the material and Mason moaned at the undying feeling he awaited for. “Now be my good boy and continue with your Q&A,” she whispers, pulling his shorts and underwear down as Mason nodded, Adams Apple bobbing as he clicked onto another question, recording himself to answer and to act natural.

Can I cut your hair please?

Her hand ran down up and down it a few times before grabbing a hold of it and licked the vein at the side. Through her lashes she watched Mason look down at his phone, shaking his head with a slight squeezed smirk to the side – but truthfully it felt like something he was given her rather than answering the fan’s question.

The moment the video stopped playing she spat on his cock, watching in admiration as it twitched and her spit running down it. Mason was busy answering another question and she looked up when she heard a crack in his voice, smirking at the power she had, they made very brief eye contact and she shook her head. He swallowed and continued looking over his phone quickly to see her pressing her finger against her lips to tell him to remain silent.

He ended the video just on time for a gasp to fall from his lips as he felt her take him into her mouth, his head falling back for a different reason – no longer out of shyness but out of pure pleasure. “Baby I-”

She stopped and he nearly whimpered at the lost of contact. “Don’t leave your fans waiting, not the way you did earlier.”

He nodded and quickly got the next question ready noticing it was from the woman kneeling in front of him again.

“I-I better see you on one knee soon with a ring then,” he clears his throat, but he begins to hum loudly when he hears Y/n whisper very quietly.

“Yet I’m the one on my knees making you see an entire future rather than you doing it to me.”

He laughs and shakes his head to play it off cool with the fans. “See? I told you that song was stuck in my head. Just can’t stop humming.”

“Or making pretty sounds.”

“I’ll get on my knees soon for Y/n,” he quickly answers, ending the video as he lets out another moan at the feeling of Y/n taking him all the way into her mouth. Her nails ran up his thighs, digging in to make her marking. Her other hand massaged his balls, she knew that he would let himself go soon, but she wouldn’t let him until the Q&A was finished.

“Answer your fans,” she mumbles as she pulls him out from her mouth, flicking her tongue at the tip of his cock, before taking him all in again.

He did a few more and whenever he felt himself about to cum she would stop.

He reached the last question he was going to answer, and it was from ‘your secret admirer.’

“I love you,” he read, pointing the phone up to the ceiling as he cummed into her mouth. He brought the phone back down his phone and looked past his phone in watching Y/n crawl away to grab the pen from the coffee table. “I love you more.”

“Good boy,” she says, wiping her thumb across her mouth to collect anything he left behind and licking it clean with her tongue so she could taste him for longer.

He made one final video though, him thanking everyone for their questions as he calmed down from the mischievous events that happened under the camera. Y/n kneeled between his legs, biting her lips as she rested a hand on his thigh to keep it steady whilst her other hand wrote something on the top of his thigh.

He looked down at his thigh when he felt the tip of the pen no longer being pressed lightly to his thigh and there it read ‘your secret admirer.’

It was so pretty, and Mason wanted it on him forever, maybe on the inside of his finger, perhaps the going across the side of his ring finger – he needed it on him, and he knew after saying goodbye to the fans he be making a quick text to his friend for a new tattoo idea.

“Stay safe and up the Chels.”

General Taglist: @mountsmason @declansmount @mrschilly @itscominghome @footballmusic19 @in-my-body-bag @masonxmount99 @nooooojimmyprotested @1-800-benji-chilwell @gabzs-things @delmomentrry @blazingmount @imareallycoolperson

Mason Taglist: @benluvbot @weddingdisco @thiagos-silva

If you want to be added to general or for only certain footballers, then ask and say which one and you be added :)

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yutafrita · 2 years ago

Text

The Eternal Tragedy- CHAPTER TWO

Chapter ONE/ TWO/ THREE/ FOUR/ P/ B

⋆☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡°✩🪐°. ⋆ ･: ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡°✩⋆ ･:

DO YOU HAVE A COMRADE?

Pairing(s): Mafia!Yuta x Reader, Mafia!Sungchan x Reader Reader Pronouns: She/ Her Genre: Angst, Sci-Fi, Fantasy Chapter Word Count: 6.3K Warnings: Graphic violence, blood, alcohol use, references to catastrophic sci-fi events, references to sexual assault Masterlist

⋆☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡°✩🪐°. ⋆ ･: ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡°✩⋆ ･:

It started with flowers on your mirror at work. It was a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped neatly in a red tulle. Always with a note attached.

You had no idea why Sungchan would spend as much money as he was getting you sunflowers. They were impossible to grow on Mars and could only be farmed from Earth’s moon, making them obscenely expensive. You had never even touched real ones until the day after you first declined Sungchan’s offer.

Sunflowers had always reminded you of earth and the stories from the planet your grandfather would share with you. Anytime you studied old artworks from the period when humanity was on earth, you could almost always see the sunflowers there, calling to you.

But, how could Sungchan have guessed that these were the flowers you had always dreamed about? Tulips and roses had become just as rare a commodity as sunflowers, yet it was these that he chose.

Several days after declining Sungchan’s initial offer, you headed out to work. Opening your apartment door you saw Yuta perched outside. Annoyed, you quickly locked your door and pushed past him.

“Not even a ‘hello?’ Or a, ‘why are you here?’” he sniggered, quickly catching up and matching your pace out of your apartment complex and onto the street.

“How did you even get into my complex? You need a card to even enter,” you stopped to ask him, ignoring the toothpick jutting out from his teeth.

“I just followed someone in- your neighbors are very nice,” you wished you could punch that stupid smirk off his face. You huffed, tightened your grip on the backpack you took to work and started back down the block.

“You know, every bouquet of sunflowers costs about a half a million bucks,” Yuta continued, matching your pace easily. “Even dead, those things can go for a very pretty penny.”

“He can have them back,” you refused to have something as silly as flowers hanging over your head, no matter how much you actually did like seeing them.

Yuta shook his head, taking out his toothpick. “It’s just very bold of you to be carrying them so openly every night into your apartment.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You’re quite confrontational,” he mused. Yuta followed behind you into the alley, shaking hands with several of the vendors as he did so.

