#it definitely takes a while to correct the ''Pit Madness'' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kimnjss · 4 years ago

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tricky part | knj

⤑ series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: fluff?? (idk, man. i think they’re cute.) ahem, some smut... nd we get a little angsty, of course.

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 8.1K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: (mentions of alcohol abuse). slight dirty talk, cursing, fingering, nipple play, handjob, unprotected sex, cumshot, doggy style, light hair pulling, multiple orgasms... i think that’s it.

⤑ chapter song: tonight (i wish i was your boy) - the 1975 (the entire song is namjoon is swear...)

⤑ A/N: hiiii! this is wicked late ., i took a nap today nd it was amazing . let me know what you think !! x

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 17:09

It takes longer than usual for you to get ready, stuck in the mirror contemplating whether or not what you're wearing is good enough. If maybe you should put your hair up instead of letting it fall freely. Would it be showing too much? But you wanted to show a little, right? This was a date after all, who didn't tease a little on the first date?

But this was Namjoon. Sensible, cautious, easily frazzled Namjoon. Would it turn him off? Or fluster him so he's showing off that cute dimpled smile of us. The one that he let slip when without even noticing it, cheeks flushing pink as he tried to avoid eye contact. Gosh, he was so cute!

Okay! Perfect solution, you're thinking as your eyes find the hair elastic on your dresser. You'd bring the hair tie and feel things out, read the room, and with the first desire to jump his bones, you'd tie your hair up. Giving him a perfect look at your shimmery collarbones, thank you Fenty, and the slope of your neck. No doubt he'd find himself thinking about pressing his lips against your skin at the sight of it.

Boys were simple. All of them. A mere flash of skin and they were putty in your hands. Joon was cute with it, though. So you'd let it slide.

Your phone lights up, humming against your sheets. His name flashes in bold, waking up the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Weird. He must be here, no doubt outside waiting for you right now. He'd think you looked nice, right? Grant you one of his lingering stares that he's always so quick to avert.

That's when you knew you caught his eye. Pride warms your chest each and every time you're catching him. It took a little bit more effort to get Namjoon to turn his head. Yet, he was still a boy at the end of it. He'd end up looking at you one way or another, it's all about how you present it.

Which is exactly why you were yellow. A yellow two-piece that highlights the best parts of you. And you're sure you've made the right decision when you catch the stutter in his step, eyes flickering from your face to your legs then back again. Forcing himself not to look away the entire time you're walking up to him, black platform heels carrying you with ease. Only a few inches below him with them on.

“Hi,” You're saying with a grin, hand reaching out to grasp his bicep. Giving it a little squeeze and watching the way his eyes go wide. He's wearing sweats but still looks so good. As if he's stood in front of you in a three-piece suit, although you might be exaggerating.

He doesn't shake you off but doesn't exactly relax in your touch either. Fingers tapping against his thigh and you can't help but wonder if he's holding himself back from touching you. Lame. “You're wearing yellow,” He says after a moment, stating it as fact rather than something that was intentionally done for him and his attention.

Eyes rolling on a laugh, you're nodding your head. “Yeah. You like yellow,”

“I do,” His nod is curt and his tone is military.

Huffing, while stepping forward, easily pulling him a bit close to you. “Okay, rule number on to this date...” Lifting a single finger for reference. His eyes flicker to it before he's looking back down at you. “You're not allowed to think tonight, got it? No analyzing, calculating. Weighing the options. Just do and talk, get loose.” Giving his shoulder a playful shake, you're shocked to hear the laugh that falls from his lips.

Like an actual, really pretty laugh. “Alright, deal.” A proud smile threatens to split your face when you feel his hand lift, hesitant at first but landing on the small of the back. Albeit, just to guide you, but it's still something. “Let's get going,” He's guiding you with the gentle hand on your back, barely touching you but you're stomach was doing backflips.

How quickly the roles reversed. Hands clasped in front of you, urging yourself to calm down. To stop acting like some thirteen year old who still hasn't had their first kiss. You were twelve years and eighteen kisses past that. Get it together.

“Where's your car?” Stepping on your tiptoes, attempting to peak up the street to spot it. “Actually, what kind of car do you even drive? I've never seen it?” Eyes shifting up toward him, a quizzical look on your face.

You're missing the soft, “I don't...” That falls from his lips because you're brain is working overtime to guess what car he could possibly drive. “Hm, you kinda look like a Chevy guy... maybe a Honda? But, I could be wrong. Definitely not a sports car, though.” You couldn't imagine Joon in one of those loud, low to the ground car.

Whipping through traffic as if where he had to go was much more important than all the other people on the road. Yeah, that didn't fit.

He's taking offense to this for some reason, nose scrunching, and hands finding his hips. His steps even come to a halt. “Hey. Why not a sports car?”

You're letting out a laugh, not at him, of course. Just at how adorable he looks right now. Actually pouting, with his arms crossed in the middle of the sidewalk. You've never seen him like this, not even sure where this new Joon came from. But he might be even cuter than the Joon you knew and had a huge crush on.

Moving toward him, not even bothering to stop yourself from poking his pouted lip. “Come on, that's totally out of character. You're practical and sensible. You wouldn't splurge on a sports car, that's not even durable. Those cars get torn apart in accidents,” He's not really mad, obviously. Which is why it doesn't take long for him to lose the face.

“So which one is it? Honda or Chevy?”

A large arm is dropping around your shoulder, tucking you into his side as the two of you continue your timed steps down the sidewalk. “Neither. I don't have a car. Or my license,” Eyes nearly popping out of your head with his words, stopping in your tracks to get a good look at him. Just in case you might've heard him wrong.

But he shows no signs of correcting himself or clarifying what he had just said. “Wait. So how are we going to get there!?” Did he expect you to walk!? All the way to Daejeon? In these shoes... they were cute, but not the most comfortable. And they didn't need to be because they weren't meant for walking 100 miles at a time!

“We're gonna take the train, of course. How else?” He's not even looking like he knows he's talking nonsense.

Like, honestly. Did he expect you to ride a gross train dressed like this!? What if you got robbed? Or kidnapped? Or worse, thrown up on!? This outfit was irreplaceable, one of a kind. No way could you take it on a train, that wouldn't do. “No. That won't be necessary. I'll just call one of my drivers, they'll come get us,” You've got your phone out before you're even finishing your sentence.

Namjoon is quick to pluck the device from your fingers, a sly smile playing on his features as he tucks it into his pocket. “Let those people spend time with their families. It's Sunday. There won't even be that many people,” Two firm hands placed on your shoulders, he's turning you effortlessly. “The train, it'll be fun.”

“You're the only guy, in the universe that thinks riding the train will be fun.” He's laughing again and it's not cute as it was a few minutes ago. “Oh no, I meant fun for me. You're gonna hate it,”

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 17:37

Just as you predicted, the train is gross. And sticky. Crowded and sweaty. Joon holds you close as you weave through the sea of people, fingers laced with yours. Although you know it's purely for survival purposes, the flutter in your heart still rises from feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

You try not to make a huge deal about it. People rode the train every day and considering how many of them were in here, they've all survived. You'd be fine. Especially with this six-foot angel clearing the way for you at every turn.

Joon finds a seat for the both of you against the wall. Close with your thighs pressed together and he still hasn't released your hand from his grasp. It's cozy beside him, warm. Leaning your weight on to him, you try to be subtle but probably fail. He's concentrating on something on his phone and from the quick peak you were able to sneak, you see he's checking on your reservation for tonight.

Stomach flipping at the tiny fact he made a reservation for you two. It's so Namjoon to want to be triple prepared for anything, but the fact that it's in your favor makes you happy. No idea why, but that was the truth of the matter. More often than not happy when you were around him.

Even cramped in this stinky train, his hand in yours was enough to convince you, you were in the back of a limo. The unfocused chatter around you replaced with soft music that you'd play. Probably something he likes to listen to. His taste in music was quickly becoming yours the more time the two of you spent together.

He's dropping your hand for some reason that you don't realize until you're looking up to see him standing. Offering his spot to some brat with a broken leg. What the heck? Were you supposed to hold hands with this kid? Up without a word, didn't even bother to ask if you wanted him to get up.

Joining the other people standing, holding on to the railing and you're quickly deciding you don't like the distance. He watches as you stand to your feet, nose brushing against his chin. “Sit,” Gesturing to your now empty spot, earning a raised brow from him.

“Come on, Yn. Your feet are gonna hurt. Just relax,” He tries to lower you back into your spot, but you're moving to the side with a shake of your head. “I'll be fine. Just sit,” Catching the stubborn glint in your eye, just begging him to argue, he chooses to drop it. Switching spots with you and sinking into the empty spot.

Not even a second after he's settling into the cushion, you're dropping yourself onto his lap. Arm wrapped around his shoulders, legs between his. Bum pressed firmly into his thigh. “Did you really think I was going to stand?” You laugh. He doesn't even look the least bit surprised, eyes rolling – but you catch the smile on the corner of his lips.

His hand finds the outer part of your thigh, holding your body steady as the car jostles. He doesn't move it even after the machine has settled, has even taken to tapping out a rhythm against your skin.

It's nice. Your new favorite song.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:17

You had to hand it to the guy, Kim Namjoon knew how to put a date together. Pure perfection from beginning to end, you're not sure if it's his careful attention to detail or the small possibility that he wanted to impress you... you've decided to go with the latter.

The entirety of dinner was spent talking about everything and nothing. Actually getting to know each other aside from the surface level, 'I make good music and you screen it while balancing your massive crush on me,'. He was telling you about the time he first met Yoongi: second year of high school, Yoongi was a really cool Senior, the type of cool guy that everyone knows, but like doesn't talk to anyone. He found Joon making out with some cheerleader in the band room, her hand down the front of his jeans... and made it all of his business to tease him about it for the rest of the semester.

Never would you have deemed Joonie as the type to take part in such excessive PDA, and although he insists it was not his idea... well, agree to disagree.

You were even telling him about the first time you got blackout drunk, which resulted in you being banned from every last Shake Shack. The only thing you remember from that night was getting in the car to head to the club, already started pre-gaming beforehand. But as Jungkook likes to tell it, you were a melting pot of 'types of' drunks.

Started the night trying to fistfight the bouncer, after only fifteen minutes in the club, which resulted in you... and all of your friends being kicked out. Went from not-so-discreetly trying to mount your boyfriend at the time, Jackson, to crying on the bathroom floor Shake Shack all before you were puking in the booth, after swearing (a million times) that you 'weren't gonna throw up'.

Followed by a screaming match between you and Hoseok as he apologized a thousand times over to the employee he had to call over for the mess, trying to assist her while she tried her best to keep a smile on her face. Jungkook carried you to the car, full-blown had to haul you over his shoulder as you screamed curses at your brother.

You don't remember any of that, though. Next thing you remember from that night after getting in the car to leave, was waking up to the sound of loud video games, hanging half-naked off the side of Jackson's bed.

You're more embarrassed than you though, telling that story out loud. how bad you used to be. That was the worst of it, but the other times weren't too great either. Of course, you've calmed down a bit. Really tried each and every time you were sent away to clean up your act. And you were good for a few months after you came back, and then you were not.

Surprisingly, Joon doesn't look disgusted when you tell him. And you're not sure if that's a good thing or not. Either he's extremely understanding or he was expecting your most embarrassing story to be something of the sort. You hope for the former but suspect the latter.

In reality, though. Namjoon found himself trying to figure out just what could've been going on in your life that you felt like any of that would help. He now knew with you there was always something hidden, a reason to your behavior that you oftentimes liked to brush off. Must've been bad. You probably had a hard time.

The highlight of the night, though, was hands down the play. You're not even sure if he knew what it was about when he chose it, but you were falling in love from the moment the current went up. Characters so vivid and engaging, dealing with real-life shit all while living in fear of the darkness that looms over their tiny village.

It wasn't hard for you to get totally immersed in the show, laughing along, getting upset, crying. And Joon stays seated by you the entire time, holding on to your hand. Not so sure when he picked it up, but he hasn't let it go in a while. Not that you were complaining. You liked the tiny shocks that followed every brush of his fingers.

He smiles when you laugh, laughs when you get upset, and wipes your tears when you cry. You're so sure, he missed the entire show.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:20

“You know, my best friend's an actor. Kinda a big deal at his agency... I could talk to him?” Joon throws in casually as the two of you make your way out of the theater, talking as he tosses his empty popcorn carton into the garbage. As if he didn't just drop some life-changing news.

You've heard of his friend, Kim Taehyung. Was an extra in his very first big drama role, a historical one where he faced an untimely death. The two of you never crossed paths and shared zero scenes together, but it was still pretty cool. To you. He didn't know you from a hole in the wall and the last thing you'd do was act like anyone's biggest fan.

But, this? What Namjoon was offering... that could be huge. The start that you needed and you wouldn't even have to go through your father. You could do it all on your own... kinda. “Oh! That would be amazing, Joon!? Why didn't...”

As quickly as the excitement hits you, it's being knocked right out of your body. The job that you already have and everything else that surrounded it. No way could you accept this. “Actually,” You're forcing a smile for Namjoon to see, “Let's put a pin in it. I want to focus on the company,” You wonder if it sounds as robotic as it feels.

“Why? You hate that place?” His hand has found yours again, arms swinging slightly as you walk. There's this curious look on his face like you're not making any sense. And you're not.

Why wouldn't you jump on the first chance to ditch that hell hole? The opportunity was right in front of your face, so why wouldn't you take it? You must be an idiot. Stockholm Syndrome? “Can I tell you a secret?” You're whispering despite the fact it's just the two of you on the street.

“Sure,” Gently, he's pulling you just a bit off of the path. Figuring whatever you have to tell him might be something he wants to sit down for, so he's getting comfortable on a bench, tugging you down beside him.

Not once letting go of your hand. “Hoseok is putting out an album in a few months. He's been juggling that and work-work. The time when my dad came down to talk to me... about the whole Hyungwon thing, he said he'd tank the album if I didn't start acting right,” That actually does surprise Joon, eyes going wide as a barely audible gasp leaving his lips.

You can just about guess what he's thinking, 'what kind of father...?'. And the easy answer was, yours. Your type of father would. Your type of father has. “That's why I need to stay focused. I can't screw up, he's been working so hard. I wouldn't be able to live with myself I ruin everything for him. Again.” That was a story for another time.

“Yn. That's fucked up. Does Hobi know?”

Scoffing, your eyes roll automatically. “Of course not and don't tell him. He thinks our dad is the best. 'Strict, but the best'.” Your tone changes slightly to mock his deeper voice. “Thinks he's hard on me only because of how I act and while I know that doesn't help, that wouldn't change anything. We're all just pawns in his game. His stupid Legacy.”

It's weird because you don't even sound sad. Just numb. Like you've accepted that this was how the way things were and this was how they were going to be. He wished there was something he could do, stand up to your dad for you, tell him all the things you're afraid to. But that would be stupid, for him and for you. It wasn't his place and he'd only make it worse. No matter how badly he wanted to just step in, there was really only one thing he could do.

Your hand is much smaller in his, soft and cute. Nails painted a pretty deep blue to compliment the yellow of your dress. Squeezing softly, he's lifting his lips into a smile for you to see. And since he's been trying to take your advice and stop thinking so much, he's lifting your hand. Pressing feather-like kisses against your knuckles.

The gesture so sickeningly-sweet, you're not sure if you should puke or cry. Or both. He's looking up at you, smiling really wide before he's moving closer, lips finding your forehead making you feel warm all over. Butterflies holding a wrestling match in your stomach and you might just burst into tears.

“I can't interfere with your family. Especially when you're not asking me to. Just know, if you ever want to start doing what you really want I'll support it. I'll support you.” You feel the pressure building behind your eyes, the thickness in your throat. All over three stupid words that you had no idea you've been waiting to hear.

It's overwhelming. Desperately fighting back the wetness that teases your waterline. With a hard blink and a huff of air – you're pushing a smile onto your face. Aware of how fake it looks, but it'll have to do as you lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” You're grinning, hand patting his knee before you're hopping up from your spot beside him on the bench.

A hand extended down to him. “Come on, dessert on me!” You giggle because it feels right. And he takes your hand, allowing you to pull him from to his feet. Tugging him along behind you with your face pointed to the night sky. Not saying anything until you're sure your voice won't break.

And even then it's a quiet mumble, “You've earned something sweet.”

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:59

Your hair has gone up. Revealing the slope of your neck and the shimmer on your collarbones. And as you predicted, Joon watches you through the entire process. Lips wrapped around your ice cream cone, holding it in place as your hands move quickly to pull your hair out of your face. His gaze dropping to your mouth as you lick mess the treat his left from your lips.

Hook. Line. And sinker.

“Do you have any weird kinks?” You don't even look at him when you say it, focus on creating a peak on your ice cream cone.

Joon's choking a cough out around his shaved ice, eyes blinking hard as he clears his throat, lifting his gaze up to you. “Excuse me, what!?” An easy laugh falls from your lips, shoulders shrugging slightly. Taking pride in how easily you could fluster. “You know... weird kinks. Things that get you going, but are kinda weird,”

“Like a fetish?” You're shrugging, barely interested in the choice of word. “I'm sure there's a difference, but for the sake of this. Sure,”

He had to have something, there was no way he didn't. Everyone had something and you refused to believe that he was even composed and well thought out in that area. There had to be something that made him lose his cool. Had to be.

“Uhm,” He's clearing his throat, cheeks seeming to grow darker the more time you spent staring at him. “I wouldn't say it's weird, but I like...” His attention falls to his dessert, twirling his spoon around in the frozen shavings. Would you think it was too weird? Consider it a deal-breaker and decide to not talk to him again. You probably wouldn't even care, there wasn't much that you cared about he was finding.

But, you could surprise him. And what if... wait, why was he even stressing about this in the first place!? “Why are you even asking me this?” Such a random topic interrupting your peaceful silence staring at the water.

Again, you lift your shoulders in a shrug. “I'm curious. Here, I'll tell you mine.” You pause to flash a breathtaking grin up at him. “Put your hand up,” Joon doesn't even hesitate to lift his palm, heart stuttering when you're pressing yours against his. As if you're comparing sizes and he can't help but curl his fingers down into the space that's left.

“See that? What you just did? Drives me crazy. And also...” Hand dropping from his to lay flat on his chest and on reflex his muscle is tensing, pecs jumping underneath your touch. It's actually so sexy you contemplate dropping to your knees right then and there. You suppress the urge, but don't make any moves to lifting your hand. “Big hands? And muscles. Phew. Throw in a pair of cute dimples and it's over,”

It's obvious at this point that you're literally referring to him, not intentionally of course. He just happened to check every last one of those boxes. “Why's that?” He's staring at you with these eyes that you've never seen before. Dark and filled with want.

You liked it.

“Makes me feel cute and small, I guess. Like if you... or any guy, but let's just say you, were to use your big hands to pick me up and hold me there while we-” His eyes go wide when he catches on to the end of your sentence, rushing out a frantic, 'Oh okay, I get it!'. Watch as you bursting into a fit of giggles.

He ignores you, taking to peering around the bridge, checking for anyone within earshot that might've heard what you were about to say. Only to find that you two were the only people out here. Unless he was worried about judgmental glares from the birds, you were fine.

“So...” He's starting only after he's done his full scenery check. “You like feeling small, then? That's interesting,” Forever impossible to read, no idea what he meant by interesting, but as always you were running with it.

Steering this night, which had been an amazing date, in a direction that was a little less PG. Brow arched and a smirk playing on your lips, you move into his space. Hand sliding down the front of his body, meeting his waist. Holding a soft grip on the fabric of his sweater, you rise onto your toes, nose just inches from his.

“And? What do you plan to do with this information?” Could swear a small gasp falls from his lips, feeling your free hand tug on the long drawstring of his pants.

There are a million and one thoughts running through his mind right now. Every last one of them revolving around you. How good you look underneath that skirt, how good you smell standing this close to him. The way he could see the faint freckles on your cheeks, faded from your makeup. Yet, through all of his mangled thoughts, there's one that stands out amongst all of them.

You're so beautiful.

And not in the ways that you'd think. Yes, your face fit the standard, and the confidence you carried yourself with was more than deserved, but there was more. Beautiful underneath all of that and he could see it and even with this new stiffness tenting at the front of his jeans, it's all he can focus on.

Soft giggles fill his ears, coming from you realizing the way he was staring at you. Not saying a single word, just looking. “You're stalling. What's yours?” Taking a step back, you allow him a chance to breathe. Just barely noticing the twitch of his arm, ready to pull you close to him again.

“Okay, fine.” Joon's saying with a roll of his eyes, not the annoyed one that you've grown used to. It's playful, cute paired with the smile on his lips. “I like...” Large hand reaches out, landing firmly on your hip, effectively catching you off guard but he doesn't even give you a second to react before he's twisting your back toward him.

A shiver dancing down your spine as the tips of his fingers gently trace the link in the middle of your back. Actually having to bite down on your lip to keep from any noises slipping out in response to his light touch. “That. It looks sexy,”

Now you know how he feels when you tease him. Breathless and flustered all because he touched your back!? Come on, it was about time you got your shit together. Turning in his grasp, your features morph feigning confusion. “You like backs?”

“No! Not just backs. I Mean the dip... and if there's dimples back there. That's always a plus,” He says with a shrug, but you know exactly what he's doing. It was your game, basically invented it.

But judging from the flutter in your chest, he was better at it. “I have dimples back there,” It sounds dumb to your ears, like 'duh, he knows that stupid.. that's why he said it,' but you can't think of anything else to say. Thoughts clouded with how good being touched by him felt and coming up with ways to get more of that.

And he's moving as if he's read your mind, arm wrapping around your waist. Pulling your body to him with this newfound boldness that has a shocked gasp falling from your lips. “I know you do,” His voice is so deep and so sexy, only loud enough for the two of you to hear. You could spend hours just listening to him talk, no doubt. God, you needed to get it together.

“Oh, yeah? You've been sneaking peaks?”

He nods. Like, doesn't even bother to try and hide behind some half-assed explanation why he might've noticed, just owns it. He's so hot. “I'm very observant,” His words have you wondering what else he's noticed about you. How much time did he spend just 'observing', as he liked to call it.

You could figure that out later, there were much more pressing matters at hand right now. Kissing him. Through with the back and forth, you needed to feel his lips against yours. The fragmented memory of the first and only time was quickly fading, you needed something fresh.

With your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, you lean into him. Chin tilted up and eyes slowly falling closed, you're just inches from his mouth when that deep voice of his is breaking through. “Are you gonna kiss me?”

“Wow, you are observant,” Breathing out a laugh, you're nodding eyes lifting to find his. He even looked good from this close. “Wait.” His quick movements startle you, a not so cute squeal filling the night air as he bends to lift you, effortlessly wrapping your legs around his waist.

You're both laughing, like side aching chuckles. And you're certain you've never seen him like this before. Eyes forming crescent moons as loud snickers fall from his grinning lips. He's pretty. You're so dazed by that simple fact that you don't notice the way his laughter has died down into soft breaths.

Not until silence is falling over both of you and he's leaning up to press his lips against yours. Large hand lifting to tangle in your hair as he kisses you.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 23:29

And he doesn't stop kissing you. Not on the train home where you sit on his lap and he swallows every last one of your whines. Not on the walk to your place where he keeps his arm around your shoulder, occasionally leaning down to press kisses against your cheeks. Even stood at your doorstep, you're still like teenagers who just discovered making out.

“Do you want to come up?” You're murmuring against his lips, sentences barely coherent through the push of your lips.

He's registering your words a few moments after you've said them, pulling back to reveal the worried expression on his features. Doesn't say anything, though. Like he's stuck between taking you up on your offer and whatever concern is plaguing his mind.

And then it's hitting you. “Hoseok's out with some girl. Just in case you're worried about that,” You don't miss the way his face relaxes, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. Pulling a blase expression, moving into your space again. “Why would I be worried about that?”

Eyes rolling, you let out a laugh. “Oh, my mistake.” You mock, turning to unlock your front door. Joon is following steps behind you into the house, no sign of Hoseok in sight. Not like he'd really care, on Namjoon's part. Just give you an ear full about how your actions would affect the company.

So, you're glad he's out. In no mood to hear any of that tonight. “Do you want a glass of wine?” Namjoon is following you into the kitchen, nodding along to your words.

He just can't seem to take his eyes off you. Followed your movements from the pantry to the cabinets all the way to the island where you poured alcohol into glasses for the two of you. Watched the way your lips tickled the neck of the bottle, sucking up the droplets that had spilled, dark eyes finding his the moment you're pulling back.

Daring him. To do something. Anything. Joon knew he needed to be bold. Impulsive. Throw caution to the wind and deal with the consequences later. It's how you got what you wanted all the time and right now, he wanted you.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he's rounding the island. Closing the space between the two of you. Hand cupping the side of your face as he wraps an arm around your waist. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, rhythmically. “I don't want wine,” Your heart hammers in your chest.

“What do you want?” You ask, although, you already know the answer.

He takes to showing you rather than telling you, using the grip he holds around your waist to lift your body onto the counter. Stepping into the space between your legs before he's covering your mouth with his.

This kiss is much different from the others, no longer testing the waters. There's determination behind each movement of his lips. Both hands gripping your waist, pulling your body forward until his hips are pressed to yours. His tongue slips past his soft lips to graze your bottom lip. And you're opening up for him without a moment of hesitation, fingers tangling in his messy locks, and pulling – a low groan emerging from the back of his throat.

He's pushing his body flush against yours, hips lifting rightly and you feel the twitch of his cock through his sweats. Sweet moans fall from your lips with every roll of his hips, deliberately pushing down desperate to feel more of him. Your senses are filled with him. The taste of his tongue, the sweet smell of his cologne, how good it feels to have him pressed up against you.

Strong hands roam around your body, gripping the fabric of your skirt tight enough to have it inching up the smooth skin of your thighs. Gently cupping the back of your neck to hold your head steady as he licks into your mouth. He can't seem to make up his mind, greedily wanting to touch all of you at once.

You're meeting everyone of his upward thrusts with a downward roll of your hips, moans growing louder between the two of you with each brush of your most sensitive parts. And you want more. Legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, you needed more.

“Fuck, princess.” He's gasping out, not leaving a moment to spare for you to marvel at the pet name that fell from his lips so easily. His mouth makes steady work on your neck, suck red blotches into your skin as the palm of his hand moves down the front of your body. Sneaking underneath the hem of your skirt, your body jolts when he's pressing the tips of his fingers to your slit through the soft fabric of your panties.

Pretty moans fill the room as he teases you, fingers tight in his hair. Heady becoming heavy for your shoulders as the pleasure he's ensuing washes over you. “Namjoon,” You're gasping, hips bucking up when he's pressing his fingers against your sensitive clit. Above the cotton, but each stroke has electricity cruising through your veins.

He chuckles as your whines become more insistent, hips following the movement of his fingers. “That feel good?” Head bobbing frantically, your legs spread wider for him. So sure, you're soaked all the way through from the way he's palming roughly at your panties. He's confirming your thoughts with a groan and a breathy, “You're so fucking wet,”

“Please, Joon. More.” Panting as your hips lift up toward him. He's grinning wide, pressing a soft kiss to the skin of your neck before he's nudging your panties out of the way. “So greedy,” He teases, at the same time his fingers find your clit. He's pressing lazy circles into the sensitive nub, taking his time despite the needy roll of your hips. “Tell me what you want,” Dark eyes travel up the length of your body to your face, you don't even bother to mask the moan that slips at the sight.

An experimental finger teases your entrance, sneaking in past the first knuckle before quickly pulling out and repeating the same action. If it wasn't for the solid stiffness pressed against your thigh, you'd guess that he was torturing you for the hell of it. But judging from the steady rut of his hips, he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

You couldn't wait any longer, though. This moment has plagued your thoughts since the first time you were meeting him. What it would be like to be with him like this. Have him fuck you. You'd surely die if it wasn't now. “Fuck me,” The words come out more whiny than you originally intended but, hey. “Please, Namjoon.”

“Soon, princess.” He promises, sinking his middle finger into your tightness. Eyes flickering between your bodies so he can watch the way the single-digit disappears within your walls. So fascinated with the movement of his own fingers and egged on with your pretty moans, he's quickly pushing another finger in.

Namjoon's mouth finds yours, swallowing every last one of your hushed moans as he fucks into you. Scissoring you open with his long fingers, free hand tugging at the bottom of your top until it's around your waist, tits spilling out. He's groaning against your lips as his palm cups you from underneath, thumb lifting to brush against your nipple.

His head is lowering until he's able to latch his lips around the hardening bud. His sharp teeth graze over it slightly, gentle tongue washing over the slight pinch of his bites. You're whimpering at the feeling of his thumb pressing into your clit, back falling against the cool countertop as your hips move in tandem with his fingers.

It's not long before he's nudging a third finger past your walls, lips moving to mouth on the other side. Thumb moving expertly over your clit while his fingers provide such a delicious stretch, you're squirming beneath him. Searching for something to grip onto as the pressure begins to build in the pit of your stomach.

You take to tugging his hair, pushing his face against your chest as your back arches off of the counter. Wanton moans filling the room, you're being so loud but you can't find the strength to quiet down. Not while he's making you feel this good. And then all at once, he's pushing in deeper, fingers curling and brushing against that rough patch of skin hidden deep inside of you.

“Oh, fuck! Don't stop, don't stop.” You're chanting over and over, hips rocking into his palm and Joon has no plans of stopping. Not when you sound like that, each whine and whimper shooting straight to his cock. He feels the way your walls flutter around his fingers and he's quickly lifting his head to watch your face.

There's a sheen layer of sweat on your forehead. Eyes rolled back as your lashes flutter, lips slightly pursed. Jaw falling slack, a breathless gasp slipping at the same time he feels a gush of wetness surrounding his fingers. Incoherent mumbles of thanks fall from your lips as your body shakes. He keeps his fingers buried inside of you, thrusting slowly until your words are dying down to soft breaths.

Opting to give you the time you may need to regain your composure... which only lasts a few seconds before you're sitting up. Arms and legs pulling him toward you. “Fuck, that was so good.” You say through a laugh, mouth finding his in a sloppy kiss as you work to pull his sweatshirt from his body.

Joon follows your lead, working on tugging his sweats out of the way. Your soft hand meets his, gently pushing it out of the way and dipping into the front of his boxers. Palm closing around his thick shaft and your eyes are going wide, fingers not being able to meet around the base.

“Holy, fuck...” Your hand drags over his length, more so measuring him than anything. Excitement igniting in your chest the longer it takes for your hand to meet the tip. Which is leaking with precum at this point, you feel it when your palm finally covers the tip and then use it to make moving your hand back down easier.

His hips follow the movement of your hand, attempting to fuck into the opening your palm created. Spaced out as the pleasure slowly clouds his mind. He looked so good. Chest and stomach flexing as he moves, shining underneath the dull kitchen lights. Brows furrowed and jaw clenched, making dimples appear at the sides of his mouth.

Your free hand slides down the front of his body until the tips of your fingers are brushing against his balls. Massaging them underneath the slight pressure while your wrist twists over his cock. “Yn, baby. Wait... fuck,” His hips are stuttering to a stop, hand reaching down to still the movement of your palm.

“I won't last,” A soft pink dusts his cheeks as he looks up at you, eyes glossed over and barely focused. He's letting out a breathless laugh before he's leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I wanna fuck you first,”

The admission is waking up something entirely different inside you. Something you can't easily place and are in no mood to decipher. Instead, you grin, returning the kiss to his lips before grinning. “Fuck me, please.”

That's all he needs to hear before he's taking a step back from you, not giving you a moment to feel his absence before he's sliding you from the counter. Hands on your hips to turn your back to him, his large hand resting on the middle of your back. “Bend over,” Voice deep in your ear, you'd very much walk off the edge of a cliff if he was asking you like that.

You bend forward without any protest, the cool granite pressing against your exposed nipples. Joon holds a hand just above your ass, the other wrapped around the base of his cock – guiding himself toward your aching core. His thick head nudges against your tight hole and you both gasp as you swallow him in.

He takes his time, allowing you to feel every inch as he slips in. And you don't miss the way his thumb has moved to rest in the indent just above the swell of your ass. Pulling your body toward him with his grip. His huffed breath tickling your back the moment he's bottoming out.

Palms formed fists beside you, concentrating on your breathing as you get used to the feeling of being stretched this way. Slowly, he's pulling out until the head is catching at your entrance then he's pushing his way back in, your body sliding up on the counter with the movement. The stuttered movement of his hips slowly shifts into a steady rhythm that has a string of moans falling from your lips.

Strong, bruising thrusts into your backside paired with the gruff groans that escape his throat. He's so deep, the tip of his cock nudging against your g-spot with each thrusts forward. “Fuck, look how perfectly you take my cock, baby.” He groans, eyes glued to the way your lips are wrapped around him.

All you can muster back in response is a weak whine, a garbled cry of big he was... or how good he feels. Mind nothing but mush at this point, the overwhelming pleasure from the way he was fucking, softening your brain. Either way, he takes the incoherent noises as a compliment, speeding up the snap of his hips.

You all about lose it when he's reaching down to grip your hair, lifting your body onto his, keeping a steady movement of his hips as he reaches around you to find your clit. Rolling it between his knuckles until he's feeling that familiar squeeze around his shaft. Soaking up every whimper and every cry as he brings you closer and closer to release.

“You gonna cum again for me, baby?” Gasping out, your head bobs up and down, back arching in hopes to steal more than what he was willing to give you. “Please, make me cum.” He can feel the way your walls flutter around him, the whine in your voice. And since he's inclined to give you whatever you want, Joon's angling his hips in a way that he knows will make you cum.

And it's not long before the pressure is snapping in the pit of your stomach, loud cries filling the room as your hips lift into a shake. Walls clenched so tight around his cock, it's enough to nudge him over the edge. He fucks into you with great fervor, leaning your body back onto the counter as his hips snap against yours.

Thrusts becoming sloppy and untimed as he feels himself falling apart, an odd mixture of curses and your name falling from his lips as he feels his body tense. He's pulling out as a hurried afterthought, hand acting as a lame substitute for your wet core as he strokes himself to completion. Spilling onto your back with a strained groan.

And then the kitchen goes silent, nothing but the sounds of your heavy breaths and the hum of the fridge filling the room. Neither of you says anything, both trying to come back to your senses. A few moments pass before he's hearing the soft sound of your giggle, body rising off your stomach to turn and face him. He looks so dazed and fucked out, cheeks flushed and eyes blown. Hair a mess and breath ragged. He looked so hot.

A hand finds the back of his neck, fingers tangling into the soft hair there. Joon's grinning when his eyes find yours, an arm wrapping around your waist. Pulling you closer, because it never felt like you were close enough. “We just fucked,” You state the obvious, can't find it in yourself not to.

It was nice. You liked it. You liked him. Everything about him, you just found yourself liking. His laugh. His smile. How easily he was annoyed. The cute dimples. The sound of his voice. You liked him.

“Yeah, we did.” He's replying, a little breathless but he still manages to lean down to capture your lips with his. A short kiss that has you leaning up, silently asking for me. He denies you with a cute shake of his head. “Let's go upstairs. I wanna go down on you,” Okay, bold Joon was something you were definitely going to have to get used to.

He's twirling you around when you don't move to lead him, large hand dropping to tap against your ass cheek, pulling a giggled squeal from your lips. “Ah!” You're laughing when he's reaching to do it again, instead taking hold of his hand. Fingers easily intertwining as you tug him behind you.

His back pressed to yours, cock growing hard against your backside as you lead him up the stairs and into your room. The sound of laughter only growing between the two of you.

Yeah, you liked him a lot.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 23:58

Your body is warm against his, back pressed to his chest. Soft moans filling the air as he holds you close, pushing into you, chasing yet another release. This time in your bed. With you in his arms and it feels different. It feels nice. It makes him wonder... what's next? If there's something more for him to hope for.

He wanted to be with you, to put it simply. Never would've imagined it'd be you, but now he can't imagine it being anyone else. But things just sometimes worked out that way. Namjoon wanted to be yours, but in turn, he wanted you to be his.

Somehow, he felt like that might be the tricky part of it all.

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

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assaily · 3 years ago

Text

I thought about saving this one, but i’ve been sharing it around for a while, so i may as well share it here, too.

Context: Allison and Diego borrow some empathy powers and use them to try and gain some insight on Five

Allison sipped her coffee for lack of anything better to do. She dallied for a time, unsure how to proceed, suddenly aware of the heavy weight that clung to them, and wondered if this was normal. It could have been exhaustion, considering the dark shadows beneath Five’s eyes. It felt deeper than just a bad night of sleep. This was what she’d been afraid of, what she was fully expecting to find and now found herself feeling diminished beneath.

“You hungry?” she asked when Five finished his coffee.

“No,” Five answered, the question hardly a blip on his radar.

“I could eat,” Diego said. Five usually said no to the offer of food unless it was put in front of him. He couldn’t resist once it was there, thankfully, so this little dance of two siblings pretending to cook for each other and secretly cooking for Five was not new. If Five himself noticed, he never said anything about it.

Allison got up from the table, snatching Five’s mug from beneath his fingers. He had been mindlessly tracing the rim and was genuinely startled from his thoughts when Allison took it from him. He said nothing, attention suddenly on her like a scalpel. She wasn’t sure if it was the power or her own imagination that made his scrutiny feel sharper than usual. She set a skillet to heat and refilled Five’s cup before taking it back to the table for him.

Suspicion burned at the hairs on her arms and she took a step back to meet Five’s piercing gaze. “What?” she asked.

“You’re being nice,” he muttered, an observation and a question rolled into one. He wanted to know why, he wanted to know what she wanted.

“Nothing,” she reassured without thinking. “I mean,” she corrected quickly when Diego gave her a sharp look. “I’m just feeling weird and you look tired. I miss my daughter,” she admitted, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

Five blinked, something swirling around them at her admittance, a little like irritation, a lot like muted affection. “I’m not your kid, Allison, you don’t need to dote on me.”

She smiled around the confusing mix dusting the room. “Refilling your coffee is hardly doting,” she replied in a daze.

He shrugged, eyes falling down from her, the sharp focus softening at last. He took a sip of the coffee and it tasted like acceptance. She turned back to the fridge, fighting a smile as she pulled the sausages from the top shelf and added them to the pan. Soon the kitchen was filled with the sounds of sizzling and the smell of food; the anxiety had eased into something quiet and tired and easy to ignore.

She whisked eggs in a bowl, added milk and cheese and cooked it in the same pan as the sausage drippings once they’d finished. She divvied the food up on three plates and set them on the table. The whole meal took her less than twenty minutes, hardly any trouble at all but it felt good to do something for them. It soured when a flood of dread and disgust spilled across the table the moment she put the plate in front of Five. Her movements stuttered, taken by surprise, hesitating to watch him spear a sausage with the fork and nibble on one end like he hadn’t felt anything.

She exchanged a look with Diego, who’d paused mid-bite to watch Five as well.

Irritation suddenly simmered between them, a striking indecisiveness between anger and the urge to flee, anxiety washing over them again. It happened so fast, her and Diego nearly drowned in it. She put her own plate down before she dropped it, and moved to sit. The scrape of the chair on the floor was like someone physically hitting her.

“Five,” she said, her voice swimming.

Diego put down his fork, food untouched, and reached across the table to put a hand on Five’s shoulder. The old man vanished in a pop of light and reappeared by the counter next to the coffee pot. He poured himself another cup, his body lax and his movements smooth in sharp contrast to swirl of indignant rage pounding at the walls.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you too, but I don’t want to be involved.” He took a long slurp from the coffee, turning to regard them over the rim of it. “Play your games with someone else.” And with that he disappeared in a pop of light, leaving behind the traces of bitter irritation.

“Maybe it was breakfast?”

“What was wrong with eggs and sausage?” Diego asked.

Allison had no idea. Five was a bit weird about food, but she supposed surviving a few decades in an apocalypse could mess with someone’s ability to have a healthy relationship with eating. He was so skinny, and seemed to get skinnier every day. It was a challenge getting him to eat.

“Maybe he doesn’t like them.”

“Does Five like anything?” Diego asked. “Besides coffee.”

“Fluffernutters,” Allison said. It was the only thing she’d ever seen him choose for himself, besides the time he pilfered all the canned peaches from the cupboards and Klaus found them stashed under his bed. “Fruit?”

For lunch Allison asked Mom to chop up a fruit salad. Five emerged from his room around eleven a.m. like clockwork, usually for coffee. He arrived in the kitchen through one his rips, immediately splashing the room with an emotion that tasted like gunmetal. Allison couldn’t describe it other than dark, sardonic, and irritable. It twisted with the bleeding rawness she had felt earlier.

Five stopped in the doorway, dread spilling forth when he saw her and Diego waiting for him. And he knew they’d been waiting, she could feel him realize it, suspicion mixing with the dread. He scowled at them, a classically abrasive Five expression that she wouldn’t have blinked twice at yesterday.

It was surreal feeling the tumult underneath it.

Five went for the coffee. “Is there a reason you two are still here?”

“We live here,” Diego said.

“Don’t you have a job?” He said to Diego, voice and intonation both sharp and accusing.

“It’s my day off.”

“So you spend it sitting around the kitchen? What a productive use of your time.”

“Oh yeah?” Diego asked, temper flaring predictably. “What do you do around here all day? Huh?”

A bitterness, dark and sharp, encased the room like tar, bubbling with frustration and a delicately muted rage that felt utterly ancient. There was something there Allison wasn’t quite seeing, something deeper than whatever foul mood he was in.

“Why are you mad, Five?” Allison cut the tension like a knife, going against the grain.

“I’m not angry,” Five said, most definitely defending himself.

“You came down here and immediately started picking a fight,” she pointed out, watching his eyes dart from her to Diego and back again, caught out.

He scoffed, glancing down at the coffee cup in his hand, and she felt him switch at the realization. “Oh,” he said, folding inward on himself. Anger still shimmered off him, but it felt like he was trying to pull it back in, drink it down with the bitter burn of coffee in his throat. “The math is being uncooperative,” he gestured above his head in the general direction of his room several floors above them.

“Well you don’t have to take it out on us, you ass,” Diego said, his voice forgiving despite his words.

Shame descended like a fog, settling like an ache against her breast bone. She gestured at the table, desperate to dissipate that cloud. “Mom made fruit.”

Five glanced at her from beneath his bangs but latched onto the change in subject. “Made, huh?”

“She didn’t ‘make’ the fruit, she cut it up though. Do you want some?”

There was a bubble of emotions that came up in the form of hesitation, it was old and complicated and Allison didn’t know how to sift through it fast enough to make any sense of it. Five pursed his lips, shrugged one shoulder and stepped over, holding his coffee in one hand casually. He considered the medley, genuinely perusing the selection, which was more than she could say for breakfast. He chose a pitted peach, cut in half, pulling it from the mix with slender fingers.

“That’s all?”

“Hmm?” he paused, dropping the peach-half back into the salad.

“You can take more,” she felt compelled to inform him.

“I know,” he said, which struck her for the lie it was. She had to swallow that quickly lest it show on her face.

“Get a bowl, take as much as you want.” He could take the whole damn thing, if it pleased him, and none of them would stop him or even admonish him.

The prickle of suspicion resurfaced, and he withdrew his hand away from the bowl, staring at her. His eyes flicked to Diego, mistrust wafting up like a foul smell. He leaned back, straightening to his full height and it was like a veil descended over him, and him alone. A muting of everything, like a layer of cloud, fog, or smoke that socked him in, pushing them out. He took a sip of his coffee, still watching them, before vanishing again in a pop of light.

Diego sighed, deflating next to her. “You can’t push directly, you keep spooking him.”

She groaned in frustration, pillowing her face on her arms on the table. “And here I thought this would be easier than trying to guess.”

She startled up when a returning pop announced Five’s re-arrival. He landed inches from the table wielding a knife from god knows where, which he used to spear several large pieces of fruit. He vanished again without pretense, leaving her stunned and blinking.

From somewhere upstairs, peach flavored delight bloomed on her tongue.

#tua fic #tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #number five #fanfic #this one wanted to be so much more #and i had more ideas for it #please enjoy it in its tragically incomplete form

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hello-everyfandom · 4 years ago

Text

“I’m not very good at flirting, am I?”

Warnings: Cringey attempts at flirting?

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Words: 2k

Summary: Remus is nervous for your first study date, or date? Is it a date?