“I’ve already told Sungchan- I don’t want that job. And I don’t like you just… showing up at my home,” you hissed the last part, not wanting any of the alley patrons to hear you.

“Well, Sungchan is just concerned about your safety, and I’m no one if not a people pleaser,” Yuta kept his eyes on the alley, his eyes scanning the shuffle of vendors.

“Bullshit. He sent you to intimidate me.”

Yuta whistled, his tail wagging enough for you to see it. “You’re feisty- that’s going to get you into trouble.”

You were trying to develop a comeback before he walked away from you, whistling as he did so, tail swaying playfully. “Bastard,” you muttered.

Slipping past the security guard after you got your coffee, you were greeted by yet another bouquet at your station.

“He splurged this time,” Seulgi whistled at you. Irene was having Seulgi fasten her red corset, who nodded towards you as she tightened the fastens on her cat-clawed friend. Shotaro had themed the night Angels versus Devils. It was clearly one of Seulgi’s favorite nights judging by the fact that she temporarily dyed her bunny ears red.

Seulgi was right- he did splurge. The bouquet was a mix of yellow tulips and sunflowers, easily double the already exorbitant price he had spent on the previous ones. It was clear to you that he was ramping up the pleading. You tried to pay the bouquet no mind as you changed out from your street clothes into the outfit you had shoved into your backpack.

“Oh thank god I’m not the only one dressing as an angel tonight,” Goeun smiled as she saw you put the small white wings onto the back of your short white dress.

“Bor-ing,” Seulgi teased.

“I’m just reusing an old halloween costume,” you admitted.

“Maybe Sungchan will think it’s boring too,” Irene hummed.

Seulgi sighed. “I still don’t understand why you won’t just take that job.”

“Not everyone comes from a syndicate family, Seulgi. I mean- I’d take the job too, but she has every right not to,” Irene defended.

“A job’s a job,” Seulgi shrugged. You all got ready with minimal chatting before Shotaro entered, clipboard first with a small halo on his head.

“Good evening ladies!” he cheered. After you all took your assignments, you stepped out from the beaded curtain to head over to the bartop, a familiar figure speaking to the security guard outside of your dressing room.

“Pretend to be excited to see me again, at least,” Yuta teased, seeming to enjoy the irritated look on your face. Scrunching your nose slightly, you ignored him and maneuvered to the bar, noting that he was following closely behind you. You moved to take your place behind the bar to start setting up as the fox man sat in a stool in the corner of the bartop.

“We aren’t even open yet,” you snapped at him.

“I’m here under official business from the boss, so that doesn’t matter,” he took out the toothpick from between his lips and lifted it towards you. “Throw this out for me, angel?”

You frowned, “don’t call me that.”

He tapped the crown of his head, “I was referring to your costume, but I do like how much it bothers you.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching the toothpick from him and tossing it into the trash can without another thought. You continued to ignore Yuta, speaking openly with Goeun as you two continued to set up the bar.

“I’m really hoping these stupid costumes help with tips tonight,” you mindlessly admitted to her.

“Me too! I’ve had my eye on this vintage movie collection for a while so I’m hoping I can put a bid on it tomorrow.”

“Oh that’s so fun! I was just putting it in my savings,” you chuckled. You always knew that Goeun was the cooler of you two, but it was small admissions like this that reminded you of this fact.

“I don’t trust banks,” she muttered. Goeun wasn’t alone in this hesitation. After earth became uninhabitable and humanity spread itself across the solar system, the banks crashed and caused billions of people to be penniless. Nowadays, despite most banks claiming to be extremely secure, citizens of the solar system tend to rely on older methods of finance and saving. Your mother stuck to the method of hiding the family’s savings under the mattress, and after some trial and error in your college days, you found the water tank of the toilet to be the best method for you.

“Me neither. I’m just trying to save to buy a house.”

“Bor-ing,” she giggled, gently shoving your arm. Shortly thereafter, the club was open and in full swing- customers asking for their drinks and the two of you moving as quickly and efficiently as possible.

“Can you get me some soju, angel?” Yuta asked, setting his empty glass of whiskey on the counter.

You shook your head. “You know the policy is fifteen minutes minimum between drinks.”

“I made that policy.”

You paused your mixing, shooting the fox man a glare. “Does every member of the syndicate have a hand in this god damn club?” it was getting aggravating for you. Between Jisung being trained in different areas of the club, your boss, the owner, and now the person following you around all having such ties to the club and the syndicate, you were exhausted trying to keep up.

“I'm the head of security. How do you not know that?”

“I don’t ask questions,” you returned to making drinks for those at the bar, shooting smiles as you did.

“That makes for a great accountant,” he smirked. You ignored him, forcing your smile as you poured over the drinks and slid them down to the patrons. You rubbed your sweaty hands on the hem of your dress, looking back up to meet Yuta’s gaze. He lifted his glass again, wiggling his wrist as he did so. “It’s been fifteen minutes.”

You absentmindedly handed Yuta his bottle of soju, moving down the bartop to continue your job.

“How’s it going?” Goeun maintained her smile as she mixed her drinks.

“As good as it can be!” your smile was still noticeably forced. Shotaro rarely had you working as a bartender and usually preferred to have you as a waitress as evident by your normal shifts. However, he also wanted you to occasionally bartend and not get rusty, so, during the week he found it fun to throw you behind the bar with Goeun.

As the night passed and patrons started to slowly dwindle, you began to clean up the counter, collecting tips as you went. The feeling of the cash between your fingers and weighing on your small apron made an authentic smile appear across your lips. You continued clearing out glasses and waving goodbye to your patrons, all the while well aware of Yuta’s eyes following your every movement.

“So, if you aren’t following me around to just force me into this job,” you were topping off Yuta’s last drink for the night, “what is the reason?”

“I told you. Sungchan’s worried about your safety.”

“Hm, just as I thought. He’s a bad bullshitter,” you moved away from Yuta, keeping the smirk on your face as you imagined his dumbfounded expression.

“I told him he should just move on and find another accountant,” this caught your attention, and you swiveled around on the heel of your boot to study Yuta’s expression. “It’s obvious you don’t want to deal with the price of being a part of the syndicate, and I respect you, angel.”

You were quiet, the soft hum of the closing of the bar being the only sound between the two of you.

“You’re being serious,” it wasn’t a question, just an observation.

“Sungchan doesn’t take well to not getting what he wants. Guy like him doesn’t become the leader of a crime syndicate by taking no for an answer,” Yuta gently pushed the glass towards you. “I also haven’t seen him ever work so hard to appeal to someone's affections.”

This made you pause. “Affections?”

Yuta furrowed his eyebrows. “Affections. Duh.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “So it isn’t just about that stupid job?”

Yuta laughed, swiping under his eye before he replied, “he won’t admit it. I don’t think it’s about the job- although, it would be a plus to have that position filled.”

For the rest of the week, everytime you would step out of your apartment to work, you came to expect Yuta’s presence. Rather than lurking from a distance, he enjoyed annoying you into small talk. At the same time, whenever you would enter work, you came to expect some other object at your station.

With flowers, you found yourself accepting it mainly because of the fact that you knew they would die soon in the Mars atmosphere anyways. However, when Sungchan began leaving more permanent items as gifts- necklaces, handbags, and today, a laptop, you found yourself dumping them into Yuta’s arms on your way to your assigned place of work.

“For all he’s spending on gifts he could be paying someone else to do the damn job,” you hissed at Yuta.

“I told him the same thing,” he whistled, unphased as he handed the laptop off to another member of club security.

Yuta had taken to being in a corner of the room whenever you worked- far away enough that he wouldn’t breathe over your neck, but always close enough that you could feel his eyes on you no matter what.

It was still difficult to meet his gaze for a few reasons. One reason was simply because it bothered you that you had put up with Yuta following closely behind you at all times. The second reason was because you still weren’t used to observing beauty like his so closely. You may not like the fact that he was a syndicate member nor the fact that he wouldn’t leave you be, but you would be a liar if you couldn’t admit that he was one of if not the most attractive person you had ever seen.

It didn’t help how you’d sometimes find your mind wandering whenever you did look at Yuta. You wondered if his lips really were as soft as they looked. You wondered if his fingers were as nimble as they were whenever he played cards with other syndicate members. You wondered if he was as generous as a lover as he was whenever he’d tip you and the rest of the waitstaff.

Difficult, was becoming an understatement.

All the while, you hadn’t seen Sungchan since your first encounter with him, now nearly a month ago. Despite all the gifts he had thrown your way, the note on each of them was the same: I wait for your answer -J.S.

It bugged you more than Yuta following you around did. You already gave Sungchan your answer- but it wasn’t the answer Sungchan had wanted.

Before work one day, you were eating a small snack of dandelion cookies, scrolling through listings of houses on your laptop.

Condo on Mars!

HOME ON SATURN MOON.

Apartments for Rent on Jupiter's Moons.

You shuddered reading the ads for Jupiter and Saturn's moons. Jupiter, Saturn, and Neptune were the only planets in the solar system humans had not managed to properly colonize yet, but they have done a pretty solid job of colonizing their surrounding moons.

Begrudgingly, you shoved your costume for the night into your backpack and slipped out of the apartment. Like clockwork, you heard the sound of feet following behind you. You paused. These footsteps were different from the ones you had grown used to. Whipping your body around, your breathing halted.

“You look adorable,” Sungchan smiled, moving towards you with far too much familiarity. Instinctually, you stepped back. Sungchan stopped in his tracks, his eyes facing down at your feet.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more meek than you would have liked it to. Sungchan’s eyes moved up to meet yours and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as they did. He was undeniably handsome, but unlike Yuta, there was something lingering in the back of this young man’s eyes- something you noticed the first time but only truly felt now.

Sungchan straightened out his tie before he spoke. “I asked Yuta to make sure you were safe while I was away on business, but I’m back now. Don’t need to bother the head of security if I’m available.”

“I don’t need protection. I’ve worked at your bar for over two years just fine,” you huffed. Not waiting for Sungchan to formulate a response, you started down the steps and out onto the streets. You may not have seen him in a month, but you were able to stew in your anger the whole time.

“I didn’t know that you were there, though,” Sungchan had managed to catch up to you, walking side by side with you down the sidewalk. Upon seeing his accentors, people nearly threw themselves out of the way, and you caught the corner of his lip raise in a smirk.

“Whatever that means. Can you just… leave me alone? I already told you- I don’t want the job as the accountant,” you plead. A small, foolish part hoped that if you were direct enough, that Sungchan would understand and leave you alone.

“I would have left you alone a long time ago if I could,” he replied blankly, his eyes watching your expression closely. Foolish.

“Why do you keep talking to me like that?” you stopped outside of the alleyway, well aware of the gazes streaming through as they watched the head of the largest syndicate speaking openly to one of his waitresses while not on the clock. “Why are you so… ominous? And why are you talking like you have no pride? Or agency? My god… I thought you were the boss.”

“I am the head of the largest syndicate in the solar system, I have more agency than you could even dream of,” this seemed to have struck a nerve in the deer as he glared down at you.

“Then why can’t you leave me alone?”

Sungchan clenched his jaw before he ran his hand past his face and through the front of his hairline. “Just… consider my offer. I’ll see you tonight,” he brushed past you then, moving to enter the front of the Garden.

***

Shotaro had handed you an outfit to wear for the night, much to your dismay. He seemed to feel bad about it as he saw you open the box and pull out the ridiculous costume- well, ridiculous to you at least.

“This is a brand new skirt from Louis Vitriol. It was just in Paris-York Fashion week,” Irene admired the short plaid skirt, taking it from the box Shotaro handed to you.

“This is authentic Venus craftsmanship… These garters are hundreds of dollars each,” Seulgi added, her fingers tracing over the leather work. You shook your head, the heat rising to your face as you stared down at the note buried inside the box indicating who it was from.