You were quite oblivious when it came to people who fancied you. Howard Lewis, from house Ravenclaw, practically had heart eyes for you and attempted to ask you out every Saturday morning whilst you drank your tea. The only response he was given was a hum and a sweet reply back,

“I’m not planning on doing anything but reading my novel,”

You frustrated a lot of boys in your year, and even in the year above. You must know, right? You must’ve known that at least half of your house and even more boys from the other houses have tried to flirt with you and received nothing back. But you didn’t. You loved blind. And, not to mention, quite peculiar as you obliviously ignored your suitors. You spent days feeling quite lonely and even longed for a handsome fellow to sweep you off your feet and into the forbidden forest. Remus Lupin thought you were peculiar as well, but not peculiar as in a bizarre fashion, instead, he thought of you strangely amazing. He found himself gifted the seat to the right of yours during Transfigurations and was kept his glances towards you to only a few per minute. He was smitten. And he was speechless when you approached him one Saturday morning, unaware of your rejection to a Mr. Lewis of Ravenclaw, and asked him to study with you.

“Hello Remus,” you said, he greeted you politely and with reddened ears, he knew he would get teased for later, “I was wondering if you were not too busy after lunch if you could help me study a bit of Transfigurations. I find it actually quite difficult and would rather McGonagall not deducted points from my house.”

Remus nodded quickly and stuttered out, “Yes, I. Where should I meet me? You? I mean, you.” he quickly wanted to slam his face into his porridge but you seemed to enjoy his response and giggled.

“There’s a tree near the lake; if you bring your textbook I can bring a blanket for us to sit on?” you offered, “I swear I have the comfiest blankets in my dorm.” Remus sent you an embarrassed smile and watched you longingly as you spun and left the Great Hall, a steaming mug of tea in your hand.

Sirius clapped his hand on Remus’ shoulder rather harshly, he’d say, and let out a bark, “How the hell did you do it?” Remus snapped out of his gaze to look at his three friends who stared at him in wonder.

“Do... what? Exactly?” Remus begged his face to go back to his original pale colour and stirred his breakfast with a spoon.

“I believe you have a date with a Ms. Y/L/N.” Sirius grinned boyishly and hooted, “Remus, how did you do it!”

“Sirius, get your hand off me before I feed it to the giant squid and leave your body for dessert, and it’s not a date,” Remus grumbled and shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“No, really, mate, how did you manage to get a date with Y/L/N? How did you get her to ask you on a date?” Peter pushed closer to Remus and jokingly added, “Oh Moony, you know love potions are illegal to give to other students, correct?” Remus shoved Peter aside and looked for James for help.

“It’s not a date! Prongs?”

James put his hands up in defense, “Not me, Moons, I can’t help you as I think you’ve just scored yourself a date with Y/N. But, what I can help you with is Lewis as I think he’s going to absolutely fuck you up by the looks of it,” James stood up and did the ‘I see you’ motion towards Howard and yelled, “Oi, Leeeeewis, you jealous? Yeah, you better be. Fix your bloody eyes, mate, you’ve got a starin’ problem!”

This time, Remus actually did slam his head into the breakfast table.

Lunch flew by and Remus couldn’t do anything but fiddle. He had run to and from the common room and dorms, a few times just to ensure he had all the right things. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Was this a date? Did you want to date him? Why him? Remus flopped down on the couch next to Sirius and buried his face in his hands.

“Alright, I give up. I need your help,” he mumbled,

“You? Ask ME for help? The god of dating and sex himself?” Sirius asked dramatically, placing a hand on his chest and inhaling sharply.

“Oh will you just- sod off will you? And just tell me, exactly how you flirt?”

“Moony we only have a few hours, I cannot possibly teach you the essence of the Black seduction in a few hours.”

“The only thing you’ll be seeing is black unless you-”

Sirius shot his head back and laughed, “Relax Moony, perhaps we should do some yoga to loosen you up. Are your buttocks in a twist? You can tell me.” Suddenly Remus regretted asking Sirius for help but took notes on his flirting technique anyways.

“Oh hello! Come join me, please!” Remus felt everything he had eaten and all of his organs drop, his tongue swelled up and he began to sweat under his sweater. Seeing you in the fall light made him internally (and externally) swoon but he attempted to take a deep breath. He began to try and mimic the way Sirius walked through the halls, putting swagger in his hips. “Remus, you’re being silly, perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with your silly boys, come sit! Don’t be shy.” You smiled again, making Remus forget the stupid stupid walk he learned from Sirius and just sat down.

“You were right,” he said in surprise, “this blanket is extremely soft.”

“Would I lie to you, Mr. Lupin? Feel free to lie on it, I’ve taken a few naps on it ‘mself, though I probably should’ve focused on my potions essay instead.” Remus would rather nap on your soft thighs and feel your fingers slide through his hair, but he chuckled and replied,

“If I did, who would study with you?”

You pouted your lip slightly, making Remus clench the book he was taking out, “I suppose you’re right. I couldn’t fathom studying with anyone else.” Were you flirting with him? You seemed to lean closer to Remus, wanting to feel his warmth. But, Remus couldn’t place whether or not you were acting flirtatious due to the immense amount of nerves in his system. The two of you began to study, Remus would provide a word and you a definition. Much to his nervous delight, your conversation ran rather smoothly and no awkward lull of silence was provided.

Might as well go for it, Remus thought and glanced at the piece of parchment he tucked away in his bag. He cleared his throat and rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants.

“So, Y/N...” he trailed off, almost getting lost again in your gaze,

“Yes?”

“You’re so cute, I think if, I think if you were, I think if you were a boggart, no,” he fumbled quickly with his words making you furrow your eyebrow.

Perhaps he is having a stroke? You thought.

“If, I think. If you were a... since you’re so cute, and if, a boggart you were, or I’d have... you’d be a.. cute... one?” If Remus could die, he would’ve. On the spot. If he could be struck by lightning and guided to the pearly gates that muggles seem to dream about, he would. In fact, he would even rather be sent to the fiery pits of hell than listen to what he was saying. His attempt at flirting had gone disastrously as he licked his lips in anticipation of your reply. He watched as you looked at him and began to blink rapidly. A wide smile spread across your lips as you let a small laugh slip out.

“Remus Lupin,” You began, sitting up, “Are you flirting with me?” You continued to giggle, almost shyly.

“What? No! I mean, yes. Maybe? Because I said, the boggart, and cute and...”

Remus Lupin, you are an idiot. He thought

“I’m not very good at flirting, am I?” he stared at your smiling face before realizing how mortifying the last minute of his life was. “Excuse me while I jump into the lake now.” You bit your lip to stifle the laughter and held his forearm.

“Remus,” you said softly, “I thought it was quite lovely actually.”

He sighed and shook his head, “you don’t have to protect my feelings, Y/N, I’m more than happy to die over his embarrassing moment. I feel like a right and foolish prat right about now.”

“I’ll say it again, I thought it was very sweet. I’ve never been flirted before, so it was new for me as well.” Remus’ eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as he became redder and shook his head.

“No no, that’s not true. I know half a dozen Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who are mad for you! And Howard Lewis even asks you out every Saturday!”

Now it was your turn to be confused, “What are you talking about, Remus?”

“The... the!!” Remus was exasperated, “boys fancy you.”

“No, they don’t?” You began making Remus want to rip his hair out.

“Yes, they do!”

“Remus, no boy has fancied me in the entirety of my life, you must be mad.”

“Well, I fancy you!” He blurted out making you instantly blush,

“Oh.”

“Yes. And. I’m terribly and dreadfully awful at flirting but I wanted to try and show you that I do actually, um, like you.”

“Oh,” It became quiet, not silent, but quiet. “Well, I,”

“Y/N, you don’t have to say anything, we can forget about it and just study.” You tried to speak again but he cut you off, “Really, it’s okay. It was foolish and stupid and dumb and immature-”

“Don’t I get to say anything, Mr. Flirtatious?” You teased and brushed off your skirt, “I fancy you as well if you didn’t pick that up already, and truthfully, I did find your flirting, while disastrous, to be extremely and utterly adorable.” Remus blinked before an awkward, toothy smile rose. “I’m glad we got that settled then, yeah?” You nodded at Remus before he continued after you,

“Now, may I at least ask you a few questions?”

You hummed in response.

“So is, is this a date?”

“Do you want it to be?” you asked,

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a date.”

“Lovely,” Remus felt more and more joyous, “now, did you really not know that every boy in Hogwarts was pining over you?”

You quickly shook your head, “Why would I? I haven’t given a care about any of them until you came ‘round.”

“And the blanket?”

“I brought the blanket so we could read and lay on it,”

Remus was satisfied with his answers and longed to lean in to kiss you. He, and his absolutely dumb-witted nerves, decided to save it for a second date and held your hand instead. Fingers threaded and interlocked, you gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“That reminds me, do you have that extra book in your bag I seemed to have misplaced mine and I-” you reached into Remus’ bag and before he could react, you pulled out the piece of parchment with all the bloody pickup lines Sirius had fed him.

“Is this...?” You asked,

“Yes.” He quickly answered. Your eyes scanned the page in amusement.

“Why didn’t you go with ‘Are you a snitch? Because you’re the greatest catch here,’ I think that one is much better suited than ‘uh, cute, boggart, uh, you, and if I were,” you mocked him jokingly before leaning back comfortably on his chest. He could sing with happiness and leap off the face of the Earth.

“Hey, so maybe flirting isn’t my strong suit.”

“I say this as sweetly as I can, I think you better stick to Transfigurations instead.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin imagines #marauders imagine #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin imagine #sirius black #sirius black imagines #marauders imagines #marauders fanfiction #marauders #remus lupin headcanon #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter headcanon

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ultrahpfan5blog · 3 years ago

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Retrospective Review: Skyfall (2012)

So after QoS was generally considered to be a letdown after the impressive success of Casino Royale, there was a bit of a course correction required. It wasn't as if QoS was a bomb. Both Casino Royale and QoS were the highest grossing Bond films till then. But critically they needed to course correct a bit. Skyfall came in with a lot of hype since it came on the 50th anniversary of Bond in films. Sam Mendes came in and knocked it out of the park in Skyfall. In my opinion, Skyfall is second only to Casino Royale in the ranking of Bond films.

What is interesting about Skyfall is that it feels like it takes a significant step away from the previous two films. It feels aesthetically different from the previous two films and Bond himself is reinvented as someone at a different point in his life. While Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace were films with Bond as a new 00 agent. In Skyfall, he is an older agent, considered to be past his prime. So it seems like there is a big time leap in his career. The film has a fantastic opening action sequence, going from car chase, to bike chase, to fight on a train. You really feel Bond being pushed to his limit in this sequence. Yet, there are still very lovely iconic touches like when Bond leaps from the tractor into the train, he checks his cufflinks. Its really a small thing but it lends a lot of Bond's character. Skyfall is probably one of the most known Bond songs and it really lends to the mood of the film to follow.

The film's biggest strengths lie in the film making and in the performances from the actors who are all excellent across the board. The film has makes some bold choices when it comes to plot by making MI6 fallible. M in this movie is not at her best. She makes mistakes and a security leak happens as a result and people die because of the mistakes she made. There is also a legitimate argument to be made that she did wrong the villain and does manipulate Bond. As a result, she becomes an even more interesting character. If there is a true Bond girl in this movie, it is Judi Dench because she is front and center in this movie and the plot really surrounds her. Its by far her more substantial role in the franchise and she really makes the most of it. Her relationship both with Silva and Bond is fascinating, with Silva having almost an Oedipal complex with her whereas there is a clear maternal connection with Bond. Its a very fitting swan song for her.

There are a couple of other Bond girls in the movie. Naomie Harris makes an excellent debut as Moneypenny. If I am correct, I don't think we even know she is Moneypenny until the very end of the movie. But she's pretty badass from the very beginning and she has a nice witty banter with Bond. There is a nice and friendly sexual tension between the two. Its definitely a different Moneypenny from the previous eras but she is a welcome presence. One performance that doesn't get enough credit is Berenice Marlohe as Severine. She is actually pretty fantastic in the movie in a fairly brief role. She is enigmatic and seductive and a deeply tragic figure but her scenes are ones that really stick with me. Definitely the scene in the Casino is excellent.

We also get the reintroduction of Q, played by Ben Whishaw and he's immediately winning. It makes a lot of sense for the modern technology driven Q to be a younger man and its a fun switch of the dynamics between Bond and Q, where previously Q was sort of a mentor figure for Bond, here Bond is the elder person who makes fun of Q's age. One other character who is a surprise is Ralph Fiennes as Mallory. When he is initially introduced, he feels like a stereotypical government employee who is against Bond and M, but you slowly see that there is more to him than meets the eye and he's actually quite a badass himself and ends up being the new M by the end of the movie. Fiennes is great as he normally is. Albert Finney has a fun role in the last act and Rory Kinnear continues on as Tanner.

Javier Bardem's impact on this film is immense. What is interesting is that he doesn't appear until just a few minutes past the halfway mark of the movie. And even in the second half, he disappears for about 15-20 minutes after the hearing shootout. But his impact looms over the entire movie, even when he's not there. And that's a testament to his performance. He is brilliant in the role. He has an outstanding entry scene with a great monologue. You can just tell that Bardem is having a blast in this role. He manages to induce menace, rage, heartbreak, and madness. You genuinely feel some sympathy for his him because he isn't completely wrong. Its a performance that is truly right towards the very top of Bond villains and it elevates the movie a lot.

Daniel Craig is again fantastic here. He continues to give his all, both physically and emotionally in the role. The scenes between him and Bardem on the Island are some of the best acted sequences in the movie. And again, the dynamic between M and Bond sells because of how well both Craig and Dench play off each other. There are little touches that Craig does that I love so much. I already mentioned the cufflinks scene in the opening action sequence. Then there is a fight scene in a Casino where he and a goon fall into a pit and he spots a Komodo dragon and he is startled and points at it even, even when he is being picked up by the thug. Also, when he gets pissed off when he sees the DB5 get blown up in the climax. It doesn't sound like much, but it genuinely adds a lot to the character when you see it. He has good chemistry with all the cast and you even buy him when you see him struggling physically post the injury inflicted in the opening sequence. Its a performances where he delivers the humor, action, drama, emotion etc... and he does it all brilliantly.

As I mentioned earlier, the film making is terrific. Aesthetically, this film stands out and his beautiful to look at. Its no surprise that Roger Deakins is the cinematographer. There are just some gorgeous sequences throughout the movie, be it the fight in the empty office in Shanghai, the sequence in the Casino, the empty old house in the middle of nowhere, or the moors of Scotland in the climax. There is just a wonderful use of light to make every frame stand out. Sam Mendes also keeps the pacing tight. This is almost as long as Casino Royale, and just like that film, you don't feel the time. The only reason I rank this below Casino Royale is that the story telling isn't as tight as it could have been. For example, Silva's entire plan is really implausible when you think about it. No amount of preplanning would have led to everything happening exactly as he planned it because it requires a lot of random actions from people which he could definitely not predict. Then there is the fact that M endangers the ministers and everyone at the hearing despite knowing there is an eminent threat. Also, while the climax is spectacular and I get that Bond wanted to get Silva out of his comfort zone, but I still don't see how isolating himself in the middle of nowhere, with just M for backup against Silva and his entire army was a wise idea. Also, the film sets up the interesting notion that Bond is not at his best physically, but it sort of abandons the idea towards the end with Bond basically taking out Silva's whole army on his own. So there are some loose ends to the storytelling. But its easy to overlook them. The film also makes the brave choice to have Silva actually win since M dies in the end. So it is a bittersweet ending in a way. But its all done in a very satisfying manner.

Overall, its an excellent movie. Definitely top tier Bond and a very fitting movie for the 50th anniversary for Bond. A 9/10.

#skyfall #sam mendes #rory kinnear #tanner #naomie harris #eve moneypenny #ben whishaw #Q #M #berenice marlohe #severine #javier bardem #raoul silva #ralph fiennes #gareth mallory #007 #daniel craig #judi dench #roger deakins

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arknights-imagines · 3 years ago

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GOD that mostima post had me FEELING things. I'm glad I'm not the only one who appreciates mostima a lot wahhh ; v ; i was wondering if maybe you could do a mostima/doctor after their established relationship when one of them has got injured or smth? :o I feel like with her belief that she can't hold warmth having to provide it in a dire situation would be an interesting challenge for mostima, and likewise being on the receiving end of it in a situation like that too for her!!

(It's good to be back!!! 😭🥳)

Aaaa tysm anon! 😭🥺 I'm glad you like my stuff on Mostima haha 👉👈 tbh she's grown a lot on me since I've started this blog!! 💕 She's very underappreciated 🥺 Anywho, thanks for the request and I hope I did Mostima justice here~ 🌸

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Easing Worry

Imagine format; no fixed perspective!

Contains: Mostima, reader as the Doctor, gender neutral Doctor/no gender mentioned, established relationship, a few background characters, very brief mentions of an explosions and injuries, fluff with the tiniest bit of angst, Mostima having to deal with her emotions 👉👈

Word count: just over 2k!

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“Mostima, come in! Mostima!!”

Static was all that came in reply despite the amount of times you called out into the communications link. Frustrated, you sighed sharply and watched the blink of the Caster’s tracker on the map of the ruins displayed on the screen before yourself, Amiya and Texas.

Mostima had been dispatched on an Operation to some old city ruins in Kazedel for a Mission; Unfortunately, you couldn’t accompany the Squad she was sent out with, and thanks to her lone wolf nature the Caster strayed from the other Operators who were with her. She must’ve run into trouble soon after, because when you had tried advising her to return to her Squad members through the comms-link, all that came in reply was a commotion and then silence.

“...That’s not good.” Texas’ tone wasn't very telling, but her furrowed brows and tight jaw read unease. From beside you, Amiya spoke up, “Doctor, what would you like to do?”

Mostima’s tracker was still active, which meant she must’ve been alive - still, the pit of worry in your stomach didn't fade in the slightest. When you didn't reply, Amiya decided to take the lead, “We should wait a little while longer. Maybe Ms. Mostima will get back to us…”

You had your rapt attention on the screen before you, and so when no protest from you came, everyone did as Amiya said. Even after some time passed, the tracker didn't move and nothing came through the communications link.

From her spot at another console nearby, Closure huffed loudly, “...our drones can't find her.” When you turned to look at her, she went on, “Doctor, Mostima is definitely alive down there but… we can't see her from up here, and I have no idea what happened.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor and you fell silent; within seconds the worry began eating at your insides, soon creating a suffocating tension around your heart. The thought of something happening to Mostima made you feel ill - more ill than any sickness had ever made you feel.

Amiya spoke in your place again, “P-Perhaps we should send someone. I’ll call one of our other Operators and we can create a plan-” “No, I’ll go.” Everyone's heads snapped to you right away, their faces filled with consternation and slight surprise. As was expected, Amiya shook her head right away, “Doctor, it isn't safe down there-” Though difficult, you shook your head and replied as calmly as you can manage; if it wasn't safe for you, then Mostima was in grave danger and needed to be extracted right away.

Amiya seemed conflicted - however, everyone was well aware of how much Mostima meant to you, and how much you meant to her. Your relationship was common knowledge around Rhodes Island by that point. And so, though she was worried for your safety, the Chimera nodded and stepped in front of the map displayed on the screen to take your place, “Alright, got it. I trust you, Doctor - bring Ms. Mostima back safe and sound!”

Not wishing to waste any time, you began heading straight towards the door of the aircraft; your heart pounded almost deafeningly in your ears as you outfitted yourself with proper protective care and a parachute. Closure opened the aircraft door, and you stepped close to the edge with one thought in your mind;

‘Please be okay, Mostima.’

…

The expanse of ruined land was silent; the heavy scent of sulfur and ash was carried in the air, and the dust from the building collapse was only just settling. Convinced that they had successfully killed any threat, the Reunion soldiers took their leave - the aircraft that was hovering over them couldn't mean good news on their end.

Unable to move, Mostima groaned quietly - she had only just regained consciousness, what happened? She didn't quite remember right then. Some sort of heavy weight is putting pressure on her whole body, especially her legs and chest. As she attempted to open her eyes, pain spread throughout her skull like a flood and forced her to screw them shut again. Somewhat paralyzed under whatever was holding her down, the Caster stayed lying on the ground, taking in shallow breaths.

When her ears began to stop ringing, the sound of footsteps followed by a voice calling her name caused Mostima to snap back into reality once more. ‘....Doctor?’; That was right, she was on an Operation you assigned her to, but something had gone wrong along the way. Had you come looking for her?

Finally, she found her strength; it wasn't much, however. Wincing as she moved her body, the Caster lifted her arms and began forcing up the rubble that was pinning her form down as best she could. Your voice tore through the air again - “Mostima!” - and your quickened footsteps neared her. You assisted her in lifting the remnants of the exploded building off her body, insisting that she tried to move as little as possible as you removed the rest of the rubble from her body.

Moaning a little in pain, Mostima shakily shifted her body until she was sat with her back against one of the pieces of debris you had helped lift off her. With the adrenaline now gone, pain began filling her body in so many places that even breathing began to sting; and yet, when you had given your attention to her, her usual soft smile played on the Caster’s lips.

You knelt beside her right away, hands hovering over her form, “Mostima, are you okay?” Grinning still, she managed a nod, “Doctor, hello to you too…” Though she tried, she was unable to bite back the pained wince she made as she lifted her arm to wave at you. Your eyebrows knitted together and your face twisted in a frown - and yet Mostima was smiling at you still.

“What happened?” Your hand had come to cup her cheek, but she shook her head before her fingers could rest on her skin; no matter how much time you two spent together, it seemed her instinct was still to reject any affection you wished to give her. Avoiding your gaze, she began to explain, “During the Operation, the Squad got ambushed. Hm, our guys were actually doing well, we had almost taken care of all of them.” A small sigh bridged her sentences, “But just as things were wrapping up, I saw a few of the Reunion trying to make an escape. I figured that was no good, so I went after them...haha, I guess I walked right into their trap, because the next thing I knew I was under all that rubble.”

While she had been talking, your hands were pressing and running over parts of her body checking for injuries; something seemed to be impeding your thoughts, however, because though you were supposed to be scanning for wounds, your eyes were staring at the ground. Were you upset?

Hoping to lighten the mood, Mostima spoke once again, This time a strained laugh left her, “Ahaha...sorry, I still really don’t get this whole ‘teamwork’ thing.” Immediately, you shook your head, “No… don’t worry, I’m not mad.” She lifted a bow at you.

Your eyes finally looked up from the ground and you reached into the bag you were carrying, unearthing bandages and a clean cloth. The Caster fell quiet as she allowed you to cover the scrapes and cuts on her arms - your touch was so gentle, you touched her as if she was made of precious glass. You took the cloth in your hand then lifted it to her face; this time, however, Mostima didn't shake you off or pull away. Instead, she met your gaze - and what she saw caused her heart to ache.