“I’m not wearing this,” you felt your chest swell in anger. Shotaro rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from you as if he were ashamed.

“If you don’t wear it, I was told to send you away for the night.”

“Fine!”

“And then to fire you for walking off the job,” he muttered, his eyes darting away.

“You can’t do that,” Goeun spoke for you, her anger stifled by the silly schoolgirl outfit she had on. The theme was back to school, and while the outfit you had originally planned was skimpy, it paled in comparison to what Sungchan wanted you to wear.

“You’ll be working in the downstairs area tonight, so no one else will see you,” Shotaro added as if to comfort you.

“Who would see me, then?” you asked, knowing the answer. Shotaro was quiet as he took a step back, announcing everyone else's place for the night and getting them out of the dressing room.

“I’ll be right out here. Once you’re ready I’ll take you downstairs,” Shotaro leaned in closely then, “if he tries something you don’t like, book it out of there. I’ll make sure you keep your job.” There was a weight placed into your front pocket, and then, you were alone. The outfit Sungchan had forced you into left little to the imagination, but tucked into your outer thigh and strapped in by the garter belt was the knife Shotaro had snuck to you. You had never gone to the downstairs area of the club. You knew this was where Shotaro’s office was, but never cared to learn more.

Shotaro had led you down the marble steps and simply said, “last door at the end of the hall.”

Walking alone, the only sound was your platformed boots squeaking along the marble floor. You felt miserable. It’s not that you weren’t confident in yourself, you just hated the feeling of being so exposed- especially against your will. Your ass hung out from the bottom of the miniskirt, your button up shirt showed a little more of your torso and tits than you would have liked, and the garter belt emphasized far more than you deemed necessary.

You were marching into Sungchan’s office fully ready to quit. You didn’t need this shit! You had saved enough money, and hell, you had a masters degree! He may be head of the syndicate and have his finger in every pie in the city, but he couldn’t control you.

Steeling yourself, you didn’t bother knocking before turning the handle to enter the space.

You weren’t sure what you expected. Maybe a large torture room where he showed you what happens to people who refuse his bidding. You even half expected a ridiculously lavish lounge filled to the brim with gold and other silly, opulent objects.

What you didn’t expect was what you got- a simple office with an oak desk, and several overstuffed bookshelves along the walls. In front of the desk sat Sungchan in a stool not meant for someone of his height as he hunched in front of a blank canvas. He was facing another small stool that stood empty. Sungchan turned his head your way and unabashedly stared at your chest.

“My eyes are up here, dipshit.”

“I guess I was never subtle,” Sungchan turned his gaze back up to your eyes. “Take a seat.”

“Why?”

Sungchan furrowed his brows, seeming to suck out the small bit of courage you were feeling as he did so. He raised a free hand and dug into his suit jacket before yanking out a paper.

“I heard through the grapevine that you’re looking to buy a home away from Nuevo Seoul.”

You didn’t even bother asking how he knew this, for it was obvious to you that Yuta had heard your conversations with Goeun.

“What if I told you that I have in my hand a deed to land that is yours to have?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. Plus, I doubt-.”

“It’s on the moon, the part that faces earth.”

You were silent. The community on the moon consisted of two things- the extremely wealthy families who could afford the plots of land there, and the two farmlands that managed to grow earthlike crops for a pretty penny. It was as close to earth as you could possibly get, but even on your nice salary it would be impossible to afford, hell, even with as much as the syndicate made it still didn’t seem possible.

How could Sungchan have possibly known that this was what you wanted?

Your bottom lip trembling, you forced a false confidence. “How do I even know that deed is real?”

He tucked the paper away into his suit jacket, turning back to face the canvas. “Take a seat and we can talk about it.”

You stood still at the door, glaring at Sungchan’s back. You couldn’t deny that you were curious about the deed, but you also reminded yourself of the immense distress even being in the same room as him caused you. The time ticked. Slowly, you walked yourself past Sungchan and to the empty stool across from him and the canvas. You didn’t miss the small smile that appeared on his lips that vanished just as quickly.

“You look lovely.”

“I hate this outfit. Now, tell me about the deed.”

“Can you cross your legs and place both your hands over your thigh?” he instructed, pointing at you with the pencil in his hand. Pressing your lips together, you crossed your ankles and set your two balled up fist on your overexposed thigh. “It’s a house my family has owned on the moon since humanity first colonized the solar system.”

“And why would you give that to me?”

“Because I know it’s the one thing that would convince you to stay near me,” Sungchan replied bluntly as he started to lightly sketch.

“Why can’t you take no for an answer?”

He paused on his sketch, meeting your gaze now. You hated how attractive he was- his brown eyes seeming to pin you down where you sat. He was younger than Yuta at least at first blush, but there was something in the younger man’s eyes that showed someone wise beyond his years.

“Why the moon?”

You purse your lips at his question. You had never verbalized the truth to anyone- even in your head it felt… silly.

“It’s because the earth calls to you, isn’t it,” Sungchan looked back down at this canvas, and your eyes widened. “It calls to you, and even though you know the earth is no longer safe, you wish to be in its orbit and as close to it as possible. Is this correct?”

“H-how…?”

“I know lots of things,” he hummed, “and I could say the same. I feel called to you, and I want to be in your orbit.”

There were a lot of things wrong with his response. For one thing- the earth couldn’t speak for itself while you could. Perhaps it was because he was the first person to ever put together your fascination with the deserted planet and seem to respect it, but you stayed on the stool, watching him slowly sketch.

“Why did you put me in this stupid outfit?”

“I just wanted everyone to see how adorable you are,” he countered, a sly smile turning his face up. You looked away in embarrassment, staring at one of the many bookshelves he had in his office. He scared you, but you couldn’t deny the way you felt flattered by his attraction towards you. “Eyes on me please… I’m trying to get this lighting right.”

You turned your face back, hoping the blush faded away.

“You don’t seem like someone who does art.”

“That’s a little judgemental of you, no?”

You shrugged. “When I think of the head of the syndicate, I don’t think of someone who is as young as you who also is an artist.”

Sungchan chuckled then, still sketching. “I’m a lot older than I look.”

“Your head of security seems older than you.”

“I knew it was unwise to have you spending more time with him,” Sungchan clicked his tongue, glaring down at the canvas before his eyes flitted back to you. You looked at his deer horns, and how in the dim lighting of his office, they seemed golden, making his wings appear heavenly.

“He’s nice,” you defended.

“I’m sure that’s all you think about with him,” Sungchan sounded bored, the bite in his statement not being there in the way you would have expected. Before you could remind him of the fact that he’s the one that forced Yuta to watch you, there was a loud pounding at the office door, making you jump slightly in your seat. Within the blink of an eye, there was a weight on your lap. It was Sungchan’s blazer.

“Put this on, if you want,” while there was leniency in his words, one look in his eyes showed that it wasn’t merely a suggestion. Annoyed but all the while pleased to have some coverage, you slipped on the blazer.

“Sir we need final input on the se-,” the man walking in paused before squinting at you, “the stuff that is legal. Hey, weren’t you that waitress who trained little Jisung?”

“One of them, yeah,” you recognized the man from the night you met Yuta. He sat a few booths down and was notable to you only for the fact that he was the only one at the booth without any accentors. Tonight, he had on a full suit and held in his hands a manilla folder.

“I thought you only did still life paintings,” Johnny looked teasingly at Sungchan who ignored the man's comment and took the folder in his hand.

“Hm,” was all Sungchan said as he glanced over the contents. He sat back down at the canvas, leafing through a few more pages. “How distraught is she?”

“Extremely,” Johnny replied, his lips pressed tightly together. “I don’t blame her.”

“Of course not. Well…” Sungchan looked up at you, cocking his eyebrow, “can you pick a number between one and ten for me?”

Your face twisted in confusion, Sungchan’s unmoving expression giving nothing away. You caught Johnny’s chuckle and felt a small twinge of irritation.

“Three.”

“You’re much too nice… Fine. Cut three fingers and three toes- but make one of them his thumb, that’s all,” Sungchan handed the folder back to Johnny who quickly shuffled out from the office.

You jumped off the stool, eyes wide in horror and disgust. “What the fuck?”

“Hm?” Sungchan seemed bored again, looking back at where you stood. “Ah can you sit back down? I was almost done sketching.”

“Don’t use me in your sick fucking games!” You shouted, throwing off his blazer and tossing it to the ground.

“He assaulted her.”

You froze where you stood, ice flooding your veins and keeping you from moving. “What?”

“One of the syndicate-run brothels had an incident where a client ignored the boundaries of our workers. I would say he deserved to be punished,” Sungchan hummed. “I normally would want them to be castrated but we’ll just have the cops do that themselves.”

You were back on the stool for what felt like several hours then, your mind wallowing in a shame you couldn’t even begin to articulate. You hated Sungchan for pushing your own boundaries and his numerous attempts to get you to do a job you did not feel comfortable doing, yet, you were still in awe at the realization that they actually took care of all their workers.

Sex work on Mars was illegal, but in Nuevo Seoul (especially if you were connected to the Dragon Crime Syndicate), the cops were willing to turn a blind eye to the brothels. At your job, Shotaro and the security team were always helpful. You hated working for the syndicate not because of how they treated you, but because you feared the repercussions of getting caught.

Then, a petty, stupid, thought intruded into your brain; if Sungchan was willing to torture a man for someone he didn’t even know, what lengths would he go to for you?

You were quiet until Sungchan checked the time on his watch. “Seems like it’s closing time,” he sat up from the stool and dug into the pocket of his pants, taking out his wallet.

You stood up from your stool and brushed past him on your way towards the door. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’ll be getting paid for your time in one way or another,” he replied, putting his wallet back in his pocket nonetheless. It was one thing for you to take money from patrons, but it felt like a whole other thing to take money from the owner of the bar, especially when you felt so sick in your gut. “I’ll be walking you home now.”

“I’d rather be alone,” you knew it was pointless, especially as you felt Sungchan set his blazer jacket back atop your shoulders.

“Neuvo Seoul may be safer than other big cities, but no way in hell you’re walking out of here dressed like that on your own.”

You clenched your jaw. “You made me wear this shit.”

He simpered, “I know.”

You followed behind Sungchan down the marble hall. When you initially made your way down, you had ignored your surroundings in a blind rage and fear. Now, you observed the different statues teeming about, the way each square inch of the walls held a priceless painting. You stopped in front of one, leaning in closely to confirm your suspicions.

“These are original paintings,” Sungchan answered for you. You didn’t turn around, knowing that he stood merely an inch away from your back. “It’s the abduction of Persephone.”

The painting was horrifying to you. The dark colors swallowed the two primary figures. There were hands clawing through the ground to try and save a struggling Persephone as she fought against her abductor. It was beautiful, this was undeniable, but you couldn’t deny the agony you felt when you saw it.

“I thought most Rembrandt paintings were destroyed when the earth was.”

“This one was a part of a big heist in the late 1900s, and whoever stole it sent it to the moon with some rich patrons decades later,” Sungchan explained. “Did you take an art history class?”

You shook your head, “my Mom works for the Paris-York Museum of Art.”

“Ah, sounds like an interesting lady,” Sungchan’s voice sounded more distant. You turned your head back, seeing that he now stood several steps away, his eyes locked onto your own.

The club was clearing out slowly, and as you made it back to the ground level, you saw Irene and Seulgi both gaze at you with clear looks of concern as they watched you re-enter with the head of the syndicate.

“Good night!” Shotaro called over, his smile so bright despite the dark cloud that seemed to follow Sungchan. Maneuvering past other high up syndicate members all making sure to say goodbye to him, you and Sungchan were greeted by the chill of Mars’ night air. While the man-made atmosphere made it possible for humans to generally survive on the planet, there wasn’t much it could do about the planet’s inclination to become frigid at night.