Your face was riven with worry, only some relief was on your features - probably due to the fact that she was still alive. Mostima’s calm grin faltered, “Doctor….” In all honesty, seeing you so worried over her caused the Caster more pain than any of her injuries did; this wasn't her intention, she didn't mean to panic you to the point that you came down to look for her.

She wasn't used to this, you were both acutely aware of that. Mostima worked alone, Mostima dealt with things alone; before you, every person she held dear was someone she also ended up pushing away. Close bonds - she didn't need them, the Caster told herself, there was no need for them in her line of work. And so she was never raring to work with others, and people she had relationships with barely ever saw her anymore.

But with you, her usual method of pushing away until the other person gave up didn't work. And soon, thanks to your persistence, warmth began blooming in her heart - and she was helpless to stop it.

Unfortunately, Mostima was just as helpless when it came to expressing all the warmth she held for you in her heart. You caused emotions she contended with, and so her first instinct was to pull away or push you back; and that usually just left both of you feeling hurt. The Caster didn't believe in her capacity to encompass love or warmth - but you did.

Finally, Mostima found her voice once more, “Doctor...angel.” She corrected herself, instead using the nickname you rarely ever heard from her. It was mushy, cheesy - and yet butterflies filled your stomach every time she used it. Once she was sure she had your attention, the Caster spoke, trying her absolute best and allowing all of her words to come from her heart, “I’m sorry, I know I must’ve scared you really bad. I didn't mean...to worry you.”

Your face softened at her words; placing the cloth down, your hand found its way to hers. When she interlaced her fingers with your own, you smiled gently. Relieved to see you more at ease, Mostima squeezed your hand as best she could considering her loss of strength before continuing, “Unfortunately - in case you haven't noticed - I’m terrible at this. Haha…you’re really unlucky to have fallen in love with someone like me. I push people away, I push everyone away.” Her smile had gone, and now her face was filled with serious, genuine sincerity. “But I don’t want you to go away, you’re the first person in a long time who I’ve wanted to stay with. And I know I’m not good at showing it…”

Gathering some of her strength, the Caster shut her eyes as she lifted your hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on your fingers. “But my dear Doctor, my sweet angel - I care so much about you. Actually, scratch that... I love you, I love you so much.” And she trailed off, relaxing with her lips on your hand and losing herself in the moment for just a second or two.

It felt indescribably warm to just shut her eyes and pretend it was just you and her in the entirety of Terra. While it was hard to take down all her walls, it was so much better than deflecting your affections and was worth it for the way her heart grew in her chest as she allowed herself and you to be compassionate towards one another.

When your hand moved to cup her cheek, Mostima leaned into your touch rather than pulling away. When her eyes fluttered open, her gaze fell upon your effusive smile; “I love you too, Mostima. I promise I’m not going anywhere, no matter what.” Your words prompted her to chime with a light laugh, “Hehe, I guess there’s no getting rid of you, huh~?” You shook your head in reply - when your grin widened, she couldn't help but mirror the expression.

Facial features softening and becoming sincere, she left another kiss on the inside of your palm, “I’ve never had anyone like you...Sorry if I’m not always cooperative. Thanks for looking after me, Doctor.” A warm, passionate grin came to your face as you replied, “Always, Mostima.”

The area that surrounded the two of you was in a ruinous state, that same heavy scent still hung in the air and injuries were still littered all over Mostima’s body. And yet; upon seeing your smile, her body filled with a heartened feeling.

#🥺🥺 mostima appreciation #arknights #arknights imagines #arknights mostima #arknights x reader #mostima arknights #arknights imagine #arknights fanfic #arknights fanfics #arknights writing #imagine #imagines #writing #mostima

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pterodactylterrace · 4 years ago

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Guys Like You Chapter 15

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 15

Chapter Summary: "Two lines means pregnant, right?"

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, illusions to smut and a shitty ex, swearing.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12} {Chapter 13} {Chapter 14}

Everything seemed so similar to how it was the first time, years ago. The pit in her stomach, her pulse pounding in her ears. The feel of the wrapper when she opened it, the awkward positioning, wondering if she managed to soak it for the required amount of time, the unpleasant task of putting the cap back on the stick to keep urine from getting on anything else. All the same as the last time.

This time however, she also bore the scars from the previous experience. How her hopes had been crushed, how she'd been cast aside. She'd thought he would have been happy for some reason. He didn't use protection, so that meant he must have wanted to build a family with her, right? She had learned that wasn't the case. He was just a selfish prick. She'd waited for an ultrasound, just to fully confirm the life she had inside of her. She'd been thrilled to learn there were two of them. Twins, just like the rest of her family! He'd thrown the picture in the trash the second he realized what it was. He wanted nothing to do with her anymore. She was used goods. Worthless. Trash, just like the picture of her babies.

Now though, her boyfriend was waiting just outside the bathroom door. It had taken some urging to get him to leave the room, actually. It would seem the manner in which the test had to be taken had slipped his mind. An awkward staring contest had ensued before Faye had quietly asked him to leave so she could pee. A rare luxury she had as a mother, to be perfectly honest. He was quick to grant her some privacy after that.

She placed the plastic stick face down and scrubbed her hands thoroughly, wasting as much time as she could before she had to to open the door. Henry was waiting just outside, as he had promised, an unreadable expression on his face. Of course he would keep his emotions hidden for now. He was an actor, after all. No sense in letting her know how much he was freaking out as well, right?

"Well?" Henry asked softly, his hand automatically reaching out for hers, needing to feel her skin on his.

"It takes a couple of minutes to work..."

"Are you alright?" Henry asked softly, gently cupping her jaw and tilting her head to look up at him. Concern. A look she hadn't been accustomed to all those years ago.

"I don't know... I'm scared."

"I'm so sorry I put you in this situation." Henry apologized, carefully pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. He needed to hold her in that moment, possibly even more than she needed to be held.

"I know you didn't mean to... It's just... well I told you about the last time."

"I'm not him, darling." Henry assured, resting his cheek on her head. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know, and I keep telling myself that. It's just hard to forget what happened before. For some reason, I thought he would have been happy. I should have known better, honestly. He never thought about anyone but himself."

"I can promise you, I would be incredibly happy to raise more children with you, if that's what you want. If you decide you don't want anymore, that's fine. I'll just have to settle for spoiling Briar even more to make up for it."

"I always pictured myself having a few kids. After having to go through my entire pregnancy alone and the miscarriage, and then having to raise Briar by myself, though... it wasn't easy. It made me wonder if I was even meant to be a mother."

"You're a fantastic mother, Faye. Briar thinks the world of you, and you've done an excellent job raising her, but you don't have to do it alone anymore."

"It's got to be done by now... can you go check it?" Faye asked hopefully.

"Together?" Henry asked, slipping past Faye to grab the stick.

"No, just tell me." Faye requested, chewing the inside of her lip nervously.

"Uhh... two lines means pregnant, right?"

"What?" Faye yelped, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

"I'm just looking at the key! There's only one line!" Henry quickly corrected, his eyes going wide when he'd realized his mistake.

"Oh my God, you asshole!" Faye groaned, throwing her arms around his middle and hiding in his chest.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that." Henry apologized, tossing the stick back onto the counter and holding her close.

"I'm so mad at you!" Faye whimpered, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"Would putting on your pretty new dress make you feel better?" Henry offered, smiling to himself at Faye's slow nod. "Then let's both get cleaned up. The sitter should be here in an hour, and I don't think answering the door wet and wearing nothing but a towel is a good first impression."

"You'd kill the poor girl if you did that." Faye snorted, tilting her head back and resting her chin against his chest.

"We need her to live. Someone has to watch Briar while we got get unreasonably drunk."

"Planning on drinking a lot tonight, my love?" Faye asked, raising a brow at him.

"Oh we are both definitely drinking tonight. It's a celebration and you've just been given the go ahead for drinking."

"But if we're both drunk, who's going to be the responsible one?'

"That's why we're hiring a sitter. We can both be irresponsible, at least for one night."

"Fine, but I'm taking the first shower." Faye sighed, pulling away and slipping down the hall, giving Henry a confused look when he followed right after, already stripping his shirt off the second he got into their bedroom. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Playing lifeguard." Henry taunted, shooting her a shit eating grin.

"Is that a polite way of saying jacking off while I'm showering?"

"Well you could always lend me a hand." Henry offered, already working on his belt.

"We only have an hour before the sitter gets here!"

"That forty five minutes more than I need." Henry growled, shoving the rest of his clothing down his legs, kicking them off, and snatching her up.

Faye felt the need to point out that his estimation of fifteen minutes had been a bit lean. It was almost half an hour before they reemerged from the bathroom. Henry tried to argue that they spent some of the time actually bathing, though he knew it was a pointless debate. All it took was Henry taking her dress from the closet, still in it's protective bag and laying it on the bed for her to drop the subject entirely.

"It's so pretty!" Faye sighed as she unzipped the bag, running her hands over the soft fabric. It was a soft grey dress, the skirt made of tulle and a structured corset like top to it. Henry had insisted she go with the grey after she'd tried on numerous other colorful options. All the color suited her bright personality, but clashed with her already brightly colored hair, and took away from the shimmer in her smile and the wide innocence she held in her eyes. In the grey, she shined. She was the center of attention instead of what she was wearing. It enhanced all of her wonderful qualities instead of competing with them. Henry had no doubt she would be the one on everyone's minds tonight.

Most of the drive there was spent with Henry trying to coach Faye on what to do. He knew how terrifying everything could be, and he knew people would have a lot of questions, mostly about who she was. He instructed her to just keep her eyes on him to avoid being overwhelmed by the crowd and the flashing cameras. He didn't expect her to talk to anyone, and advised against saying anything to anyone that was recording or looked like any type of journalist, especially without him there. He knew they tended to twist words and make mountains out of molehills, and he didn't want any more stress on her than necessary.

None of it felt real until the driver finally came to a halt, Faye spying the waiting crowd for the first time. Sure, she had been expecting some people. It was the season two premiere of a Netflix hit show. She just didn't know it would be this many. She wasn't a fan of crowds at the best of times. Now, she was debating on just having the driver take her back home.

"Eyes on me." Henry reminded her, smiling brightly when her brown doe eyes met his blue gaze. "None of that matters, it's just us." He assured, taking a slow deep breath which Faye mirrored before his door was opened and he stepped out, shooting a charming smile at the crowd as he buttoned his suit coat, the flashes of the cameras temporarily blinding him.

He turned back around and offered Faye his hand, seeming to relax more himself when she delicately rested her hand in his and slid from the car. Just as he expected, the cameras picked up into an absolute frenzy, everyone eager to get a picture of the mystery woman accompanying Henry Cavill at such an important event.

Brushing off their questions was easy enough for Henry, simply replying with "She's gorgeous, isn't she?" Whenever anyone asked who she was and moving along. That did nothing to quell the 'news' stories that popped up later that night and into the next day, all calling for who this mystery woman was and what her relationship to Henry was, however.

He had happened upon it by chance, just scrolling through his newsfeed on Facebook. It wasn't the title that caught his attention, however. It was the picture of her face, that bright smile he'd only seen in old pictures and those same wide eyes, now locked on someone else like he was the only man in the world. She thought she could just move on like that? Didn't that idiot know she was used goods? Nothing but a whore that would try to trap him into something for the rest of his life.

"That bitch!" He hissed, feeling his blood boil. Did she really think she could get away with embarrassing him like this? Going around and flaunting what being a whore could do for someone? No, he wasn't going to allow it. She was his, and it was time she stopped all of her nonsense and came back.

Taglist: @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #guys like you #guys like you fic

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allthe8 · 4 years ago

Text

All I Need // part i

description: you know Jisung needs you and he shows you that he does, until he doesn’t.

warnings: angst, smut, explicit language, problematic Jisung:/

word count: 2.2k

pov: Jisung’s

She was back, I could feel it, the sheer euphoria coursing through my veins at the thought of her mere presence, I was starting to forget I was even mad at her-I couldn't even remember why she had felt but I did the remember the day she did-the memory was a blur, my mind had repressed it, the thought of being away from her made me feel like I was being cut off from my lifeline. I should've understood why she would want to leave but I didn't want to, without her I felt lost and I absolutely hated the pathetic feeling in the pit of my stomach when I was away from her for too long.

She had called it "needing space" and "wanting to be her own person", the irrational part of me called bullshit thinking she was just trying to leave me while the rational part could see clearly why she would want to and I hated myself for pushing her so much, that was in August-it was October now but she was back, here-sitting on my bed in a baby blue sundress that had ridden up her thigh from how she was crossing one leg over the other.

She had yet to notice my presence in the doorway of my bedroom, consumed by whatever it is she was looking at on her phone "You're back" I finally speak making her snap her head in my direction immediately standing up, it was then I noticed how tan her skin had gotten all from soaking up the Mediterranean sun. I tried to keep my eyes on hers as she walked towards me but it turned into a daunting task with the way her breasts were almost spilling out of her sundress, I didn't want her to know I hadn't been with anyone since she had left, just the company of my hand and the numerous pictures and videos I had on my phone of her post climax state, she would think I was touched starved so I stared at the window behind her feigning anger.

"You're late" I noticed her visibly flinch at that, she watched my face intently searching for signs of anger but I knew she'd find none. "I know, I-I'm so-rry" she said slowly, about 15 seconds passed without any of us saying anything, that was when she reached for my arm-caressing it with her thumb. "I missed you, Ji" she looks into my eyes, "Why do you sound so weird?" the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, "I haven't spoken any English since I left" she informs me. "You didn't miss me?" she asks and I almost start stuttering but she's not used to me being this vulnerable and I have to remind myself that I'm the one in control here-that's what she's used to-being acquiescent.

"I never wanted you to leave" I grumble and that's when the dynamics of our relationship begin to show, "I-I told you I needed space, Jisung" she whispers but I catch on to it.

"Fuck that, you were just trying to leave me and you're only back because you feel some sort of resentment masked with pity towards me"

"Why do you always think that? I'm here, aren't I?" she bites back skillfully avoiding the second part of what I said.

"That's not enough, you said you'd be gone for a month and I waited for you, just when I started to get use to not having you around you want to waltz back into my life like it's nothing".

"It's not like that and you know it" she chokes out, about to cry.

"Enlighten me then? No Spanish cock could fill you up like I can? Is that it?" I taunt, knowing the words were just spilling out of my mouth at this point, what was the use in stopping. "No! Is that what you really think of me?" she shrieks. "You know damn well what I think of you, y/n”. “You knew what I thought when you left but it didn't stop you". She looks at me through her teary eyes like she's about to burst any second, "Wow" she laughs even with the tears spilling down her face, "Coming back, I honestly didn't know what to expect but it definitely wasn't this, I'm gon-" she makes a move to walk past me and out of the room but she's soon pressed against the wall by my body weight.

"Where the fuck are you going again? Why are you always trying to leave me?!" I bark, “Let go of me, Ji” she spat but I refused "Get off of me you asshole, you clearly don't want me here" she fights back-her small frame writhing under my bigger one, with time she starts to calm down with her hands pinned over her head with my right hand, I bring my other hand to meet her cheek. "I always want you around, I missed you so much, my search history will show me booking and cancelling flights" I whisper, "I needed you here with me" I say before pressing my lips to hers.

She responds immediately and I drop her hands down-grabbing her by her waist, slightly pushing my tongue in her mouth just wanting to get a taste of her, I tried to hard to stop myself from ravaging her like a starved man but all my efforts are in vein when she whimpers into my mouth making pull away from her, "We don't have to-" I start cut my morality speech is cut of by her dropping to her knees and attempting to tug my sweatpants down. I watch her in awe, completely mesmerized by her beauty, almost missing that she has completely freed my cock from it's confines and is now swirling her tongue around the angry red tip.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I start chanting as she takes me deeper into her mouth, my mind starts to wonder where she learnt to do this but the thought is shoved down when I feel the head of my cock hit the back of her throat making her gag. "Yes" I drawl out "Good girl, you're a good girl, my good girl, you just like acting up" I say pulling her hair up into a makeshift ponytail, my lack of a proper fuck starts to show when she takes on of my balls and sucks on it, "Shit, no, stop! stop!" I say as I feel my abs tightening not wanting to feel the embarrassment of cumming from a mere blowjob. Immediately she's on her feet, "Did I do something wrong?" she asks looking up at me as I tuck my dick back into my pants.

"No angel, you were perfect, I just want to show you how much I missed you" I tell her, trailing my fingers up her inner thigh but when I'm met with only the feeling of her soaked core, I lose it. "Where are your fucking panties" I growl in her ear ghosting a finger over her clit. "The-I-" "What explanation could you possibly have for not wearing panties" I pull back and watch her face intently as I push my middle finger into her opening, "Fuck, you're still so tight" I whisper.

"Tell me, didn't you find anyone in Madrid to fuck your needy little cunt open?" I taunt, earning a whimper from her, "No! I-I haven't be-been with anyone since our last time!" the last part of her sentence is squealed due to me adding another finger, "So what do you want me to do now?" I ask basking in the way she's writhing and whimpering beneath me, she looks at me with her big doe eyes, knowing I know what she wants. "Don't look at me like that, I should be punishing you for breaking your promise right now" I say pushing my fingers deeper causing my palm to rub on her bud, "P-please don't punish me! I'll be good, I promise!" she nearly weeps, "But didn't you also promise you'd be back in September?" I egg her on, "I know! I'm sorry! I'll be so good". "Yes you fucking will" I grit.

"Get on the bed. On all fours" I commanded and watched as she did as I said, the baby blue sundress bunching at her waist, she was so bare and all for me, I made my way to her slowly before kneeling right at where I knew she was in need, "Angel, you're soaked, do you need me that bad?" I cooed at her to which she nodded but all that did was get her spanked, "Fuck! Yes I need you! Jisung please!" she squeaked, arching her back further, it was obvious she didn't know the impact she had on me, I could never deny her when she sounded so euphonious-so her put my mouth where she wanted, kissing her there as I would her lips. At first contact she jolted forward with a small scream, almost as if it was too much for her but I knew her, I knew my angel-she would take whatever I gave her, I closed my eyes and indulged in the way she tasted, I could have consumed her whole if I didn't have self control but that was beginning to wear thin, as I went on her hips started to shake so I held them down while I lapped up all of her essence she could offer before plunging my tongue into her entrance and fucking her with it.

When I felt her walls pulsate around my tongue I pulled back but I didn't give her time to breathe-pushing my middle and ring finger into her, "Oh shit! Right there! Please faster" I obliged, fucking her with my fingers, "Like this?" I teased but she could only answer in incoherent babbles, soon her moans turned into screams and her velvety walls pulsed around my digits, before I knew it she was releasing all of my fingers but that didn't stop me—I kept going and her hips jolted away from but I held her down. "Wh-hat are you doing?!" she screamed, burying her face into the pillows and screaming right before her second orgasm washed over her and she was writhing and quivering as her juices spilled all over my fingers again but this time it shot out of her so fast it was all over my sheets before I could put my mouth on her. "Jisung stop".

"Fuck, I forgot you could do that" I groaned.

As fast as I could I flipped her unto her back, "You're not going to leave me again" it must have sounded like a question to her because she nodded, I almost wanted to correct her and let her know that I was telling her she couldn't leave me again but she looked so beautiful spread out for me—her legs twitching as I rubbed my cock over her slit, "You love me" I tell her as I pushed my length into her, maybe it was the way she felt full of me that led her to agree but I willed myself to actually believe that she did love me "Yes, yes I do, so much". I moved my hips at a different pace with each thrust, short and fast slow and deep, the way my cock dragged along her walls and the sound of her moans had me on the edge, I felt like I would lose myself in her. As her pussy continued to clenched around me—I brought her left leg up to my chest and kissed her calf before bringing her right foot to my mouth and sucking on her toes, "Shit! I'm gonna c-" "No you're not" I commanded, enjoying the way she thrashed under me with my thumb on her clit rubbing in tight circles, "Please! I'll never leave you again!" she declared, it made me want to tell her she didn't have a choice but the words couldn't come out, I was so close to cumming too, I just needed to hear one thing "You belong to me" I told her, watching her face to see her reaction, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she concurred "Yes! you! It's always been you, Jisung" she screamed and I let go "Good girl, now cum for me, cum all over my cock" and she did so like she was on voice command, chanting thank yous as I spilled myself into her.

I rolled off her but I couldn't move my eyes away from her, she looked so beautiful with the thin layer of sweat that had covered her sin, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. My thought train was interrupted as I heard my security code getting put in, "Who's that?" she mumbled rolling over to look me in the eye but I quickly looked away-getting off the bed to throw her dress at her.

"My girlfriend. Get dressed" I said and then I held my breath and waited, for something- a scream, the sound of her crying but she only repeated my statement whilst putting her dress back on, "Your girlfriend?" I forced myself to look anywhere but her face and my eyes found the trail of my cum dripping down her inner thigh and I knew that I'd never forgive myself.

#stray kids smut #stray kids fic #stray kids angst #skz angst #skz fic #skz smut #jisung fic #jisung angst #jisung smut #straykids fanfic #jisung fanfic #skz fanfics

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phis-corner · 4 years ago

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demon’s daughter

I didn’t expect people to like this? Here’s chapter two!

Masterlist Chapter 1 [Chapter 2] Chapter 3

“Again.” Shiva’s commanding voice rang through the training room. “Straighten your hind leg to maintain your balance.”

Three year old Marinette obeyed, launching her small body into another series of attacks on the training dummy with her fists.

“Again. Your form was sloppy.”

“Again.”

The pattern continued until she was too exhausted to hold herself up and collapsed. Shiva tutted. “Still weak. I suppose we will have to end there for today. Dismissed.”

Marinette painstakingly picked herself off the ground and made her way back to her tiny living quarters.

.o0o.

Marinette parried another strike from her trainer, unflinching as the blades clashed millimeters away from her face. Her five year old arms shook with the effort to hold the blade there, and she ducked and rolled when the strain became too much.

She turned just in time to meet another strike before knocking her trainer’s blade to the side and slashing with her own katana. They trade blows back and forth until she sees another woman with auburn hair enter the courtyard, followed by a boy that has her hair and facial features.

The moment of hesitation is enough. Her trainer’s katana slashes across her chest, tearing through her skin and flesh and definitely scraping a lung. The pain is something she has never felt before, and she had already gone through the first round of torture resistance.

It burned, and she couldn’t breathe. The last thing she sees before everything goes black is Lady Shiva’s frown, the boy’s look of mild curiosity, and the concern that flashed through the auburn-haired woman’s eyes before she stuffed it down.

.o0o.

Marinette woke in the sickly green waters of the Lazarus Pit with a new bloodthirsty voice in her head. The first healer that came to check on her was murdered with her bare hands. As was the second, and the third.

It took months to learn to control the voice, the urges to kill. When she realized she had taken another three lives, she cried, but only when she was alone. Crying is a weakness that she could not show.

She returns to her room after another day of training to find the auburn-haired woman from a few months ago sitting on her bed.

The woman introduces herself as Talia al Ghul, and tells Marinette that she is her mother.

Her grandfather is the Demon’s Head, and the boy she saw, her twin brother, Damian, is his heir.

Marinette asks why she is ranked so low if her brother is the Prince. Talia’s eyes harden.

“Ra’s is a fool. He believes that women are not worthy of power, and can do nothing to maintain it. But you will prove him wrong, daughter. I refuse to raise an unworthy child.”

Marinette trains harder after that.

.o0o.

But harder isn’t always enough.

The second time she died, it wasn’t because she was not a capable fighter.

The second round of torture resistance took place a year and a half after her first death. She withstood the pain, only letting out the tiniest whimper in the beginning, which earned her another ten lashes, but in the end, her body gave up from the injuries.

She bled out, still bound in chains, and woke up in the Pit again, the murderous voice back with a new vengeance.

Marinette accidentally took another life, but she promised herself it wouldn’t happen again. She would gain control of this madness. She would.

She refused to think of what would happen if she didn’t.

.o0o.

When she turns nine, Lady Shiva deems her worthy enough to claim her spot as the Princess of the League, and so she moved into the larger quarters, meant for the family of the Demon’s Head.

Talia was proud, but she did not outwardly express it. Marinette read it in her body, the way she was trained to.

Her twin brother was… distant. He refused to accept a sibling, refused to accept that she can be the Princess while he is the Heir. He acted just like Ra’s, the man he will grow up to replace.

Marinette supposed they saw her as unworthy not only because of her gender, but because of her deaths. She thought that Damian might have died too, had the trainers not been too afraid to kill the Demon’s Heir. She doesn’t point it out. It wouldn’t do her any good.

One month after she moved in, Ra’s demanded that she spar Damian. Talia and Ra’s bore witness to the spar.

Damian drew his katana, scowling at her all the while. Marinette remained unfazed and took her own battle stance opposite him, feeling the comforting weight of her steel war fans in her hands.

They launched at each other at the same time, slashing and parrying and slicing and dodging. Damian gives her a shallow cut on her right cheekbone. Marinette retaliates with a slice on the forehead. The spar goes on for three hours before Ra’s ends it, having seen that there will be no winner.

Ra’s was hard to please. Marinette did pass his judgement for being worthy in battle, but he would never fully accept her the way he did his grandson. That was alright by her. Ra’s was not the kind of person she wished to have the opinion of anyway.

Damian was also a lot more willing to talk to her after that spar, and Marinette finally learned what it was like to have a companion her own age, even if he was a bit arrogant and rude at times.

.o0o.

Marinette flies awake with a start, and for a moment, she forgets where she is. Wayne Manor. Father. Safe.

“Good morning, ukhti.” Damian greets, rubbing the last bits of sleep from his eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

Marinette snorts derisively, sliding easily off the top bunk and landing lightly on the floor. “Do I ever, akhi?”

Damian’s face softens. “It is still early. Would you like to spar to get your mind off things?”

“Of course.” Marinette gives her twin a rare smile. “We must change into more suitable clothes first though.”

Ten minutes later, the twins silently creep out of their room and start the hunt for the training room, exploring the Manor as they go. It takes half an hour to find the correct location. Marinette and Damian occupy opposite sides of the sparring mat as they start warming up.

Marinette relishes the pull of her muscles as she stretches, the feeling grounding her into reality. Once they finish, they settle into their fighting positions, each eyeing the other apprehensively.

Damian makes the first move, as the more aggressive of the two. Marinette swiftly dodges his fist and sends a quick kick to his chest. He catches her foot and uses her own momentum to throw her over his shoulder. Marinette twists as she falls, and hits the ground in a perfect three-point landing. She lunges again, and Damian charges forward to meet her in a whirl of fists and kicks, blocks and blows.

At some point, they notice Alfred enter the room, but he merely stands off to the side and watches, so they continue sparring. Not long after, he is followed by a lithe young woman with short black hair, a pale teen who has massive eye bags, and a familiar man with a white streak in his dark hair.

Cassandra Cain. Timothy Drake. Jason Todd. Batgirl, Robin, and Red Hood. Alfred clears his throat, and both of them part, barely even sweating.

“Is something the matter, Pennyworth?” Damian asks in a snobby tone that makes Marinette want to smack him over the head (didn’t his training ever cover socialization? Hers definitely did, but maybe that’s because she was a female.) so she does so.

Being treated as a prince from birth certainly inflated his ego. Damian glares, but does not retaliate. Good. He knows he is being rude.

“I wished to inform you that breakfast is ready and the rest of the family wanted to come and meet the two of you.” Alfred says neutrally.

Cassandra then gives them a friendly smile and a wave, while the boys stay where they are, calculating eyes roving over them. Marinette can’t really judge them for that- she has already scanned all of them for weaknesses too, though there weren’t many.

Damian sniffs. “I do not see why Father chooses to keep these imbeciles around now that he has a blood son and blood daughter.” Marinette smacks him on the head again, because his attitude is getting a little irritating.

“They are not here for you to demean, brother.” She hisses in Icelandic. “Father has deemed them family because they have proved themselves worthy. You well treat them with respect, or I will treat you the way you treat them.” Damian grumbles, but thankfully quiets.

Marinette quickly gives the others a small curtsy. “My apologies for my brother. He can be quite abrasive, but he is learning. It is an honor to meet those whom our father considers family.”

Cassandra responds first, patting each of them lightly on the shoulder, making sure to keep her posture relaxed and non-threatening. “Sister. Brother.”

Jason and Damian stare each other down, and Marinette internally sighs. Men and their need to have… what was that phrase I read online? The biggest penis energy? Jason breaks the silence.

“Damian al Ghul. Ibn al Xu’ffasch. Grandson of Ra’s al Ghul, Heir to the Demon’s Head. Never knew you had a sister.”

Damian shifts protective towards Marinette. “I learned of her existence last year.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Timothy frowns. “Grandson of Ra’s al Ghul? As in the grandchildren of the man who is not only obsessed with Bruce, but also the head of the League of Assassins? These are assassin children?”

Cassandra frowns, hurt. She points to herself. “Assassin child.”

“I’ve been in the League too, Replacement.” Jason shrugs.

“No, you don’t understand.” Timothy shakes his head. “These are Ra’s grandchildren, kids that Talia gave birth to after some questionable activities with Bruce. Who’s to say that Ra’s didn’t plant them here as moles? Why should we trust them?”

Marinette feels a pang of hurt against her will. “Ra’s al Ghul may have been my grandfather by blood, but he was never more than any other assassin in the League to me. He was the one who took me away from my brother at birth. He is the reason why I have been died twice and been revived both times by the Lazarus Pit. He is the reason why I only got to meet my twin last year, and you think I would work for him, act as a spy for him, when I finally escape the League to live with my father?”

“Whatever.” Timothy spits. “I still don’t trust you.” He pivots and walks out of the room.

Marinette reads a fear in his body language, but it isn’t fear of their skills, or fear that they might kill him. It’s a fear of being replaced, and suddenly, she understands.

“...You don’t plan on betraying us, right?” Jason asks suddenly.

Damian huffs. “Tt. Of course not, Todd. I wish to become Batman one day, and betraying Father’s cause would be extremely counterproductive to my efforts.”

Sometime during their encounter, Alfred had disappeared. Cassandra heads to the exit, and gestures for them to follow. “Come. Breakfast now.”

Timothy does not show while they eat, and neither does Father. Alfred nearly has an aneurysm when he learns that Marinette has never had chocolate (a side effect of being a low-ranked assassin) and immediately starts stuffing chocolate-covered pastries into her hands.

“I insist that you try one.” Alfred says. “You will find it quite delicious.” Marinette obediently takes a bite, and a delightfully rich flavor fills her mouth.

She has never known that food could taste so good, and says as much. Alfred’s pleased face, Damian’s small smile, and Cassandra’s grin make her feel warm inside. Evidently, there is a lot she doesn’t know about the world, but she is excited and willing to learn.

.o0o.

Marinette and Damian carry out their plan after the rest leave for patrol (sans Jason, who was still benched because of his ribs) and believe they are asleep.

They change into the darkest, most flexible clothing they can find in their room and silently slip out of the window after disabling all the alarms. Wayne Manor’s security measures are evaded with some effort, and they are out in the midst of Gotham City in almost no time at all.

Ubu has not tried to hide at all. He is entertaining two women when they burst in, already having disabled the cameras around the area just in case.

“Leave, harlots.” Damian spits at the women, as Marinette charges the much larger man. Her steel fans glint in the light as she slashes.

Ubu does manage to escape the apartment, but the twins easily catch up to him even though he runs through the traffic. The drivers don’t seem very disturbed. It must be a normal occurrence in Gotham, to see a hulking man running from two children with swords and fans.

Damian tackles Ubu, but after a half-hearted attempt at interrogation, in which the man purposefully riles him up, he raises his sword, the angle indicating he intended to kill him.

“Akhi, no!” Marinette cries, and she sees a blur of blue and black as her brother is tackled, sword flying out of his grip. She snarls, flicking open her fans and ready to hurt whoever attacked her brother, but stops when she realizes who the man is. “Nightwing.”

Richard Grayson sighs. “The psychos keep getting younger.”

Damian growls, launching himself at the larger man with a battle cry. The fight lasts about six minutes before Nightwing manages to tie her brother up, hanging from a streetlamp with a gag in his mouth. Marinette was trying to get them to stop all the while, to no avail, and she didn’t want to step in for fear of hurting either brother.

Nightwing turns to her. “Do I need to tie you up the hard way too?”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Thank you for finally acknowledging my existence. If you had actually listened, Nightwing, you would know that your offer is not necessary. My name is Marinette. My twin is Damian, and we are Bruce Wayne’s biological children. Hello, older brother.”

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Taglist: @moonlightstar64 @dast218 @our-preciousss @novicevoice @pawsitivelymiraculous @trippingovermyfeet @miyla-lokidottir @consumeconstantly @mochegato @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @azuremayscarlet @iloveitwhen @bran-thecreeper-stark @no-username2544

Permanent Taglist (always open): @wannajointhecrabcult

some of them didn’t work for some reason. I’m sorry!

note: if you asked to be tagged in either taglist, you have been added even though the fic’s taglist is closed because I am a total pushover. I probably won’t respond to your comment, but I will add you when I see it, and I’m almost always active.

#maribat #demon's daughter au #i still can't tag #my writing

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trash-but-respectable-trash · 4 years ago

Text

The brothers + Diavolo reacting to vines/tik toks compilations you’ve made of them

I’ve seen a lot of obey me! as vines/tik toks on youtube and I think they’re HILARIOUS, so I decided to make the reactions of the boys if you did one yourself (pretend they have the human version of youtube in the Devildom).

Lucifer:

- First of all, what the fuck is a vine or tik tok?

- He’s defensive at first, thinking you filmed them without them knowing

- When you explained to him that these are videos of other people and you just edited their name in them, he relax

- He’s impressed that you manage to do this in your free time and as long as it doesn’t reflect on your grades he’s fine with you doing more of them

- Even if your compilations are super accurate and funny, the best reaction you’ll get from him is a chuckle

- He probably finds the one where people get hurt the funniest, especially when they’re supposed to represent Mammon

- The one with the toddler going “daddy” at her mom is probably his favorite since you put him as the mom and put yourself as the toddler

- After that, he might ask you to call him daddy in more private settings

Mammon:

- At first he’s flattered that you spend time making edits including him

- “You made me look good didn’t ya?”

- Let’s just say he’s a bit disappointed when he sees that he’s been put in all the videos with someone injuring themselves or doing something stupid

- Like the one of the guy who throws himself in a pit ball at Walmart

- Or the “Zach stop” where the guy gets arrested for kicking too much, yep that would totally happen to Mammon

- He won’t say it, but he does find them very funny

- His favorites are the ones where you’re both in it

- Will asked you to make more, but he doesn’t want his brothers to be in it, just you and him

- Try to make him look cool next time please, he’s already getting teased enough by his brothers

Leviathan:

- Obviously already knows what vines and tik toks are

- Tells you that vines are dead and calls you a normie for doing compilations

- But deep time he’s super excited to see which ones you chose for him

- Already knows you put him as the guy saying: “I HAVE THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE... AAAAHHHH”

- He predicted pretty much every vines/tik toks that he’s in

- He doesn’t laugh only because he already saw all of them before

- Propose to help you next time you’re doing a compilation and already has tons of ideas (mostly involving Mammon)

Satan:

- He is familiar with the terms vines and tik toks because he once caught Levi watching tik toks of people cosplaying as Ruri-Chan and lip-syncing to her

- He’s curious to see how you portrayed him

- He’s pleasantly surprised when he sees they’re none referencing to his wrath

- He LOVES the one including cats, he 100% approves them

- He takes the one with the guy saying: “that is not correct... because according to the encyclopedia of sjfieidgherdhdh” (you know which one I’m talking about) surprisingly well

- He also like the one of the guy saying “you know what’s better than pussy? A real good book” he might even use this quote in the future

Asmo:

- You did compilations of them? How cute!

- He’s probably the less mentioned in your compilation because they’re not a lot that reflects his personality well without it being repetitive

- He’s not mad about it though, of course you would have trouble finding videos that reflects his inner and outer beauty

- He’ll just have to create tik toks of himself

- But the ones he’s in are super accurate

- Like the one with the guy going “this chicken is almost as juicy as my ass”

- 100% something Asmo would say in the middle of dinner

- After you’re all done watching it, he’ll drag you to his room to start filming tik toks of the both of you, he wants to make you both big tik toks stars, good luck

Beelzebub:

- He’s more preoccupied by the popcorn you made then the videos

- When he’s all set though, he’ll pay attention since you’re the one who made the compilations

- At first he doesn’t really understand the concept of their names edited on someone that isn’t him, but when he understands, he starts enjoying them

- You obviously included him in everything related to food and it makes him even more hungry

- He’ll smile at the ones including him and Belphie like the one with the little girl taking a nap in the sand, he definitely can see that happening with Belphie

- He also relates to the “I GOT TWO FREE TACOS”, but now he wants to eat tacos

- He appreciates the efforts you made and will ask you to show him your future compilations if you do any

Belphegor:

- He fell asleep before the video even started

- He’s actually curious so he stays awake to watch it

- Just like Beel, he enjoys the one with him and Beel

- He really likes the one with the guy coming home and throwing his backpack out the window while simultaneously jumping on his bed

- He would prefer if you were taking your free time napping with him instead of making compilations, but he did enjoy it

Diavolo:

- It’s no surprise, he’s the most excited about it even if you didn’t included him in any of them

- Laughs at every singe one of them, especially the ones with Lucifer in it

- He will memorize them and quote them at the most random times, much to Lucifer’s despair

- He’s really interested in human culture so he will definitely ask you to show him more vines/tik toks and will quote at least one of them every time he sees you or Solomon

- If you ever do a compilation including him, he’ll be super excited and will immediately show it to Barbatos

- He would take no offensive in whatever vines or tik toks you would use him in

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo

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ectonurites · 4 years ago

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Okay, so I kinda wanna know your thoughts about how weird the fandom portrays the bat characters. Canon is ... not my favorite, but it actually offers a lot of nuance to the characters that I think makes them all interesting. Unlikable, but interesting. I noticed fanon tends to boil the batkids all into these superflat caricatures. Like, cereal obsessed manchild Dick Grayson or bad boy who's literal crimes are only because of the lazarus pit Jason Todd. Its not really a major problem, just weird

Oh I have a LOT of thoughts about this. I try so hard not to shit on how other people interact with content because like, it’s comic books! We’re all just here trying to make the best out of a mess of stuff and have fun, but admittedly a lot of fanon stuff drives me fuckin’ nuts as someone who reads a ton of comics.

Like, I like memes, obviously, I draw tons of memes with the batfam (+ yj) characters and make lighthearted jokes etc etc, and honestly if it’s just for jokes then I don’t mind people having whack interpretations of the characters quite as much. The thing that drives me up a wall though is like... when serious works and analysis and discussion are very clearly based on just the fanon interpretations without any bearing on canon aside from what you could skim from a wiki page, and it’s spoken like it’s fact! There’s ‘having fun with jokes that aren’t taking things that seriously’ and then there’s ‘blatantly mischaracterizing based on misinformation’. Way too often I see things fall into that second category.

Now, a lot of people in the batfam fandom don’t... actually read comics (or at least not frequently) and that’s not even a bad thing necessarily, like you’re 100% allowed to enjoy content however you want to! (I don’t wanna be gatekeepey, especially since comics are confusing to get into)

But the problem is that when a lot of people aren’t reading the comics, then the people who do’s opinions have a lot more influence if they’re loud enough. All it takes is one person who read something and interpreted it a specific way that might not even be correct, and then it can echo chamber and suddenly half the fandom thinks it’s 100% canon that way because ‘oh so and so said that and they actually read it’.

I also think that’s a problem with the popularity of out of context panels/blogs, while they are super funny sometimes, when people make assumptions about characters based on just a few things without context... it can lead to problems. If enough people say something enough times people just... start to think it’s true, even if it exists entirely devoid of context which changes the meaning.

Like, for example, according to canon there’s no actual confirmation Tim stalked Batman on foot for an extended period of time! We know from Lonely Place of Dying that he followed him once to get a picture to convince DIck that he still needed a Robin. Otherwise his ‘stalking’ & how he figured out Batman’s identity was more through media appearances (like newspapers and tv). This is wildly different from the common fanon idea that little Timmy was sneaking out regularly to follow Batman & Robin around with his camera.

I primarily blame Geoff Johns for this misconception because of these panels in in tt 2003 (from issue 29)

But like, think about it for a second, literally how would Jason know that? This is one of the first times he’s ever interacting with Tim, and he was dead/catatonic when that would have been happening! He is either making a wild assumption or perhaps Talia told him this when she told him about Tim, whichever of those it was it’s secondhand information not something he witnessed. Taking his word as fact here makes no sense, he was just trying to get under Tim’s skin while fighting him. But seeing those panels out of context if you haven’t actually read Lonely Place of Dying/only read a vague summary of it, and don’t necessarily know the details of the Jason situation, it could absolutely lead you to believe otherwise!

Dick as a cereal manchild is a weird one because like... okay yeah sure he likes cereal, I can think of like two panels I’m too lazy to find right now off the top of my head of him having it, but... that’s not something we see all the time! Its not like Ollie & his chili (which IS a running joke- seriously I have not read that many Green Arrow comics but the amount of times I’ve seen that man bring up chili in just in the few things I have read is wild. there’s even an official recipe. his chili has it’s own dc wiki page). Then, because Dick isn’t quite as emotionally closed off in the same way the rest of the batfam tends to be, people project literally all the pent up feelings onto him, making him this hug-crazy crybaby manchild... again it’s just very clear people who perpetuate those ideas (outside of like, maybe as jokes) haven’t actually fully read that many comics with him. I’d also even blame the Young Justice cartoon version of Dick for some other traits fanon Dick has, bc that version of him is def a bit of a Hot Mess™️ once he’s Nightwing

Jason I understand misconceptions about probably the most because of how wildly inconsistent his writing was before the new 52 and how consistently Not Great it was once Lobdell took over. Jason’s one of the few characters I have read like, 90% of appearances for so I’m speakin’ from experience here. But still... acting like Jason as Red Hood is just a ‘bad boy rebel’ that could have a relatively happy connection with the whole Batfam is fun but unrealistic. You can not blame everything on the lazarus pit... he still has killed people! Lots of people! Willingly! Yes he has reasons and when he’s being written well it’s clear that he’s not just ‘random murder happy’ but rather ‘I kill when I feel they deserve it and that it’s necessary’ which is what keeps him an anti-hero rather than a full fledged villain most of the time, but that still keeps him so at odds with the rest of the Batfamily! Writers in more current continuity have had him compromise by only using rubber bullets in Gotham so they can have him interact with the family, but he’s still killed and will do it when he deems it necessary.

Also like... at the time of Under The Red Hood in the comics... theoretically... he hadn’t even been in the lazarus pit for well over a year. Go read Lost Days (it’s short! And except for the thing with him & Talia towards the end of the last issue it’s pretty good!), he spends a lot of time traveling the world and learning things/training before the events of UtRH. Yes you could interpret there still being some Lazarus influence going on there but I think the movie version of UtRH especially leads people to believe there’s a lot less time between his dunk in the pit and his first actions as Red Hood.

Fanon also has a lot of ideas about pit madness that vary wildly from what we have seen in canon, like yeah it’s been said to be a thing to some extent, but there’s not really the Danny Phantom Glowing Green Eyes™️ or anything like that... it’s fun to explore cool new ideas for sure but I just think it’s important to recognize the distinction between things that are actually canon and things that are popular fanon. (Also there are things that fall somewhere in between, there’s definitely stuff that isn’t 100% confirmed canon but could still be plausible/has been hinted at by some writers/is only canon in some settings)

Other things that drive me nuts are ‘quiet does-no-wrong angel Cass’ and ‘the Normal One™️ Duke’ because those just make literally no sense if you’ve read any comics with either of them... but fan content either does those versions or just completely ignores their existence a lot of the time! So! That’s a whole bigger problem!

In general though, this is fandom it’s not like this... matters that much on the grand scheme of things in life, we’re just people on social media talkin’ about comics. And this kind of misconception/flattening of characters does happen in literally every fandom ever. But it still does suck to see characters that have a lot of nuance and interesting history to play around with get reduced to a few traits that aren’t even actually that relevant to who they are.

#batfam #pls dont kill me for sayin al this again im not telling anyone how to enjoy stuff JUST my thoughts

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haru-sen · 3 years ago

Text

Imperial Forces

I’ve written...a lot of words for a fanfic no one asked for, and only one person has confirmed knowing what the hell I am even talking about. My god. This is a preview of the IAL anniversary gift and may be changed down the road. Certain people instigated this, you know who you are, and I’m still salty at you.