Begrudgingly, you slipped your arms through Sungchan’s blazer, sighing as the warmth enveloped your chest. You looked at the man who had his sleeves rolled up, arms tucked behind him as he quietly walked next to you.

“I like the cold,” he seemed to read your mind, his eyes glancing over at you. You averted your gaze, and focused on the nightlife that seemed to be slowly dwindling. You had gotten used to the odd schedule of finishing work at three in the morning, but you would never get used to Mars’ red moons in the sky and the citizens of Nuevo Seoul who also seemed to be finishing their own late night shifts. You looked back over at Sungchan, his wings fully exposed now that you wore his blazer.

“Do you cut out holes in all your shirts for those things?” you caught yourself absentmindedly asking. He stopped walking, his eyes studying you then. You realized what, to you, was an error- you felt comfortable enough around him to ask such a rude question.

Then, he chuckled, “sometimes I do, but this shirt was tailored for me.”

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, nodding as you turned your gaze back down to your feet.

“You really shouldn’t be so curious,” Sungchan muttered.

“I’ll have you know that I didn’t even know the head of security until a month ago, let alone… who you are,” you snapped.

“Ah, so you don’t know about the insane killing spree I had a year ago, that’s a shame,” Sungchan’s tone was serious. You met his gaze, and watched the corner of his mouth twitch, holding back a chuckle.

“That sounds like something you’d do,” you countered, pulling out your keys.

“Hm, not without reason,” Sungchan admitted as you entered your building's courtyard. Glancing up, you froze. Your apartment door was open and lights were turned on, and from what you could see on the third floor, men were teeming around the area.

“What the fuck?” Sungchan beat you to it, and looked over to you. “Stay here.”

“Fuck off!” you shouted, taking a step to move away from the syndicate boss before he moved directly in front of you. “This is my home,” your body trembled now as you looked up at Sungchan’s piercing eyes.

Sungchan grit his teeth, glancing up at the apartment before looking at your own shaking figure. “If I say to run, you run, okay?”

Even if you didn’t mean it, you needed the tall wall of a man to move out of your way somehow, so you nodded in agreement.

Your apartment was in a disarray. Yuta stood at the front door, explaining himself to a visibly angry Sungchan.

“... by the time I got here the door was already broken open. They didn’t take everything, but-.”

“I don’t understand why the fuck you wouldn’t think to call me immediately,” Sungchan snarled.

You were too stunned to even interject. Yuta saw your dazed expression, and looked down in shame. “Sungchan asked me to meet you both here to make sure your place was safe… I should have gotten here sooner.”

“God dammit,” Sungchan pushed past the fox man, storming into your apartment as if it was his own. You surveyed the damage from the door, noting the two other men that greeted the angered boss as they cleaned up the broken glass scattered all over your floor. The flowers were all gone too, this much you could easily tell.

Glancing to the side, your eyes widened in horror.

You shoved Yuta out of the way, rushing to your bathroom and seeing the worst sight imaginable.

“No no no no no no no no no no,” you repeated, your throat catching as sobs began to rack your chest. The lid of the toilet was tossed aside, and inside the water tank which formerly held your entire life savings, now just held water and two empty ziploc bags.

Gone.

It was all gone.

Tears were streaming down your face and you ran your hands against your cheeks in an attempt to stifle the sadness and anger welling up inside. All of your money was gone. You kept swiping your hands at your cheeks, snot streaking along the blazer as you stared down at the empty water tank. A hand rested on your shoulder, and you shot a quick look at the mirror.

“All of my money,” you told Yuta, your voice coming out in a croak.

“We’ll find them and get all of your money back, angel,” he tried to comfort you. “It’ll be okay.” You were so petrified and angry that you glossed over the stupid nickname he seemed to permanently assign to you.

You turned back around, meeting Yuta’s gaze. “Where’s Sungchan?”

He pressed his lips into a line, his fox ears twitching as if fighting back an urge you had no desire to decipher. “He’s on the line with some syndicate members, trying to get street camera footage.”

“Tell him… tell him I’ll take the stupid job."

CHAPTER THREE: SEE YOU COWGIRL, SOMEDAY, SOMEWHERE!

Taglist! @nini0620 @maleegayuh @projectxdemons @deakyspuff

#nct fic #nct fanfic #nct angst #yuta imagines #sungchan imagines #yuta x reader #sungchan x reader #nct sci fi au #yuta angst #sungchan angst #nct 127 fic #nct u fic #net ensemble x reader #sci fi au #riize ensemble x reader #riize x reader #riize angst #riize fan fic #riize fic

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whumpinggrounds · 2 years ago

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BTHB: Blindfolded

Blindfolded for @badthingshappenbingo! I cannot remember whose request this was but thank you :)

Current bingo card! Hearts are Liam and Delilah, lightning bolts are Freddy and T, and stars are for August. Open means requested, fills means completed! Feel free to request but uh...do not expect timeliness...

Tagging my romantics - @brutal-nemesis, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @lonesome–hunter, @diyalogues, @deluxewhump, @hearse-song, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @whumpy-writings, @warm-my-whumpee-heart

CW: male whumpee, female whumper, long term captivity, blindfolded, taser, threats, fear, not suicidal ideation but apathetic attitude toward death? so be aware of that

“Walk.”

“D-Delilah-”

“I said walk.”

The Taser pokes Liam hard in the back. He swallows and edges forward, feeling carefully for the edge of the porch. Down one step. Two. Three. Delilah keeps the Taser pressed into Liam’s spine, all but shoving him forward anytime he pauses.

“Delilah?” Liam’s voice shakes. “Delilah, can you please t-take the blindfold off?”

“No.”

Fuck. Liam’s edging across the lawn, feet already freezing. Here, the ground is at least mostly level and the ground is mostly grassy. In among the trees, where there are roots to trip on and brambles – how the fuck is he supposed to walk blindfolded? His hands stretch out in front of him, searching for obstacles before he hits them. He hunches, takes small, shuffling steps. Behind him, Delilah huffs, and prods him onward.