TW: This is a darker piece of work compliant with some of the unpleasantness that one expects the Sith Empire. Includes: dubcon, mentions of previous sexual assaults, attempted sexual assault, bad boundaries, bondage, and improper use of the Force. Edited: Posted some minor corrections. Part 1/?

You sat at the table, ramrod straight, focusing on the silverware, and your glass of wine. The cut of the crystal was exquisite, and the wine was a Dathomirian Fury Red, if you recalled correctly, which you might not, because the entire day had been an absolute disaster, and you would be so very lucky if you made it to the dessert course. Surviving this situation was highly unlikely. You’d known for awhile that your time was extremely limited. But having dessert before you were murdered by a Sith lord, would be kind of nice.

You glanced up at the masked Sith, and then the bored moff across from you: dinner, dessert, death. At least the dining room was luxuriously decorated. You’d always expected to die in a dark, gross alley. This was an upgrade, really.

But for some reason, all these high-end pre-murder amenities were not making you feel any better.

They called you Cipher 13, because your real name was classified, and because the previous Cipher 13 took a one-way trip down a sarlacc pit the night before your spontaneous promotion. In all fairness, the name was probably cursed. You were the “unluckiest” of the Cipher agents, often getting the worst assignments or having your missions interrupted by the most unbelievable accidents.

It was an old joke by now, but you still got regular comments about your unenviable misfortune. Like today, when you’d gone to the quartermaster to stock up on the special blend of stimpacks Ciphers used. Fixer 3 had made an awkward joke about how your formula had “unpredictable results” and looked uncharacteristically scared when you took one right in front of him. Fixer 3 was normally a sensible guy and you liked him. You weren’t sure what he had been thinking today.

But it had been a long week, and you had not been given the regular rest break between assignments. Something “urgent” had come up. Watcher 5 had briefed you of your next mission, which was something convoluted and political. You were working for a Dark Council member. Watcher 5 had slipped in a snide remark along the lines of, “try not to let your personal chaos spill into this operation. Sith Lords have little tolerance for surprises.”

He said this, like you had control over these things. Ridiculous.

For example, how could you anticipate that a rancor would get loose at a diplomatic banquet and eat the person you were supposed to interrogate (along with half a dozen or so other very important people)? Not your fault, and certainly not within your control, and despite slicing the needed information from his personal terminal, the mission had been judged (unfairly!) to be a failure. Then there was that pazaak tournament on Nar Shaddaa where you had been burned by another Cipher, who outed you to the Hutts. It didn’t matter, in the sense that you won the game, shot her in the face, and received the boon you had entered the tournament to acquire. (The Hutts didn’t care who you worked for, as long as you weren’t crossing them.) You received demerits for having your cover blown by another agent’s blatant betrayal. (But she didn’t get any, because she was dead, and Minder 2 was pissy with you after that forever.) Then, there was that time you’d walked right into a Jedi strike team ambush meant for Darth Baras on Corellia… You were lucky to only lose a hand that day. Coincidentally, the officer who had given you the bad intel had also been fatally unlucky. He had a rare and deadly allergic reaction to the nuts in his ryshcate pastries, served at a diplomatic fete that weekend. How tragic it is when one can’t even enjoy their pastries.

But it wasn’t just misfortune. The current Keeper did not like you, had never liked you, and was growing more and more frustrated by the fact that you kept coming back alive, when many others did not. (You knew for a fact that the Minders had a betting pool regarding your survival. Minder 12 had been very helpful in providing you the behind the scenes information. You missed her.) As Keeper effectively ran the ops division of Imperial Intelligence, this was a definite problem.

Watcher 4 had been instrumental in keeping you alive. But now that he was gone, you were on your own with very few allies within your organization. That was why you had been given this newest assignment. (You missed Watcher 4 as well, and while you could not and would not try to prove it, you thought he and Minder 12 might have faked their deaths and run off together. It was a purely fanciful notion, but you could dream, right?) Imperial Intelligence agents didn’t get happy endings. And Ciphers usually didn’t make it to five years.

You had seven.

By all rights, you should have been able to transfer to a Watcher position a long time ago. But that never happened. It was probably because Keeper hated you. You did not know exactly why. You suspected it was because you were not born into the upper echelons of Imperial high society. You had started out a slave, earned some freedom, and trained as a Cipher; but on the Imperial capital planet of Dromund Kaas, that wasn’t enough. Your continual survival offended him, a constant reminder of his own failure to erase you.

And so here you were, assigned to the whims of Darth Thanaton, a member of the Dark Council, a crusty overpowered madman, and worse, an absolutely unmitigated boor. He was urbane enough in his public appearances, but behind closed doors? An absolute drama queen.

You stood in his foyer, Thanaton was shouting now, and you got the impression that he did this a lot, having an audience present was optional. The man himself was older, fit enough to show his face (no mask or rebreather), and had been quite the assassin in his day. The room was black marble, filled with ugly stone antiques, and it felt like a mausoleum, only louder and more oppressive. Your head was pounding and your stomach churning as you struggled to pay attention to his spiel. You were professional enough that you could maintain a mask of respectfulness, despite your growing physical discomfort. You had powered through worse.

Like that time on Tatooine when you’d broken a leg in melee combat with Tusken Raiders…That had been a bad day. Or that time you’d gone undercover as a Hutt’s dancing slave on Nar Shaddaa. Or even when…

Focus. Thanaton was bad enough. You did not need to take a trip down traumatic memory lane in the middle of a Darth’s monologue.

Thanaton spent a good quarter of an hour railing against the failing morals and falling standards of the Sith academy on Korriban. And then another quarter of an hour complaining about the bureaucratic delay in assigning a “suitable” Imperial Intelligence agent to his cause. He went into great detail about how much the Council needed this work done, and how important it was, and how Lord Messor’s habits were unseemly, and Moff Kiljack needed to know his place, and...and...and… It went on much longer. He sprayed spittle when he spoke. It was painfully distracting.

You nodded along, like a good Cipher, even though you could feel the nastiness of his aura crawling along your skin. It worsened your nausea. You were no saint, but being near powerful Sith made you queasy. There was something fundamentally wrong with most of them, and your body knew it. But you stood at attention, masking your disgust, because to cross a Darth was a clear-cut and uncomfortable death, usually with choking, sometimes lightning. You’d seen it up close many times and experienced lighter versions of those punishments yourself. Best avoided if possible.

Keeper knew what he was doing. There was a fifty percent chance that you wouldn’t even make it to the mission. Snotty old Darth Thanaton would take offense at you for simply existing and smite you before you had a chance to get to work.

But you were not unaware of the situation. Lord Messor was an unconventional dark lord, taking more than his share of apprentices from Korriban (and doing who knows what with them? Sith Lords didn’t usually keep more than one alive at a time). Moff Kiljack had been one of those apprentices, and had shown an extreme aptitude for military strategy. He had then been put on a different career track, promoted to head of Messor’s security forces, and given free reign. Eventually however, things between the men soured, and the former security chief had managed to wrangle a promotion from the Imperial army, instead of just wasting away as Messor’s lackey. He gained some powerful allies and rose quickly to the rank of moff. To no one’s surprise, Messor hadn’t taken the change of allegiances well, and now things were awkward, to say the least.

Thanaton claimed that he found the entire situation offensive. You didn’t think it seemed any different from any other horrible day on Dromund Kaas. There were so many betrayals, atrocities, and political cliques, you just tried to keep your head down, and your heart beating. It was more likely that Thanaton feared Messor’s growing power and wanted to eliminate a rival.

If only you had gotten another off-world assignment. You’d already disabled the kill-chip implanted in the base of your skull. You could just fake your death, move to some peaceful, secluded farming planet, and not worry about being flayed alive for accidentally making eye contact with a power-mad sorcerer.

You’d always suspected your cause of death would be “someone else’s ego” or at least “collateral damage,” but you didn’t expect it to play out so literally. By the time Thanaton actually got to the point, you had been standing in his foyer for an hour, watching him froth and rant. Lord Messor or Moff Kiljack had just been assigned to deal with a situation on Hoth or Voss (you couldn’t tell because Thanaton had been going at it for so long that he kept switching the names and not giving you any kriffing context…) But you were to sabotage those efforts, make Messor and the moff lose credibility, fall from grace, and be tossed into the bone pile in the waste dumps outside the city.

That’s it. Ruin them on the basis of his disapproval and use his tenuously plotted scheme to do it. Failure would be met by death.

Success would also probably be treason, and that too was punishable by death.

Hell, if you did succeed, Thanaton would have to kill you to tie up loose ends.

Death, death, or more death, with no obvious way out. Normal mission parameters, really.

Nodding, you told him, “I understand, my lord. It will be done, my lord,” while preparing to take a shuttle off-world and commit very public suicide on Nar Shaddaa. Hell, you could just go throw yourself at the mercy of Theron Shan. He probably would only torture you a little, as a formality, before taking pity on you, and ending your misery himself.

OK, clearly you had been in Darth Thanaton’s dark energy radius for too long, because his madness and depressive thoughts were now rubbing off on you. Plus you still wanted to throw up. And Thanaton might have sensed your urge to flee, because he sent you back to the Imperial High Command with an escort: one of his security advisors, a pompous man of “good breeding” named Captain Prince, and a dozen heavily armed guards.

Druk.

The soldiers weren’t really there for you, you realized once you were already seated in the convoy listening to Prince further explain Thanaton’s “plan.” Lord Messor was taking on a greater role in the war effort against the Republic, and Imperial High Command was providing more men for his military gambits. Prince and his men were being overtly assigned by Imperial High Command, though they were actually loyal to Thanaton. Prince would be reporting to Messor tonight. Your cover was as Prince’s assistant. Your job would be reconnaissance and sabotage, and you would be reporting your progress to both Prince and Thanaton. You also would be expected to produce reports for Keeper, not that Prince understood the workings within Imperial Intelligence.

...It was shit plan. You knew it even before you heard it, though Prince seemed confident that his background would pass muster. That was a little more reassuring than Thanaton’s mad ramblings, but still amateur. Prince was a decorated military man, and had seen some very vicious combat, committed atrocities, and been rewarded for his service. He was not the man you would have put in charge of any operation that required subtlety. If Keeper had wanted this job done right, he would have assigned it to you himself, and given you free reign. There was a lot of subtext to unravel, but right now you had to nod along to Captain Prince’s blathering. He wasn’t nice, he stared at your chest longer than was polite, and he put a hand on your knee. You lightly brushed it off, reminding yourself that you could not kill Thanaton’s representative on the first day.

Like any highborn noble, Lord Messor had an estate outside the city. The route was straight forward, and you were taking a regular speeder to get there. Contrary to your expectations, the ride actually helped clear your head. You were still a little shaky, but less nauseated. Getting away from Thanaton helped. Wind lashed at your skin as you watched the jungle pass by, and you wondered how much of a lead you would have if you left for Nar Shaddaa tonight. With any luck, it would be hours before anyone noticed you were gone.

You waited, hands steady, even as you and Prince exited the vehicle. It was raining, as usual, and the air stunk of ozone. Three more men followed from another transport, and Prince did not offer any introduction, though you could feel them watching you with predatory eyes.

The Messor estate had several outbuildings, and the gates were high. A large fortress had been partially carved out of the cliff, the jungle providing more strategic cover. Though solid, it had the columned facade of an ancient Sith temple. You studied it, not quite sure what Thanaton had been complaining about. Lord Messor seemed to have traditional Sith tastes (gothic and imposing), at least when it came to architecture.

“Come on, kitten,” Prince said with a leer. “If you want to marvel about size, I have something to show you.”

The men behind you laughed.

You just smiled politely, and decided that maybe Prince would lean too far out a window tonight. The jungle provided a lot of ambient noise to cover any screaming. The winds were dangerous. Accidents happened, especially around you. Hell, if Prince was defenestrated, they’d probably be too busy mopping up the meat confetti to look for you…

Prince led the way to the fortress, frowning as an HK droid met you at the bottom of the steps.

“Greetings, Captain. Lord Messor is expecting you. Please come this way.” The droid pointed to a more discrete entrance: a small path leading to a recessed door. With the foliage and the angle of entry, it was well-concealed.

Prince’s upper lip curled in aggravation, but he adjusted course. You followed, noting the placement of the turrets, the thickness of the walls, and the fact that the droid that met you was a high-end assassination model. It spoke like a protocol droid, it had those functions as well, but you were very familiar with the HK series.

You followed Prince through the heavy durasteel door and to a narrow set of stone steps. The lights were low, and the stairwell was mostly in shadow. Then the door slammed shut behind you, leaving the HK droid and the other three men outside.

Prince stopped, he glanced at you questioningly.

“I didn’t shut it,” you said.

Prince pushed past you and tried the handle. The door did not budge. He frowned and drew his blaster pistol.

“Let’s go,” he told you, gesturing with the pistol for you to go first.

“Of course, Captain,” you said, maybe a little sarcastically, as you marched up the stairs, keeping an eye out for trip wires, pressure plates, or any of the other nasty surprises that Sith lords liked to keep around their homes.

...Druk. Sometimes there were creatures. The local fauna was bad enough, but the Sith liked to import nasty things as well as craft their own monsters. You’d seen plenty and you had no desire to face Sithspawn again any time soon.

You stepped lightly. The stairs went up for at least three stories, and then there was another door. You glanced back at Prince.

“Hurry up,” he growled.

You opened the large metal door, and stepped into a cavernous room big enough to serve as a huttball field. Dim lights shone in wall sconces, and two rows of black pillars lined a path to a massive carved throne. All these features seemed to be cut from the same mountain stone.

There was a figure on a throne, black and red robes under a heavy breastplate, a black hood and stylized skull mask covering his face. He wore heavy metal gauntlets, tipped with dangerously sharp talons.

“Captain Prince,” Lord Messor spoke quietly, his voice smoother than you expected, a lot calmer than some other dark lord whom you had met earlier today. The acoustics of the room were amazing, his voice carried through the hall.

“Ah, my lord,” Prince stepped past you, his blaster already holstered. “I am honored to finally- be in your presence.” He gestured for you to follow as he led the way toward the throne.

“I did not give you orders to approach.” He sounded almost bored.

Prince stopped. “My apologies, my lord. I did not-”

“You don’t need to explain,” Lord Messor said, resting his chin in one palm. “And I don’t have patience for your excuses.”

Prince cocked his head to the side and looked almost comically confused.

And then Moff Kiljack – you recognized that striking blonde hair and those icy blue eyes - stepped out from behind a pillar, and pressed his blaster to the back of Prince’s skull. There was no hesitation. He blew the captain’s brains out right there in Lord Messor’s throne room. Prince dropped with a thud.

You barely had time to avoid the splatter, let alone wonder what Moff Kiljack, Lord Messor’s sworn rival, was doing in his throne room. You glanced between the Sith lord and the moff, wondering if you had time to dive for cover while they battled.

Instead, Lord Messor just sighed. “Ensign De Veo,” he said, using your cover name, and giving you hope that he didn’t know exactly what was going on. “Also known as Cipher 13,” he added, crushing that hope. “I’m sorry for the mess. Kiljack can be so...uncivilized.” He stood and began descending from the dais.

You glanced over at Moff Kiljack, not at all surprised to find the blaster pistol aimed at your head.

“That’s unnecessary, Kiljack. I’m sure our dear Cipher understands her position.” Messor swept down the stairs from his throne, red and black fabric swirling behind him. He circled you like a hungry sleen. “Now, I realize this isn’t what you expected. But I’d be delighted to explain everything. So why don’t you join us for dinner, and we can discuss what you’re doing here, why you’re still alive, and what you need to do to stay that way. This should be easy enough for a woman of your caliber.” He chuckled.

There was no room for panic. You survived because you could think on your feet. Because you didn’t get caught up in “what should have happened.” You kept your mouth shut and most of your insubordinate comments in your head.

You gave a stiff bow from the waist. “I would be honored, my lord,” you said, already tasting lightning in the back of your throat. It was very unlikely that you would get through the night without a demonstration of Sith might.

Lord Messor laughed, like he found you genuinely amusing, and headed toward the eastern doors.

“Cipher,” Moff Kiljack was at your side, offering you his right arm. He was a tall man, very fit in his officer grays. There was blood on his cuffs and glove. He stood like he was carved from ice.

You swallowed and tentatively placed your metal hand on his bicep, wondering if you could scratch him with one of your poisoned needles without him noticing.

“I wouldn’t,” Kiljack said, not even turning his head to look at you. “Be a good girl, and you’ll make it out of this alive.”

You shivered, suddenly very cold in your officer’s tunic. The fear crept down your spine, threatening to freeze you in place. But that would not do. You forced yourself to breathe. You had forgotten that the moff had once been a Sith apprentice. Force-users could pick up surface thoughts. Normally though, you were better at shielding. You steered your mind back to nav-charts and the asteroid belts of the Outer Rim. Head held high, you walked with Moff Kiljack to Lord Messor’s banquet hall.

And so here you were now, seated to the left of Lord Messor, a very bored Moff Kiljack sitting across from you, watching you with cold eyes.

The table was long, almost the length of the room, and also carved from the same obsidian stone as the chamber. The same with the high-backed chairs, though they were not attached to the floor, and had plush cushions on them.

Your brain was working almost too fast, panic welling in each heart beat. You tried to calm yourself, as you stared at the vividly colored salad in front of you. You turned some of your hyperfocus on that. It was very aesthetically pleasing, and would not be out of place at a restaurant on Alderaan or Coruscant. Perhaps it would pair well with-

-So what the hell was going on? Moff Kiljack and Lord Messor shared a well-known enmity. But now they were working together, likely because they had learned of Darth Thanaton’s intent to bring them both down. Prince’s men were definitely dead. HKs were ruthlessly efficient like that. You were a loose end, but one they could bargain with. They would want to use you against Thanaton, of course, but you were an experienced Cipher. You still had some resources-

-a Starblossom spritzer or a Coruscant blush wine. You weren’t sure what the next course was, but traditionally there would be a protein and a starch, and-

-This wasn’t a con you could pull off alone. Not that it had much of a chance before. The original plan was half-baked garbage and you didn’t really want to-

Wait.

You willed yourself still, taking a moment to breathe. Your mind was moving too fast. There was something wrong. Had been wrong all day, your focus slowly sliding into the abyss. But trying to figure out what was exactly was wrong, was like grasping at fog. And with both a moff and a Sith lord watching your every move, now was not the time to buckle.

Your memory coaxed up a tiny epiphany. This started around the time you met Thanaton. Was it him?

Kiljack took a bite of his salad, his flat expression not changing, even as he chewed.

Lord Messor was not eating though. He raised his mask to sip his wine, but given the kinds of damage Sith lords did to their bodies, it was possible that he did not have a normal digestive tract.

“Is the food not to your liking, Cipher?” Messor asked, curling those metal talons against his palm with a rhythmic tap tap tap.

“It is exquisite, my lord,” you said, picking up your fork, and taking a bite. The vegetables were crisp, fresh, and lightly vinegared. There were sweet berries mixed in with crumbles of salty cheese. If this was your last meal, you could have really done worse. “Are these Alderaanian fickleberries? They’re a wonderful addition to the dish, just the right amount of sweetness.”

“Indeed,” Messor practically purred. “You have a sophisticated palate. I understand that you are well-traveled.”

“Or she’s used them before,” Kiljack said, still eating his salad. “Likely when she mixed them with the nuts in that Corellian ryshcate to poison Ambassador Morrow. Clever move: I understand the symptoms mimic an allergic reaction. Never thought to mix fickleberries with vweilu nuts and a decoction of grillig-juice. All are harmless on their own, but when combined together, the enzyme produced causes catastrophic organ failure in most humanoids.”

You froze.

“Do you think that would work on Darth Thanaton?” Kiljack asked, tilting his chin up “No, that’s far too radical for him. Mixing foreign nuts and berries, he’d never go for that.” He flashed you a predatory smile. “You might have better luck with a rancor.”

They knew.

This wasn’t just about Thanaton. No one in Imperial Intelligence decisively knew everything that you had done, or how: just that you got results. But Moff Kiljack and Lord Messor, two mortal enemies had just sat you down to dinner and they karking knew. And if these two knew what Imperial Intelligence did not, that meant they were far more driven and dangerous than you initially expected and how did they know? Why did they go through all that effort-?

Terror, still fresh from your encounter in the throne room, blossomed in your chest once more. Dozens of scenarios played out in your mind: the consequences of your exposure. There was no need to go into graphic detail, though you kept getting distracted with colorful visions of your own evisceration. No matter what you thought of, it all ended very badly for you.

In that moment, you cursed your premature deactivation of your kill-chip. They knew. And if it was you versus a Sith lord and his moff ex-apprentice, you would not win. They had already done the hard part, already figured out what you did and how. And then you had just walked into Messor’s home, a gift-wrapped sacrifice. They wanted something from you, and judging by what they already knew, what it took to find that information out, they had the will and means to break you. You’d seen the inquisitors work, seen the aftermath too, the piles of mewling meat begging for death. Being on the wrong side of Sith and moff persuasion wasn’t any kinder. Electrocution or a snapped neck were far better.

You were on your feet in seconds, already turning to run, hoping Moff Kiljack would take you out in one shot.

“No!” Lord Messor raised his hand, and you slammed back down into the chair. Something in your body cracked as you struck the stone, and the world went black for half a second before you snapped back into your body.

You tried to move, but the force held you in your seat, pressing tightly against your chest, your arms pinned down on the armrests. You could barely breathe, let alone move your limbs. Shuddering, you could only watch as Moff Kiljack leaned against the edge of the table in front of you. He reached out, one gloved hand tilting your chin up.

“You hit her too hard, Messor,” his voice was calm. “She’s bleeding and her pupils are uneven.”

“Couldn’t help it. She moved too fast, and she was planning to self-destruct.” Messor’s voice came from behind gritted teeth.

“That, or hoping to get one of us to do it for her.” Kiljack shook his head.

Cold sweat dripped down your neck. Your breaths came in short bursts. You were trapped, back flat against the stone chair. You couldn’t move. And you were at the mercy of men who didn’t know the meaning of the word. A strangled sob died in your chest as you vainly tried to move your limbs.

“Shhhhh, don’t struggle,” Kiljack reached for your napkin and then gently blotted your nose. “Messor, she’s having trouble breathing.”

“I know,” Messor shuddered, and took a deep breath. “She’s very scared.” There was a note of something like hunger in his voice, but he raised his hand again, and suddenly you could draw in a little more air.

“Mmm,” Kiljack nodded, those blue eyes studying your face. “That’s it, stop fighting us. This doesn’t have to hurt.” He set the napkin down, watching you intently, like a puzzle he wanted to dissect. He smiled then. “You are very loud, Cipher.”

You gritted your teeth and tried to stifle your breathing. You must be badly injured if you were making too much noise. Ciphers didn’t make a habit of being loud. For obvious reasons.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kiljack said. He leaned in, nearly nose to nose with you. “Quiet your mind.”

You stared at him, trying to swallow, but your throat was dry and your vision blurred. You dropped your head, too dizzy to stay upright.

Kiljack lifted your water glass to your lips. “Here. Take small sips. We don’t want you to choke. On the water.”

You flinched, waiting for one of them to follow up with a traditional Sith demonstration of force choking.

“Just drink your water,” Kiljack ordered.

You opened your mouth, closing your eyes as the glass touched your lips. The cool water tasted better than you hoped and the light steady stream cleared your throat.

“That’s it, good girl.” He stroked your cheek, his black glove soft against your skin. “Is that better?”

You managed a nod, feeling queasy from the motion alone.

“Now, are you going to behave?” Kiljack asked coolly. “Or do we have to keep you restrained? Another stunt like that, and I won’t be so nice, do you understand?”

“I’ll be good, sir,” you said, voice weak, and you had to grit your teeth, because speaking hurt. That force blow had done some damage to you. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact location, because your whole body ached. You still couldn’t move. And to make things worse, Moff Kiljack, of all people, was trying to gentle you like a wild tauntaun.

“Does it hurt?” He asked.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the different routes off of Nar Shaddaa instead of your current location. And you waited for the next threat of more pain, or the lightning, or whatever Kiljack wanted to use.

“Now, she’s gone silent,” Kiljack muttered.

“She’s in pain,” Messor said, his voice still low. “And while I find nav-charts far less tedious than endless streams of pazaak, someone really needs to teach you how to shield your mind better. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long with such loud and irreverent thoughts.”

Normally, you were better at it. But Kiljack had said your pupils were uneven...OK, concussion. That made sense. You took an inventory of your injuries: bad concussion, something fractured in your chest or abdomen, and you still were trapped here with a dark lord and a moff who wanted you for nothing good. Druk. It would have been so much easier if one of them had just killed you outright. They were supposed to be good at that kind of thing. Hell, you could still bite your tongue off and-

Kiljack gripped your chin, prying your jaw open. “I thought you were going to be a good girl, Cipher.”

You whimpered.

“I will get the bit and the slave collar,” he said glaring at you.

You relaxed your jaw. You weren’t trying to upset him. You were concussed. And you didn’t have complete control of your faculties right now.

Kiljack narrowed his eyes at you. “Is that so? Do I need to get the bit for your own safety? Or would you prefer I make you a cloth gag? Messor, can we borrow your sash?”

“Sah-ee, sir,” you said. It was not the first time you’d given a disingenuous apology with another man’s fingers in your mouth at the dinner table, and quite frankly you were a little embarrassed to be in that situation again.

Then came the spasm of pain that would have bent you in two, if you could move that far. Instead, you twitched, teeth clamping down on the moff’s fingers as you struggled to breathe. You tasted blood in your mouth, though you weren’t sure whose it was.

Kiljack’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move, and the slap you expected did not come. He waited for you to unclench before withdrawing his fingers. He examined his torn glove with a sigh. “We’re going to need kolto, Messor.”

A kolto pack floated over the table to Kiljack.

Nimble fingers began unbuttoning your collar. You opened your eyes to see Kiljack unfastening your tunic, a kolto pack in hand. His gaze lingered on your thin undershirt for a moment, and then he applied the cool healing gel onto your stomach, along your sides, and around to your back.

“I don’t think we’ll be finishing dinner out here any time soon,” Messor said.

“Messor, I’m not making do with just a salad, no matter what kind of fancy berries you put in it,” Kiljack said, wiping his hands off and checking his fingers. There were teeth marks, and some broken skin, but nothing severe. After the kolto application, the wounds started closing up as you watched.

Messor laughed. “We can take our meals in our rooms. Why don’t we call the medical droid and put our guest to bed first?”

The pressure on your body suddenly lifted, but before you could regain your bearings, Kiljack scooped you out of the chair.

“Is this causing you more pain?” He asked, one arm supporting your back, the other under your knees.

“No,” you said, though breathing was still uncomfortable. Rib damage, likely. You didn’t struggle, too woozy to make good decisions right now. On the bright side, it looked like they weren’t going to kill you just yet, but also, you hadn’t made it to dessert, and you were a little sad at the prospect of missing whatever Lord Messor’s chef had concocted. Even if it was fickleberries mixed with vweilu nuts and a decoction of grillig-juice.

Despite the danger, you could not keep your eyes open. The world faded away.

You dreamt.

You were back in that dining room, candlelight casting eerie shadows on the walls. You saw yourself bent over that banquet table, Lord Messor’s hand on your back, your face pressed against the stone, your wine glass rolling on its side, the red liquid dribbling onto the floor. You felt a spark and flinched, that light crackle of electricity as those metal talons trailed down your spine.

“Scared?” Messor murmured, his breath hot on the back of your neck.

“Yes, my lord,” you panted, squirming under him, feeling his cock pressed against you through his robes.

“Good.”

You were on your knees, staring up at Kiljack, the tip of a riding crop under your chin. You didn’t recognize the room. There was a small fountain flowing in the corner. It was an office, probably aboard a starcruiser from the shape of the window. You did not recognize the orbit. But Kiljack was in full moff regalia, gray tunic coat and jodphurs, black boots and gloves, and a heavy belt. Was this his battleship?

“I told you to open your mouth,” Kiljack said coldly.

You hesitantly parted your lips, noticing that your hands were unbound. You could-

Kiljack pushed a piece of silicone into your mouth, the ring shape holding your teeth apart. He fastened the strap snugly around your head.

“That’s better,” he said, an edge in his smile as he cupped your cheek. “This wouldn’t be necessary if you were more careful with those teeth. Now be a good girl and stick out your tongue.”

The bedroom was large and dimly lit.

The bed was enormous, draped in scarlet silks and pillows. It was comfortable, but you could not actually move very far. You poked at the gold collar latched around your neck. You wore matching bracelets and anklets, but there was a chain attached to the collar and secured to the headboard. You rolled your eyes at the outfit: the dancer’s garb with the red and gold harness top, chain belt and lashaa silk loincloth, and knee high boots.

You had worn these before – what spy hadn’t? But you didn’t remember getting here, or where here even was.

There was someone else in the room, somewhere in the shadows, just watching you. You looped a length of chain – your best bet for a weapon, and began examining where it connected to the headboard.

“I thought you were going to behave today.” Messor’s voice came from somewhere in the darkness.

“But if this is how she wants to play, why should we deny her?” Kiljack laughed.

The lights went out. And suddenly you weren’t alone on the bed.

“So do you like the view?” Kiljack whispered. “You’ll have to be quiet, or everyone will hear us.” He tightened his grip around your waist. “Or maybe that’s what you want.”

You sat on his lap, looking around the throne room, in all its sinister glory. Crimson imperial banners hung from the walls and pillars, the firelight casting harsh shadows. There was a second story balcony overlooking the throne room. It was too dark to see if anyone else was up there. But the rest of the cavern was a vast expanse, easily surveyed from the throne where Kiljack sat: Lord Messer’s throne.

He was right. If you made any noise, it would echo.

You swallowed roughly, eyes drifting to the spot where the moff had executed Prince. There was no body or blood.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Kiljack growled in your ear.

You opened your mouth to speak.

“You’re in my seat,” Messor said, the words echoing off the walls as he materialized from the shadows. His tone was dangerously mild. He stalked up the stairs toward you.

You started to move, but Kiljack held you tightly against him. “About time you got here,” the moff said. “I was getting bored giving the tour. Maybe we can move on to something more exciting.”

You sat up with a strangled gasp, your head pounding. Another unfamiliar bed, but when you looked down, you were covered in blankets. You peeked underneath, finding yourself still dressed in your thin tanktop and uniform pants. You ached, like you’d been in a fight. But there wasn’t pain between your legs, a small, but important reassurance. The inside of your mouth felt like a stable floor and you winced as you looked around, the dim lights still aggravating your eyes.

It was a large elegant bedroom, the furniture silver with red trim. It was neat, but it felt lived in, not a guest room. You started to look around, but your vision swam. Holding your head, you gave yourself a moment before trying to focus.

Yesterday was an absolute sarlaac snarl. You’d been sent off on a poorly-planned suicide mission, and your reactions were...wrong. Judging by how awful you felt right now, you’d been drugged. You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to analyze each location step by step. You started feeling ill in Darth Thanaton’s presence, but you neither ate nor drank there. Maybe he did have some secret force brainwashing powers, but that was unlikely. That ability was too subtle for a bombastic coot like him.

...The stims. Something had been wrong with the stims. Fixer 3 wasn’t being a smart ass. Fixer 3 had been trying to warn you. Echuta! It had been right there in front of your face and you were too distracted and arrogant to notice.

You growled, throwing the blankets off. You tried to stand, but found you were still too dizzy.

“Well, I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better.”

You blinked.

Just off to the side, nestled between a wardrobe and a table, sat Moff Kiljack. There was a blanket on his lap and a blaster pistol on the table. He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, before he stood, fully dressed, though his jacket was unbuttoned. A faint dusting of stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked you over. “That’s better.” He tapped his left temple. “You’re not so loud any more.” He gave a sigh that sounded a lot like relief. “I know that wasn’t entirely your fault. You were out of your head. The medical droid analyzed what was in your system, if you’re curious.”

“Someone sabotaged my stims,” you said, resting your head on your knees. “Someone in Imperial Intelligence.”

Moff Kiljack nodded. “Makes sense. You also had a bad concussion, cracked ribs, and some bruising. The kolto pack helped a little, but a localized injection sped it up.”

“Thank you,” you said, even if you were not so sure that you were grateful to be saved. Because you still had a lot of questions about what was going on, why these two “enemies” had put so much research into your accomplishments, and how much they knew about Darth Thanaton’s intentions.

You closed your eyes, knowing a few things already:

Moff Kiljack and Lord Messor had a complex relationship; this was likely Kiljack’s room and Messor would not keep it for him if they were really enemies. You needed to figure out the exact nature of their alliance and how much of that infamous enmity was a smokescreen. They worked too well in tandem for all of that showboating to be real.

Keeper was now actively trying to kill you. It would be very difficult to tamper with the stims otherwise. Thanaton was probably meant to be the instrument of your death. He was old, powerful, and no one would bat an eye over a Darth executing a Cipher.

The sensitivity was getting worse. Once it had been an asset, just enough insight to give you an advantage. Now it was opening you up to too many other things. And you lived in the capital city of the Empire, where so many hungry Sith congregated. No, this was bad for you. Kiljack was right, you needed to shore up those shields, and hide yourself better. Anything less would get you shipped off to Korriban.

“Can you hold down food?” Kiljack asked, suddenly standing beside the bed. He set a glass of water on the night stand.

“Not sure. Thank you.” You eyed it for a moment, knowing that he could have slipped any manner of drug in there, but at this point, what choice did you have? They needed you for something, and that meant they probably needed you alive and functional. You took the water, sipping it slowly.

The moff watched you like a hawk, probably worried that you were going to choke or throw up.

You studied him, noting his bare hands. There were scars on them, but it looked like the bite marks had healed. “Sorry about biting you last night,” you said. Apologizing seemed like a good idea. It would be wisest if they thought you were docile and amenable to them. You still weren’t certain that you were going to thank him for sparing your life. But you were a little more confident that they weren’t planning on torturing you to death. Not immediately, anyway.

“You need to be more careful with those teeth,” he said, without a hint of inflection, that handsome scarred face stoic once more.

You stared at him for a second, a moment of deja vu. You shrugged. “I need to be more careful, period.” You dropped back onto the pillows, another wave of dizziness skewing your balance.

The moff picked up a personal comm. “Echo, let Messor know that our guest is awake, and have something mild brought up from the kitchens for her.” He glanced over at you. “I can send for the medical droid.”

“You already had me checked out, right?” You asked, staring up at the stone tiled ceiling.

“Yes. There was a small amount of bleeding in your skull. We took care of it. It can provide some painkillers and anti-nausea meds if you want.”

We took care of it.

That was an interesting way to phrase it. The medical droid might have accomplished it on its own, though the procedure would be more invasive.

“I think I should go for the anti-nausea meds,” you said, one hand over your eyes. “But if you give me a minute, I can try to get upright and-”

“Just stay there,” Kiljack said. “Messor will be along shortly. Finish your water.”

You sighed and downed the rest of the glass, spilling a little down your chin, and not really caring because your head hurt.

The comm unit chimed and Kiljack stepped out of the bedroom. When he returned, he was carrying a large platter of flatbread, grilled fish, and some fruit. There was a small glass of anti-nausea medication too. He set it all on the nightstand and poured you another glass of water from the carafe.

Your stomach rumbled, so you took a few berries and ate them slowly, letting the sweetness roll down your throat. You downed the medication in one shot.

When everything stayed down, you took a few more berries, and then a piece of bread, passing on the sauce, just in case.

Kiljack settled back down in his chair, watching your every move.

You had taken a break from trying to eat, when there was a knock. It was distant, and you realized this bedroom was probably part of a suite. Kiljack got up, giving you a stern look.

You pretended not to see. You were still too messed up to make a run for it, and even if you did manage to escape, where would you go? Keeper was trying to kill you. Thanaton was not going to be happy about Prince. And Nar Shaddaa with its flashing lights and cacophony of sounds, would give you a migraine bad enough to make your head explode. You could stay here in the comfortable bed for a moment. You needed a more accurate picture of the situation, before you did anything rash. You did not need a repeat of last night.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t have to get back to the fleet, I’ll just stay here and babysit your new pet spy,” Kiljack said sharply as he returned and practically threw himself into his chair.

Lord Messor followed, still in those sweeping red and black Sith robes, that stylized skull mask in place. The Sith had several skull motifs, though to be honest, his reminded you a little of the Mandalorian mythosaur skull symbol, without the horns.

“I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better,” Lord Messor stood in the doorway. There was a slight mechanical quality to his voice that you had not noticed last night. The mask had a built-in vocoder then. Interesting.

“My lord,” you said, attempting a bow at the waist and feeling your head swoop dangerously close to your knees.

“Don’t-” He sighed. “We can do this informally, Cipher. You’re still recovering from your ordeal.”

You nodded, wincing as you leaned back into the pillows. “I appreciate that, my lord.”

“We’re in private, Cipher. You can forego the title as well.”

Thankfully, you were already lying down, because otherwise you would have fallen over in shock. You had never actually expected to hear a Sith lord say that. After Thanaton, it was a pleasant reversal. But you did not trust that magnanimity.

If Messor and Kiljack knew about the “extra” missions you did, then they had to have a fairly accurate psychological profile of you. They had to know that people who forced you into bad situations ended up having freak accidents. Being polite was just a good way to manage you. You had no illusions about the altruistic natures of moffs and Sith lords. But you could appreciate the effort and you would work with good manners. This was certainly better than spending an hour being shouted at by Darth Thanaton.

You waited for one of the men to speak. They were the ones who wanted you here, after all.

“You were recently tasked by Darth Thanaton to sabotage our strategic efforts on Hoth and Voss. You were assigned to Darth Thanaton by Imperial Intelligence, but that does not mean Imperial Intelligence condones his actions. However, as Thanaton is a member of the Dark Council, politics must come into play.” Messor’s hands twitched. He wasn’t wearing the gauntlets today. He had large hands, dark skin, and thick callouses, probably from handling weapons.

“So someone in Imperial Intelligence tipped you off?”

“Your...Keeper saw fit to warn me,” Kiljack said, fingers steepled.

You frowned. “But not Lord Messor.”

“I think you’ve already figured out that Messor and I are...exaggerating our feud.” Kiljack gave a wry smile. “But that is very guarded knowledge.”

“Yes,” you nodded, and then winced, because you did not need to be bobbing your injured head like an idiot bird. Your brain had taken enough of a blending.

A secret political alliance gave them an interesting cover and access to a wider range of intelligence. But Moff Kiljack did not have the wealth and prestige that Lord Messor did. He would be at a fundamental disadvantage. A Sith lord was not likely to trust anyone outside their control. There were a lot of disadvantages to this tactic and you could not see a clear payoff. You sat with that for a moment. There was an important reason for their ruse, though you doubted they would tell you anything but a plausible cover story today. But the layout of the game started to form. You looked at the empty spaces, trying to find the details that didn’t make sense.

...There it was. There was a third party in play, aiding and abetting this ruse. Someone with enough clout to help Kiljack get his promotion. Someone that even Keeper did not want to cross...

Another Dark Council member then. And given Kiljack and Messor’s military interests and mostly low-key behavior, you had a good idea whom that Council Member was, though again, not why they were using this exact ruse. But if Kiljack’s patron was who you thought it was, you did not blame Keeper for wanting to stay on his good side.

But you were also pretty sure that you were not supposed to survive that meeting with Thanaton yesterday. The exchange would go something like this:

“Send me another minion, peon!”

“I’m so sorry, your Decrepit-ness, you killed my only available agent and we’re very shorthanded! There’s no one else to send. You’ll have to wait.”

Keeper would be off the hook with Thanaton and Kiljack’s patron. You would be dead. Three problems solved.

Except you were alive, and no problems were solved. You looked up to see Kiljack studying your face.

“Do you suspect that Keeper knows the feud is fabricated?”

“No. That’s very exclusive knowledge,” Messor said without a trace of doubt.

You wondered how he could be so confident – not because he wasn’t ruthless – but because your business was secrets: keeping them, stealing them, rooting them out. If people wanted information badly enough, they would find a way to get it. No matter how well you thought you covered your tracks. Your stomach soured a little at that thought. They’d figured out some of your secrets. You’d have to return the favor, if only for your own pride. And maybe some leverage.

“So you want to recruit me as a double agent against Thanaton,” you said.

“Partially,” Messor admitted. “But I had a more permanent offer in mind for you.” He cleared his throat. “My current intelligence chief will be retiring soon. You were recommended to us.”

You blinked. “I can’t just quit Imperial Intelligence, believe me, I’ve tried,” you blurted out.

“You can if you have the right patronage,” Kiljack said. And he had some experience there, having gone from Sith apprentice to moff.

“You want me to help you bring down Thanaton, get you onto the Dark Council, and then you’ll hire me?” Your lips twitched at that tall order. Sith expectations.

“I will hire you now as a house intelligence agent, at double your current pay with all the usual amenities one expects from the well-to-do estate of a Sith lord,” Messor said. “Promotion to intelligence chief pending results.”

That would have been extremely generous, except Imperial Intelligence was criminally cheap. Sure you had some good benefits, but they didn’t have to be competitive when their employees literally weren’t allowed to quit. Still, it was not a bad offer. Better than a lot of the alternatives.

Messor continued. “Handling Thanaton and the Council are longer term problems. If we succeed on Hoth and Voss, I will have enough clout to extract you intact from the employ of Imperial Intelligence. And it will be easier since you’re already assigned to me: possession is nine tenths of the law.”

You sat with that for a few seconds. You could play the long game, letting Thanaton think you had wormed your way into Messor’s confidence. That would sit well with Keeper – it kept him out of the hotseat. You could go back to Keeper and see which way he wanted you to go – for intel purposes only - and then do whatever you wanted anyway. You could say no outright, and get shot in the head by Kiljack…

“You have questions,” Messor said, still keeping his distance.

“How long have you been tracking me? And what brought me to your attention?”

“A man once called “Sparrow” recommended you to us a year ago. He is around here if you want to catch up later.”

You sighed, of course Sparrow was still alive. That explained a lot. He knew you well enough to guess which missions you had purposefully altered. He knew your expertise well enough to conjecture methodology. That he shared this information with a strange Sith lord should not have surprised you entirely. The former Cipher 7 was a skilled assassin; he’d been declared KIA with his brother two years ago. But it seemed he had found a safe haven here.

“His brother?”

“Didn’t want to work with us. No one was going to force him. He took a shuttle to Yavin 4. Sparrow visits him occasionally,” Kiljack said.

“Why me?” You asked, not because you doubted your abilities, but because you still did not quite understand how this coalition worked.

Messor was silent for a moment. “You are a reasonable woman. And looking at your track record, we thought your methods would align with ours.”

“And why do you think that?” You asked.

“The Rancor Incident,” Kiljack said with a smirk.

You kept your face neutral.

“Lord Vilhus was there, a very nasty individual. But the casualty list also included Ieyak the Butcher, Margrene the Bloody, General Arus, Enso Chain-Maker, and Lord Casten. Coincidentally, none of the slaves, servers, or civilian bystanders were hurt. And everyone thought it was just a terrible accident. That took planning, skill, and finesse.”

You stared at your lap, trying to remember if any of those people had good or bad ties to House Messor. Vilhus wasn’t anyone’s friend and Arus wasn’t related. Casten might have attended the Academy at the same time as Messor. You pondered that connection.

Because once you’d had a close...friend, a lower ranking analyst in Imperial Intelligence. A smart and pretty Twi’lek who didn’t deserve the things Lord Vilhus did to her. Lord Vilhus was a Sith lord and could do as he pleased to those weaker than him. So when you saw him there and that rancor… It was just an opportunity.

You looked up to see Kiljack studying you intently. “None of them were allies to House Messor or myself,” he told you.

“Am I...broadcasting?” You asked, trying to make sure your mind was quiet.

“No, it’s just the next logical question,” Kiljack said. He cleared his throat. “But there’s something else we need to address.”

“You’re a Sensitive,” Messor said.

You winced. Of course they’d picked that up yesterday. “A little. Nothing kinetic level, just intuitive boosts every now and again. Came along later in life.” Though it still might be enough to get you sent to Korriban. And now they knew. Which was a manageable thing. You knew about their fake feud, they knew about your force sensitivity. Mutually-assured destruction ensured that the balance of power remained less complicated.

Messor nodded. “Kiljack is very good at shielding. You should consult him about how to better protect your mind.”

Kiljack gave Messor a side-eyed squint, but did not protest.

Accept the offer, take a hard job, and maybe get out from under Keeper’s thumb. Or decline and end up dead. It wasn’t much of a choice.