“Delilah, if, if you take the blindfold off, I’ll be able to walk faster.”

Another jab in the back from the Taser. “Don’t make me use this.”

She won’t. Liam is pretty sure. She doesn’t want him to collapse on the ground; it’d take him too long to get up. “Where…where are we going?” he dares to ask.

To that, Delilah doesn’t even bother to reply. There’s a menacing hiss as the Taser cuts through the air near his ear, and Liam cringes away, nearly losing his balance.

Behind the impenetrable blackness of the blindfold, Liam’s mind is racing. He licks his lips, trying to think of something to say that won’t just make Delilah even angrier. It’s hard to focus on that when all his attention needs to be in his feet. Is the rock under him too sharp to take his weight? Is he moving forward fast enough? Is there a root or a hill or a hole right in front of him, just waiting to send him sprawling on his face?

The first time he falls, Delilah just grunts. It knocks the wind clear from Liam’s lungs, leaves him gasping, flat on his face, hands scraped to hell from trying to catch himself. She pokes him a few times with the Taser to get him up, but the electricity isn’t on. Just the feeling of the barrel against his skin is enough to make Liam shudder. He scrambles to his feet quick as he can, hands drifting up to tug tentatively at the blindfold.

The Taser presses into his shoulder, much harder this time. “Don’t touch that,” Delilah snaps.

“P-please,” he tries, throat dry, voice hoarse. “I-Delilah, I’ll fall again.”

“Be more careful.”

On they walk, and Liam’s fear is only mounting. Why in the hell is she blindfolding him? They’re in a cabin in the middle of nowhere and all the locals think he’s on drugs. What reason could she possibly have to cover his eyes?

Besides just having lost it. Besides just being angry. Wanting him to hurt. Wanting him to be lost?

Every time Liam starts thinking about it, his feet falter beneath him. It takes a supernatural amount of focus to keep from tripping. All the focus he possesses goes into reacting when his feet catch, using his whole body and his arms to try to rebalance.

Is she taking me into the woods to kill me?

The thought is so totally disarming it freezes Liam where he stands. When Delilah jabs him, he startles forward, careless, and sprawls out again, a full-body fall. He hits his head hard, on a rock or a tree trunk, something hard. Head ringing, he lies there for a moment, stunned, staring blankly into the darkness.

What if she’s taking me into the woods to kill me?

The familiar hot-white crackle of the Taser fills the air, and Liam scrambles, trying to stand up, trying to crawl. It’s too late – the fire is igniting in the small of his back, twisting, burning through his muscles. He shakes against the forest floor, open throat making some hideous mangled sound, the beginnings of a plea that never escaped his mouth.

When the electricity finally switches off, Liam lets himself scream. It’s a horrible, hopeless sound. It echoes off the trees around them. The trees, and nothing else. There’s no one around to hear him.

“Get up.”

Liam could lie on the ground and give up. She’d shock him again, but eventually she’d get bored. She’d shock him again, but she’s going to do that anyway, the next time he falls. He could lie here, give up, make her hurry up and do whatever the hell it is she’s going to do. If she’s going to kill him…she can do it right here. And he won’t stop her. He can’t stop her.

Because Delilah always gets her way.

Because there’s nothing Liam can do, so why even try?

For just one moment, Liam lets his muscles relax. He slumps against the dirt beneath him.

“Get up.”

The Taser in his back, waiting. Liam facedown, beaten, exhausted, waiting. It’s not a question of conscious thought anymore. Is he getting up, or isn’t he?

Liam waits, like a passenger in his own body, wondering to see what he’s going to do. What she’s going to do. If he’ll live.

He waits to see if he’ll even care.

#liam and delilah #male whumpee #female whumper #long term captivity #blindfolded #taser #creepy whumper #threats #mentions of death #bad things happen bingo #bthb: blindfolded #bad things happen bingo: blindfolded

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dickwheelie · 4 years ago

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sooooooo I wrote a sequel to that love entities jmart post that got pretty popular. all you really need to know is that post mag 200 jon becomes a local cryptid and listens to people's stories about encounters with the entities to help unburden them of some of their fear. please enjoy!

_____________

Just inside the entryway of Old Fishmarket Close, hidden just out of sight of the street, there stands a shrine. It is not an old shrine of weathered stone, nor is it carefully crafted with intricate religious symbols, nor is it static, weighed down by years of collected dust. It is in many ways a living shrine; flowers bloom and wilt at its feet, while above it, against the wall of the Close, piles of paper, photographs, and keepsakes are haphazardly stacked and stuck. The shrine seems to breathe as each day passes, as innumerable and unsung hands replace its flowers and let their offerings crawl up its wall like vines.

The shrine is not marked, but everyone who looks for it, in the shadows of the entryway, knows precisely who it is for.

You arrive that day with only a piece of notebook paper in your hand. Upon it is written a short message, and not an uncommon one to see at the shrine: Thank You. A substitute, of sorts, for the flowers and other gifts that people often leave. You, like many others, are not well off, and you hope that a small note can make up for your lack of material offerings.

As you approach the shrine, a gust of wind whistles through the alleyway and rustles the pages plastered across the length of the wall. You’ve brought no adhesive, so you slip the piece of paper partially beneath a bouquet lying on the stone walkway. It’s relatively fresh, so you hope it won’t be moved anytime soon. You’ve no idea who replaces the flowers, but you suspect it’s never the same person twice. The locals all know about the shrine and the person it’s meant for, and they’ve grown protective of them both.

Dozens of other people have had the same idea before you; the ground is littered with short notes of gratitude. Thank you for listening, says one, transcribed in loving calligraphy, the i’s dotted with hearts. Thank You For Finding Me, Whoever You Are, says another. I rely lik yor hat, says one written in crayon. Another says, You’ll probably never read this, but thank you for hearing my story. There must be hundreds of them, and there are more each time you visit.