“What do I have to do to sign on?” You asked.

Different Sith lords had their ways of ensuring loyalty, or at least compliance. You had undergone years of conditioning to be kept under the authority of Imperial Intelligence. A lot of that conditioning had come undone in your term as an active operative. You had worked hard to slough the restraints that would have otherwise hobbled your thinking. They might have had your service, but your mind was your own. Ciphers had a lot of leeway to run operations as they saw fit, because an obedient drone could not do their job. But there were still ticks, involuntary habits ingrained in your mind, pathways worn in by years of unpleasant reinforcement. Oh, you weren’t loyal to Imperial Intelligence, but you knew to instantly bow your head to a “superior,” to mask your emotions with a lie, and that the mission came first at the expense of all else... You knew these things in your bones, because of the conditioning. And you understood intimately how those rituals did psychological damage.

So when Lord Messor stepped into the room and drew closer, you prepared yourself for something unpleasant.

“Give me your hand, the flesh one.”

Permanently, or just to hold? You wanted to ask, but you kept your mouth shut and extended your right hand. He took it gently between his palms. His skin was warm and rough. You swallowed, preparing to be overwhelmed by your reaction to the Sith.

The world turned black.

Then heat and light poured into your skull, a waterfall rushing through you, and you screamed under the torrent. It cut through your perception, and tethered something in your head, to that little spot of intuition that always knew when a weapon was being drawn or when someone was lying to you. That metaphysical aperture expanded, wedged open by the hooks of Messor’s connection. He was in your head, and for a moment, you were face down on the dining room table, those claws tracing along your spine while he pinned you there, while you squeezed your thighs together, squirming at his touch…

Then you felt the weight on your left arm, felt Messor squeeze your right hand, and you forced your eyes open.

Kiljack held you to the bed, your left hand pinned over your head.

You could feel Messor through the force. He was in your mind, had his own private backdoor in, a new sort of violation. And that realization enraged you. Snarling, you thrashed, “You bastard! Get the hell out of my head!”

“If you shield well, I can’t see what’s in your head,” he said calmly. “And I won’t go looking.”

Cursing, you lunged at him, but Kiljack held you down, his full weight on your body.

“It’s not mind control, it’s a minor force bond,” Messor said, tone even.

So this was how he kept Kiljack in line. And you had just willingly submitted yourself to the same treatment. Maybe death was preferable. Fury overtook you and you tried to throw Kiljack off you. When he didn’t budge, you sunk your teeth into Kiljack’s shoulder.

He jerked, then braced himself, hand tightening on your throat. “I thought I told you to be more careful with those teeth,” he rasped, pupils huge.

You waited for the leash or the neural bolt.

It’s not a leash. It goes both ways. And it fades with time. Messor said quietly in your head. Also, if you keep biting Kiljack, he’s going to choke you out.

Groaning, you released the moff, feeling his fingers begin to loosen around your neck. You kriffing piece of sarlaac scum! I’m going to feed you your teeth!

“I hope you’re talking to Messor, because you’re not in any position to threaten me,” Kiljack said gruffly, running his thumb over your throat, before letting go of your neck.

“You’re on the list too, don’t worry,” you hissed.

Messor released your hand, a hint of amusement in his aura. “Get some rest, Thirteen. We can talk more later.”

I know so many annoying drinking songs from dozens of planets. I will be screaming them into your skull all night!

“Charming,” Kiljack said, rubbing his temple. He glanced down at his ripped jacket and glared at you. “If you’re going to be a nuisance, you can go crawl into someone else’s bed, because-”

There was the ghost of a memory, a shirtless Kiljack laughing as he lay in the bed, another man pinned under him, like you had been, a flash of heat pulsed between your thighs-

Messor inhaled sharply.

Kiljack pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you-” He pushed his hair back, suddenly very tired. “Just go. Your proximity is probably making things more difficult.”

“Your shoulder,” Messor said softly, he stepped out of the room and returned with a medkit.

You watched silently as Messor carefully cleaned Kiljack’s wound, and treated it with kolto.

Kiljack leaned into Messor’s hands, his head resting against Messor’s shoulder, and it clicked.

There was more than one reason why Kiljack did not betray Messor, one you had not anticipated. You gave a dry laugh, how utterly ridiculous. These stories never ended well for the Sith or their lovers. Suddenly very drained, you dropped back into the pillows.

Rest.

I hope you get eaten by a gorryl slug, you bastard. You pictured the giant carnivorous slugs of Kashyyyk, arboreal hunters that dropped onto their prey and were nearly impossible to pry off. They would exude digestive juices and slowly digest their victims. An unlucky person could take a very long time to die.

What are those- oh that is awful. I’ll have to remember that one. A low laugh in the back of your skull. Kiljack is very good at shielding. He will help you if you ask, nicely.

I’m going to gut you like a ghest.

Get some rest, Thirteen. You’ll have plenty of time to threaten me later.

#SWTOR #Crossover #in alio loco #reader insert #Fanfiction #Crackfic #Improper Use of the Force

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kindness-bliss · 3 years ago

Text

New Beginnings Ch. 10

Timothy Thatcher x OC

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Maya sighed as she sat in the and leaned her head back against the headrest “Why did you lean in to kiss me ?” she finally asked

“I just felt the moment was right, you held my hand on your own and I thought maybe it was a good idea. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, I just did what I felt was right in the moment” he explained “I apologize, I really do. I would never wanna make you feel like it was forced”

“Don’t do it again” she said softly “Now hurry up so you can drive me home and we can both change, you got your outfit ?”

“Yeah, just um a black long sleeve button up and black pants, that okay ?” Marcel asked

“Perfect” she grins as they got out “Also feel free to loosen up tonight, I can handle my drinking”

He raised a brow as he pulled in and followed “Do I need to remind you about what happened in Berlin ?”

Maya widened her eyes as she blushed and shot him a look “You said you’d never bring it up, so don’t start now”

“Sorry but you causing world war 3 at a club at 2 in the morning that led to us running through the back door isn’t exactly a small thing” he laughed as he brought his bag in “I’m not even drunk ! I’m fine, let’s go dance !” he mocked in her voice “and then suddenly a fight about who knows what and bam we’re in a taxi. How you weren’t some kind of fighter in your life still shocks me”

“I felt like it” she shrugged “she insinuated my Cartier bracelets were fake so I let her have it, period. Oh yeah and she hit on you right in front of me, she deserved it”

He laughed, shaking his head “how about none of that tonight ? Just fun, enjoy yourself with your friends and celebrate your cover”

“I invited Fabian” she blurted out, taking out her curling iron to touch up her hair “he said he’s coming, I gave security his name”

Marcel nodded as she took off his t shirt and ironed his shirt “That’s cool, glad he can make it”

“If you two don’t say sorry and make up tonight I swear” she groaned. Yeah they had been friends for a little over half a year but that didn’t mean him and Fabian were back together. Those two were like a married couple and seeing him without Fabian made her sad, he wasn’t the same without him and it killed her inside

“I can’t promise anything but if he’s there obviously he knows I’m going to be as well so who knows” Marcel admitted as he fixed his hair

“Lay off the gel, you look you belong back in Germany in some grade school with this haircut” she laughed fixing her eye shadow “Plus it’s gonna be hot in there”

“Then I’ll take my shirt off,” he smirked. “I think some girls there would really like to see that, don't you think ?”

Maya rolled her eyes, going into her closet and picking out a body con sequin dress, something to make her stand out from the others. She wanted to be absolutely sure she looked better than anyone else there, especially after what Tim had told her. Tim. As if that Dickies wearing, missing tooth asshole knew anything about fashion she shook her head. “No one cares Maya, he doesn’t matter at all” she repeated in her head turning and widening her eyes as she saw Marcel changing

“Wow...wow” she muttered quietly as she hid behind her closet door and peaked, taking a look at his perfectly tan body and abs, watching him check himself out in the mirror while buttoning up his shirt. He had to me the most vain individual she had ever met yet there she was hiding so she could admire him from afar. Her, the actual model, hiding in a damn closet to stare at him of all people. She quickly snapped out of her own thoughts and changed, putting on her heels as she walked out

“Alright all-” Marcel stopped speaking, practically stopping his breathing when he saw her

“Hey” Maya grinned softly as she saw his face

“Maya….I….” he took a moment to think clearly about what he wished to say, not wanting to make himself seem even dumber than he already did

“I-wow” he chuckled out finally as he put his hands in his pockets

“You...you look beautiful, stunning”

“Marcel, you’ve seen me in dresses but thank you” she giggled

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen, ever” he said sincerely “you look beautiful every single day but tonight is just wow”

She looked at him, trying her best to keep her look calm and friendly but part of her wanted to jump him right then and there. “Come on, let’s get going it’s late” she grinned as she went back out with him to the car and allowed him to take a picture of them to post ******

“So now explain” Johnny said as he sat with Tim in the living room of his home “why exactly did you um...snap ?”

“I did not snap” Tim responded calmly as he pet their dog Pawdme

“I...words didn’t come out as well as I hoped okay, that’s all”

“Um...you went to college right ? like graduated, correct ?” he asked

Tim nodded as he gave a confused look “uh yeah, I uh have a degree in Journalism, worked at a newspaper company for years. Actually” he chuckled “when we met in evolve I was stil- wait what does this have to do with anything ?”

“So you’re telling me you’re college educated with a degree in JOURNALISM of all things, like as in good with words and writing yet you don't know how to speak to a woman !” Johnny exclaimed “You legit use big ass words and write pages yet when a girl clearly is giving the whole “take me in the back seat of your car now” eyes you insult and demean ?” “Johnny, enough” Candice spoke up “He gets the point, clearly he’s upset and mad”

“Thanks” Tim nodded, “and to answer all your questions, yes, I get it. I acted like a moron and well here I am trying to think of ways to apologize once again and convince her I want her with me”

“Well we can all talk about this tomorrow, we got somewhere to go” Johnny stood up dressed in a button up and black jeans along with Candice in a black dress

“A funeral ?” Tim asked confused as he looked at both of them “sorry for your loss, whomever it may be”

Candice let out a soft sigh as he looked at Johnny and nodded towards Tim with her head “tell him…”

“Okay, first it’s “Johnny, shut up!” and now it’s “tell him” he mocked in her voice as he put his hands on his hips and looked up at Tim

“We’re…..we’re going to Maya’s cover launch party, she invited us a month ago and well we RSVP’d and honestly I won’t lie, it looks like a lot of fun, man. She rented out the entire club. It's at EVE and I mean we don’t get to do shit like this, it’s the best club in the city and we’re on the list and I feel special alright ?”

“Wait wait, what ?” Tim asked bewildered “You two are going ? Like actually going ? This isn’t some sick joke right because if it is I got pranked” he put his hands up “the act can stop now, I get it”

Johnny and Candice looked at each other as they both turned and gave him a sorry look as Candice’s phone buzzed “sorry Tim...we gotta go now, Oney’s waiting with Joanne”

Tim scoffed as he nodded and opened the door, catching Oney about to knock “I know, don’t even try to explain” he said as he shut him up before he could even speak

“Well damn” Oney shot him a look “Guess that means, you don’t wanna be my plus one….”

“What ?” the other 3 asked in unison as they looked at him

“Joanne can’t make it, she has work so that leaves me with a plus one” he showed the message “Maya never said I couldn’t bring Tim” he gave a shrug

“Wait…. He can’t go like that” Candice emphasized “babe quick, go look for a bigger shirt and Oney, switch pants with Tim and Johnny will give you another pair…..NOW !” she raised her voice at the 3 of them as she watched them scurry and go to her bedroom

“Wow, who knew you could clean up so nicely” Johnny smirked “let me do your hair now, you can’t go out looking nicely dressed with messy hair, oh and cologne, you gotta smell good in case ”

“You’re not serious ?” Tim asked

“You want her to see you looking good right ? So listen to me, if you look good and smell good she’ll like fall in love with you, she won’t even remember you insinuated her work was cheap, or that bikini models are whores or that-” Johnny gulped when he saw him glare at him “here just..just add a little gel and um see you downstairs, hurry up”

Oney chuckled as he watched him get ready “If this doesn’t work, then I don’t know. Not gonna lie you look….nice. You really do, this is probably what she wanted to see”

“Whatever” Tim shrugged as he finished buttoning up the shirt “I just wanna talk to her that’s all, talk to her and get this settled and we’ll go from there” he nodded as he followed him back to Candice and Johnny’s Uber and sat down

“Wow” Candice grinned “look at you, I mean it. You clean up so nicely Tim, you really do”

“Thank you” Tim said softly as he gave her a small grin. “How the hell did I get myself into this ?” he thought to himself. None of this was him, he could feel the sweat start to build up in his arm pits as he moved around in his seat lifting his head up when Oney offered him a mini bottle of Patron

“A roadie, to loosen up before we get there. You could use it, need a chaser ?” he offered some seltzer water widening his eyes as he watched him chug it down in one gulp

“Give me another, now” Tim nodded as he reached out his hand, taking the second bottle and downing it “there, much much better”. No not really all that better but at least it calmed his nerves slightly as he watched them pull up to the club. He looked through the crowd to see who he recognized, some were definitely other models but lots were from work. She really had invited everyone but him, not like he expected it anyways.

“Remember, leave no later than 3” Candice said as they got out and reapplied her lipgloss “Jesus, she’s popular look at all these people”

“You don’t say” Johnny looked around “And she invited US, that means she really does like us and thinks of us as friends. She’s SO nice”

“She is. She really is something” Tim whispered to himself as he stood with them ************

“I love seeing you two so happy and together !” Maya smiled a little tipsy already as she put her arms around Fabian and Marcel’s shoulders

“The two besties are back together ! You can go back to taking your little sexy shirtless gym pictures now !”

Fabian chuckled “well thank you I think ? Thanks for inviting me again”

“Yeah yeah of course, anything to get you two back together” she sipped her martini, feeling slightly buzzed as she sat next to Marcel and put her hand on his thigh “oh my god, you look so cute tonight I can’t believe I didn’t tell you already” she pouted

Marcel chuckled as he placed her hand back on her lap gently “Thank you, you’re telling me now and to me that’s all that matters”

“Maya maybe, maybe we can stop the martini’s for a bit” Fabian suggested as he motioned for the waitress to come over and order them waters with lemon

“What a complete party pooper, I thought Italians were supposed to be fun. This is NOT how Jersey Shore made it seem” she rolled her eyes, pulling out her compact to look herself over as she watched Fabian just laugh at her

“Hey... still very very pretty,” Marcel grinned as he closed it for her. “There’s no need to keep looking at yourself when you look perfect, now have some water so you can sober up a bit and enjoy your night. Everyone’s here for you”

Maya stood up and fixed her dress when she saw Candice walk towards her “hey, oh my gosh you look beautiful !” She gave her a hug and smiled, tilting her head when she saw Johnny take a selfie with her custom cake “why...why is he ?”

“Listen he’s telling everyone we know he’s at a celebrity party and how you’re his friend, he’s truly living it up” she admits with a chuckle

“I just...I like how you guys came, you two are so kind and nice and to be honest I kinda like you guys here more than the others my agent made me invite” she smiled softly “Can I offer you a drink ?”

“Oh yeah sure, I’d love one of those fruity ones you’re having” Candice grinned as she walked over to the bar with her “Listen before we enjoy the night, I have to tell you that Oney’s girlfriend couldn’t make it so...so he brought Tim”

“What ?” she spat out her water “He’s here ? As in right now ? Candice what the hell ? After what happened earlier ?”

Candice sighed as she took her drink in one sitting and got up “Long story short he feels horrible and wants to talk to you, really talk to you. 100% serious this time, no insults nothing so when you’re ready you let me know and I”m getting you two together to talk even if it’s the last fucking thing I do” she nods

“I just wanna enjoy my night and maybe when I’m a little more drunk so I can let his ass know everything I’ve been feeling” Maya nodded as she cheered her and took what she believed was her 15th shot of the night

“So are those real ?” Candice asked as she pointed to her revealing dress “because they look real but they also look way too perfect to be real”

Maya laughed as she touched her shoulder with her arm “They are, but did you drink before getting here ?”

“May have had a couple roadies” she admits as they continued to drink together, getting rowdier once everyone else came to join

“Let’s give it up for Maya !” Johnny yelled as he raised his champagne glass “MY friend is a model and she’s on an ACTUAL magazine and on a billboard !”

“To me ! For being really fucking pretty and having an amazing body !” Maya exclaimed drunkenly as she leaned on Marcel

“And with REAL boobs !” Candice added as they all cheered together and moved to the dance floor as the DJ played a playlist of mid 2000’s songs

Everything was great, perfect actually until Oney spotted Tim talking to a girl, a little too close for comfort in his eyes as he left and sat down keeping a close eye on him

“So what brings you here, do you know Maya ?” the girl asked Tim as she grinned and sat too close to him at the bar

“In a way yeah, you ?” he nodded trying his best to keep up straight as the alcohol from the car ride and the beers he had consumed were beginning to hit him

“well she won this cover over me. Some thing about brunettes over blondes, Kara by the way” she reached her hand out “and you are ?”

“Tim” he responded as he turned around and faced her, looking her up and down as he raised a brow at the less than favorable red number she had on “drink ?”

“Vodka soda” she smirked as she ordered “oh is this your friend ?”

“What ?” Tim asked confused as he turned and saw Oney with crossed arms standing behind him

“You’re drunk, come with me”

“He’s fine with me” Kara smiled sweetly “Don’t worry, your friend is perfect with me here”

“Tim….”

“I’m fine” Tim shrugged “You go and continue being stupid, I’m fine here with her”

Oney shook his head and sighed as he left him alone and went back as he sat down on a couch and watched

Maya pulled Marcel close to her as she turned around against him, moving to the beat of the music as she felt him move with her, putting his hands on her hips both swaying to the old Ice Cube song that played loudly in the club. They had gone to multiple clubs in the past and danced to way too many songs but this time something was different and they both felt it

Marcel felt the jolts in his body as he touched her hips and felt her backside press right against his groin area. Gulping to get rid of what felt like a ball stuck in his throat he made sure to keep his hands there as they moved

“You good ?” she asked not realizing what was even going on with him as she looked up

“All good, we can keep going” he nodded

He was positive his once black shirt was now soaking and see through with sweat as he tried his best to make sure he didn’t get hard as he squeezed her sides every so slightly. As he heard the song end and change to what he recalled was an old Lil Jon song, he groaned feeling her move quicker. Part of him felt like it was best to just leave to the car and handle what he needed to do but the other part said he needed to be composed for her. All that went out the window the second he looked down and saw her dress slowly ride up as she moved lower and lower

“I...I gotta go to the bathroom” he blurted out as he turned her around and saw her eyes, he knew better than anyone what that look meant

“We….we should go to the bathroom” she whispered as she laced his fingers with hers and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth gently

Marcel shuddered as he looked around and noticed everyone too busy to even notice them gone, he quickly took her hand and rushed to the nearest bathroom with her as he pushed her against the wall and crashed his lips onto hers, moving his hands up and down her hips as he moved down to kiss her neck feeling one of her hands on the back of his neck and the other immediately trying to undo his belt

“Not...not here” he whispered as he stopped her hands and held them in his as he kissed each of them “This...this is cheap, I don’t want it like this with you. You deserve more”

“My place” she kissed his lips again not wanting them away from hers any longer “You and me, my place. I want you, I need you Marcel” Marcel looked in her eyes trying to see any doubt , going with his gut as he nodded and walked with her, hitting a stall with his shoulder

“Busy” a female voice groaned “um really busy”

“Sorry” Marcel apologized quickly, cursing as Maya tripped against him causing him to fall against the unlocked door, widening his eyes at the view in front of him

“What’s going-” Maya stopped speaking immediately as she felt her heart drop to her stomach as she saw Tim entangled with a girl doing way more than kissing. She felt her legs turn into jelly as she watched him kiss and move her against him, at her party of all places.

Tim heard her voice and immediately opened his eyes as he pushed Kara off and fixed his pants and shirt “Maya ! No…..No listen I-I” he stuttered struggling to form a cohesive thought as he reached his hand towards her earning a hard punch across the nose and kick in the groin “Fuck that hurt !” he grimaced in pain not sure if he needed to grab his balls or nose

“Marcel, why is she crying ? what’s going on ?” Johnny asked concerned he watched Candice going after her “Did someone hurt her ? Tell me and I’ll knock them out !”

“That, that’s what’s going on” Marcel said coldly as they both looked at Tim and Kara exit the bathroom both disheveled with Tim’s more than obvious broken bleeding nose

“I told him to stop” Oney spoke up “He didn’t listen, brushed me off. The second he saw me talk to Johnny is when he left”

“It wasn’t your job to babysit” Johnny answered disappointed as he stared “Grown men can take care of themselves, or so we thought”

“You’re not getting a foot near her !” Oney exclaimed, fed up “How fucking dare you do this to her ? At her own fucking party ? Was this what you wanted all along ? To just come here and ruin her night ?”

Tim shook his head as he held his nose with his hand “I….I can’t….I can’t even talk, where is she ? I need to talk to her now” “You’re getting you and your little prost-.....friend the hell out of here NOW” Oney ordered

Tim snarled as he felt her touch his hand “get the fuck away from me”, scaring her enough as he watched her walk away quickly and hurried out the door. He looked at the guys and pleaded with his eyes as he watched them walk away from him

Marcel clenched his fists in anger as he calmed himself down for a second before walking quickly to the parking lot of the club searching around space by space as he found Candice consoling Maya on the pavement and rushed over

“Maya, Maya come on let’s get you home” he said softly as he kneeled in front of her and dabbed her face full of mascara tears with his sleeve. His own heart breaking as he saw how devastated she looked. Nothing mattered more to him than making sure he got her home and safe

“Listen to Marcel, he’s gonna take you home sweetie” Candice whispered as she helped her stand up as Johnny, Fabian and Oney joined them with sorry looks on their faces “It’s brisk” Fabian said softly as he took off his suit jacket and put it over Maya’s shoulders to cover her up “I’m gonna, I’m gonna take her home now, is that okay Maya ?” Marcel asked as he pet her head gently

Maya simply gave a small nod as her eyes stayed glued to the floor, her whole night and heart done for.

#timothy thatcher #timothy thatcher fic #timothy thatcher x oc #timothy thatcher imagine #marcel barthel #marcel barthel fic #marcel barthel imagine #fabian aichner #candice lerae #johnny gargano #oney lorcan #NXT

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