You had spent the better part of the morning trying to come up with something more eloquent to write, but you’ve never been great with words. Telling the mysterious person your story had been the only time you’d ever felt as though your words matched your thoughts, that what came out of your mouth was exactly how you felt, and that the person you were talking to understood you fully.

You suppose a thank you is better than nothing, and after one last fond look at the shrine, you turn to go.

A footstep that is not your own echoes down the alleyway. You turn, half-alarmed, but relax at once when you see who it is.

You have only ever seen him once before, about a month ago when you told him your story, but he is difficult to forget; his figure tall and thin, his posture horrendous, his features hidden entirely by a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He stands now at the far end of the alleyway, hands clutched before his hunched torso, giving you the distinct impression he’s staring directly at you.

“Um, hello,” you say, haltingly. You’re not quite sure how to address him, but you figure a polite greeting is universal. You gesture at the shrine. “I don’t have, uh, another story or anything. I was just leaving a note for you.”

His hat tips curiously to the side, and he shuffles forward with his cautious gait, peering closer at the shrine. The dark brim of his hat swivels towards you, as though asking a question.

“The shrine,” you say. “I just left a short note. It’s no big thing, I just—I wanted to leave something.”

The words seem to mean nothing to him. He looks at the shrine, then at you, then back at the shrine. He steps a bit closer to it, and reaches out a long-fingered, gloved hand to touch the petals from a bouquet of daffodils. After the briefest of moments, he pulls away again, hands resuming their wringing.

A thought occurs to you. “Do you . . . do you not know what this is?”

He shakes the hat once.

“This is . . . this is for you,” you say, spreading your arms to encompass the garden on the ground and the sea of pages above. “The flowers, the little trinkets, the thank-you letters—it’s for you. From . . . from all of us, who’ve told you our stories. You’ve helped us so much, we wanted to let you know how much we appreciated it. How grateful we are.”

He doesn’t react, and so you reach out and pick out a card, one that says, Talking to you about how scared I was of the dark made me less afraid of it. I sleep better at night because of what you did for me. Thank you, mysterious stranger. Much love, E.M.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him, and he takes it with a shaky glove. The brim of his hat lowers as he reads. "That’s just one of them. There are loads more just like that.” You survey the pile and pick out another. “This one’s from a kid, thanking you for helping their mom . . . And this one’s just a simple thank you note but they did cover it in glitter glue, so, there’s that . . . And this person wanted you to know that their anxiety improved after talking to you . . .”

He takes note after note from you, reading them all, silent and unexpressive as always, but there’s something in his posture that is unbearably human. Somehow it reminds you of how people stand when they hold a baby chick in their hands.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” you say, not unkindly. You’re both sitting on the ground now, amidst the bouquets and piles of thank-yous. “Who else would this all be for?”

As he picks up yet another note, a tremor runs through his body. He raises a gloved hand to the shadows beneath the hat, and you watch as two drops of water stain the page in his hand. His chest convulses as more tears fall, his hand moving under the hat to wipe them away, but they keep coming. Still he makes no sound.

You didn’t know he could cry. You don’t know why you’re surprised; he’s strange, certainly, and perhaps not entirely human . . . but he has heard so many horrible things, and human or not, he deserves a chance to cry.

“Are you—are you okay?” you say, not sure what to do.

The hat nods once, and then shakes.

“I . . . I know it’s probably a lot, all at once,” you say, and you reach out to touch his arm. The movement comes naturally, without much thought; you would have done the same for a friend.

He flinches at your touch, and you immediately pull away, but then he relaxes again, and nods. Tears are still falling from the shadows down onto his coat.

You touch his arm again, gently, and he doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry if it’s overwhelming. But we really are grateful, and you have a bad habit of not accepting thanks. This was one of the only ways we could think to . . . to show you.” You take a deep breath, and gaze into the shadows of where his face might be, doing your best to look him in the eye. “We don’t really know who you are, or why you came here, or why you choose to listen to us. But somehow, we know you mean well. I think everyone who’s told their story knows that, me included. That you’re trying to help us, that you want to do good. And you do. We . . . we want you to know that you’ve done good.”

His chest rises and falls shakily, and though he still makes no sound you swear you can hear a sob. He reaches out and grasps your arm in turn, and suddenly you realize what he needs.

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask.

The hat nods, again and again, and you open your arms, and he falls forward. You would have done the same for a friend.

You almost expect the hug to be gentle, but it is not; it is tight and desperate, and feels so human you do not think twice about hugging him back just as tightly. He is not terribly warm, but you can feel a heart beating beneath his coat. A few tears fall on the back of your jacket. You know that if you just looked up, you would be able to see his face beneath the hat, but you keep your eyes shut tight.

When you move apart, a few moments later, he seems a little more composed, and no more tears fall from beneath the hat. He straightens his back a bit, growing taller even in a sitting position, and you can see just the barest hint of a mouth, which is smiling a delicate, wobbly sort of smile. He brings a gloved hand up to his chin, placing his fingertips against it, and moves them towards you, once, twice.

You are by no means fluent in sign language, but you recognize the sign for Thank you when you see it.

You smile back at him. “You’re welcome,” you say.

He looks back at the shrine, at the piles and piles of notes he has yet to read. You watch as he picks up a handful more, seemingly at random, shuffling them in his hands and pressing them close to his chest. After a pause, he reaches out and slowly picks up one of the bouquets, overflowing with small blue flowers. You’re not entirely sure, but you think they might be forget-me-nots. He pulls a single flower from the bunch and tucks it, carefully, into the collar of his coat, as though for safekeeping.

He nods once, satisfactorily, and stands slowly, giving a small bow in your direction before he turns and shuffles back down the alleyway, the bushel of blue flowers peeking over his shoulder, rustling in the breeze.

Just before he is swallowed by the shadows at the far end of the Close, you call out, “Thank you! Again. For . . . for everything.”

It’s certainly just a trick of the light, but when he turns back to look at you, just before the shadows overtake him, you swear you can see the light catch on a single, twinkling eye, crinkled in one corner by what must be a smile.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes

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